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.

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

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

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

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.

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

but no,
gross.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

talk **** about me?
slides off
like butter
on a hot pan
when you tip it too far.
talk **** about my friends?
you get a brick
to the face.

i say i don't much like running
always been a bit fat for it to be honest
but threaten me with something beautiful
and i will run faster than i ever thought possible
in the opposite direction.

the worst part about good things is that there must be bad things to create a contrast
or there would be no good to dream about
and it is the good that i am most frightened of
i do not know how to conduct myself
after these last few years.

i know i can handle the bad.
i'll cut my arms and smash my head against walls
and cry at ceilings with the lights off, quietly
but i will survive in the end
not for me, but for the people who it would hurt too much to endure.

the good -
the inexplicable, weightless happiness
is something i cannot understand
something i cannot fathom
the unknown, the unknowable -
the most frightening thing i can think of
and it is what i run away from
treating a funny, beautiful boy who only wants me to be happy
with silence
and fear
and suspicion
becoming what i hate
despite anything i attempt otherwise

i am so fearful,
that i make myself ugly.

my cousin always gets a new puppy when the last grows up incorrectly:
misbehaving while she's gone,
wrecking home and belongings.

that is how you feel
no, not special or an isolated circumstance
don't bloat yourself on the idea that you are unique to me --
you are every other boy who thinks with his ****
every other boy who seemed playful and innocent
and grew to destroy home and belongings...

this arm belongs to me, this breast
this neck
these thighs
you wreck every one
smiling in your play

i do discard you,
but not before you damage me...
and there is always another
ahead.

i feel like i don't have any poetry anymore. it's cool, you guys haven't been digging my recent stuff anyway. maybe i finally got it all out, maybe i'll be ok now. thanks for reading...don't know if or when i'll be back...could be tomorrow, could be never. i like unpredictable

divided
we stand
wonderfully.
together
we fall
floating
like papers
in the wind
in the city
into puddles
that absorb us
turn us into mush
but not the good kind...
we are simply
a family
not meant to be
together
i guess
*******
america
for pounding that phrase into me
for decades

stomach pregnant and distended with the weight of calories consumed
sending sharp pains shooting

empty stomach acid gnawing at my intestines
feels better than this

your heart failure
left me a lonely sailor
on a sea of broken dreams and wishes
where i float among a mass of lost fishes
all looking for their home
but it's gone

gone

said i love you back because
"third time's a charm"
is a black magic spell too strong for me
couldn't properly deflect it.

running away
is a good idea
finding a town
i can die in
quietly
here it would be too loud
everyone would hear
i will make up my own town
to die in
so no one
can get in

didn't eat
a single thing
all day
if being
a size 0
doesn't make you happy
what
will

i can't write poems for **** today.
seriously.
i just tried like
80 times
it's not my day
i guess

...wait...

dafuq

i get bored easily
when you are no longer advantageous

the honeymoon period
where you buy me things to love you
is fading
and you don't brush your teeth
or know my middle name
or what really
happened to me
and the first time we had ***
you took advantage
of a drunk new years
without
a second
thought

maybe i simply do not like men
in this century
or maybe all men
are disgusting
or maybe all humans
this is why
i want to break up
i'm not in it
for the love

don't cry, pretty girl.
those tears'll soak into anything
an' count for nothing.

don't leave dusty trails down your powdered cheeks -
rosy freckled bones that you held yourself
when mother left
those tears'll soak into anything
an' look like nothing
in a minute.

hungry stomachs burn fevers in our temples
and shaky hands try to bring anything green closer
and empty, sticky refrigerators taunt and sneer
but summertime ends
and those tears'll
soak into anything
an' count for nothing
in a
minute.

hugs and kisses
are for ten yearolds
you say
we've graduated
we're on another level
it's the same only better
come here,
you say.

i
stay.

pick your lips up
arrange them into
a smile
draw ruby-red pictures
on your thighs
where no one can see them

why yes,
mother dearest
i will get the hell off your property
when you get the hell
off of MINE.

i fill my hollow stomach with hateful words that i spit at you
from the swamp of self-induced numbness that i stand in
ankle deep
even my self pity
is shallow

blood will bring me back

i long for you now like i once longed for the man who ***** me for a year and a half.
i know this feeling.
even if it's a little different.
you disgust me for other reasons.

but for the comfort of your familiar chest,
arms,
lips,
bed
for the security of your car, your smell, your stupid laugh
for all the familiarity and odd feelings that we kindled in my summer-time driveway in the middle of the night...
i would beg.

i woke up unrested
and feeling like ****
and the stark contrast
of the beautiful day
bleeding in from my window
****** me off.
to make it even worse...
i can hear the cicadas buzzing.
i'm wasting my life
more importantly,
my summer
and i don't even
give a ****

i looked in the mirror today and saw a shape.
not a reflection, a shape
a shape of a body
(my body?)

if my reflection refuses to mimic the actual me
is it
still me?
are those my freckles?
my lips?
my nose?
is she frowning
without me?
can i just no longer feel the muscles in her face twist and contort?





alien

                                        

                     ­                                                image.

there are some people
that you know
you should feel sorry for
like your mother
who's cleaning out
your old room
in the house
she kicked you out of
and crying
but i can't feel sorry for you,
mom
you've made it
impossible.
what i lived through
then
was nothing
compared to what i had to live through
when you left
the worst part is
i didn't live through it
i'm a ghost
a shadow
a short lived
glinting
ray
of what i used to be
and it's all
your
fault.

metal hearts were my thing for while
they'd hang off my neck
bump against my chest
one time a particularly heavy one swung up
punched me in the mouth
gave me a ****** lip.

i used to have an effect on people.
i used to be bright
and loud
and awake
and people always remembered me
always wanted me around

i used to stand for something
mean something
when i thought there was something worth existing for.

i miss having that purpose
that purpose of making someone's life a little better
that purpose of tough love

brianna remembers me as i was
glitter and cat ears
and big hugs
but she also recognizes that i am gone now
that my receding back looks dull
tired
worn down

i let all the things i preached against beat me down
take my happiness

i'd take it back but i don't know how
don't know where it went
don't know exactly when
don't know how to feel things
or anything
again

those metal hearts i wore so proudly
dug their way inside of me
i am now the tin man
heartless and cold to the touch

i used to mean something.
ask anyone i used to know.

phonecalls on facebook ******* trigger me
transports me back to last semester
like some sort of sick boat ride
to the magic kingdom
perverts dressed as mickey mouse
asking if i want a selfie

and i get angry.
angry that i can't use those little plastic eraser guards
we used to make patterns on paper with
as children
to erase your fingerprints from my flesh.

i rub at them regardless,
smudging away at my own contour lines
losing contrast,
value,
scale
my repeating shapes are starting to look a lot
like a pattern my mother wore
reflecting off her red cheeks
as she laid on the couch late at night
her arm over her face.

and i'm terrified,
honestly.
i'm terrified of the damage i've yet to assess
once i make it outside myself
i'm on my way out
this month
and there's only a few days
of october
left

my mother spent the month of june watching fruit rot on the countertop
before she put it all in garbage bags and left
and that is how i feel
late at night
when peace evades me.

the world blows up
once again
facebook
twitter
tv
poetry
people....
....people who gave up on prayer
decades ago
have returned
suddenly
i hope all this
didn't just happen
to teach us how to pray
again

if i had a reason for every scar on my thigh
and ones that i could remember
i would write them all down
just to see
what hurt the most
what threw me over the edge
with no regrets
just to have a clear list
of what i can't handle
so i would maybe stop
creating the same problems
over
and
over
again
step one:
stop falling
in love

good
morning
filled with absolutely
the opposite of ambition
i've declared this week a national holiday
and skipped all my classes
dad doesn't know
oh well.

master manipulator
eyes shining
my face set with a look only a monster could refuse
i know if you see me,
you'll give in.

i feel evil.
i feel like my mother.
abusing the emotions that you feel for every lie i speak with my body, my lips
but it doesn't matter
i get what i want and in the end
this is what i believe justifies me.

i really hate it when
you tell someone that you missed them
and firstly,
they take forever to respond
and then they say
"me too."
like, what the **** does that mean?
you missed you
too?
seriously?
that doesn't mean
that you missed ME too
and if it does
we need to revisit
english 101
god
just say it
you MISSED ME
i'm ******* sick
of this cowardly
****
if you're going to keep me up
to all hours
on nights when i have class
the next day
bombard me
never let me sleep
because you want to talk to me
then have the *******
decency
to say that you
missed
me.

no, mom.
you don't get to see
a single one of these
poems.
i know my little sister
has been telling you
how well i've been writing
what the english department
of my school
has been saying
but you never wanted to hear a single one
until i was gone
and i wasn't gone
until you left me
you don't deserve to see
one line
one rhyme
one smile
and no
not just for a little while
while i get through this 'phase'
no, mom.
forever.

these aren't things
he understands
all he feels
is how cold my lips have become
uttering words
i've swallowed
for years

and he'll reassure me until i want to scream,
vocal chords shredding
temples pounding
i don't care if you'll always be there for me
i don't care if you'll never leave me
i don't care
about what you have to say anymore
your words chafe my mouth
like sawdust
dry, tasteless, choking
i can't breathe
your hand on my neck
because you love me
getting tighter
the more i pull away
i wish you knew
what all of this
feels
like

even if i feel good all ******* day
and am determined to be happy
i end up crying when everyone is gone
and i can sit and remember things that taint my mind like venom
things like separation
and apart
and family
and mommy
and daddy
and little sister
and home
and please
and cutting
and help me

and then i am crying
again
like i always do
even if i just had
the best night of my life
anything could happen
and i would still cry

this halloween
i am a clown with a tear on her cheek

will i allow one year to pass?

will i go out to dinner and celebrate my weakness
celebrate my futility
smell the roses
that reek of decay

maybe i will.
and then in march
celebrate the day he forced his hand down my pants
in april, the day he taught me to use my mouth
in july, the day he popped what he fondly called
the christian girl's "buttcherry" to his friends
or september, the day i was so desperate to remember how to feel
that i tried to jump start my heart
by letting him finally take my virginity

guess what?
it didn't work.
it made it worse.

now i wait for the searing, pounding, aching anger
to remind me that a heart beats in its empty, echoing cavity
anger is the only thing that reminds me i am human
that i have the capability to feel
to be hurt, but not to be vulnerable
no,
to be hurt, and to hurt in return.
yes, this is what makes my heart beat again.
this is what keeps me alive
i thrive on the thought that he will suffer for what he did
like i suffered
for what
he
did

life isn't fair, is it?

i try not to let it hurt me
as i try with all things
but it lances through my stomach

you try to manipulate me into feeling sorry for you
a ****** predator
i will no longer.

everyone sings about
talks about
preaches about
having a ***** past
no one tells you what to do
with a ***** coin
of a future
that erodes in your pocket
silently
but heavily

it feels like i lose blood each time
like the pastor's daughter once told me
(a wide-eyed ******)
that each man we give our hearts to
keeps a piece in their pocket
and that if we give too much
we'll have nothing left.
and maybe that was just christian *******
trying to make me fear the loss of my virginity
more than death
so that when i was *****
when i was 20
i was silent
and ashamed
and the blood i lost
came from between my legs,
not my chest.

but my heart is different after this last one,
so maybe she was right after all
and after him
every time someone kinder
is intimate with me
i feel like my hands are covered in gore
and when he takes them
they slip
muddy his shirt
his hands.
and that's something i'd never want
to inflict -  

i grew up being told
my sins
were covered
in blood
as i grow older
i am convinced
it's true.

that's right.
drink, boy.
drink like it matters
because it did.
drink like you did something wrong
because you did.
drink like i'm crazy for a reason
because i am.

just because i'm your girlfriend
does not mean it wasn't molestation
wasn't ****
you knew
i was frightened
you knew
i didn't want it (a small part did, but does that matter?)
you knew i would be too scared to say no.
because i was a little girl inside
brave face on the exterior
shivering saint interior
you plucked my bud with hard fingers against me
fingerprint bruises on my arm
bitemarks on my neck
the cut marks on my thighs were not your doing
i did those
myself...

redemption is hard to find.