i lost my ticket to get on your train
and i witnessed you wave from the caboose; you didn’t even try to get off.

i don’t believe in love or maintaining childhood friendships
i believe in falling short and purposeful abandonment.

you talk to my sister, but not me
what am i supposed to do about that?
it’s my fault i know;
i didn’t acknowledge your presence
i’m so pitiful.

i could throw you a million apologies
i wouldn’t be angry if you wouldn’t forgive me
maybe sometimes in the hallway, you get a bittersweet taste in your mouth when we lock eyes
and you regret the missed time we could’ve spent together
at football games, in history class, in health class
and i regret that too;
in this particular universe.

you drive and i’m terrified to get my permit
i don’t wanna accidentally ****** someone or myself in a car crash
you had a boy best friend in the front seat
and now i’m entirely numb and empty
what have i come to?

yes, i came home and wallowed in a puddle of my own forlorn tears
i can’t do anything else but sob

it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault
i am to blame, you could’ve told me “hi”
but i am not gonna blame this tumbling storyline on you
you like this school environment better than me
and i completely understand your reasons
again, it’s my fault and i stripped away my own dignity.

i am more numb than morphine could ever make me

i plagued this earth until it became a wasteland
and now i am cursing the vultures that only want to pick up scraps they can’t find here

why oh why does it have to be me destined to shoo them away?

some of us don’t want to climb out of the tower by ourselves
some of us need to be saved
and if that means i am a damsel in distress
then so be it

i am sick of this false “female empowerment”
when it’s really just shoving ur agenda in others faces
i get sexism exists
but not everything needs to be female, female, female
a woman can do this
a woman is stronger than a man (biologically- heck no)
a woman doesn’t have to wear pink laced prom dresses and high heels (but what if she wants to?!)
a woman this, a woman that
even me, as a young woman
can’t seem to fathom why we need to shove just to make people realize
and we all know they are just rolling their eyes
this fake female empowerment, this damsel in distress, “i’m tired of the woman always getting saved”
i am not
because sometimes there’s no other way
chivalry is almost dead
because the woman who wants her husband to open the door for her and her groceries won’t
he says, who cares?
a woman is just as capable
open that dang door by yourself, Janet!

and then we have all these insane people saying it’s a woman’s right to do whatever she wants with her body
but what about the other body in her body
are we just gonna let innocent children die because some woman claimed it was her “right”?
come on, people

i understand that
woman still have a little way to go with progression and full women’s rights
but not everything is against women and their pride

let me watch snow white and call it romantic
let me dream and pine and wish for a prince to save me by his castle while stabbing a dragon
let me be saved by a man sometimes
let me get kissed when i have been poisoned
let me do something powerful without calling me a girl boss
let me do everything a man can, but without making a sound
let our bodies stop being used as symbols to empower
because some of us women hate ourselves and what our bodies have gone through and we are embarrassed
a body is a vessel, not some kind of boss-like female defining characteristic
let us be empowered without saying it
without taking off our clothes and dancing with the crystal lake in the background
please stop saying girl power because it makes me want to *****
we already have power
makes it seem as if we gain our power
but there’s no men power, huh?
we don’t say “boy power!”
no because it sounds stupid

i am a girl but i am not stomping around saying girls are better than boys, i hate all men
girls don’t get the job done better
they just make more noise to let people know they’re there

ugh, damsel in distress
so what
i least i get saved

imagining through the blue light on my screen
whispering profanities at my low life presenting personality
having had brunch with my cousin and my aunt pretending to be more of less of myself
it’s good to know they won’t know my full truth and personality and quirks since they wouldn’t come around anymore if they did
keeping secrets to secure family lines or at least the manifested faulty ties inside my mind
getting more comfortable with the fact that people shouldn’t have identities
never wanting people to know who i truly am or what i stand for

when we are younger we want everyone to be our friend and we don’t judge with cold steel eyes
we go up to the nearest person and we start playing with toys together
of course, i never did since i was the shyest kid ever, walking into kindergarten for the first time was traumatizing for me
kids don’t think about things such as slim waists or “too much” kinds of personalities
i don’t think i was aware of my identity till kids starting calling me ugly and saying they didn’t like me anymore
i came home crying, turning on the shower, knowing i wasn’t good enough for my peers
terrified for the first time in my life that i wouldn’t be accepted and i would be the bullied one on the outskirts
always wanting to be popular and liked was on my mind constantly, but at least i was being  
myself

nowadays, i hide away from people, knowing that when they speak to me i won’t be able to hold a conversation, knowing that they wouldn’t like the version of me that is embedded deep into my skin
my identity lies in my hands, manipulated to feel established, fiddled with to earn head nods

when i am older, in the partying age, someone might want to experiment touching my skin and creating divots where they placed their heavy fingers
might only wanna know what time i go to bed and purposely make me skip it, won’t wanna know what my favorite place to eat is after a long and strenuous cry, won’t wanna know why my identity is so secretive
won’t wanna know the flaws on my body that my mind has scrutinized for years upon years
just like harry styles said in fine line, “spreading you open is the only way of knowing you.”
we are so body and pleasure focused, knowing anyone anymore is like finding a needle in a haystack

sometimes i can be afraid to meet new people because they might not like me or i might never show them my true colors although the latter is a me problem
i’ll make friends who won’t know my favorite band and memorize all their song lyrics like i did when the anxiety was pumping into my veins rapidly
i’ll make friends who will come and go and get buried and get taken advantage of and maybe i won’t know their backstory because they might have chosen to hide their identity one day just like i did

proving your place in this world is exhausting and having a couple friends sprinkled in every capital city is soul *******
it starts to make you feel like these people are only around so you can raise your social status in the midst of robotic people with plastic instead of skin because they always hated their flaws and no one ever said they were beautiful and that it was actually society that shoved botox into their faces
wrinkles aren’t ugly, they are aging factors
stress isn’t avoidable, you can’t pile wax in your face to make it all come to a close

we stop being innocent and thinking the world is pure in middle school, some even earlier
we realize santa doesn’t come down a chimney and give us gifts every year, it’s our literal parents
our parents sell and tell us lies and we believe them because naivety hovers inside our brains
no wonder adults always call kids stupid and inept, they sold us detrimental lies in the first place, telling us to believe in magic, saying that the easter bunny actually came around when we should be talking about Jesus, it’s literally His holiday, God forbid

identity sprouts from human beings desiring to put each other into tiny boxes
“evil, shady, kind, jerky, angsty.”
no wonder everyone’s so ******* up nowadays, they just wanted to be accepted into these tiny labels and they never did so instead they cut themselves and slit their throats
their guts might be considered to be conforming, so the jousters will leave you on your death bed alone, in silence, smiling in ghost form, so happy you made the decision to just cut the world off
some of us aren’t that devoted

i have had plenty of different identities in my life, but never once have i loved myself
even if their lyrics holler “self love” i won’t be able to relate to that
good for everyone who can, it’s just not me
look—right there, what is me?
who am i?
in this world, what should i be, what identity does society want (need) me to be represented by?
but
whoever i am, i hate her

they tore down the pool in my hometown
the place i went during the summer to cool off
my old stomping ground to go for fun
my childhood is slipping further and further away
every single day

nightgown histeria
soft wavy hair falling as it sways in the wild wind
the peach trees
and she’s vibrant, isn’t she?
wander the halls of the empty house
counters tall, sink’s rusted
blueberries are in the ill-functioning refrigerator
and she inhales the summer wood scent
bark, smoke, and a little cherry.
lush green goes for miles
but she picks autumn leaves.
the shorts gripped to her thighs in the sizzling heat
she grapples with reality
on picnic table squares
light brown baskets bought and borrowed sit upon the blowing grass
creaky floorboards as she moves so briskly, but so sure.
of the holistic nature, she is meant to be perceived
in lavender fields, she hikes up her nightgown as the sun dips down
following the fireflies to her destination
quite possibly her demise
but she is golden like the sun rays
she is bluer than the ocean
but she is untamed, untrained and bold
the literal depiction of moonlight
she’s an attic of great antiquity
with hopes and dreams and reasons to fly in the wind
and it’s melancholy to watch yourself
crumble in a lonely house
left with your fearsome doubts
and it’s pouring rain
and she’s going insane
with her white nightgown now stained with rouge blood
around the heart that she once carved out of her body
to avoid her insanity
guess she climbed up the sycamore
to catch of glimpse of her brother
the sun was setting, fire burning, chimney smoke rising, hazy feelings
she adores this rope swing.

ships sinking
as you stare across the bay
memorize the smile on my lips
the hallucinations i’ve secretly kept

breathe me in, don’t spit me out
i’ve outcasted myself enough times for the both of us
don’t give me that solemn stare

take me back to the roller rink
to the depths of my heart i haven’t explored
to the party of yours that i missed

i’m so sorry for the past inconveniences that haunt you and quite visibly me
can we be friends again before the ship sinks into the void of indigo ocean water?
making you smile so often was quite possibly my greatest accomplishment

in an unstable way and way that is incapable
to recover from
i am incapacitated
weak stringy sick
poles for legs
twisted ankles
that don’t stand up
out of their own will
but by the unruly gravity
of planet earth
the clock strikes august
intake watched,
just parsnips
upon shaky lips
hesitant to chew
with the fear of a black hole—
endless unhappiness in all manners
inside of me
is a miserable mechanic
who keeps drilling
and replacing
and hollering
for continuously
i have lowered my brow
and combusted
leaving pieces of machinery
burnt and ruined
for his sore hands to
pick them up
and work away
slaving precious days away

“sparkle and shine,”
one day i’ll say
to myself in the mirror
or maybe even
to a distant/immediate
lover
under
the covers.
“shine and be shown,”
one day i’ll yell to
the spruce trees
whose branches
hover over
me
or to
the way i
look in skinny
jeans.
“love the death inside of you
and keep the
life inside
of you as
strong as you can,”
one day i’ll tell my
grandchildren if i lose
my fear of giving
birth or
to somebody
needing
of a pep talk.
“be valiant,
don’t ever be false,
for that is worse than
the most heinous
of truths
you have hiding
inside your skull,”
i’ll tell you as
we sit
on
the kitchen floor
in underwear
under
the fluor
escent
flickering lights
eating brunch
at noon in the
afternoon.
and you’ll tell
me the exact
same thing
and i’ve always
been such a
terrible
liar.
“sparkle and shine,”
one day i’ll say
on the dock
by the lake house
with the really
suspicious murky
water
and i’ll say it
with pride to
the image
of my past
image in
the pitiless
mirror.
perhaps you’ll
say it to me as well,
as the fog
opens up a
new front
in my/our
front yard
as i peep
through the
blinds
and i feel alive
and the
poetry in my
veins awakens
to the beat of
the ripened heat.
and i’ll shine like
the sun,
just can you be
my spotlight if
my light suddenly
dims?
can you?
can you, please?

i met you in the flesh of an early morning
swinging on rainforest vines
sparkling san francisco golden gate haven
sun, so radiant yet so tranquil

i met you, hazy with some byproduct of devotion
i was standing in rapture
an echo of aspiration
and restoration
an outline of a happiness that somehow seemed like closure

i met you, a symbolic glimmer
drunk in your joyousness
meeting as the morning dew barely dries from the damp grass
blue eyes like sapphires, like rubies, like gold

i was struck with akrasia
i forgot how to shake hands
i mumbled between my teeth
i met you, so shimmery, so wonderful
so full of mirth
     and
      i
      lost
      yet
      another
      thing
      to
      my
      greed
      and
      selfishness

do you go by some pseudonym at this moment in time?
i can’t find you in the rainforest trees, rains, or vines
you can’t be lost
forever

i am daft and i am dominoes crumbling
and i am
debris
from a rotted sea

and you are faithful and cheerful and jolly and dopamine rushes
and how dare i quell the moonlight inside you

if you have broken hands, i promise i will fix them
if you have died and went to Heaven
i dare you to send me
a safe haven of angels who all know my name
a safe haven of ballerinas loose on a stage
a safe haven of happiness where songbirds dance and dancers sing
a safe haven where violets bloom after the gloom
i hope your absence doesn’t contribute to the atrophy of my being

but if it does,
i least i met you for a little while
in the carcass of a morning apparition

his eyes as bright blue as the ocean that envelops him.
the life in his nonexistent smile.
his eyes like beacons of hope.  
but he’s crying in pillows that engulf his sorrow
he’s begging the master to give him tomorrow
to lift the hammer off his chest
to halt the train until the morning hour
to untie the cuffs around his wrists tied to the tracks.
he’s hiding the fits, the consuming illnesses
the signs of weakness that creep into his concreteness.
his eyes as bright blue as the ocean that devours him.

my stomach muscles retract
bruises on the beginnings of my ribs
i can’t fight the deafening freight train engine
blowing my hair wildly
as i try to cross the tracks
barbed wire enclosing me in
the factories around me crashing and burning
i think i saw the devil in the train’s headlights.
i can’t make up for lost times
caught in the convenient current
washing my body like an entity that doesn’t deserve to be cleansed
the train horn is ear-piercing
like off-key violins in a symphony
the blood pumping quickly
my redundant diction
i ask for permission
from conductors and fakers and liars and schemers
and apparently they’re all good people.
i deserve to be lost in the wide expanse
of a generation
i can’t accept.
shattered promises and limbs
sprawled out on the train yards
as the stopping vehicles sound off their alarms
i am alarmed
but i am stapled to the tracks
by a woman who told me that it’s not that hard to overcome your fears
how do you feel now
with me bleeding out of my eye sockets
all over your precious property?

i stabbed my demons with a double-edged sword
it punctured my skin as well
and with that blood, i wrote your name,
not in times new roman,
but in my own special font
i cried over the torn parts of my flesh
but we all grow out of our tears,
don’t we?
after i stabbed my demons with a double-edged sword,
they climbed up into my brain cavities
and they took more
than i ever self sabotaged out of me
i carried my fallen blood in the suitcase
i will bury myself alive in one day
my demons spill secrets instead of blood
from their dreary corpses
and i rapidly try to gather them
in my dismay
if you write them away, they just come back stronger
because words aren’t indelible,
they can be erased
if you try to make peace with them,
they take too much of you
and label it a treaty
when it is honestly just tyranny
call it by no other name
if you start a war,
they start a revolution
and soon they have the entire universe up against you,
and no matter what anyone says,
you can’t beat the universe
you aren’t the avengers
you can’t do any of these things
and expect them to dissipate
and dissolve into the snowfall
you have to take yourself out
with the weapon you chose to ****** them in cold blood with
you have to bestow a double-edged sword
and you have to willingly sacrifice your entire self and more
cause unlike seasons, demons never leave
unless you **** their host
here goes nothing

IF ALL THE PLACES I WENT WERE STRETCHED OUT ON MY PALMS, I’D SCREAM FOR THE PLACES I HAVEN’T GONE, THE EXPERIENCES I NEVER EXPERIENCED. I COULD SCREAM AND SHOUT AT THE WORLD, BUT ALL IT WOULD EVER DO IS TOSS ME IN THE DUNGEON OR WRING ME OUT LIKE A WASHCLOTH USED TOO MANY TIMES. I FEEL THE SHEETS I AM GRIPPING TIGHTLY ONTO, I FEEL MY HEART SURGING AND RELEASING AND I AM A HUMAN. A LIVING BREATHING DEPRESSED ANXIETY FILLED ORGANISM. IF ALL THE PLACES I HAVEN’T GONE REVOLTED AGAINST ME, I’D BE IN FOR A ROUGH RIDE, BUT THE WORLD DOESN’T RUN LIKE THAT. THE PEOPLE WITH MACHINES INSTEAD OF HEARTS AND SCOWLS INSTEAD OF SMILES ARE TAKING OVER, THEY ARE POISONING THE SOIL, DAMPENING THE DRYWALL. THEY SELF DESTRUCT TO THE SOUND OF THE TRUTH OR THE WORD “RIGHT.” THEY WEAR DARK SPRAY PAINTED SUNGLASSES TO COVER THEIR EYES FROM THEIR ISSUES ARISING. THEY ARE GUILTY. THEY ARE CRUEL. THEY AREN’T THE NICE KIND HEROES FOR MANKIND THEY MAKE THEMSELVES OUT TO BE. THEY ARE ALIVE, THEY DO NOT GET TO SPEAK FOR THE UNBORN OR FOR THE PLACES THEY’VE NEVER STEPPED FOOT IN. YEARS AND CENTURIES AGO, EXPLORERS WERE LOOKING FOR THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH, INSTEAD THEY FOUND THE FOUNTAIN WHERE HALFWITTED ADULTS MADE LIFE THREATENING DECISIONS FOR THE YOUTH OF TODAY AND TOMORROW AND CALLED IT FAIR. THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN OF SALVATION, THERE IS NO FOUNTAIN FOR THE YOUTH IN ANY COUNTRY OR PLANET IN THIS UNIVERSE. THERE IS NO REST. AND THERE IS ALWAYS UNREST OVER THE RIGHTEOUS WAYS. PEOPLE ALWAYS FIND A WAY TO ASSOCIATE WITH DEMONS AND LABEL IT “FUN AND MORALLY CORRECT.”

apparently the opposite of love is fear
so why do you think running away from him skittishly after he burned you
means he loves you?

i am content with being away from you
lost on my own continent
stranded on an island
your words seep through my skin
hurting like knives and shards of china glass

i am content with being away from you—from this, from us
i am content to hide inside a seashell and never come out
melted bones into hermit crab forms
fate accepted

i am content with being away from you—from the way you treat me
it is halloween in my nightmares
always dressed up as a princess or a queen when really all i feel inside is that i should be a
vampire or a zombie
meandering along the path of self-destruction

i am content with being away from you—from your fangs, from your grimy hands
i am content with staying put on an ocean raft just rising and falling as the waves swallow me up and spit me back up
selflessly free as a turtle riding the inevitable current

i am content with being a person far far away from you
making my own decisions with a smile gleaming on my face
waking up and walking outside on my own accord
listening to the sound of morning doves instead of the chaotic sound of sirens

i am content with myself—content with the life that doesn’t have you in it
gritty sandy harsh words grating against my smooth and vibrant skin
you will not give me heatstroke from the flames you breathe from the fire congested city
the tides will carry you, sandstorms will bury you, and tornadoes will whisk you away
far far from the whereabouts where i call home

i am content to be away from you.
i am content to be alone.

can’t remember the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
i miss when i didn’t know half of all the words that exist.
i regret ever ignoring my best friend.
i hate anxiety and the burden it makes me feel like i am.
i miss being able to look in the mirror and see someone worth while.
i miss being loved.
i miss being myself.
i miss everything.

i write and bruise my fingers just to escape
just to get a remedy for this pain
the pressure stops burning ever so slightly
but the scars still remain
still hang on my flimsy body
making towns and cities and villages
people living inside of my solar system

STOP!
calm down.
they can’t see you.
their eyes are like steel.
like iron.
life kills.
that’s what’s so evil about it.
but you can’t escape the jaws of the inevitable.
you need to stop thinking.
i mean, the overthinking type.
the type of thinking that makes your brain spin.
that escalates every tiny situation.
your pain comes from opening your eyes too wide.
shut them.
breathe.
stop panicking.
you will never be able to escape except in death.
but even the dead are lonely.
even the dead char and sear in pits they were locked in.
stop overthinking.
you write because you want to evaluate what you feel.
not just because it’s the only way to bolt away from crowded rooms and upset stomachs.
don’t bruise your fingers while touching the pen.
stop overthinking.

wAiT...
i think that i get it
sorry for all the run-on sentences
i don’t care much for punctuation
i sure don’t think rapidly about that
i just do it
so, in settings where it matters
everything in my brain halts
and i freeze
why can’t i just breathe?
it pains me to think that i am hurting my own self with my own knives
stabbing me in the heart
i shouldn’t let my hands become numb because of scribbling in the lines
i should press the pen gingerly upon the paper
softly
and i should just do it
without hesitation
just prove i can withstand the erosion
but at least i know
i write to express
and
life kills
that’s what’s so evil about it.

i talk to my friend on the phone
but i can’t help but wish it was a boy
cause we could sneak out late just to laugh at ourselves
or swing on the swing set and you could catch me midair
but wait, these are fantasies
i will never be loved
by a boy who will wrap me up in his arms
treasure me and tell me i’m one of a kind
and not want my body but long for my soul
yearn for my presence and not for the immodest clothes that i wear
i wish it could be like 1922
when boys were men and girls were women
all of the romances written at that time
were sweet and delicate and dainty and slices of life
whereas now i hate every boy that i see because they like my figure and dislike me
but maybe i’m a rambler
and i have nothing to complain
even so, i’m just as lonely at the end of the day
i wish there was someone who would be my umbrella in the rain
but those boys are so scarce nowadays
i fear they’ve gone away
extinct
dead
eliminated
i’m waiting for the day we are all monsters
not waiting for the day when i find a 60 degree day love
in between my polyester sheets
when we both wake up
and we are just in peace

scared of the dark and of fire swallowing me in the middle of the stubborn night
setting my closet ablaze
shirts turning to embers as i slept beneath the smoke
and we would have to stand by the mailbox
but someone was always left behind.
it usually ended there.

but my restlessness soon turned into a snowflake, falling from the chilled sky
onto the mailbox outside my house
and melting.

my writing is a gigantic forest fire of clichés
slowly charring in my eye view.
unlike the snowflakes that flew from
my brain.

and i’m still kind of scared of the looming darkness
and the creatures inside of my closet
still kind of worried about my house catching fire
and losing all my belongings
but what’s to that?
what do i actually own or belong to?

blue is blinded rage

fear lasts and i can’t breathe in this smoke…in this chemical kingdom…that they all love…smog and smoke and strangulation….and no one cares…?

cause elvis still kept singing jailhouse rock
even though he never went to jail
and the seas are still operating in the exact same way they always have been
celebrities still think they’re all that cause us feeble people put them on pedestals
the moon is still a refuge to lost stars spread upon the frivolous lands
fire still burns, even at night
even in your closest
even if you think you’re safe by your mailbox
even if people tell you that you’re worth
it

the smoke will envelop you
the smog will catch up to you
the ashes will become you


….
i’m afraid it will take away what i don’t have

i breathe in chemical aurora borealis
i dance in ballrooms with no one watching

he believed we were going to be inseparable lovers encaged inside of barbed wire
he believed i would be his muse,
till his last breath

but i breathe in chemical aurora borealis
i dance in ballrooms with no one watching

he breathes in rose blossomed newlywed smiles
he dances in spite of the acid rain

he believed we were an unstoppable tsunami
destined to keep growing and growing
enveloping all things into our youthful hearts

i believed we were a radioactive volcano
tension, tension, and tension
until suddenly we burst
into violent lava
and wreak havoc on the binds that hold us
together

he saw our glowing embers
never yet thought of the impending destruction
we would cause
with our hurricane stubbornness
and tornado hotheadedness

because

i breathe in chemical aurora borealis
i dance in ballrooms with no one watching

he breathes in idealistic remedies
he dances on stage as the curtain draws

he believed we would face this world together
like uplifted doves carrying olive branches in their beaks
i believed we would crumble
like every clumsy ancient civilization

but still i rest here,
with eyes devoid of aurora borealis projections
and i wish
that i would have
surrendered to his tsunami

i need to grasp the feeling of being washed away instead of hanging on to loneliness like it’s the last straw of my far fetched happiness
wash me away
i am useless if you cannot love me

tiny footprints in the grainy sand

-gunshots

tiny footprints in the salt licked sand

tiny footprints stay in the sand

until the tide washes away all the evidence

i am homeless in this hopelessness
aimlessly bound in the instability
fragile, weak, pathetic.

there’s a string tied to my seemingly weightless ankles
brutally thrashing
splashing in inescapable fate
along the carefully constructed dock
two hands hover over the water
they do not reach in to pull me out.
they do not reach in to pull me out.

humoring the doubt that inhabits a single house above an ocean current
counting the comets in the sky
this is sincere gasping
clawing at the murk
there is a bright lighthouse lamp flashing
but there is a blindfold closed over my pupils
nearby a ship sits docked upon the shore
held by a ten-foot anchor
the captain does not try to reach my boat.
the captain does not try to reach my boat.

there is an island in an unnamed ocean in an unknown location
the organisms gnaw on my skeletal structure
and among this plight
rare will a light start to shine
there are feet that ne’er surrender
but there are lungs that must concede
there are nights upon us that will slip me in underneath the veil of false serenity
there are failures that will taunt us
with their vines
like black silhouettes that howl
in the deepest darkness.

and the fair truth is that i will never be rescued.

i missed his party so i didn’t get to see you
   and i write as if you hear my anguish
   as if you care enough to listen
**** it, i would give you my poems to read
    i miss you
    because without you, i blame it on myself
perhaps we were made to break
   to crack on hardwood floors and windows
   to grow apart as the famine destroys
i missed his party because i was sick
   so we didn’t get to mend our relationship
   and our beaten hearts are ruined

      i missed his party so now i miss you

you know i’ve tried to be worth something in the world to you.
my submitted requests reaching your inbox,
my rampant desires begging at your throne.
i have never liked cruel,
so i don’t understand why i still hold high hopes for you.
you must be so used to people discarding you
and leaving you out with the street rats and rabid animals,
but i; i am opening the door for you.
you can come in and take a seat and you can drink and eat whatever you want to,
i couldn’t care less.
i want you to make a home in my home.
i can **** myself for you if you give me a knife and the motivation.
i can twist and change myself for you if you admit that my façades are better than my actualities.
i can bleed myself dry if you adore the color red.
i can be at your beck and call every day and every minute and every second of the week.
i can admit that i’m a fake, i’m a fraud
when i write poems about your hold on me
i don’t understand you.
i don’t think i will ever understand you.
these hips of mine will be treasured if they have your printing on them.
do you know how hard it is to convince someone that they are the only resource you need?
impossible.
i’m constantly trying to fit the word count on my acceptance essay to you,
but i just can’t speak the language that you do.
and that might be a me problem,
but cut me some slack.
i just want you love,
send your adoration my way.

what would you do with all the sand in the world?
if the tides disappeared, a dry land appeared
what would you do?
would you pile it on top of me to smother me?
would you put it over my head to taunt me?
or would you make it fall, ever so slightly around me, filling up my space with sandy fumes, glass trapping me inside?
would you give me a slow death, watch me suffer?
or would you pull me out after seeing me take the brunt of it?
what would you do with all the sand in the world, one may ask?
nothing, just leave it put

now i am doubting that i will see you
it seems way way too good to be true
march third is too close
i could wear it like a scarf
i thought i wanted to see your dim lit face
but now i am nervous
and i am stapling my fingers
anticipating everything
escalating the situation

ever been anxious about seeing someone you’ve known for ten years before?
well, i am
and you might not even be there
might not want to waste your time on such time consuming activities
i wouldn’t blame you
i have never been interesting let alone stand alone material

now i am contemplating and overthinking
why can’t i just stop torturing myself?
this is getting out of hand
this is over some stupid reunion
this is getting so overwhelmingly nerve-racking
and it’s wailing so loud
like a siren in the sea
that you wouldn’t want to die for
or get eaten alive by
it’s so excruciating
the pain i feel when i relapse
and when i fixate on the silly things

help.
that isn’t a request
that is a demand
a constant reminder that i am spiraling
and that you will never help.
and that i will never regain my strength
to climb up the steep mountain

help.
i am so serious this time
the days are getting longer
and you are getting farther away from me
please help.
especially since this is all because i am worried that you might not come
show up and look me in the eyes
or wonder what i am doing on such a perplexing thursday night

now i am doubting that you will even show
so i am lining this heart of mine with barricades so no foreigner can get inside
come if you can
if you have the time
but i won’t cry
if you only stay for a little while
just stay.

i have a c+ in chemistry
i have a basic style
i am so far from prodigy
it takes me 10 minutes to run a mile
    
             failure
but why do i desire to be more than one?
    
                             i still think college is an
                             option
   community
college is the best i’ll ever be

                                my friend said that i don’t
                     wanna be trailer trash
                  
    well, i don’t let my worth be defined by grades
  never
                     -no way

it hurts
my pain is immense
i am weird
i am failing
i am a failure
    
                                     and people have the
                                                     guts to say
                                   ahem, no you’re not

you aren’t a mistake or a blank part of a page
  
  
            oh, honey
            trust me
                            I have tried a million times to    
                          
                            BELONG

but ever since my best friend left
    every place i’ve been is
                                                  lOpSidEd
     ­                                             uPPsiDe-doNwnn
  
               i pray to God every night
        and things change
                He helps me through the car crashes
     the beatings
-the emotion

                             i swear,
                                             i owe Him
        i should have redid the lab i already did
    
      ***** you chemistry!
      you’re disgusting!

                           you’ve got me resorting to
                                 yelling at classes
                            and grades i can’t help

a problem

and they are taking ap chemistry
    and they are smart
and might get accepted into harvard
       and they will have wives who bake
  blueberry pie
and five kids in a red minivan
       like my mom and dad
  
                                    failure
          

  ­              i have to go outside
            to tan, to feel like i’m alive
                to try to determine the rest of my life
           at fifteen years old
        
                                              i don’t even trust myself with my chem grades
  
             let alone the whole rest of my life
  
                                                               if only
        we weren’t defined by the grades we get

but society says
  
                        
                                try me, little girl

i saw you with your chariot of horses in the sky, sparkling brighter than the cosmos
perpetual glory seeping out of your crystal eyes, beckoning the stars and the sun and the moon and the milky way
i was frozen on a cushy cloud, drifting on strong gusts of space matter
you kissed the universe and the black hole almost swallowed you whole
when you saw me, you lifted Heaven with your ******* and guided it towards me
the gates shimmered as i glided closer
your ravishing voice rang in my ears, it felt like angel choirs singing
you sculpted planets with the tiny blue powder inside my eyes and filled my heart with fragments of stardust
iridescent galaxies twinkled, enveloping my earthly body in sparkles
his chariot of stallions floated, leaving this part of the galaxy as a gift for my celestial self
he waved his heavenly hand and disappeared into the constellations
the solar system; undisturbed, goes back to how it was
a triumphant smile creeped onto my cheeks
he owns the cosmos and the galaxies and now he owns my heart

you treat me like no one else ever has
some foreign way to the usual circumstances.

the audacity to call me, a stranger, spoiled
people i don’t know acting like they know me

i will get to the king, i will rip off his garments
i will fling him onto the wall,
i will rip the peasant’s sufferings from his brittle bones
he will fear me
and i will wear his crown

he has always tried to minimize me into an object
a hideous figure lurking in the midnight
i have been wrung out like a cloth

I BLEED THE BLOOD OF YOUR ENEMIES
WHAT KIND OF A SAVIOR ARE YOU,
YOU DEMONIC FORCE SQUEEZING MY FINGERS TILL THEY ARE SWOLLEN
YOUR QUEEN SHOULD TOPPEL OVER IN THE MOAT YOU’VE BUILT AROUND THESE WALLS
YOU STONE GIANT,
FALL,
FALL,
FALL

i am surfing on the waves of independence
so constructed, out of my own weapons
the fire burns and my legs keep aching
but i will get to the king

i will make him drink of the wine and puke out his guts
so his loyal servants can see he’s not perfect
i will whisk up a potion so deadly
he’ll forget the temptress’s melody
ringing in his ears;
where is Persephone?

she went to the churchyard and sat and screamed
in her puddles of self-wallowing

i will get to the king
i will rip his heart clean out
and place it onto the dining table where he was feared and fed by the same exact servants
i will scrape the blood from off my knuckles  
and dance around playfully

and his queen will survive
because she has no responsibilities, only looking pretty
which isn’t classified as a problem

i will schmooze with his friends
i will think of a ruse to manipulate him into losing his structure
bound by the future
he never will consider
and i will wear his crown
perched on his throne
in my white linen clothes
just a careful creature
creating plot lines with my ideas
he’ll fall like a feckless being
and i will be reigning supreme
over dreams, over kingdoms and avid
over gaining more power
yet i won’t let it devour
me into thinking i’m a
deity, poised like a particular person
who knows where to go when
the people don’t know
what has happened to them
or their (king)dom

i will wear his crown on my head filled with brunette hair
soft, strong, and explosive
deadly nightshade inside of his bed
while i stand in the corner
immune to his shivers
and quivering

               i will get to the king