They're laughing.
Smiling.
Being happy.
Happy Happy Happy.

It's hot in here.
Marshmallows being roasted near a fire.
Presents being put down.
Cards on trees.

It smells like family.
It smells like relations.
It smells like happiness.
It smells like living.

I can't touch them, I can't.
It hurts.
Every Christmas hurts.
The smell of eggnog fills the air.

They sit at the table and pray.
My mother weeps.
It's been three years.
She's not over it.

I want to cradle and hold her.
Tell her it's okay.
Tell her I'm alright.
But I'm not alright.

She can't see me.
Nobody can.
Not even myself.
It hurts.

Every Christmas I relive the same thing.
The flashing lights.
The horns.
The sirens.

The sound of my spine cracking in the all wrong places.
The sound of my mother crying in the ambulance.
The sound of my siblings arguing with doctors.
The sound of my life support being pulled.

It's alright, I'm here.
Christmas can continue.
Just hold me and tell me it's okay.
I need to talk.

Someone.
Anyone.

Welcome to Facebook, friends!
Table or booth?
If you'd like, you can belly up to the bar
and drink til your drunk
There's nobody here to cut you off
when you've had too much

Today's specials include
****** politics
out and out lies
misquoted so called experts
one sided arguments
ever-growing divisiveness
and unnecessarily spilled guts
with cat videos for dessert

Shall I start you off with
today's appetizer special?
We have fried butthurtedness
with a special guilt dip.
think about it, and I'll be back

We're ready to order sir.
We'll have the all you can eat buffet.
Keep the plates coming thanks!

Don't call me pretty

I am not pretty

I am a warrior molded from hot iron

Beaten down to conform to a shape

To conform to a number

To conform to a scale

I forgave the people who ripped me apart

I crawled tooth and nail out of the ashes that trapped me

I get up every morning with a purpose to change

So don't call me pretty

Because I am so much more

All my life
I lived in fear
And cowered away
From the light

But the light
It wasn't the refreshing light
Or the light you're happy to see
After being in the dark so long

This light was different
It was the light from people
The people who judged you
If you lived in darkness

Because darkness
It's associated with death
And despair
And sadness

And sadness is associated with weakness
And if you're weak
Then you're not worthy of living

And so you shy away from that light
That ****** light
Afraid of being discovered
Living in the comforting darkness

And once you're discovered
You get sent away
To a place full of bright lights
And supposedly soothing voices

They hand you medicine
But to me
It's like they're shoving it down my throat

And every night
When I take that pill
It's like I'm swallowing my life
Drowning it

Because the medicine doesn't help
It makes me irritable
And angry
And serious
Because I can never see
With that horrid light shining in my eyes

They took me out of the darkness
Because they thought I wasn't happy
But then they trapped me in the cursed light
Where I am now petrified

Puking and depression
Coughing and anxiety

They go together
Like sticks and stones

Like

The sticky tar
And the wretched gasoline

You can't get rid of them
Because they stick to you

The tar becomes your clothes
And the gasoline becomes your perfume

They become a part of your life
Affecting where you go and what you like

And sometimes the tar is so thick
Or the gasoline is so strong

That you can't even get up
And so you're forced to stay in bed

And until the day comes

The day where you can peel that tar off
Or rinse that gasoline away

You will forever
Be set aflame

All I've ever done
is recount the
permanent blessing
bestowed by a homeless
woman
outside the seven-eleven
with my slurpee communion
and a bag of snacks
that were all junk food
because sugary
treats taste best
alongside chaos
and I haven't
had good luck
since
she called upon
God
to bless and keep
me after I gave her
a dollar

Can't call 911 for this,
I can't save you this time.

Open the curtains for the first time in ages.
The walls weep,
dripping yellow-brown nicotine,
crying brown tears for you.
Carpet stained spots of brown black blood,
a macabre Jackson *******.
Stained, sweat-soaked sheets smell,
the stench of withdrawal and agony.
**** and mold growing on the toilet,
like tiny bonsai trees.

The sun catches your face,
lightly touching a cheek-bone,
saying goodbye in it's own way.
Hazel eyes wide open,
mouth frozen,
a sort of painful grimace.

I want to clean it all away.
I want to scrub every wall,
every moulding,
every inch.
Bleach it all white.
Pull the **** across a giant etch-a-sketch of the scene.
And when it's clean,
When all of it is finally clean...

I will cover every wall like a canvas, with every note you ever left me.
Top to bottom,
wall to wall,
I will paint your words.
When I was away too long and you missed me,
when you wanted to cheer me up,
Or when you just wanted to say,
"I love you".