i keep trying to **** it up
but it keeps sorting its **** out
love isn't such a tricky *****
after all

i'm tired.
come lie
with me

lying
gives you
rest
lying
lets you wake up
refreshed
i want to
lie
with you

let's
get in a tangle
the ancient dance
of lying together
as one

touch me
lie with me
next to me
slowly
as you lie with me
kiss me
i will let you

life has taught me
to only love
li
ars

"calm down" they say.
like it's some kind of ******* incantation
that will soothe the beast
like those words make things happen

i know words that make things happen.
they lie on either end of the spectrum:
"i love you"
and
"i hate you"

the words "calm down"
don't change anything
they just show that you're doing something someone doesn't like

what if i don't care?

honestly,
i'm sick of faking it with you.
i deserve
reality
and i'm getting everything but
every night
i spend with you
i've always been so suspicious
of being used
people use me
all the time
because i'm good
for a laugh
i can keep things going
i make parties
fun
but that's the only reason
anyone wants me around
they use me
to keep things interesting...
i
am
worth
more
than
that.

so honestly
let's be honest
(something never are)
if you wanted me back
you should have said something
fifteen minutes ago
and not fifteen seconds
ago
because fifteen minutes
is long enough
to put fifteen thousand miles
between me and you...

to be honest:
i'm tired of being used
i'm
leaving

hi,
my name is
littleredwritinghood
and i got
a C in psychology
this semester
and i am here
to try and
get over it.
i feel like
i have a big red
YOU FAILED
sticker
a big red C
on my forehead
and that my dad
will eventually
notice it
i had a nightmare
that i couldn't get it off
no matter how hard i scrubbed
i am expecting
four more C's
to join it
on my cheeks
it's not that i'm not smart
i just didn't go to class
because i wanted to slice my wrists
not get out of
bed
daddy,
i wish you
understood

i hope you find my redhair in the backseat of your car
on your clothes
on your pillow when you lie down to sleep
and i hope that these remnants of me
remind you
that you
******
up

there will always be people
who think better than you
who sing better
write better poems
why does this make me want to erase everything
and not simply
get better
or why not even
just be satisfied
and appreciate
that which i don't have
i am
selfish

i watch as
worry
fear
the promise of
incarceration
skips across me
and then settles
into dad's wrinkly
face.

thirteen
thousand
dollars

a
sixty-two year old
man
who's worked
his whole life
for a family
stuck with a bill
by a cup of coffee
with yellow teeth
and diamond earrings
on a leather couch

thirteen  
thousand
dollars

people are always asking
how much am i worth to you
how much money
would you give
to be with
me

thirteen
thousand
dollars

is the cost of
one whole year
that threw your entire life
into shadow
doubt
complete and utter
chaos
fear
despair

thirteen
thousand -

- pieces of paper
that we have put worth upon
now decide
your fate
you will lose your
house
your family
everything
you own
if you do not pay
but let's be real
you've lost it all
before
can once more
hurt
any less

thirteen
thousand
*******
dollars

in arrear
fees
this is how much
one year
of complete horror
is worth
and no,
no one pays the ones who suffered
we pay
those that won...

thirteen
thousand
dollars.

ma'am,
your weekly quota
of teeth gnashing
is up.
no, no...
you may not have more time
your slot is full
move along
the line
ma'am, i told you
we don't have any more mercy in stock
we're sold out
move along
ma'am...please move along
security...
ma'am,
you're out of time
stop gnashing your teeth
MA'AM...
SECURITY
GET THIS WOMAN OUT OF HERE
we don't have room for her.

facebook messages
blinking at me
angrily
read me
they say
say something back
they scream
but i don't want to talk to
any of you
mostly because
i don't know
what to do
about anything
anymore
stop asking
me

discarded.
empty stomach.
the word mother carved into my arm.
finally proven insane.

chasm carefully constructed with the carcass of our love
lying in the bottom of the shallow swamp water i am grounded in.

alone.
so, so alone.
this white washed prison soaks up the bad thoughts and the blood seeping from the cuts and reflects them back at me
the mirror through which i see our relationship.

you will never
ever
understand the torment i have endured
i would give anything to have simply been a bullied, privileged fat kid.

your apologies will never satisfy the aching block hole that is my abdomen
mostly because you never apologize.

today i wished i could tell your mother that you are a ******.
today i spared you, and cut open my arms instead.

i can feel the point of my life
slipping out my fingers
not really
slowly....
boy
i'm in trouble
but i can't help it
i just don't give a ****
what's the point of anything
anyway
go to school
get a job
at mcdonald's
get pregnant
get someone else pregnant
make fun of pregnant people
treat everyone unequal
never get married
live with a load of ****-heads
fall asleep
die
i can work at mcdonald's
without a college degree
so why won't you
let
me

side by side boxes
with little bleeding words
my blood smeared on one
the other yet to be graced
tonight is a good night
for him to be
baptized
i wish it wasn't in my
blood
with this
knife

first he kisses them
then he causes them
we cannot win
or maybe just him
or maybe just me

all i hear when i look in the mirror is the frivolous, ignorant sentence you uttered in bed one morning
after making love to me (should i call it that?)
"i wish your **** was a little bigger."

it echos in my head when you hold me
when you kiss me, your hand down my pants
when you're on top of me, biting my neck
when you hug my abdomen from your chair.

it's like it's written in my skin now
in the pathways of my neuro-system
after everything i have done to be beautiful in one ******* morning
one ******* night
23 ******* years of standing on the curved backs of billions of other women
struggling to have better anything, better everything
so that you can have more fun while ******* them
after all that
you voice your dissatisfaction with the fact that i am not photoshopped
or surgically altered
as i lay naked in your bed
after you've
"made love to me."

is this a sickness that is nature made?
were you born to be dissatisfied with perfection?
never satiated?
i believed that at least my *** was perfect,
despite chubby arms and a fat stomach.
the one thing i believed desirable
you destroyed
with one sentence.

i hope it is not natural.
i hope the internet
****
reddit
instagram
video games
whatever the ******* look at that makes you treat me like a consumable, customizatable option
taught you this
because i pray that my future son
will never even think to do
what you have done.

watch the happiness drain from the tip of my head
to my eyes
to my toes
watch it pool around the bottoms of my calloused barefeet
on the cold, ugly brown tile of the dorm bathroom.

the problem with validity is that in order to be of value there must be something below you that is worthless
and many times the skulls of wide-eyed quiet girls will do
to rest your high-heeled tennis shoes on
baton in hand
leading the slaughter ever forward.

inadequacy is a monster that plants itself in the stomach
and grows out of the mouth at an alarming rate
strangling the trembling buds around you...

i would feel better if you knew me before you perpetuated your indelible lack of self-love
i would feel better if there were a reason to crush my bones and knead them into the whitewashed cement of these dorm room walls
built upon the bodies of other quiet girls
seeking solace from the raging personalities
that make up for their raging
inadequacies -

yes,
i play video games.
and i have a decorative knife
that i was not able to hang up
because sticky tac only goes so far.
yes, i am quiet
no, i do not partake in your gossip
or your hate speech
but do not pin me to the wall like the latest bug collection conquest
like you have defeated me

i have a flower growing on my desk that could defeat all of you
if it stooped to your level
beauty is the sharpest sword.

saw your name today on a playlist i made for us,
it didn't sting
didn't even register
as something abnormal
or interesting
for the first time
since august.

i love
my malleable
subconscious
more than i ever loved
you.

It is vitally important
That you find somewhere to hide.
If you can't manage it in private,
You must at least try in public.
Find all the round, yellow little cubbies you can
Pray they are unoccupied.
If, in fact, they aren't...
Wander, pointedly examining the floor,
A wall,
Your phone
Until you find a cracked
Worn
Red one.
Slink unnoticed into it,
Keep your head low
And let the grody,
Curved
White wall
Protect you.

it's nights like these
that i try to figure out
if i love you
but i've never been good
at puzzles
i always give up
on them

in january he was gentle.
rested a soft hand on my neck -
it felt strange
but he said it was natural
and so i believed him.

and now in june it's a chokehold
a strange escalation that took months to notice
my body slowly being deprived of oxygen
turning blue
and lifeless
his strong fingers
leaving bruises on my pale skin
veins stand out
as i
scream on the couch
my back arched
like electrodes placed on my temples
shocking me back to life
i feel that strange,
wild,
raring,
open pain
course through me
for the first time in a year

i think i should let you know
that you wouldn't just make an ugly girl
you'd make an ugly anything
because your mind
is ugly
and that every time i hear your voice
your drawling,
depressing,
slur
i want to throw my brain
out a window
into a vat of lava
i know this is all so sudden
but you **** me off
an' ****

i wish you would write me
as i am
but you distort
every word
every expression
your mind is so warped
you look at me
like i'm a funhouse mirror
you see a misshapen reflection
of yourself


dearest,
remember
me.

expect that you won't know what to do with yourself for a while.

expect that you'll be timid and untrusting and reluctant.
expect that people will want an explanation
and that you won't want to give them one.

expect that weekends will make you gnash your teeth and rip your clothes
expect that maybe you'll feel sorry
that maybe you'll want to break the sacred silence that fell like a blanket over your heads
comforting to you
stifling to him...

expect to be afraid of the future.
expect to miss the good parts of him...


expect to someday feel alright again
and realize that this is the first step.

i have more split ends
than i have thoughts

****

i'm really
******* myself majorly
by not writing this essay
it's actually kind of disturbing
how many ***** i don't give
for that fact
what happened
to
me

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
now i'm lying on the cold har....

....wait....oh. ****.

it's so amazing how easily i can determine
that i was not insane for a year and a half
now that you no longer block out the sun.

yeah, maybe i still can't look at your face
because i am so afraid to see you and have you trick me back into sympathy and compassion.

me, the girl who loved a ******.

maybe jesus taught me too well to love those that persecute me
he made me to fall in love with the man who grabbed me by the wrists and held me down.
would my father
would my pastor
would anyone
honor me for the sacrificial love i displayed for a year and a half
holding him
giving myself to him
loving him
would they pat me on the back
and say that i truly understand the love of god
letting a man ravage my life
for a year
and a
half

i don't even know the months anymore.
i've stopped counting
because i've stopped torturing myself
because i no longer can say
"here is the day he took it away from me
and here i am, still letting him over and over again."
the months past do not matter now.

i will start counting for a different reason:

1 month since i told him enough is ******* enough
2 months since i cut my arms open, writing my sins in my flesh
3 months since i decided that jesus was wrong
that loving my enemies will **** me
make my insides rot
that not loving this enemy
is simply
self preservation
4 months since i got my voice back.
5 months since i started to feel a heart beating in my chest again instead of a hollow socket
6 months since i laid in bed my head and tongue bursting with hate at the mere thought of his hands rough against me, mouth against my ear
7 months since i stopped lying to everyone around me about what really happened that first night
8 months since my body revolted as my mind toiled on in utter confusion, darting from one frightened thought to the next
9 months since i had to worry about carrying a child that he conceived alone
10 months since i beat my head against a cement wall, trying to smash the memories
of what he did to me
11 months since i hugged his mother and met his family wanting to tell them they had a ****** predator for a son
1 YEAR SINCE I LET A BOY CONSUME THE ESSENCE AND JOY AND PURITY OF WHO I AM AND WHAT I WISH I COULD BOLDLY STAND FOR.

i will count the future months
on the gritty pockmarked sidewalk to recovery
until i find again my way
to a sound mind
a sound body
and a sound heart
victimize me no longer,
you who removed from me my innocence
and hung it around my neck
like an albatross that i shot
and not you...

to love again, will be an awfully big adventure.

if i could see
what is hurting me
i'd tell it to stop
for the love of
god

swallowing
my first straight shot
of jack
letting the bitter taste
converge with the bitter
inside of me
but all it does
is make me cry...
god,
what a pathetic
drunk you are,
red

little brother,
you could have the pink in my cheeks
if it made you happy.
you could have the spring in my step
(although it has been quite small
these last two years)
to play with.
you could have my rise
and my
shine
although i haven't seen them
for so long
i hardly remember what they look like
...i'll find them for you.
you could have
the golden apple
of my eye
a pretty play thing
to make you smile
you could have
all the sunshine
green grass
and cool water
that has ever befriended me.

i'd let you have it all
if i were only allowed to give it to you
if i could only
see you
without the crater in my chest
trying to eat me from the inside
if i could only
bear the sight of our mother
if i could only
stop cutting
if i could only
pretend better
if i could only
let you snuggle up against me
without crying
and making you wonder why
if i could only
be better for you
if i could only
do a lot of things
that i owe you...
little brother
i wish i was
stronger.

mac 'n cheese
the mother of comfort
put it in my mouth

but no,
gross.

can't decide if the river ran me past something i've no control over anymore
i can't decide if this is what love is
my phone tells me that there are so many other boys with better traits
but i don't want to bother to get to know them.

i would rather spend a summer away from you?
afraid of what you do behind my back?
in your
phone?
what about what i do in mine?

cheating takes 10 seconds now
one snap and all evidence is gone
it doesn't even feel wrong
it took no effort
shouldn't evil
take effort
shouldn't we feel
wrong?

too easy, too quick to catch
as soon as i pick up the hammer it tells me what to hit --
(everything)

my phone? --
the same.

it takes two seconds
of chit chat
for me to get down
to why i am so angry
with you.
how could you leave me
all summer,
sister.
all the **** that we've been through
these two years...
isn't my family
divided
separated
scattered
enough?
everyone leaves.
it's easier
to just
leave
i want to leave...
but i must be the one that stays
because no one else will.
don't yell at me
for not applying to colleges
for sitting
staring
at the ceiling
slicing
my arms open
not eating
passing out
hitting my head
screaming
don't yell at me
for things you don't understand,
sister.
maybe
if i was better
if i was happier
nicer
...better...
you would want to stay here
with me.
but i guess i messed it up
just like i messed up with mom
i thought i was so good at
giving people
what they want
i never know what i want...
maybe that's the problem

cement box of aching torture
housing another worst year of my life

airtight vacuum seal my pain
so i never forget

ground into the glossy walls
built on the bones of other pulsating, tired freaks.

try to throw up the little white pill
baby is
too scared to dream
but it's too late
it's already in
your bloodstream
stand up
pace the black room
fall
over
lay panting
fall
asleep

d                    r                    e ­                a              m

educational
suicide bomber
took an in-class essay
to the jugular
pen to the heart
inkstained
fingers
fell apart
all the things
brain-washed into me
suddenly
dissipate
and float like ash
in the wake
of my explosion
or lack
thereof
ugh

my stomach
trips
stumbles
fumbles
turns
over everything i just ate
which was really
two bites
of something i didn't even taste
is the reward of
losing weight
worth dying
for

i have a dream
that one day i'll have one
one day i'll decide
that this world is worth it
maybe it will be revealed to me
that everything hasn't really gone to hell
maybe one day
all this poetry
will mean something
there's this ancient book
that everyone hates
and this guy named jesus
who reassures us
like dr. king
that we will have trouble in this world
but not to give up
kick the bucket
run off
slice our wrists
because he overcame it
i miss that
radical freedom fighter
bleeding on a torture device
i'm sick and tired of his people
like i'm tired of justin beiber's fans
which is really saying a lot
if you think about it
i have a dream
that someday
i won't be so worthless
i have a dream
that someday
i'll get out of this family mess
i have a dream
that someday
i'll be allowed to dream
again

purple splotches
on my
cold arms,
wrists...
thick
red
unfeeling
scars
that never fade
i'm waiting for the day
they turn
white

dear
spanish professor,
thank you for teaching me
how to use
google translate
so efficiently
also
i want to thank you
for this big
fat
C

sometimes i forget where i am on the list of funny things that i say to you
to make you want me around.
sometimes i goof up and retell you a story
half true, half made-up
and i watch your smile glaze over
well,
at least you're still
smiling.

this social deviant rejects normal rules
or at least, she says she does
but truth be told
it hurts me just as much as any other self-conscious
self-inflicted
human being
when you don't seek me out
or you say
you'd rather hang out with her
than me.

i don't like admitting this kind of ****
it displays for all
that i am just a human
i like to think that i am more
but short-comings have short-fuses.

upon the witching hour,
the delirious stroke of noon...
i promptly
lost
my
mind.

i rambled up and down the library isles
trying to find
somewhere to hide.
all my precious yellow cubbies
were full of degenerates
texting on their phones
talking too loudly
for a library
unknowing of the fact
that if i didn't have my yellow cubby
i didn't have an anchor.

i guess i'm ok now
some odd, flightly demon
tried me on for a bit
made it hard to breathe
hard to think
hard to
be
but once i looked in the mirror
saw my freckles
my speckled eyes
my friendly nose
i knew
what i was once more.
it wasn't the one girl standing next to me, washing her chapped hands
talking to me about english class
that brought me back
it was me
all me.
i raised myself
from the dead
all i did

was lift my head.

scrape all the ****
out from under your bed
try to find
your knife
try to feel
better
four cuts
later

small overdoses
have suddenly begun.
where it says take one
i take two
where it says do not take more than two
in six hours
i take four

i'm just trying to feel better.

ARE YOU
ANY BETTER
THAN HIM

ARE YOU NOT GUILTY
OF SIMILAR SINS

why does he now repulse me so?
we are the same.

hey.
the birds turn on
at 4:35am here.
i wonder if the chinese man
with the swirling eyes
turns them on
like in cannery row
as he walks down to the seaside
maybe he just flips
a switch

big sister thinks she knows how boys work
big sister hasn't been with a boy like i have.
first he's kissing you
then he's got his hand up your shirt
and no matter how much you promise me
that your christian ideals will stay in tact
watch how quickly those lines blur and degrade
the hand that holds you will hold you down soon enough
i know how it goes
i'm not a *****

big sister,
i wish i could tell you
what he did to me
maybe then you would be more careful.

if you do anything
four thousand times over
it will start to get
boring

like
***

but what about
breathing?

i wish i
was there for
my little brothers and sisters.
because i know
i know they need me
i know that
there's a piece of them
that wastes away
without me
and i wish i
could be with them
but it is
too hard
and i am
too weak
i am
too frightened
of home

i am too
sorry