stop making me watch scary movies
life is scary enough
but tell me that you love me...
and i'll watch anything you want

it would be so much easier
if we weren't afraid to hold one another
afraid to say things that we've thought
a million times
you always make a show of being so tough skinned...

for having seen so many
horror movies
i wouldn't ever guess
you were so afraid.

i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me

i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that

never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false

i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason

everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do

fingers down my back
*** too fat
you like my thighs
and my lips
and my little quirks
i can be as silly as i want
and i love it
you're like him
without the abuse
am i allowed to say that?

i am so tired
of staring at these four walls
that define my existence
but whenever i leave them
i wish i was
in their stranglehold
embrace.
everyone wants to know
why i won't do this
or why i don't do that
or why i can't sleep
and i always tell them
that there is nothing wrong with me at all
and that would be true
if the small movies
of my childhood
didn't play against my eyelids
every time i try
to rest my tired
spine
daddy,
i am not
fine.

i am a little in love
mind you...
only a LITTLE
with a deaf boy...

he says things with his eyes
you wouldn't believe
and touches me
like you would never understand
i don't even
understand
he is so sweet

i have never liked boys
who don't hear me out
who don't listen to me
it is
mind-boggling

words are
overrated

dear
james,
i would like you
if you ever said
what you mean.
instead, you make up things
to make me think i want to talk to you
and then you proceed
to be the most boring human being
on the face of the planet.
your fake
peppy
exclamations
are deceiving,
tiring
and flat
after about four
hundred
of them...
i love you about as much
as i love a toaster oven
or any other
inanimate object
james,
dear...
you are so
boring.

my cat ate
my bestfriend's
hair-bow
the one she
let me borrow
apparently
sorry
isn't good enough

you say
"youre a ******* fool, red"
and i say
yes i ******* am
for talking to you again
only an idiot
would trust the words of a boy on the internet

you are sweet boy, ryan
sweet like a wolf who wants his way
sweet like a bird of
prey

i will not let you cut a piece of my arm away
again
even after three years
the old ones are still red
no more messing with my aching head
im already dead
what could you possibly want from me
this time?

i have a thing for vengeance.

i like to watch people reap what they sow
i like to watch evil human beings eat **** for what they've done
i enjoy it.

and that sounds kind of ******* messed up
sort of
but at the same time
i love to see good, kind people
succeed
does that still make me bad?

my dad says that my gift of justice needs to be redeemed
that i have so much trouble forgiving people
because i refuse to give up the right to vengeance
that vengeance is the lord's...
i get that,
dad.
but i don't want to wait
for these ******* to die
before they get
what they've sent around
and i don't want to watch
the few good people on this earth
die before
they feel alright
for once

i am a fighter
i can't help but fight
someone once told me that's why i'm single
i said
*******, man

it would be so much easier if i could just click your face for a like
double click for a heart
in real life
i'd sit in a bus and spend all my time liking faces
or not liking certain faces
then it'd be clear for once what i think of you
and if a little drop down appeared that gave me the option to comment
and leave words across the bridge of your nose
like
"this girl is a ******* *****"
or
"be nice to her, her brother rapes her every night"
i think it'd help us all out
because words are now our only form of communication
can't do anything without 'em
if you're **** with words you won't make it
body language is on the back-burner

you don't understand a ******* word i'm saying
can't take the hint to leave me alone
i'm glad you like my face
but we can't communicate,
facebook boy

for being so obsessed with faces and books
we don't do much with either
can't understand smiles
for the life of us
take it the wrong way
90% of the time
i like faces
and i like books
but you only like them
together

four thousand
different dreams about you
last night
you stalked through them
like you owned the place
(...maybe you do...)
so many different places
positions
smiles
back-drops
all because
you held me last night
on accident
just to see
how it felt

what the **** did i just read
some famous german short story
about a guy waking up turned into
a bug
his family freaks out
and thinks he's gross
and then he dies
i have an exam on this tomorrow
analyzing and interpreting
the meaning behind it all
i guess if you wake up as a bug someday
just **** yourself
or your family will do it for you
what the ****

the great dilemma:
not becoming our parents.

but it's genetic make-up
we're ******
either way
you'll end up being your parents
you can't stop it.

it makes all the impossible
possible
things you said you'd never do
you'll find yourself sitting in the middle of

my mom is my face
and my bad knees
and my anger
and how much i cry
she's the cuts on my arms
and the shape of my fingernails
the curl of my toes
my weakness for underdogs...
my mom's inside me
like a parasite

i will cut her out

i think i just
fell in love
with a boy named drew
on total accident
oops

there are things in this world that aren't ******* fair
like children who believe they have ADD
and avoid dealing with what they really have.
like mothers who tell their children lies
about fathers
like children who adopt monsters that don't belong to them
personas that they try on like sparkly ballet flats
writing poems about being abused
and having ADD
and a ****** life
some children are wrong.
and i only know because i am their sister
children learn to tell lies
it's not their fault
i must remember not to blame them
but it is hard
there are people in this world who were truly abused
and you, sisters
befoul their anguish
with your wolf-cries.
i will never know how many times i must say this
but you weren't ******* abused
and you don't have ADD
and your mother is a ******* liar
i love you both
but i cannot listen
any more.

last night i dreamed
that we took that great
flying leap
at last.
i dreamed
you met my mother
and that you loved her...
even though i still can't.

i dreamed that you kissed me
on a couch that contained
every thought we'd refrained
from speaking
that at last they had a being
a shape.

i dreamed that you held a lock
of my thick red hair
curled it around your finger
enjoying how it glinted gold
in the lamp light.
i dreamed that we enjoyed
every piece of each other
like a cheesecake
to be savored
i dreamed that all you wanted to do
was kiss my nose
laugh
smile
tickle
tackle
breathe.

i dreamed last night
that we both wanted to be held
like so many times before
and we kidded and joked
that since there was no one else around
darling,
you'd have to do
but once done
you wouldn't let go
and i realized
that you never
wanted
to.

if i wanted to have a sweet face
i would paint one
on.

but i want a face like a wolf.

so i slant my eyes with coal
and redden my lips
with blood.

if i have ever learned anything
"don't look back"
is the one
that would serve me best
if i let it.

but things aren't easy like that
humans can't just let the burning city rest
they have to turn around,
check
that it's
leaving
see if
anyone's still breathing.

the poor ******* that second guess
are the ones who don't get blessed
you've failed the easiest test,
red
now you're in trouble
again

give me that sweet summer
goodbye stain on your lips
and i'll give you
half my smile
so you'll keep coming back
for more.

you scare me.

not like elliot scared me -
he was frightening because of the sweetness of his smile
you are frightening
because you are a sweetness that lies

your calm
cool
demeanor
the way you laugh,
call me silly pet names
puts a bad taste in my mouth
a sick feeling in my stomach
ryan,
you are a wolf

it's been almost three years
since you sunk your teeth into me
i came close to forgetting
until i found an old conversation
started second guessing
even though i had made a note
that said
"never let yourself again,
red"
i
read
it
and now, once more
the lamb has walked into
the lions den

my blood boils
these days
i've reached
my breaking point
at any given moment
i'm ready to tear into someone
i am sick
of everything
being unfair
of being ****** over
by everyone
the family court
the law
my mom...
i'm done with it.
i'm tired of my little sister
advocating
for that *****
i will not
put up with it.
this ends
along with
my silence
i am a silent shout
a silent poem
a silent rage
no more
i cannot
be contained
**YOU WILL HEAR
WHAT I HAVE TO SAY.

don't try to hide it from me
i've already seen it
that's not yours
you took it
don't try to say i gave it to you,
i didn't
don't lie
confess
say that you took it from me
no, you cannot have it
not even if you admit
that you took it without permission
give it here.
right now
stop stalling
that is mine
it's not your plaything
i want it back
one
two...
if i get to three
you'll be in trouble
one...
two...

three.

i have lost feeling on the bottom of my right foot.
i stepped on a broken something
and its sharp edge cut my nerves.
it is one of many.

lost everything in one year.

it's alright, im used to it.
lost everything before,
will lose everything again,
most likely.

not a sacred bone
left in me
a desecrated temple
a ravaged flower
a broken urn.
nothing left to fill
nothing left to taste
sawdust,
luke warm water
in his mouth
he will spit me
out.

i found you on the side of the road
like a bright, yellow leaf that just left its home
a shiny penny in the gutter
drowning in the street.
you didn't want to be collected
but good luck getting away without any feet
i won't let you leave
me.

if i ever become a mother
i will clip my wings
and do my best to stay grounded.
my mother -
a flightless bird
got away despite everything
but i will let you put me in a cage
if we have to
i will not
leave you

i promise

i miss him.

why do i miss him?
how
can i miss him
after everything?

one dream last night, after weeks and months of torture
and i remember the good parts
and these new boys will not do
i stop letting them talk to me
i miss him
i miss that man that took advantage of my innocence.
i truly miss him.
and right now,
in this moment
i know i would take him back.

i don't write
love poems.
love doesn't
make sense to me
i get tired of people
too easily.
i don't see beauty
in the curvature
of a neck
i see the muscles
of a monster
ready to flex
i don't see
a beautiful smile
i see lips
that can do too many
acrobatic
flips
i don't see soft hands
or rough calluses
i see
weapons
of mass
demands...

they are not pretty
to me.

love is a war
and not the kind about good and evil
the kind simply about
staying alive
and being whatever you have to be
to do so.
it's not about seeing
the beauty in flaws
it's about exposing them
and running away
from them
love has turned us all
into killers
who are forever out for fresh blood
forever looking
for more

...my mother always said
all is fair
in love
and
war

i'd like to say that i've always been into clean living
but there's nothing really clean
about *** on your brother's living room floor
or
making you ache in movie theaters
with just a glance
or
handjobs and ruining your pants
i
somehow have this strange power over men
wanna look into my eyes
when i **** them
like i was prepackaged
batteries included
a little machine
with thick thighs and big lips
and
the prettiest eyes you've ever seen
below your belt
you
hang on my words like they're something
you've never felt
i

have a pretty smile
taste like something you've wanted
but never had
with crinkles in my cheeks and the dimples on my back
i
could make a grown man crack
and i
do -
the middle aged men at my job
love me
wait outside after closing tryna touch me
and i get scared
walking home
fingers shake
in the cold
one mile till i can let go
of the breath
that i hold
and i

try my hand at clean living.
eat salads,
stay home on the weekends
cut off boys
that make me
feel
anything
joe at work
tells me to wear less makeup
maybe then
men won't follow me home
maybe then
mike will leave me alone
stop calling the store phone
looking for the prettiest smile
he says he's ever seen
i stand behind the counter
ready to dial
911
on my screen

clean living doesn't feel very clean
when everyone you touch
has dirt on them
i mean
i don't want to make a scene
at work
i just want to make money
go home
not get hurt
keep my head down
but red is too easy to spot
much easier than i thought

today
my heart
is sad
sad like a big droopy face
is painted right over it
covering it
all.
i spent the day
an hour away
deep in the country
with a big, barefooted family
that i love
out in the sunshine
near a lake
and i could not help
but look at them
together
and remember what it was like
to be together
with my
family

but i'll not expand on that.
it is too hard
too painful
to expand on
to remember
to think about
at all
so i push these thoughts
back down deep
into the blender
of my mind
pray that someday
they will be easier
to swallow

red
red
red,
they say.

why don't you get what we're trying to say?
why don't you try to do what we tell you?
why won't you talk to us?
why won't you listen
to reason?

honey
baby
darling
red?

because
the people that taught you to talk
are relative
to stone
walruses

because
i will not walk off a cliff
and willingly
smash against the harbor

because
you misplaced
your ears
and sewed them
onto
your brain

because
i wouldn't give you
a dog i didn't like
and you wouldn't take it,
anyway

because
what you define as reason
simply
isn't

i remember being scared that my father would discover i cut myself.
i remember the day that he did.
trying to cram the screaming baby into his highchair dad saw the mark on my arm and i told him
it was from a marker
he demanded to see it again
and so dad found out that sometimes praying isn't enough.

i don't remember being afraid that dad would find out about the things moose did to me
...i guess i can't say that
i guess i have to say the things we did together
(but i will always lay the blame at his feet
for beginning things
that first night.)
even now, i am not afraid
even now when i truly believe that dad knows what happened
even now when dad gently pats me before he goes up to bed
and says don't forget
to
repent
i am not afraid.
i am ashamed.

bloodstains are pretty
like flowers for people who are sad
or stars for people who are too in love
or little redheaded girls
who are too afraid

dear red,
you are becoming quite excellent
at discovering human's motives
not that they are that hard to uncover...
every man
is looking for ***
despite the route he takes
through cooing
or
beating
and every woman
is looking for
something
to make her smile
for a minute
because we want to be sad
afterwards
so we can
cash in on that
sympathy
gift card
ultimately,
we are
selfish
pieces of ****
and this is why
i want so badly
to believe
in god

i blame a lot.
i blame myself
i blame the people around me
i blame the people that left me
i blame this town
i blame my family
i blame
i blame
i blame.

but what if no one is to blame.
what if this actually is just some freak of nature
and this is just how the universe plays out
a sick dance of broken family trees
a pageant frilled up
for all the soul ******* humans
to see
and partake
maybe i was meant to be awake
maybe sleep isn't for me
for a reason
maybe i'm supposed to be the alive one
maybe dying makes you breathe
maybe i'm just not seeing
what i'm supposed to see
maybe everything is backwards
like my sister's overalls
at her backwards birthday party
when we were
three
maybe
maybe
maybe...

maybe destruction is actually


d       e             s              t             i      n         y

people make mistakes.
mothers leave
and break up families
leaving them scattered like glass in kmart
parking lots
but it's ok,
people make mistakes.
mothers leave
and children pick up bent pieces
and try to save them
but sometimes they run out

people make mistakes.
mothers leave...
babies cry
on christmas eve

people make
mis
takes

it would be
wonderful
little sister
if you would explain to me
the inner most workings
of you and your
reality
that you have so carefully
painted
in your pictures
and in your face
you have always been
so good
at painting
i guess i shouldn't be
surprised
that you are also so good
at lying
little sister,
this is not my fault
and you
know it.

wow
ok
well
i guess
i'm not going to stick up for you anymore
you really gonna let some
*******
lightning-pole
stuck up their rear
*******
put me on blast
like that?
and not say anything?
all i've ever done
is take care of you
beat off the ****-heads
that tried to make fun of you
told you
how much i adored you
and you really just sat there
and let me deal with that
by myself?

i guess i
know better now.
have fun
beating off all those guys
i held at bay...
i can't believe i defended you....through everything
and this is how i'm
repaid.

so uhm
this is awkward
....
i spent four months
writing poetry
about some ***
i've been sort of in love with
(hell, i dunno)
and then suddenly
that guy
who i proposed to
in a mall
with a
fuzzy
cat
collar
is looking pretty good
he wanted to hold my hand
tonight
well,
skye,
you snooze
you lose

i will clean my room tonight
and wonder if this is the last time
a man has to come and look it over.
maybe next time we will own this house
and i won't have to worry
about being kicked out
because we can't pay.
i used to own a big yellow house
an old one
with a green roof
and sunshine-smiles peppering the air
now it is a war zone
mommy made it that way.

i will find home someday
home is where the heart is
when i find my heart i will know
where to look
my heart piece is somewhere in that dungeon
i will take my sword and find it

baby has given up on mommy.
it's been too long
to keep hoping she'll get better
baby needs to pack her bags
move on.
two years
countless chances
to make something
anything
just a little better
countless chances
missed.
baby doesn't need a mother
baby has two arms
baby can hug herself
rock herself
tell herself
to behave
to
smile
baby has a heart
and a
head
she can
breathe
she doesn't need
a mother
she doesn't need
she doesn't

need.

If I could pick flowers in a winter storm
They'd probably look a lot like you
Rough
Tumbling
Perfect.

There's something to be said
Of the way your jaw
Curves into neck,
Something that could be hidden
Something that could be kept.

Lips
Placed gently
On my cheek
Across my freckles
On the tip of my nose
I wish
I could catch
Every smile
Put them in a box
Look at them every once in a while.
Your hands
Stroke through my hair
And I feel
Soft
The gentle kisses
On my neck
Spark up and down my spine
We get excited
We clash
And re-align...

Testing
The confinements
Of our bodies
We strain against each other
The desperate lover
Tangled up parts
Trying to fuse together
Hearts.

there are good, honest people
and bad, honest people
and i do not know what will make me not one of them.
we are all masochistic embodiments of the pain we endure
looking for similarities to cling to and grow out of -
i don't want to be one of them

but i do what i would not,
i am that which i despise

so apparently
if i am ever awake after eight o'clock
in the evening
i must devote all my time to you
and if i perchance tell you i'm going to sleep
but post something on facebook
afterwards
(******* FACEBOOK)
you get all pissy
and accuse me of still being awake.
so does that mean
you want to talk to me
or just that you're a
selfish
*******

i'm confused

where chains
and the bite of a whip
once dug into our backs
and our shoulders,
backpacks
now leave chafed ruts
in their stead.
taskmasters
bid us to bake our own bread
if we want to eat
pass this exam
if we want to keep
our families
we will be taken
and beaten
if we do not comply
GPA:
the silent
torturer.