i have 140 characters to tell you how i feel
in my aggressive manner
but with 59 characters left
and 60 thoughts in my head;
I am struggling

he keeps me
trapped in a prism prison of different shades and tints of red
crimson, scarlet, marlot
follow me down into some kind of thing we'll drag on for months
keeping the dead animal of our situation-ship around until the neighbors complain of the stench
i dont know, dude.
i open myself up and i see the same shades of red flowing out
the stench is there as well- i smell like a gun
anxiety chews away at the rest of my body,
gnawing on my ear, feeding me more information i didn't need to hear
you say i'm trigger happy when it comes to jumping to conclusions
if i'm a gun, you're the smoke from the shot.

i got into my car hurriedly
Wednesday, Thursday, saturday
(i chose to walk on friday)
so it wasn't until i had to wait out the rain in my car
sunday, 12 pm
that i looked over,
fully immersed in the scent of your favorite perfume
half expecting you to materialize from the cloud of fragrance occupying the passenger's side
and in my haste from the days previous,
i wasn't yet aware of the tiny pin you left in your place
before dashing out into the city streets
a bobby pin
that must have escaped the locks that touched your skin
it made mine crawl
to think of an object blessed enough
from the graces of an atheist's god
to be given the opportunity
to touch a being so holy
and there i sat
in a parked car,
cursing everything that made me into the awkward, 5 ft. 8
man i am
longing to be close enough to her
so that i might
smell the scent of lavender and honey
that lingered from her embrace
but instead,
i am the stalky man who can not seem to say goodbye

his beady eyes track me down from across the motel parking lot,
making a perfect triangle between
me, you, and the car that stands as the only means of escape
the motel is humid, dumpy
it is clear a young lady from suburbia Georgia does not belong in these neck of the woods
he knows that.
on me like moths to a flame,
but more viciously
an aggressive beast in the early hours of dusk
(this is where I see the primitive side of men- the man attacks, while I am still deciding to fight or flight)
I can choose to keep walking, disregard his uncivil pursuits
but I was Orpheus in the fire pits of Hades' fortress
this only provoked him more
licking his lips, he was on me
...
..
.
Mom?
Mom can you hear me?
Mom I don't know where I am and
and it's so cold
I can't feel my legs, I don't know what's between them anymore
I'm bruised, I'm bleeding
No, I don't know where I am
it's all
dark
and we're moving
The stars don't shine here, it is all rough and concrete slums
I can't find our northern light to find home
no, there is no batman sign projected in the sky to assure me I will be located soon
Mom, the night is endless
If I am not in this realm anymore, you know who took me out of it
I can only hope you can find my empty shell that once held my spirit and energy
i'm by the grasses,
I spoke to the night owls through the screams that startled them
but they were not too upset, I would only feed them later on
my fingers are holding onto the grass like a tiny blade of green can support my 119 pound body
i'm in a shallow area, I just want it to be morning
Mom, I wish I was a kid again
because mom, look at who I am now?
who the **** have I become?
my face swollen, chopped into bits, the literal, physical definition of scatter brained
and i'm sorry you had to read about it in next week's paper
you couldn't catch me in time- tag i'm it
but the line was cut short,
phone connection dropped
and now i'm gone.

this isn't a poem. this isn't some well written piece of literature that will be quoted underneath photos of our depressed youth of America. this is me jotting down my thoughts at 9:26 p.m. i sit in the darkness of my newly decorated room (i needed a change of scenery, so a make over was in place) and i wonder why you don't like me. maybe i'm not specifically upset as to why you aren't interested, but more so why half the guys i pursue look the other way. I'm sitting here, dear reader, and i realize that it isn't the sad songs that make me cry, but instead the dead silence that crowds my empty room. I wonder why you didn't take me when you had the chance, didn't sweep me off my feet. I've annoyed my friends with the constant talking of you, it consumes me. i don't understand why my own two legs are strangers to the rest of my body and why they can't hold me up sometimes. i passed English 1101 with a 99, and yet i can't seem to find the right words to string together and form a sentence to utter out of my mouth. my mouth won't form the right shape to pronounce the few words i can muster. when someone asks me if i'm ok, i cry. I'm in mourning, i hate the snow that packs the sidewalks. you weren't mine and that's hard to process. it's like i have found my soulmate, but my soulmate doesn't return the same affection. sometimes i feel that i am seen as only meat for boys of all ages to circle around and toy with before they viciously devour. I am eye candy, i am known for nothing other than my appearance. when i write, i am my words. today i went to an abandoned house and i felt sadness surround me, along with the scent of musk and moth *****. i bought a goldfish and it died because i over fed it. i care too much about things and they die.

it is difficult
to find the right words
when you don't want to be with somebody
and yet
when you envision them with another
your bones are rattled with urgency;
a feeling that occupies places in your body
you didn't know existed
the type of thing you can't seem to shake off
you feel it under your skin
and then, you are faced with two options:
do you send him away because you don't truly love him?
or do you become selfish
trailing him around like dead weight
knowing full well nothing will become of it
but wanting to drag it out for as long as possible
I looked you in the eye,
felt your hands linger around my neck
and knew in my heart I would only bring you pain as I have others
but foolishly I clung to you like you were gold,
not knowing that once you left
the fools gold I had mistaken you as
would turn out real, promising
now you and I(because there is no "us")
sit amongst mixed company,
you in the back of the blue kia,
I in the passengers
your eyes bore into the back of mine
I look out the window to drown you out
and as you notice my disengagement
you reach your hands to the back of my neck
wanting to make me better again
wanting me to save you from the grasp of my rigid behavior
but how the **** can I save you when you were the one who was going to save me?
don't touch my neck like you never left
don't touch my heart
don't make me shiver under your embrace
because it was you I had to myself
and it was you that I lost

I imagined our last goodbye
would be something for the screens-
you would be about to board a train
(you were always the one to say goodbye)
I would make my way through the bustling crowd
and find you through the smoke
as you'd turn around,
the wind from a moving train would brush my hair ever so slightly
that at that exact moment,
you'd fancy me the prettiest girl to cross paths with
as a tear would escape from the corner of my eye,
i'd whisper from across the station;
"please don't leave me"

you are moving to Seattle-
out west to a city that never shows sun
it was meant for you.
you want to be a Bio major,
and you want to spend the rest of your days in the mountains.
Seattle is far away from the sub(urban) town you leave behind
and you never gave me the chance to see you through.
I will never forgive myself for the things I said,
but mistaking every stranger with long brown hair
and caramel-apple eyes
for you,
is punishment enough.

you are moving to Seattle,
and although I feel a bittersweet sensation
of being happy that you finally are getting your wish
(to, quote, "be away from you and this stupid ******* sleepy suburbia that offers me nothing but painful memories)
I can't help but torture myself
as I visualize you pursuing your dreams,
meeting beautiful, pale strangers that become your new friends
or finally gathering the courage to turn behind your chair and ask the
quiet redhead sitting behind you in your American Lit. class
if she'd like to grab coffee after lecture.
how can I sit back at home,
watching your through a blank, glass screen
seeing you move into the future
while i'm still stuck in the past,
heartbroken over losing the boy who left me in this do nothing town
as he moved on
to Seattle.

you wrote a song bashing me
and I killed my fish just to feel something
we both have our ways of coping, friend.

Say my name until it sticks to your tongue like cotton
drying your mouth out into a drought,
making sure that every word you swallow down to keep you from speaking it
clings to the back of your throat, creating a lump

she misses you
but you come around for the selfish reason of making residence
in the vacated spots of her motel mind
the motel suite turning into a full time live in apartment
When will you get bored of this dumping ground town
much like you did of the other places you left behind?
Won't you miss us?

I manipulated my way into the contacts of your phone
just to prove to you how mature I've become
you took note,
you told my friend so.
But in your enlightened state,
your third eye can see the storm I've got planned for you
you unravel my plans of dragging you back into my drain storm
And here comes out the emotional part of me
that weighs the options;
would I manipulate you in order for you to become weak enough to run back into my arms?
Or do I instead let you go and follow your own accord,
knowing full well that isn't me.

I haven't changed, John, and I'm sorry that you'll never be able to know that.

you slip into my mind once again
as i slip into unconsciousness
guilt plagues my insides black
and all i can see from you now is red
why did i not leave you a note?
no, i was much too prideful then
it got in the way
but you must know i had to get out
and you can't blame me for not wanting to stay,
but don't blame yourself either
it was a haste decision,
dear, you must know i took your old cassette tapes and cinnamon scented perfume
i was with you for a year
but i felt closer to you when i was holding those objects in my hands
than i was holding you in my arms
i had to drive out of the state
get away
because i knew as soon as you came to find me gone
i was not going to want to see your doe eyes fill to the brim with your crocodile tears
and even thinking about it now makes me pity your cherub face even more
it's not that you are unattractive
(quite the opposite in fact)
you were always intellectual,
you were generous
but yet there was something off putting
and without reason, i will leave you now
sitting at home, trash overflown
with tissues and stained dreams of finding someone who loved you

caramel apple eyes
with no smile,
just a smirk
maybe you'll spare me
from my two year and counting sentence
but it seems unlikely
that i'll be able to get over you,
because if I haven't already
I never will.
Tell me why I can only formulate magnificent proses when they
come from a spot of mourning that you left in the pits of my rotting stomach
it's an ethereal feel that links me back to the sea
your scent draws me in close,
how I desperately want to jump off a cliff to save myself from your grasp.
I spend countless nights huddled in a corner of my room
and I've come to the conclusion that love is only good
when you're in it.
I return to the ocean cliff every day,
looking out to try to pinpoint the bottom of the raging blue rapids beneath where I stand 133 feet up.
Maybe if I can dance closer to the edge,
you'll take notice and save me before I fall
but who am I kidding?
I was the one to take things too far,

I don't want to finish this poem.

for more than a year,
I have been stuck with the indecision to
call you.
and it's as if I torture myself with the thought
of what I would do
if you were to bump into me at the grocery store
hair grown out past your chin,
bloodshot eyes; you smell like beer and ****.
would I have the courage to confront you?
or would I take on the "little girl lost" persona
i oh so often do
and crouch behind the stand of sunflowers,
waiting until you have finished fishing through to find your favorite muffins from the display
and go on your way
i just can't fathom
after all these months of trying to change myself,
i can't change the fact that you are still plaguing my body
the bruises on my lips can still be felt.
your scent fills up the room that you refuse to walk into
and it must be some kind of ******* sickness
that no matter what you could have said to me and make me cry
it won't be enough to scare me away
Stockholm syndrome for the  ones who keep themselves imprisoned in another's memory
you have made me sick and perverted
but I love you for it.

lazy summer afternoons spent escaping the Georgia heat
pollution from the city intertwines itself with our damaged skin
i sit on his front porch as he and I torture our lungs
i never experienced him outside the four walls surrounding his bedroom
it was those walls he felt more secure;
a recluse out of insecurity, not desire
the sun and moon,
i rise in the morning just as he begins to set
only to be awoken by a sudden terror that if tomorrow is never guaranteed,
why should i waste a third of my life sleeping
when I'd rather be in the arms of a man who never shows his face?
i recall i fell in love with him many times,
once when i saw him hiding in the back row of the theater,
another when i heard his rasp in a voicemail,
after we made love in a room with no AC,
and once more when i followed you into a dimly lit room
i fell in love as you slipped your hand into mine
and the velvet underground played somberly,
and drowned out the white noise that came out of my mouth
as i whispered in your ear;
"If I Could Make The World As Pure"
please, make this easy on me
"And Strange As What I See"
i often have to wipe away tears as you turn your back
"I'd Put You In A Mirror"
and put on your clothes
"I Put In Front Of Me"
i'll mumble an I love you
"Linger On, Pale Blue Eyes"
and hope you mean it as you repeat it back
"Linger On, Pale Blue Eyes"
there is too much to lose, i am scaring both of us

Unfamiliar to the feeling
not entirely sure what's wrong,
but knowing that there's something missing
from my once wholesome life
and it's like i'm finally discovering myself
a period of rebirth
but now the clock has warned me that it is 12 in the morning
I am reminded of how you are out there
and how I don't know you
but how I desperately want to
and why I am a writer and all I do is constantly write or think about what I want to write about next but all of a sudden it's midnight and I can't find a way to string the extensive words of our English vocabulary together to somehow
SOMEHOW
expound upon why the simple touch of a stranger has left me feeling so empty, but how at the moment when I reached my fingertips just far enough that they could brush against your side,
I felt wholesome again
I don't know what makes humans yearn for another human to complete them and how we feel lonesome when in the company of the bitter silence that meets us at the end of a partnership
Or why I have a million and one things I could write about
instead of focusing again
on the loss of someone I never got the chance to know
and yet I choose to torture myself with seeing you in dreams
smiling at a girl
that is not me

it smelt of cough syrup and cinnamon
when it came to visit in the dark hours that followed the chime of the grandfather clock
the scent lingered on every article of clothing he once had his fingers on
and crept under her nose as she lay there on her side
eyes open, hands steady
and she swore that she could almost feel it under her skin when she outstretched her arms like a bird
the scent turned into a feeling that stayed for 47 days
each morning morphing into a night, each night a new beginning
each beginning signaling for her arrest
held captive by the four walls that housed the scent
and every day she was reminded
there was no cure for fixing the void
except finding another to take by the hand
and using him dry until he could no longer be pushed around
each new one entering in,
another chance to touch the contents in the room
one more opportunity to leave memories and association with each item they picked up
and when they left,
she stayed in her same spot
surrounded by memories and names and faces and associations
that smelt all to similar to cough syrup
and she was knocked out.

it was then that i saw you were gone
that i let you slip through my fingers like sand
and that same sand collected at the bottom of the hour glass
i became mesmerized
obsessed
when would the glass be filled with the gritty substance so i can flip you over
and we can go back to square one
like the strangers we are
and the sand keeps dripping until you come again
because i can pretend that i know you
and that our souls are somehow synced up
but when it's all said and done
and i lie alone on a Friday night
wondering why you haven't materialized in front of my eyes
i know there will be no more visits by my ruin
my ruin
the one who can do no wrong in my eyes
but will leave me with bumps and bruises and aches
my ruin
who left one day and never came back
whose presence was not felt in four months
until now
i haven't felt you calling
since September
something is reaching out to me
calling you to my attention
you need me
or you want to believe you do

there is no way to win in a world that is male dominated.

I have taken years to fully appreciate my body. It was not something that came naturally to me,
especially with an over critical mom
constantly concerned with my health and how I presented myself and my body.
now, in a period of rebirth,
I have found it upon myself to be able to look in the mirror
and appreciate how my *** is no longer flat,
or how my collarbones poke out underneath my neck

I snap a photo, and share it on social media.

the flood of insults and suggestions drown me until I am drowning in a sea of my own tears
"You should put on more clothes. No one wants to see that"
"you leave no mystery to a man. how disgusting"
"you are pretty in the photos where you are fully clothed. why do you feel the need to show off your ***?"

At 16, I have learned that what I wear is not up to me.
what I wear impacts other's lives,
the half of an inch of polyester cloth
that separates my beautiful and natural body from the eyes of the rest of the world
is so crucial to be fully covering the nape of my neck,
my shoulders,
my entire stomach,
all the way past my knees
and to my ankles
so that I am locked in a prison of cotton transformed into a shirt
because heaven forbid that .5 inches of thin yet protective cloth
hangs slightly lower than the nape of my neck,
revealing that I am in fact a girl.

the constant bombardment of men
telling me I should cover up my chest and ***
makes me feel as though I am property,
that by choosing my own clothes,
I am somehow offending and threatening their existence

why is it
that when men are gazing at the naked body of a woman
for their own personal pleasure
it's ok?
but as soon as I
want to celebrate my beautiful and curvy body
men instantly become repulsed with the idea that I am not
a ball of various fabrics and turtle necks
and instead a natural woman
who isn't afraid
to show a little skin.

it was my cigarette break
when i wrote down on a lipstick stained napkin
every sight of the smoker's lounge
i fought so faithfully to make out you face through the mask
of smoke you hid behind,
but since i could not tell who you were
i made up who i wanted you to be
and now i can pretend that i'm the one running the game
after my last hurrah that ended in my typical
hissy fit that a man did not worship me
(even when i ignored him and gave him my cold shoulder, i expect the world)
but it is you with the eyes that taunt
i, your cigarette,
wrapped ever so intricately between your index and middle
i- your drag
but you are the fire that boils my water
the force behind my words,
my fear,
the ruination of my reputation
for being closed off so much so
but these are too complex of thoughts for an afternoon smoke
and you seem to pick up on that, too
easing me back to my state of cold, bitter
your cough the only thing that echoes on.

it's so ****** up but
I see him in you
same face, same hair
but the eyes
the eyes do not lie
and he is not in your eyes
i miss him a lot.

I dream of the one day where we meet again; anew
two from the same soul
seeing you, a past lover
as a new individual
different in appearance, different in mind
maybe we will meet once more
when you no longer support your temper
and I my immaturity
we will be cloaked in a new moon's light
seeing each other through skin and bones
forget insecurities; forget past disagreements
oh, but I am humbled
such prideful thinking it is to ever imagine another chance in this life
to get things right
I am not yet developed to receive you
so for now,
I will dismiss this as naïve thinking

You
are
like
an
eye
infection
in
the
sense
that
every
time
I
close
my
eyes
I
am
reminded
of
your
existence
and
the
pain
that
comes
with
it
so
now
I
figure
it
is
better
to
live
with
my
eyes
wide
open
so
I'm
not
faced
with
the
bitter
darkness
that
ta­kes
its
place
behind
my
eyeballs
whenever
you
are
not
around

one day I will listen to your words harass my ears in song,
and those words will no longer be about me.
instead it will be white noise,
the static enemy that murmurs paranoia through the stale air
of a room left unkempt
a knife stabbed in the lower abdomen
pull it out and let me bleed out
and maybe you'll be able to apologize after i'm gone
or maybe not
in the early hours of dawn
it is a challenge to vigorously write your name down on the paper
that lays crumpled by my bedside because I can't get the "A" in your name right
it reminds me of the day I didn't want to get out of the car but did
you spot me, i hear a gasp from my friend
but i keep on walking
because i know if i look back
I'm a goner.

your words stick to me like wax
it leaves an icky feeling
like milk turned solid on my tongue
I can't speak I cant speak I cant speak
I'm thinking of things I could have said but the cat's got my tongue
now picture my mental state as a white marble bathtub,
water dripping from the golden colored faucet
now you enter the bathtub, dripping blood rub
rubbing the blood on my clean marble bathtub
the white tub is now in need of a scrub
you have messied up my bathtub.
the sins of your day rinse off your naked body, and into the water, turning brown
do you see what you have done now?

L I M B O
an L for the longing
I for the "I'm not sure if this is where I need to be"
M for the minutes of waiting
B for begging the stars above to let me have you
O ; the single letter that escaped my lips as you turned your back
and walked directly into the next willing participant's embrace

I look at you, I look at her
I run
I run until the air in my lungs evacuate when my bare feet kiss the gravel
I run until I am unable to see you in my head
I pause
I wait
and I continue running, for you are still there in my head
I run
my arms punch the breeze that fights back at me, I punch as if it were the environment around me that took you away from me
I run until night divides the day
and drapes me in velvet black
My hands on my head, I spin around, pulling out my hair like a mad man
out of breath, but knowing it's not from the running but instead from the absence of you in my heart
I crash to the ground
I keep my eyes shut as long as I can, but whenever i'm met with the darkness surrounding my thoughts
I see you, my soft light
I keep my eyes shut until your image forces me to open them
and look up at the empty night sky
and all I ponder on
is why the stars have abandoned us.

your gaze follows my fingers down to the edge of the seat, clinging.
i dont love you.
but there will always be an **** that wont heal, and you are one of them.
so how do i confront you when i am nothing but a selfish fiend?
i know you are unmeasurably joyful
and i should be too, bc im out of that situation
it is possessiveness plauging over me
making me remember how i am only human
and after today i will be able to put this to rest.
but for one last night,
let me bathe in my self pity
out of the fact that i have lost you.