sometimes i think about
how it would be
to be
in someone's arms
whenever i felt like it
like a kind of
lilting tune
that beckons, draws in
draws out
complications
i don't want love
and all that comes zig-zagging after it
i just want to be held.
maybe my mom didn't hold me enough as a child
i mean
she had a lot of kids to hold
i guess
maybe the funny, quirky redheaded one
didn't get a chance
maybe i'm one of those people
who will grow up deranged
because my parents let me cry at night
instead of rocking me
holding me
comforting me
i learned to
rock myself
back and forth
my arms holding
my knees
comforting
the empty valley
in my chest
badly
because i never
learned
how.

i tired of this
so quickly
where did i go
all semester?
i don't think i've been here
at all
ask my gpa...
he'll agree.

tragedy has made me silent.

he crept down my throat
and softly snipped away at my voice;
now there is nothing.

i smile and nod
smile and nod
smile and smile
and nod and nod
falling asleep in plain sight
watching your lips move in speech
wishing mine would follow suit

tragedy has made me silent,

made me timid
made me grow in stature until i am awkward
gangly
always in the way
hiding behind
a shorter sister
but still a sore thumb

a quiet
quaking
obvious protrusion
i invoke conversation
but it dies out
with the smile in my eyes
the bobbing of my head
the silence of my lips

tragedy has made me silent.

i become extremely depressing at night
and i can feel it bothering you
in the pleading tone of your voice
the begging in your questions
you finally just give up
after a while

i didn't use to do this
it's a new thing
since you came
and went
and i came
and i went
and you went

i can't take a summer without you

goofball since i could first strike a one-liner
destined to be the fat, funny kid from the age of ten.

and that's great
i can float wherever i want
popular kids laugh just as hard as the weird ones
but try and tell people the terrible
unspeakable things that happened to you
and they laugh all the same
fine-tuned to only hear jokes leaving your garish mouth.

i have to turn **** and divorce and abandonment and growing up too fast and taking care of everyone when all i want to do is come home and sit on a nice couch with christmas lights while my mother makes christmas cookies and gives me robes and socks and hugs and perfume for no ******* reason

i want that so ******* bad
but all i can do
is make a joke about it
because that's all you want to hear from me
the fat, funny kid
who lives to make everyone smile
so i can
for a little while
but there are ugly, sad things inside of me
that rip through my quiet moments
when i'm not making a joke about **** -
a real story masked with comedic error -
the ugly parts
sit on my chest
and breathe into me
while you like my posts on facebook
and laugh at my silly snapchats.

take
three bites of cereal
to calm the burn
in the pit
of your stomach
float
on

You left me
like a used ******
on the sidewalk
empty
discarded
trodden on
looked at
disgusting
unwanted.

used quickly
in vain
to acquire
some small pleasure
(mostly pain)
                                                           ­                 what were you thinking?
deflated
with pieces of you
i'd rather not keep
all over me.

wow
you actually did
care.
though i'm still
at a loss
as to why...
not because i don't think i'm worth
someone
caring
for me
or caring
that i exist
i'm at a loss
because i can't tell
how you feel
and it's
******* me
off.
you said you're not
sad
you're
ticked off
but what are you
ticked off
about...
that i left?
why do you think i left?
i want to know
but i won't ask you
i don't want to
get mixed up
again
you always
mix me
up,
skyler.

i feel constantly betrayed
constantly abandoned
constantly FORGOTTEN
LEFT
USED
by everyone.
everyone
besides me
gets to leave
gets to get away from this ******* town
these ******* people
our ******* problems
but no
little red
has to stay.
someone has to take care of dad
and it's always going to be her
because she is always there.
dear
sisters
i delight in the day
when i am not there
when the knife is not just dug into me
but into you
then YOU
will have to stay.
i hope you enjoy
feeling every little thing
that i had to feel
for two ******* years.
i hope they
carve wrinkles into your face
scars into your arms
and legs
i hope you write thousands of tortured poems
i hope you never get any better
and most of all,
i hope there is someone
who gets to do EVERYTHING you EVER wanted to do
and then never even
visits you
or thanks you
for taking care of dad
and for keeping their mind
crystal
*******
clear
of guilt.
sisters,
i will glory
in your suffering
when i leave
for good
which i pray
will be
soon
because i want you
to hurt

peanut-butter sleep
from a green and yellow bottle
via a little
round
white
pill

out of my league
like a man holding a gun to my chest
your eyes crinkle
lovingly
loading bullets
between my eyes
out of my league
like a dog with sharp teeth
me,
an overweight ragdoll that you shake
playfully
out of my league
like you're just here to be exposed to someone better
i know the feeling
it's okay
i cut the heartstrings
i'm not even sure if they grow anymore.

gather all the evidence
sort out all the papers
you're gonna get it right
this time
no arguing
she can't argue
with the truth
set all the papers out
where you can see them easily
get your phone
dial
her number
call her
at your old home
(the battlefield)

FIGHT.

she cannot resist
she cannot defeat
what is right
forever.

politically correct?
**** that.
we all know
that not a single one of us
is "pc"
in our own heads
who are we kidding?
who the **** do politics think they are
anyway
to correct
me
pretty sure we're
the ones who should be keeping
politics
in line

one year
eight months
four days
or
eighty-seven weeks
and six days
which all amounts to
six hundred and fifteen days
since you left.

fourteen thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours
you have been on your own

eight hundred eighty-five thousand and six hundred minutes
you have been without your strange, silly
redheaded daughter

fifty-three million, one hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds
that you have robbed your family
of happiness
millions of breaths
that didn't belong to you

i can't figure out
if i should still be so unhappy
after all that time
you'd think a person would get better
do people with divorced parents
stay unhappy
forever?

it makes me
afraid of humanity
if my own mother
can leave me
who else will?

but most of all
if i ever am lucky enough
to have a family
i know that i will never
ever
ever
leave
i will always
try to work it out
it's always
worth it.
i am worth it
i deserve to be happy
at least once in a while

i need to stop counting the days
but i can't.

so it's
4:01am
and my mother just texted me
which is kind of funny
because i just wrote a couple choice poems
about how she royally
****** me over.
she said she can't sleep
that she was thinking about me
(funny, i was thinking about her)
how much she
loved me
she called me her
precious daughter
told me
that she was praying
for me
but mom...
god doesn't listen
to people who abandon their families
still,
it makes me wonder
how did you know
i
was
awake

just casually enjoying looking at other people's birthday pictures
and waiting for my boyfriend to drive two hours
to say goodbye to me
because even though he's the ****** he's the one who gets the last word

i was just lying
with my cheek
against the rug
of my room
panting
wishing
my breathe would stop
and i suddenly saw
amidst a flock of papers
on my floor
nestled there
my little
quarter-sized
green plastic
turtle
that i used to keep in my pocket
named bartleby
i found him in the mud
one day
outside
in the winter
i washed him off
and he kept me
company
until i lost him

i
put down the sharp flower
i was about to slice my wrist with
and i pick up
bartleby

i don't really write much poetry anymore
i guess sometimes you have to ignore the bad things
and be happy
and all my happy poetry comes out ******....
....i don't really write much poetry anymore.

oh god.
half an hour more
and you'll get to see the sunrise,
lil red.
paint your toenails,
wave at depression
who's sitting against your door
because he's been locked out
for about
two weeks
don't worry about him
you can let him in
tomorrow

we must gauge how much we like a boy.
do you like him enough to spend three hours
trying on clothes
and tossing them aside
finding some tiny flaw
in every
neckline
do you like him enough
to have nothing but water
for a week
just to tempt him to explore
your craggy peaks
do you want him enough
to cut your wrists
in anxiety
an hour before
you'll see him
do you like him enough
do you?


do
                                        

                                                           you?

If you find me broken by the road
Don't put me back on track.
That's what got me here in the first place
And I'm not going back.
Instead, give me an encouraging word
A pat on the shoulder,
A smile.
That'll help me get by on my own
If only for a little while.

slip through new cracks this time
cracks you had no idea existed until you pulled the classic
'look through boyfriends messages while he's sleeping'
a game you're too ashamed to admit you play.

it's not just you
you aren't the only one who objectified me
you taught me how
now i do it for you.

i wear ancient friendship anklets
chipped toenail polish, a gritty smile on my face
sunshine seeping under my fingernails i
walk on the top of the railguard and look down
over and over
teetering.

see the ditch,
see the road,
see the trees.
can't see the forest but i see the trees
and i feel a nearness to the wild undergrowth
missing that blank, trodden look of a ground too often explored
i crouch in the ferns and remember the feeling that i lost.

hair smelling like wind and earth and sky
fists against the trunk of the tree
in a forest i can't see
i fight the bigness of it all
i fight against the all encompassing picture that threatens to lose me
lose this tree
i chip off the bark and put it in my pocket.
lose the tree,
but still have
a piece

i stand in a forest that i refuse to see
comforting the trees
battling the sky
screaming at the crowded leaves
dead friendship anklets
dragging
me

my little sister
who is just fifteen
speaks of things
she knows nothing about
she is always trying to tell me
that dad sexually abused her as a child
but she only believes it
because mom told her
i hate
divorce

sink into the steady familiarity
of someone else's life
a lovely,
round
three demensional
non-existent one.
absorb all the teenaged drama
broken hearts;
families
smiles
that aren't
yours
for once.
let the dancing tv heads
minister to you
for a while
so you can turn off yours
give the fried fuses a rest
try to
recharge

my eighteenth year
taught me how
not to love
but still
i trip
stumble
fall
into that which i avoid
so carefully
love
is a covetous
*****

labeled by the personality test i took for you
hoping you would understand the ticking in my mind
the blurred, erratic lines
that make me nauseous.

you don't even try.
you don't care for the beautiful wavelength that i bleed onto
alone
tired
waif-like

i just want a boy who cares about the noble tangle
the poetic fight for my life
that i begin every time i awake
still alive
the delicate balance the tension in my neck
maintains

i just wanted you
to give
a ****

stack all the dishes
in neat little piles
to make them look
smaller
pretend that you spent your time
washing the dishes
instead of in the bathroom
your head hung
over the rim
of the toilet

littlred's in trouble now
the scars
were found
someone's got to answer for them
and i hope to god
it won't be
me
i prayed for a year and a half
that dad wouldn't see

i'm in

trouble

mom was soft
like a cushion
when you sat on her lap as a child
and rested your cheek against her shoulder
she was better
than any
bed.

mothers should be soft.
i have come to this conclusion.
mom was never very thin
she was a perfect plump
with red cheeks
and rainbow eyes
and thin,
rough
dishwater fingers
that would stroke your cheek
and sing the goodnight song
she made up
just for us.

i don't like rainy nights.
it makes me feel like the whole world is crying.

i say i hate you out loud
over and over.
i don't type it to you
just whisper what i am too afraid to say to you
sometimes screaming through the screen
i hate you
i hate you
i hate you
it soothes the claw in my chest
i hate you
so
much
i wish you would die and leave me in peace
leave me to find someone better

i hate
you

i ache for the dimly lit late night cafes with wine bottles on the walls
and foamy brown cappuccinos on the tables.
i lust after the nameless, elegant dishes
and the martinis
and the sophistication.

you are wendy's at midnight
a chain restaurant on our anniversary.
practicality.

i want mindless rewards without guilt.
i want cafes and restaurants no one outside of this town has heard of
i want to be what i am:
twenty years old
fresh off the french coffee press
ready to sweep my way through all the archetypes i have observed longingly.


you're seven years too late, darling.

nothing lives forever
except hatred
when mother dies
everything she touched will smell of it
it will hurt to throw it all away
but it's better than living with something so repulsive
as hatred

i used to love walking
being one out of a big family
i could gather my thoughts
and think freely
unobstructed

now i hate walking
for the same
reasons

my father always tells me
"Red, if you weren't so gosh darned picky,
you'd be having babies by now."

my father always tells me
"Red, why not just try
this one? why not just
say ok? just this
one time
go for
ice cream
with him
he likes you...
just
try
this one
time."

my father always says
"Red, honey,
you don't have to be so skittish.
not everyone leaves
some people
stay
don't let your mother
take away
everything
from you."

my father always says
"just try
just try
just try
maybe it'll be fine
you'll be alright
you can't live your life
in fear."

i always say...
"Daddy,
it is the people you love
that hurt you
and one more scar
might do
me in
daddy,
i love you
but i won't
love
mommy taught me
not to."

"yeah i'll help but i'm not doing all those dishes
i'll do
a few."
"i did those dishes every single week you were gone
by myself.
i've already done the living room
and
the bathroom
i just need help
with the dishes."
"i can't handle that huge pile. it's too overwhelming for me."
"well i'm sorry that you can't handle a stack of ******* dishes."
"well I'M sorry you can't handle being in a crowd without anxiety medication."
"why the **** would you say that?
i was fine until you left all summer
i was fine.
90% of this anxiety is your fault
why the **** would you even say that?"
"i reject that. don't even try to put that on me."
"i'm leaving."

some people are just cursed
with bad noses.
they could have an alright face
maybe even a really good one
but some out of whack
funky nose
comes and botches the whole deal.
p.s.
90% percent of the people affected
are bitter
*******
but i guess i can't blame them.

my cat makes me happy
he's a ******* ******
i think that's why i like him

people don't make me happy
they're ******* weirdos too
but not the good kind

people make my brain hurt
they all want a piece of me
to make them smile

but i am not a glass figurine
or bubblegum
i'm not even collectable

people want to talk to me
too much
i guess i'm a good listener

or maybe not.
i have a lot of things that i want to say
but don't

i guess
that's why i write poems
to tell you the things that i would say

if you would let me speak
or even
breathe

maybe that's why
i write so many
"*******" poems

i wish
i could
talk

try to steal warmth
from the dry
cup of coffee
in your hands
shiver
quake

contain

contain

contain.

sitting in the living room
on the wooden floor
staring
at
the wall.
alone.
echo-y house,
sleeping cats.
listen to the cars roll by out the window
look at your toes
painted blue.
try not to panic.
run your fingers through your hair
look at the strands
that come off
in your fingers
only three or four this time
not too bad
but how long
will it last
your pretty red hair
that makes you worth something
will it all fall out?

mothers are better at killing children
than bringing them into
this world
she broke me
and left me
a tired little girl.

loads of birthday wishes
already rolling in
you people
need to get
a ******* hobby
it's like super-
insta-
depression...
everyone is saying
how glad they am i was born
how they don't know where they'd be
without me
i know exactly where i'd be...

...happy
somewhere

We will all meet again
When time has wound to an end.
We will grasp the frazzled, ragged edge
And run along it until we find
The beginning of time
And her twisted hedge.
She will clutch us against her silken blouse
And at last…
We will find our peace in that old yellow house….
Not one foul word will we remember
Not one ugly face
Not one weeping December.

It will all be as if it never took place
I won’t remember the cuts on my arm
The harm
I did to myself…
Nor the cuts I can’t see
The missing snowglobes on my mother’s shelf….

i like to start off some conversations with a good old fashioned
"*******"

i feel it levels the playing field
puts us on
the same track
we can now converse without the usual presupposed notion that i actually like you
or you me
see?
we are now able
to talk about the ****** new york weather
and what we didn't do over the summer
with ease

say "*******" first,
please

i remember every carefully constructed smile
that i composed for you
a melody
that i prayed
would snag you.
my eyes crinkled
into rainbow smiles
all their own
plump lips shaped
perfectly
dimples placed
with practice
just in the right spot.
you told me
over and over
"don't look at me like that"
jokingly
"you're destroying me"
you'd say
as you laughed
and smiled back
into mine
i wish i had known then
that every carefully composed smile
was wasted on you
you took my smile
and smiled it at a hundred other girls
you not only stole everything
that had ever made me smile
but you took my lips, too
no more
smiles

i stare at these
pages
with my glassy
dead
eyes
no connection
no palpitation
nothing that brings my heart
back to life
almost two years
and the pain is so deep
under the surface
like the memories...
i can hardly
bid them
rise

maybe this is good
and maybe i would think it was
if i could feel something
anything

there is a screaming face in the roof of this van
and i am starting to wonder if it is mine
eyes punched in
a ***** light fixture for a nose
a gaping, gashed mouth
almost smiling
in its torment

you're like
something i like....
....like
a cat
or....ice cream
but a cat that's flat in the road
and ice cream that's fallen on the floor
i like you,
but i wouldn't
like....
keep you

bleed out of me
until i am empty
take away what i see
set the pain free.

i just want to feel better
i just want to be gone
i want her to see
that she is wrong.

bleed
out
of
me.

there are never enough cuts
to heal the scars
everything could seep out of me
and still they'd be

there.

i am one big
tangle
of nerves
feeling everything
without perception
rolling through the halls
picking up all the trash
left around
experiencing
incorporating
them
all the same
frazzled
ragged
i TOLD YOU
i can't talk about this
before school
i can't be MORE stressed
i can't
handle it
but you can't help it
god
why
are you
doing
this to me