sometimes i am emotionally unavailable on purpose.

i put my phone under my pillow so i can't hear it beep and buzz and twang
i turn off my facebook chat and ignore your messages.
i don't even do it because i can't handle it
i can handle anything
i was born with an innate sense of determination
and morality
but sometimes i feel the need to be an unattached *******
just to see what it's like

i'll go on youtube and watch ****** videos
i'll even laugh
when i know that somewhere you're feeling like i do all the time
i won't give a single ****
not even a tiny pang will reach my carefully wired heart
right now it's plugged into too many other things that are ******* the energy out of it
to take note

i hope you feel ******* terrible
i'm not even bothered
i will be later
but not now
message away...

la,
la
can't hear you,
can't hear you.

a snort of derision
assails my ears
a gift from the slack-pants boy
that walked by me
i apologize for existing
fellow classmate

WAIT
no i don't.

if you give me a few minutes i'll trick you into thinking that i enjoy your company
like a jester i'll flop around in my jingly hat
contorting to the contours of your personality.
i'll convince you we're best friends
i'll come see if you're ok when you're sitting alone
i'll feed the insecure monster in your ribcage lipstick and
"my god, that shirt is way too big for you".

it's not even that i don't like you or something
i do
it's just that i have no time but i pretend that i
do
and i like to help other people instead of myself
and
i know i'm about due for a relapse
and
i know that i won't tell anyone
and
i know i'll keep helping you
even though you'd never dream of doing the same for me
and
i know that this ******* *****.
but i have decided to be a charismatic jester
this is where my home is
and i don't have enough money to jump ship

I sit here
Trying to read meaning into every missing second
Every little blip that it took you to think about what you just said…
Doubt? Restraint? How best to lie?
What flies
Through your mind?
Does it have anything to do with the fact
That you told me that you loved me
And then apologized…
What of that?
I apologize for nothing
I regret not a single thing done
I take back not a smile, a laugh, a song sung
In joviality…
Somehow our love was just this odd joke
That we entertained off and on
We were thrown into chaos when it broke
Over reality…
Like an egg cracked on top of a globe
It encased our small, narrow-minded world
Made it slip out our fingers
Made it roll, made it whirl.
Now we sit here with this
Slimy, newborn thing
Not sure whether or not to laugh at such a preposterous idea
And fling
It from us…
Or to examine it, seriously and closely
Think about it for a while
Pick and choose what we want
Contemplate the weight of denial…
If you really just want someone to always be there
Someone to watch movies with
Someone to laugh with
Then I guess I don’t really care…
I just wish it hadn’t been said at all…
A ball
Will roll if you push it…
An object in motion will remain so
Until something stops it…
But really,
Your apology has gone and done what it ought…
It has successfully replaced and retracted
All that was thought…
I’m sure we’ll be great friends
Until you slip up…again.

i am wearing a purple hat
that someone crocheted
and i don't know where the **** it came from
i found it on the floor
of my bedroom
but i feel like jo
from little women
so basically like a badass *******
don't bother me
i've got an amy to take care of
...*****

i remembered today
in the shower
that pottery kit
the aunt that now hates me
because i chose to live with my dad
gave me
for my
seventh
birthday.
i was so surprised
so excited
because i never knew that i liked pottery
until that bright yellow box
entered the scene
(my aunt did this sort of thing
a lot to me
with knitting
and scrapbooking
only those things
i hate)
ripping the box open
i found all the necessary components
the wheel,
the clay
those other funky things
and had gotten all set up
when i realized
that the motor that made it run
which was some sort of pedal
was not in the box
i searched for it
i cried to mom for it
finally
i found the box again
and it said
that the pedal
was sold separately
not included
you'd have to wait
mom'd say
i've waited
for thirteen years
and now i wonder
if i was supposed to learn that lesson
at an early age
whatever the **** that lesson was
because that pottery wheel
with no motor
and no hope of getting one
for at least thirteen more years
would be
me.

i wish i wasn't so afraid of my forehead.

afraid i'll brush my bangs just the wrong way and someone will remark
"my god! that girl looks weird with her forehead showing."
afraid like i could change a part of my face.

i guess i could if i was one of those rich ******* on "housewives of ---"
or jwow on jersey shore
i could go shopping for new noses
and larger cheek bones.
like changing a feature of my face will make me more wantable
when it's the crap that comes out of my heart people don't like
instead

i wish i could bare my forehead
stick my ******* right up there for all to see
but i am afraid of my forehead

what is a forhead?
just a bit of skin
just a little forehead
that is what scares
this redheaded leopard

this is why lionesses hide in kitchens
majestic ******* that should be out there running things
this is why there are no women presidents
because we are afraid of
ourselves

some people you just can't please
they're little toddler adults
and you're a melting popsicle...
they could eat six of you
and never be full,
toss you aside
when they get bored.
little melting popsicle,



run



                            away

you don't like girls who sass back

you want a girl who'll follow you around like a sheepdog

cleaning up your scraps.

you don't like girls who talk a lot

or too loudly

you'd prefer meek with a dash of kitten sweater

and i don't have anything against kitten sweaters

they're ******* awesome

but i've got a huge problem

with meek

so you and me...

it's not gonna happen

it's friday, *******
******* your way through class.
i'm a great student
when the professor's looking
the weekend yawns before us
gaping with possibilities
drunk nights
probably unexpected ***
surprise ***-brownies

oh well.

ugh.

so i remembered today
that one of the first things
i ever said
when i met you
was
"dating is boring. i prefer
bestfriending"
and i've realized
that we're now bestfriends
and we say
"i love you,
bestfriend"
all the time
what does this
meaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan
are we secretly
in a relationship?
is that why
you keep getting sulky
when i talk to other guys
and then skype me
facebook me
text me
if you can't get a hold of me
every single night?

i mean
i could just
yknow
ASK YOU
but if we're not
then it'll be all weird
and if we are
i'll lose
my bestfriend
i guess i lose him
either way
best to stay
silent

ugh.

"you're depressed"
they say.
"you won't go to class
you won't eat
all you do
is sleep
you're depressed"
they say.
"i'm surrounded by failures"
he says.
dad, it's not my fault
i don't want to go
"i'll have to think about this all day"
he says.
me too
dad.
"i have psychological stuff wrong with me
from trying to deal
with all of this
the least you could do
is go to school"
he says.
i can feel the slam of the door
in my ears
"you're disrespecting me"
he says.
i told my bestfriend
that i'm not eating
not sleeping
or maybe sleeping too much
i told her
i blacked out
lost all sense
of hearing
seeing
feeling
fell down
"you're depressed"
they say.

tonight i
lost it a little
and it's not even night
it's morning
just to be clear

start over...

this MORNING
i
lost it a little
and i don't know
how to be better

i talked at a white shining light
on my computer
i vented
at a webcam
for thirty minutes
and i looked myself in the face
and tried to tell me it'd be alright
but the words choked me
and i couldn't
get them out

and im not trying to be an overdramatic
*******
a whiner
or a ****** kid
i just have abandonment issues
and cutting
and wantingtodietoomuch
issues
and i feel like everyone is biding their time
waiting
to leave me
and i feel like
i can't sew up the child-sized holes
in my dad's heart

and it's ******* father's day
and i can't even do that
i can't ******* replace
the nine other kids
that should be here
i can't make up for that
i am just
one person
one daughter
and i cannot make my daddy
better
and i
hate
it

happy
*******
father's day

ugh
you have me
all up in this
trippy tangle
of impulses
thoughts
walks
you make me want to have ***
scream
touch you
you make me so
frustrated
every time you squeeze me
in a big hug
kiss my
forehead
you make me wish
you weren't such
a nice guy
i have some other things
on my mind
love me
roughly

...please?

i have always been frightened of people.
after mom left, it was angry white women that scared me
their dead eyes staring while their mouths worked furiously -
i couldn't even watch an actress scream on t.v. without my mother slipping in under her hairline.

i am still scared of angry white women.
but now i am scared of men, too.
anyone who believes themselves privileged
to be near me
to breathe my air and look at my body
and demand that i give them attention
they too frighten me.
and i no longer allow them near.

i will let you talk, because that is what you do.
i will allow you to look, because i cannot stop you.
i will allow you small pieces of myself
because i no longer feel anything
but i will never
ever
feel anything for you.

and if you get in too deep
if you like me too much
if you begin to love me
i will cut you off
and feel nothing.

because moose was right
i don't deserve him
no one deserves him
and the ugly, dripping animal that sleeps in his disarming chest
no one deserves to lose everything
for the mere excuse "i just can't control myself around you."

you can.
and you should have.
keep your poison out of my mouth,
and out of my veins.

"weird.
i can't sleep either.
i just wrote two poems
about how much i hate you
for leaving.
i was starting to think god doesn't listen
to people who ***** their entire family over
but maybe i was wrong.
sorry for being blunt,
but that's who i am
at four in the morning."

i can't believe
i just sent that text
it was kind of an accident
but not really
chew on that
homewrecker
(mother)

i sit on the streetcorner of your mind
and every once in awhile
you drive by
throw money at me
say
hey baby
how about a
smile
and i smile for you
because im in the red
naturally

you do not mind
paying for my ******* smiles
and playing with the curvature of my lips
you do not mind
buying me for an hour
to smile at you

i am glad
that my crinkled eyes
are enough to make you feel better
i am glad
that you feel you are good enough to me
to demand a smile for free
sometimes

and only because
i want you to feel better
do i give them to you
even when the bank is looming
shaking all the outstanding debts
at me
that i really
owe myself

you do not mind
ravaging the smile
you paid for
you figure that you are allowed to ****
that which is yours
and i let you
because you
paid for it

i'll give you a second chance
you say.
i say
don't,
i'll just sell it
for something better
mother taught me too well
to monopolize men's hearts
find another girl
who wants you
for your money

sometimes i pull up my shirt
look down at my bare tummy
and sigh.

why can't you be better, tummy?
why can't you be smaller
nicer
softer
better?

like a child
i am chiding
tut-tutting
at its misbehavior

tummy, i do so much for you
i skip meals
and don't drink water
and wrap you in all kinds of weird dyi concoctions
and lotions
i take pills
and cry before seeing the boy that i like
all for you,
tummy.

why can't you be
like the other ones
why must you be
the way you are?

i will fix you.

oh
would you look at
that
his true colors
bursting forth
in glorious array
just pretty enough
to be the ugliest
thing
i've ever
seen
he didn't care about you
you were a small
insignificant
distraction
attraction
comedic
act
you were a joke
he liked to
laugh at
and once a joke is told
the punch line
come and gone
the laughter faded
there is emptiness
for just a second
before it is filled
with another
you're
always
going
to be
a joke
get used to it,
red
you're only good
for a smile
every now and then
when it comes down to it
you're just another piece of dust
that departs
to float forever
until it lands somewhere else
it's not wanted

(pop pills
like you used to pop balloons as a child
eyes closed
tentative hands
face turned away
scared
of the explosion that follows)

they say you used to be so pretty
healthy, thick red hair with gold hightlights
bright blue eyes with brown around the pupil
lips that dispelled depression
with their curves

now they ask you why your hair
feels dead like a barbie doll's
why your eyes don't smile
why your lips curve
in a different direction

they ask you why you're alone
where's the boyfriend?
like that's some sort of
validation

so many different answers to one question
"so what're you up to this semester?"
i'm
trying to figure things out
hoping to transfer
taking a gap year
...again
hell i don't know
i'm just
******* around

are you ok
they keep asking
i laugh it off
"i'm awesome
how's the boyfriend
girlfriend
semester?"

(the ache in my head has made me mean
my birth was my validation
i don't need you)

there is this boy
and he is
very black
and very muscular
and
he could easily
overpower me
and he thinks my
legs
are
nice
and my dad would
crap his pants
if he ever saw him near me
because dad is still scared
of black people

there is this boy
he is very white
and a little dorky
but i like the way
his face
makes funny eyebrow smiles
he never
leaves
me
alone
and dad wouldn't care
if he was with me
because this boy is too scared
to do
anything

there is this boy
that is really more like a man
and he drives a jeep
and fishes a lot
and takes pictures
and draws on his ipad
and he's kind of a ****
but he told me i'm spunky
and that i make him smile
and that he
likes me
i was glad
to make him
smile
dad would probably
be
his best
friend

there is this boy
who i thought was really big on jesus
but it turns out he wanted to take me into a walk in freezer
pour chocolate on me
and lick it off
i liked him because i thought he was nice
but he wanted me
to
lick
his
fingers
and other things
too
i said
no
dad would
shoot him

there is this boy
that plays the trumpet
and has a receding hairline
but he's only like
twenty two
and he
likes to find my face
and smile at me
because he wants to know
if i'll smile
back
he wanted to give me
a massage
and a long hug
i wish he would
tell me
he liked me
so maybe we could be
together
dad would
think he was
the marrying type

there is this boy
who likes to tell me what he's wearing
which is usually silky underwear
blue ones
red ones
sometimes
none
the first night i knew him
he sent me a picture
of his ***
it was really
white
he wants to
draw a bath for me
and watch me
in the bubbles
he tells me
i can touch him
anywhere
i want
he'll touch me
too
dad would skin him
after
he shot him

there is this boy
who is high
or drunk
24/7
he makes me watch awful scary movies
he is silly
playful
he
loves
me
but he is in
california
and he only loves me
as a friend
he wants a blonde
not a redhead
and that is ok
we would be too much for this world
if we were together
anyway
dad would
hate
him

i woke up to a text from my mom this morning,
saying that she wanted to see me for my birthday...
that all she wanted
was a chance.
it has been almost six months
since i have seen her
let alone
talked to her
and i have spent all that time
hating her
for everything...
but hating her
tires me out.
i cannot hate anyone
for long
even after all she's done
to deserve it.

today...
is different.
i didn't smirk
at her text
brush it off
never reply
delete it
i actually responded.
told her
that'd be great
hell, i even
apologized
for missing her birthday
last month...

i can see her face
as she reads that text
i'm sure
she's crying
i know what the things i do and say
do to her
i lived with her
for eighteen years...
sixteen of which
were happy

i guess...
after all the unhappiness she has made
for herself
and for everyone around her
i can't deny her
one small shred of a smile
yes,
everything
all of it
was her fault
entirely
but every bit of hatred
afterwards
was MY fault.

mom...
i am
sorry.

people are always going to decide things about you.
what you need to do
is decide things FIRST.

decide that you are not going to put up with their ****.
make the executive decision to be a majestic *******.
remind them of the existence of zach galifianakis
and that one huge hideous fish thing in the depth of the sea
that eats lil ***** like you not only for breakfast
but for second ******* breakfast
because you're a ******* nerd
and that's how you like it.

decide to work your flaws into a masterpiece
some artists look at mistakes in paintings
do whole studies on them
and then decide they're genius
don't let a flaw get you down
it's what makes you human
it's what makes those other *******
not...

decide to be decisive.
decide that decisions are the same as choices
and choices are what define you...
they cracked you open before you were finished maturing
tried to change the outcome
like the ***** *** hoes that they are
but you...
you can choose,
decide,
force
your way into your own skin again...

finish growing up
then let the ******* have a go.

you told me i am a touch of heaven
and i said everyone is a touch of heaven
you said no
i said yes,
you just have to
dig it up sometimes

you told me that i am the only good thing in this world
i say
if i am the only good thing
this world is total ****
and that's not true.
it looks like it sometimes
but we spend a lot of time
not looking at it right

you keep telling me you love me
and i keep saying
you're such a sweetheart
because those other words
won't come out of the pit in my stomach

you say
i shouldn't have waited
if god cared he would come down and school us
i say that he does
we're just a bunch of highschoolers who'd rather **** around
than listen

you forgot about me
so quickly
i'm starting to think
i was never there
at all
i've got all these
grungy little
rubber marks
on my
chest
tire tracks
on my legs
you were never there
at
all

pull yourself up
by your shoestrings
lace them
tightly
we're going out
we're going to stomp
on this town
like godzilla
shawty is
a killer
i don't need a gun
to pump you full of lead
you were already dead
before you hit the ground
the sound
of the door
clicking shut
was enough

the american dream:
a wistful wanna-be broadway star
dancing dewy-eyed through the streets of
streets
streets of
the street of -
PLANE CRASH
a white picket fence
meatloaf
on the table
in a magazine
the magazine
of a gun
a gun
on the table
locked behind
white picket
white pick
white
picket -
PICKET LINES
how to succeed in business
without entirely lying
american dream
the americans
scream
we want our
american dream
the tv screen
sold us
to walmart
one american dream,
please
american team
all american boys
the boys and girls club of
one nation
under
shallow water
american dream
it is what it seems
americans
dream
dreams
breaking seams
that hold us together
americans dream
americans die
only americans
allowed to dream
only americans
waste it

***** with sticks
come in twos
like some sick
pair of evil ******* shoes
(the kind that gives you blisters)
it's a rhyming kind of night
which is weird
this redhead wants a fight
c'mere.

mike, you puzzle me.
you make me
think
that you only want to see me
so you can think about me
later
when you're by yourself
and that's kinda
weird.
you beg
to see me
and then leave
quickly
just so you can
think about me.
mike,
i think you
like the idea
of me
but i am too real
too existent
to actually be around
you have to satisfy your imagination
get something new to dream
and then you
leave
mike,
you
puzzle
me.

start your morning off
with a nice phone call
that consists
of someone you love
yelling at you
a lot.
that always helps you
get to class
on time

i would like to write a cute little poem so i can post it on facebook
and have everyone tell me how adorable i am
how good at mediocre poetry i am
have them repost and like and comment
on my mediocrity
but every time i sit down to try
the word "****" pops out
and "****"
and
"*******"
and "cutting"
and "help me"
and "go to hell".

and no one on facebook would like that
they'd unfriend me
not that i ******* care
just that i have a hard time being adorable
no matter how many times people comment on my cute face
i am not a cute person
i'd cut you,
*****
forreal.

i almost wish i could be like my little sister
the prodigy
but **** prodigies, man

don't bother me
i am looking for Teej
in the pile of bitter dandelions i imprisoned
that she was so
fond of  
maybe she
is hiding there

the smell of
burnt toast
and
cigarette smoke
greets me
with an acrid embrace
i
drag my
brain dead carcass
up the long flight
of stairs
fifteen minutes late
for class
open the door
to psych
get kicked in the face
rather inharmoniously
by a large, hairy
eyeball
some blue-toothed
*******
is in my seat
i plop down next to
shareef
instead
turn my desk
into a bed

sleep.

sometimes
i get so frustrated with my dad
i yell at him
accuse him
blame him
i refuse to eat
whatever he's spent
so much time
and effort cooking for me...
and all of the above
is the result of
hating that he has to do it
in the first place
and it's absolutely idiotic
and horrible of me
to do this to him
but i can't translate
the pain
in a healthy way
i can't articulate
that some minuscule
dead
part of me
misses mom
even
after everything
every time
she tries to talk to me
it's like she pushes
this reset button
and i am back
with my old friends
panic attack,
despair,
hatred
and the tears slip out of me
so easily
i no longer feel them
they have become
so natural
like the freckles
on my face
my life is freckled
with tears

if i had a dream for you
a dream for anyone
anything
i'd catch it up
in my hands
kidnap it
from the air
keep it
to look at
when i'm sad
like a bitter
dandelion
i once imprisioned

like a redheaded tiger
i too have stripes
red ones on my wrists
thighs
forearms

like a tiger
i can stand the fire
red hot welt
on my freckled forearm

like a tiger
i have claws
they are
silver
i cut at
that which harms me -
me

i saved all the tea my grandmother sent me
in her vacant-expression birthday
easter
christmas
thinking of you
cards.
thinking of you -
that is all
happy easter -
that is all
happy birthday -
that is all
not even an automated smile
a pre-written well-wish
the most primal of cards
full of tea.
i open the tea
smell it
hold it
look at it
decipher it
grandmother,
you send me a blank card
with your and grandfather's name
and a little baggy of tea
could you not at least say
i am sorry
is this tea an apology?
you always spoke through tea
but this tea i cannot decrypt
i saw you just the other day
i didn't say a word to you
hardly looked at you
i watched you sneak a picture of me with your old camera
laughing with my friends
is this tea
i miss you tea?

grandma,
it's ok.
this wasn't your fault,
it was your daughter's
i do miss you
i will save the tea you sent me.

he gives up on me
too easily
and to my own device i sink.

he says he loves me sooooooooooooo much.
he says he wants to kiss my shoulder freckles
and my nose
and my lips
and my cheeks
kiss, kiss, kiss he says.

he says he wants to squeeze me
wants me to sit on his lap
let him wrap me up while i play my silly video games and yell at the screen

moose says i am the best thing that happened to mooses
moose says he likes my brain
moose says he likes my hair
moose says he likes my **** and my eyes and the way i crinkle my nose

i do not deserve him
and that's why i won't let him
i am too scared how he will be
if i leave
i never know when i am leaving

finger-paint yourself a picture
on a canvas destined for nothing more
than late-night
one-night
kisses

arrange fabric on a doll
that was store bought
for perfection
owned by jealousy
mocked by
lessers

stain lips
to never speak
gentle words
train lips
to reside
in perfect pouts

school eyes
in fluttering
slitted
hooded
gestures
arrange toes
into smooth, unbroken shapes
to be molded
in a set of high heels
high ballers
high flyers
being higher on the food chain
only makes you
more likely
to be consumed
and if we are anything
we are
consumers

limited
to materialistic consumption
we dress ourselves up like
a sweetshop-confection
topped with gucci
and laced with victoria's secret
lucidity

it's not hard to see
what we're about
if this is a judgement
of clear intentions
we are the clear
winners

our faces are perfect
optical illusions
standing on an assembly line
waiting for someone to take a shine
to the curve of our hips
lips
chest
there is nothing to confess
our cards are laid
only after
we
are

i wish i could be a bird
and accidentally eat uncooked rice
at someone's wedding
that i only attended
because there were so many interesting people
that wanted to
thoughtlessly **** me
just so i could die
and blame someone
other than myself
for it

HEY YOU

...who?
me?

YEAH!
Zoom out for a second, *******.
While you're sitting there
Some sorry
Sob
Messed up
Girl
Who's so preoccupied
With every drift
In some idiot's mood
WILL YOU TAKE A FREAKING SECOND
And think about what you're doing?
Your GPA is probably off crying somewhere
In the fetal position
Stop worrying abou -

HEY YOU
YEAH YOU
WHEN DID YOU GET SO PISSY
yeah i'm wallowing in misery
but i'm only human!
i guess i shouldn't have
let him get to me
but he
is so sweet to me
when he wants to be...

Like I care!
You wanna be a failure
Forever?
You've been doing a great ******* job of it
For almost 20 years
Guess you don't wanna
Mess up your streak...

...well that was rude.
do you mind?
i can't help what's
on my mind
i really think i love this guy
just not the coward
he's shaping up to be
love should be anything but
cowardly...

FORGET ABOUT IT
Forget about him!
You don't have time for this!
See that great
Big
Ugly
Threatening
Thing over there?
Yeah, the one with the
Baseball bat
That's all the homework you've got
This weekend.
Stop being such a whiny ***
Pull it together.

alright!
alright!
i won't talk to him
tonight
i'll try
i will...
to get back on
track...

my sister says
"you are just like mom."
she says that
i ignore people
who only want to apologize
people who only want
reconciliation.

well i guess
i should have gotten that down
by now
i am the one
who has been here
to take the ****
instead of in a fairyland
where all of this
doesn't exist
in another
state
I STAYED HERE.
don't EVER tell me
i am like her...

i don't talk to you
because i can't handle
anymore hurt
i will break.
and i know
that you would break too
if i let that happen
so really
by not responding,
sister...
i am
saving
you.

firstly,
find everything
that ever scared you
collect them all together into a group
get yourself a bigass stage
stand on it right in front of them
and tell them
to *******

secondly,
pull all the memories that try to choke you
that try to drown you
like the mean hand
of that girl that used to bully you
and hold your head under the water
till your lungs hurt...
pull all those memories out
hang them on a clothes line
until they are dry
and so crisp
that you can crunch them
in your hand
and remember to laugh
as you do so
because once they were frightening
but now they are
floating away from your fist

and lastly
seek out your greatest fear
and force yourself to sit with it
until you have befriended it
he will be
your greatest
ally
he will teach you
how not to be
afraid

if you can make peace
you will always have it
like the funky necklace made out of beads
you made with your cousin

if you do these things
someday you will be
not afraid
of anything
but i wouldn't know
i can't even get past
step one

i did wrong by you
too many times
to count
and now
when i want so much to do right
you want nothing to do with me
i am sorry for sewing you a patchwork heart

some people have
really nice clothes
and
really nice cameras
to take pictures of themselves
in their clothes
with
and they
put them all over the internet
so they can say without saying
that they are better
than me
and i guess that's alright.
i don't have that kind of money for clothes
and even if i did
i hope i wouldn't be like them
plastering themselves on facebook
in edgy poses
painted with instagram filters
i hope i would be like i am now
a twenty year old girl
who buys new clothes twice a year
but adopts books like newborn babies
and can smile
genuinely
when the lord wills
a touch of
happiness

i guess what i'm trying to say
is
your designer jeans hurt my feelings
as does your expression
but i wouldn't want to
be you.

she's got a face like a 1990's beauty queen
high waisted shorts
hair pulled over the top with a miniclip
gun tucked in the back
miniclip
on the front of
her blouse
setting them up
knocking them down
converse allstars that she paid $50 for
grazing the rocks by the waterfall
that she poses in front of

dear 1990's beauty queen
you'd like to be innocent again
but your brown eyes
are locked and loaded
it's just a small trick of fate
that you were born in this decade
the girls here are machine gun prima-donnas
and you were born into them
your high-waisted shorts
won't let you out of it

snuggling on the couch, watching coraline

your **** shoved in my face
ready to blow
forced in my mouth
almost chalky dry

holding my hand in the store
hugging me tight because mom has a new boyfriend

pushing me against the sink
thrusting in

crying on the couch
you smother me
till i smile

first night i met you
hands down my pants
you asked me to get on top
i said no
it happened
anyway

helping me work my way to college
moving for me
buying me
so many
many
things*

hard **** against my thigh
rubbing
forceful hand against me
too hard
frightened

hugs
kisses
he takes care of me
cries when he tells me how much he loves me
tells me how i saved him
from depression,
suicide
anger

if only to tell you the depression you brought me
like one of the many presents
wrapped tightly
i swallowed
let it spread to my lungs
now i only breathe pain
i did not dissipate the bad parts of you
i consumed them
and now they are mine
to bear

i just realized
that i spent another entire day
subconsciously chanting to myself
that i am a *******.

i have no reason to think this.
i am a beautiful,
intelligent
redhaired spitfire
and i'm not afraid to say any of those things
people don't say those things to themselves
enough
but why
the ****
do i constantly remind myself
all day
that i am
a piece of
****
who is
telling me this
and why
do i believe it?