knock down
a sassyredhead
better dodge the rebound
stings like *****
on a friday night
this ginger was born to fight
i don't take **** from no one
especially when i'm in charge
i hit hard
even though i'm some ****** sitting behind a computer screen
killing monsters and other fake human being
-s
on a low budget rpg game
i'm still leading a ******* team
you being older doesn't mean
that i don't get respect
i'm your ******* guild master you **** -.-

i never wanted to be one of those girls who ******* about their ex
and i guess i'm still not
because we were never even in a relationship
you asked
i said no
because you were weird
and kinda creepy
and obnoxious
and you hated me
for a really
long
time
afterward...
but
you have always
made sure
whenever you
you got into a relationship
to text me
and let me know
that SOMEONE wanted you
and every time
i tell you
i don't give
a ****...
at that moment, it's true.
but when you burst through my newsfeed on facebook
like someone exploded a firecracker in my face
rather indecorously
and i scroll through all your pictures
with that girl you claim to love so much
in all sorts of cute, make-me-puke positions
i feel really
alone
and like i'm the one
who was unwanted.

i don't really know if i regret my decision...
you seemed to get
un-weird
as time went on
and admittedly,
hotter...
i guess i am not jealous
in the sense that i want you
but in the sense that i want what you have...
Tim,
i somehow feel jipped by you
cheated
used
left for dead
even though
i am the one
who rejected you
for something better
i am the one
who is still
alone...

karma is
the worst of *******

take all the little bits of me
(the good parts)
and synthesize me
into a prettier version
with a prettier personality
and prettier thighs.
then you will be able to forgive yourself
for breaking me
in the first place
but i won't forgive you
i am too
pretty
to forgive

you forgot that part.

to my sister,
i am a nice keepsake
that she keeps in the bottom drawer

i live in a town she left for something better
in a house she never lived in

to my sister,
i am nostalgia.
i am twinklie lights outside nice smelling vegetarian restaurants
and self-taken pictures she sends to her new boyfriend
that i've never met

to my sister
i am something she visits
for old time's sake
i am no more important than her hometown
i am simply something to be visited
when the time rolls around
and you feel like you should go back to your roots and pay your respects

i am that moment.
i am that timeframe
i am those twenty-two years
those dandelions on the front lawn of our childhood home

to my sister
i am kept for keeping's sake

today is not a day
to be alone.
when dad comes home i
run down the stairs
seek comfort in his arms
the two amigos,
standing through constant **** since 2011.
yeah, i'm almost 20
as i so frequently reiterate
mostly because i feel like a failure of a human being
but hey
i'm almost twenty...
and even though i'm near the end of my childhood
forever
my dad's deep
warm
strong comfort
after having a nightmare
cannot be compared
to anything.

we talked about mom today
remembered
old feelings
wished
prayed
for something to change
even after all this time
we haven't given up hope;
especially dad.
we dream about owning that piece of property
up on the hill
with the pond
and all the acres of farmland
the kids would love
to run through
where the dead part of my writing
that was lost with my childhood home
could be revived...

today i just want to
soak up the one
last
small piece of family
i have....

my dad.

if you wanted advice from me
i wouldn't tell you to take life by the horns
as "they" always say
i would tell you to leave it be
it will come for you
if it wants you
survival
of the fittest
*****

There's a girl bopping her head to the music,
A boy wanderin' 'round with a guitar
Who don't know how to use it.
Traffic fills my ears and eyes,
Onions and smoke and fries.

Beat up sneakers and flip flops
Bandanna people with orange tops,
Hipsters, tricksters
Hustlers and saints
Empty, wandering, full of complaints.

Broken, discordant conversations
Elaborate, intricate exaggerations
Dusty, ugly sidewalk
Happy, ugly small talk.

Sighs and trees...
Silent pleas
From the lost
Who couldn't pay the cost
To belong:

An aria for the wrong.

honey,
what people say about you
is none of your business
and you gettin' involved
is just plain nosy.

i didn't realize
that i could fight abuse
feed starving children
stop someone from smoking
heal someone of cancer
by sitting on my ***
and applying pressure to a button
on my $1,200 dollar
laptop
maybe i should devote
my entire facebook
to this cause
maybe i'll even
start a social media
revolution

i live for the applause
not like lady gaga
i live for the slow clap after a badly told joke

you live for the clothes
and the boys
and the drama
you live for saying things passionately
and for leaving me behind

i live for the hilarity
and the semi-trucks that send people i vaguely care about
sliding into perfect laughter
i live for the feeling that you care about me
and aren't just using me to move your ****
or cook you dinner
or design your wardrobe
or be there when you cry
so i can hug the **** out of you
and hand you tissues
i live for the feeling that what i'm giving
could someday come back

but what i get is the feeling
that it never will
that i won't trust you again
that you knew what you were doing
that i should stop burning my body
that i am not a candle to be lit
that i will not be a light
if i am dead

i have the feeling that applause will ***** me out
that i have had too much applause in my life anyway
i have the feeling that you don't give a single **** for how i feel

no,
it is not a feeling.
that last one is a fact

do you remember
that one time in the summer
when we were in your old, smelly car
with the windows all the way down
in that ancient, forgotten town
trapped in the 60's still
and we rolled slowly through it
laughing at the sunshine
smiling at the old people
strolling in the heat
tights chafing
sweating through their baseball caps
fans winking
merrily at us?
and when we came to the edge of it
with all the blossoming trees
and green grass
the railroad lights flashed
and we stopped
and that one song about boogie shoes came on -
my favorite...
and as we watched for ages for the train to racket by
graffitied and dusty
you turned the sound all the way up
and all the bikers and walkers and dogs
waiting for the train to pass as well
danced to our music
the way it blasted through our bodies
washing us in exuberant waves...
i can still feel it.
i remember how you dragged me all over that town
even though i had something important to do
that afternoon...
i loved it all the same.
that day still remains
the feeling of summer
along with the hay rides we used to go on
permeate me on these winter days
that are so full of despair
i can't help but
cut.

i'm really not that fat.
but i put myself under a microscope
and the closer i look
the bigger i get
some nice girls gave it to me
and some nice boys lended me
the lens
i am a scientist
i study the anatomy
of lilred
who is apparently
not
so
little

go through the rituals,
baby
make yourself feel better
massage your own neck
rub your eyes
lay down
until you die out.
tell your chest to be quiet
tell your head to stop pounding
tell your eyes to stop looking
let yourself
calm down
everyone tells you to calm down,
honey
but only when they leave
are you
calm
baby,
rest your
tired eyes
honey,
it won't be alright...
let that
comfort you

today
instead of
feeling better
feeling prettier
feeling less like
a *******
when i drew
black lines
across my eyes
i felt
disconnected.
the lengthening curves
did not flatter me
they made me
hollow
hungry
old.
electrical tape
holding together
burned out fuses
they carved me out
left me
for dead
all i wanted
was some help
all i got
was a reminder
of my impending
futility
my impending dissatisfaction
i always top off
too quickly
i'll need something else
to make me feel better
soon.

little sister
when you are over the diva-fest
your fifteenth year has rung in
i will listen to you
until then
i will not believe a single word you say
you lie as easily as you smile
and that is the worst part
you are a poet who farms sympathy
from unsuspecting victims
who know nothing
of the situation
little sister
you are turning my stomach
your poetry makes me sick
lie to my face
instead of about me in a poem

you don't have the *****

1 pushup
i forget your face
2 pushups
i forget your fingers
3 pushups
i forget your
lips
i forget your nose
4
for
get
your
shoulders
5
forget
the back of your
neck
6
forget your thighs
touching mine
7
remember our smells
together
spicy
vibrant
8
remember the sound of our shoes
on the pavement
9
remember the river
10
remember the symphony of our laughter
11
oh look
back to 1's
again
well
at least
i know
where i am

i am well rehearsed
in the art
of making my dad feel better.
on the days when he sits in his chair
his mustache drooping,
his hair seemingly greying before my eyes,
staring at the floor
emptily,
i know how to make him
smile.
i'll contort my face into silly expressions
whinneeeee
and wheeeddlleeee
and joke
until i tease that smile
out of him.
sometimes when he's unlocking the door
i'll hug him
just for no reason.
he needs
all the hugs he can get
mom robbed him
of four different sized hugs
that are due
every single day
but he gets
once a month
if he is lucky
he has four
child-shaped holes
in his heart
and one
mom-shaped one
i try
to squeeze them shut
with my arms.

little red,
you are here
to make it better
for everyone.
that is your purpose.
you are to make things
better
for your family
for other people
to make things
just a little easier
and if you are good
and kind
and nice
and fake
with a smile
cast
in plaster
maybe someday
someone will make it better for you
in return.
this is a cheerful fact,
little red.
why aren't you
smiling?
hasn't the
chalky water
and paper
dried
yet?
hmm...we might have to
reapply

surprise, baby!
daddy brought you
a plethora of pills
a candy-store of homeopathics
a comfortable array of fixer-uppers.

go down the line
taste every flavor
melt them under your tongue
swallow them
drink them
drop them
watch daddy
watch you
for signs of
improve-
ment

he sees you slip away
into a drugged state
a smile slides onto baby's face
like melting butter
daddy is happy
because he thinks
baby
is

jiggle loose like a jigsaw piece
that never quite fit right
lost from another puzzle
in another box
looking for a similar shape

you'll go for one that is just a bit uncomfortable
if someone pushes you hard enough
it's a billion piece puzzle
no one will notice if one is a little bent in
to fit

i'm not meaning to be cliche
but you bent me in too many places
now i don't even fit you
you ******* tryhard

oh so now we're talking.
whiplash
anyone?
you're not strumming my heartstrings
you're cutting them
sheesh
i really wish you'd stop
being so sweet
you're really just
hurting me

...huh
maybe
you actually are sweet...
*******.
you're so
helpless
stop
hugging me
like you need me
don't you know
you can't do that to girls?
****
i don't even have the heart
to call you an *******
and tell you
to *******
you're breaking my heart
you little ****

...maybe i'm the one
doing the whip-
lashing
*******
skyler

i haven't fallen in love with someone in such a long time
i'm pretty sure if the abercrombie and fitch of cowtown usa confessed his life long love for me right now
i'd tell him to *******.

my sister is gushing her way through a romantic comedy romance
with some hot criminal justice major
and i'm happy to proffer advice
and cluck sympathetically
and oo and aww at the right moment
but my lack of drive to have something similar for myself
is slightly disconcerting

i worry that if i ever do have someone that means something to me
i'll have to explain to to them about my family
why i don't talk to my mom
why my little brothers and sisters can't see my dad
why my body is covered in scars
why i'm such a ****** up clown girl
and to be honest
i feel as if i don't have the ******* energy
to lay everything bear
to a potentially back-stabbing ******* human being

i've learned that everyone has that potential
my own mother tore me to pieces in front of a court of law
if the woman who gave birth to you
and claimed to love you for 18 years
can turn into a monster
so quickly
so can anyone else
and that is why i don't love people
like i say i do
because somewhere i know that they'll **** me over
they're human,
it's what they do

little clown girl,
sit on your dusty shelf
until it's empty
and you have it to yourself
i don't need any other accent
i just need space
and a knife

everyone always talks about raging water
and fire
but God is in the blisters on the tips of my fingers
and the old-church smell in my clothes
and the peanut butter rice crispie treats

people keep dying around me
people that i always almost knew
the funny
outgoing
loud people
forever in the middle
of big crowds
everyone loves
a clown
but maybe not enough

why are they gone?

i stole six pairs of earrings today
while making small talk
in a jewelry store that caters to the masochistic
and now i am
pinning their wings up on my wall
to display the reward
of quick fingers
and plaster of paris smiles

i didn't even really want them
i took them from sets
i wanted to see the missing holes
and there was no bin to put them in
now i have little secrets
pinned up on my wall
they join others
that i took

i don't mean to steal things

we are

american

we do not have chinese mothers
that bind our feet
but we have lovers
that reshape our toes
into high heels
black
echoing words
that carve our stomachs
into caverns
edged with rib

we are

american

we are not forced
to follow anything
but society
is our king
ruling its malnourished army
with a fat-ringed
finger

i am

american

and i will build my own army
of flip-phones
defying
the neverending onslaught
of iphones

i am

american

and i will not reshape
my body
to please you
i will not
reshape my thinking
to satisfy you

we
the
people
will once again
wage
war

oh god.
i've turned into some
smelly ***
****** hobo
arguing with himself
over stale cans of beer
contemplating
society
love
yknow
...beer
i really need to get a grip...
and a shower.

i would like to line you all up
shake your hand
one by one
inform you that i don't need you
and then employ a large wrecking ball
to knock you over
one by one
so i don't have to look at your faces
any more
i get very angry
and then i cry
and cut my body open
it's your fault
i would like something to be my fault for once.

such a sweet tinkling
to bring such ugly words
you are an animal
you are a monster
you are right
i never deserved you

our phones draw these strange lines late at night
connecting adjacent moons
stringing us together
across cities, towns, lakes, hills
and we tie the bows with our lips
weave the ends in our tongues
taste every city
we can remember

you feel so kindred
so close to me
that when i hang up
i half look for you
in the room
before i catch myself

my feelings are fledgling.
(or i like to say they are)
the truth is, they are very much there
but i'm unsure of their exact nature
concerned that i am unable to experience love anymore
personally
it's like a flavor
i've run out of
and some sort of bad tasting, weak trickle
pours from my lips
to yours
clinging
to these strange lines

i hope
it is not
true

i need to stop thinking.

i know if i think too much
by myself
i will end up sitting on my bed
drawing pictures on my arms
with a knife
and they tell me
not to do that

i have never been good at listening

hope you read my poetry now
you *******

maybe you''ll understand how i've felt for the last year
for ******* once

i'll give you
mindgames

oh
the drama
of 4am
i never knew how lucky i was
to be asleep
at such an
atrocious hour.

you cannot give time anything
that time hasn't had
before
time owns everything
time has had everything
at least once
time has ravaged
everything
already
time has no need
of anything i have to offer
so time won't
help
me

Sometimes when I smell
That old familiar smell
I can still remember how it felt
To have my ears scrubbed
In our ancient bathtub....

Sometimes when it rains
I can feel the old growing pains
Shooting through my arms
As I run through our farm.

Sometimes late at night
When my body screams to turn on the light
I can still see,
Still hear
Mom and Dad fight.

Sometimes when I lose
The will to go on
I'll sit and remember
That what Mom did was wrong...
That I shouldn't die
Just because she told a lie
That I still belong
Somewhere in this song
Somewhere in these memories
Reality still breathes.

my dad thinks there's something wrong with me
i never sleep
he is right
but i won't tell him he is
because he wouldn't know
what to do
i feel like a kitten in the ocean
and i am just too tired
to swim
but too small
to find

put one more welt
onto the canvas my mother made for me
doesn't even bother me
i hope she feels it
somewhere
somehow
she deserves
to hurt as much as i do

if i paid attention in english class
i’d probably be smart
but if i was smart
i’d probably be boring
either that or super weird
like the crazy shoe-lace sweaters
our professor wears.

it is so much easier
to sit here
and pretend
i am the erratic
pattern
on this chair
rather than be
the weird
cat-eared
gingerbread cookie
that i am.

i did one thing in front of a large group of people and now i'm somehow worthy

worthy of going to leadership retreats
and christening babies
all because i managed to crack open the wealth inside four other kids.

it wasn't me.
i didn't do it.
i just helped.
i don't want the credit.

oh deep
ditches
annals
endless wires
poking
snagging
interest
of the internet,
why must you always ensnare me
i'm trying to write a paper
*******

this boy
is so very muscular
and handsome
and sweet
and so very
african
he thinks
jesus brought us together
and he likes my body
just the way it is
he doesn't try to
change anything
about me
my dad would hate him
not because dad's racist
but just because he thinks black men
are rapists
(maybe that DOES make him racist...?)
but then again
dad hates all boys
that like his daughters
i don't know
i feel happy
but too many things
make me smile
i can never be sure
if they're worth something

it's very hard to be a successful poet without being in love
and i haven't been in love since
....
maybe it was ryan
but i don't know if that was love or not
i think it was more like
wishful thinking
i have been determined to find my own bravado
ever since

i like boys that use pretty words
and think deep thoughts
but i would never want anything more to do with them
other than the small attraction i give sunlight and water to
every once in a small while

i am slightly worried about not being in love.
at my age
with my gender,
that is one's occupation
i can rightfully fail school
if it is in the name of love
they might even make a romantic comedy about me
if i do all the wrong things just because i am moonstruck

i would ask you to fall in love with me
to give me an excuse
but to be honest...
i can't be bothered.

glaringly white and rather rotund
a label peeling off his back
my friend from The Bad Summer
sits on my bookshelf.

moose says that this is
The Good Winter
and that no one will hurt me now
but moose doesn't yet know
who really does all the hurting
if he did, he would never leave me
on my own

i will save time,
littlest brother.
i will wrap it up
and put it into a box
to mature,
like a rare cheese
only for you and me.

on the day
that you come to me
and want to know
what it was like
before mom left
because you won't remember,
i will open our box
and show you.

first i will take out
a lock of mom's blonde hair
that used to fall
down to her waist
and i will tell you
what it looked like
in the sunshine
while we made
daisy chains.
i will tell you
how it turned brown
later on
and how mom let me sit
on her bed
and twist, twist, twist
for hours,
because i didn't know how to braid.
and how me and Erika sat
in front of the space heater
and dried off
after a bath
mom crocheting
on the bed,
singing.

then i will remove from our box
a crisp, shriveled leaf
from the Big Tree
and i will let you smell it.
i will say,
this is what
home smells like...
never forget,
littlest brother.
i will sit you on my lap
and paint you pictures with my fingers
i will reveal to you little indian huts
and smoky firepits
and *****, chipped toes.

lastly
i will steal from time
and will take from our box,
what is rightfully ours
and i will give you
the last shred
that i have saved
for so long...
just for you, littlest brother.
i will give you mom and dad
together.
happy.
i will give you mom and dad
in their funky, attic-smelling bathing suits
mom's tummy protruding with another older sister for you
standing on the hot stones
dad's big, funny glasses
glinting in the sun,
a sun that shown down
on something whole
something perfect.
i will give you mom and dad
snuggled under a blanket
on the couch
watching a movie together
mom giving dad 'the look'
as he chuckles...

littlest brother,
i will do all i can
to create memories for you...
because everyone deserves to remember
something happy...
littlest brother,
i will steal from time
all i can
all for you...
until time decides to take back
what is rightfully his.

today
i witnessed to myself
about the importance of an education
and then promptly
forgot.
on purpose,
really.

as i sipped my perfectly
brewed
blended
coffee
i shrugged off every responsibility
the ache in my head
my incentive
to do nothing
till death do us part.

today
i
tripped
stumbled
fell
over the large
bulbous
fact
that i'll most likely
amount to nothing
(nothing is still something)
no one really pays you
to write creatively
as my father so graciously
reminds me
day
after
day.

little flame-headed child
i should have held you more.
i should have scooped you up in your little patchwork-dress
and read to you when you asked.
i shouldn't have left you alone
outside
on purpose
i shouldn't have let you cry
over
and over
and over.
i shouldn't have made fun of you
for making friends with the air
for talking to them
when you were lonely
you were only
a child.
little flame-headed baby
i should have done so many things
as many things as i shouldn't have
i did wrong by you
so many times
and when i was given a second chance
our mother robbed me of it.
that's karma, i guess.

little flame-headed child
you forgive me,
but your patchwork heart doesn't
it's alright,
i deserve it

childhood memories feel like rust
crumbling in my fingers and leaving their orange stains
as i skip over the horrific teenaged years
that my little sister
remembers as her childhood.

i resent her for having a bad childhood.
i say that our childhood was good, was great
with two loving parents
in a big house in the country
with long grass and animals to hold.
but her childhood was a falling down home
with seeping walls and crying mothers and a screaming father
stuck in a house that imprisoned all of us in seclusion
and an older redheaded sister
who maintained control in her life
run by parents who no longer saw reason or justice
by treating her little redheaded sister
like trash.

i forget that her childhood was not mine
i forget that the things she remembers were awful
that daddy did scream and shove
that mommy did cry and quake and throw and push and smash and shove and scream and rip
in the middle of the night
while she slept
and i wandered
the lonely caverns of my book-filled room
where i hid with my fantastical friends
who shielded me from the screams
in the middle of the night
that your deaf ears
missed

i am sorry for undermining the truth of your childhood
i forget that we are different
i forget what changed
i forget the hidden, resentful monster that overtook our parents
and bled down into their children
but you,
you remember
it was the only thing you knew

i remember the good,
you remember
the screams