if i had
a big red rubber ball
i think i'd be happy.
i think i could
smile.
i could walk down the sidewalk,
and bounce it
and try not to think about
my little brothers' and sisters' faces
try not to think how
little jesse would
love a
big
red
rubber
ball
or how miriam would
try to stand on it
or how john would
kick it as far as he could
or how elayna would
paint it
mid-
air

if i had a big red rubber ball
i could be happy
for a couple of seconds
until i started to
think
...but maybe those seconds
would be
worth it...
if you love me
give it to me
but then
take it away

you tried to say that i was pretty
and i said i agreed with you
and i wasn't trying to be stuck up
i didn't care if you thought i was pretty
or not
i like me
and that's all that matters
to me
then you said
that sometimes you don't know if im being honest
or if im just giving you  
some "spiel"...
...i almost started kicking chairs over
right then
i don't have a ******* spiel
you ******* **** ******
you get lilred undiluted
115% of the time
then you asked me
if i came with a warning label
and i said
like **** i do
"harmful if swallowed"
"handle with care"
then you tried to say something nice
about my eyes
i told you to go to hell

god, i'm good with boys

wine and
pistachios
(the expensive,
shelled ones)
at 6am.

one might say that
baby is refined
but baby is really
just an ugly drunk.

i'm not going to say it like you say it
i'm not going to mean it like you mean it
you will say it more often
and i will say it because i have to...
i wanted to wait to say it when i felt it
for once
but you you tricked me
and i am
angry

you're going 60 and i'm going 30
i'm still trying to figure out how not to be a **** victim
i'm still trying to figure out how not to let it happen again
and now
you love me
and i
am
no longer in control

i got a lot out of this relationship
but most of what i got
wasn't anything at all
bamboo desk plant
little caged bird and vine,
comfort me

i have bitemarks on me
from you loving
too hard
scratches on you
where i didn't want to let go
but suddenly
the battle
is over
the breathless tangle
at an end
i forgot where i begin
and you did it
on purpose
the bitemarks
you left on me
are sore
and so is anything
that once was
in my chest
love makes me
bleed
love makes you
violent
love makes us
make
war

i like those
kisses that sit on your lips
like 90's kids
on a parkbench

keep her clenched in your fist for an hour
she'll give in
cramped places
do that to people
kick her hard
while she lies
in front of you
baring her innocence
she'll give up
and that's what you want
you want submittance
admittance
of futility
you want her to say
that she knew she couldn't win
that she couldn't fight
that she knew you'd win
you want her to admit

that she is
lesser

it's not going happen.
i won't admit anything to you
out my ****** teeth
you try so hard to hurt me
you go out of your way
you're a blowhard,
and i am not less than you
you are just hot air
i am solid
i am not
less than

daddies have it hard.

i am tired of reading poems about how much you hate your daddy
stop talking, please.
daddies
have it hard.

mommies get to be the nice ones
(if you are lucky)
get to hold the baby
snuggle her
tell her
she is loved
daddies must be hard
sometimes
daddies
have it hard.

even if they are wrong
you must allow for change
if you cannot, stop asking others
to allow YOU to change
it's not fair.

some daddies don't know
how to be good daddies
forgive them
do not
hate them
some daddies are like children
they need to be held,
too
sometimes

forgive them.
the world runs on forgiveness
and it hasn't been running for two years
you could make it all better
if you'd ******* try.

forgive
daddy

my bones shift and crack under my skin
like they never have before
i can't tell if tension is coming
or going
or sticking in my temples where it is so familiar
bones shape me
make me
these bones seem to hate me
they need another way to escape me

i am not doing so well

you make me worried.
the kind of worried that makes me want to puke
not the kind that people have for losing the things they like.
you make me worried because you smile so ******* much
and right at me
like some sort of ******* laser beam
and i can't work out your motives behind it.
you make absolutely ****-all effort to see me
(meaning none)
but whenever you do
you lean on doorposts
and cross your legs
and look me right in the face
like you want to walk across this room
and look at my face
closer
and that makes me
*******
worried

this year i would
like to take less **** from people
i would
like to feel freer to punch *******
i would
rather not have a repetition of 2011
and i would
appreciate it if you all would shut the **** up

if i put my hand above my cat
she reaches her head out
to have me cup it
i am the same with you
i compensate for the distance you don't feel like going
or maybe you just know that i'll always reach for it
so you don't bother...

it's alright.
i know, too

baby doesn't want to sleep
baby is too busy
being awake
and
crying
baby doesn't know how to sleep
and there's no mother
to teach her
baby's mother
let's her cry
and cry
and cry
but baby's mother
has no intention
of teaching her to sleep
baby's mother
just likes to hear her
cry

wrinkled fingers rub with rough green and yellow sponges
in the white sink that is marred with gashes and brown stains
(never could quite get it clean)
standing in the patch of floor
that is bare of the ugly, tiny squared cardboard and plastic.

that sink seems too low to me now
the edge of it no longer meets the same place when i lean into it
it seems so
small
the watermark on my shirt
from washing the dinner dishes every night
at 2am
would not be where it was
for 18 years of my life

i have outgrown that sink
and the smell of that house
and the creak of the stairs that i stumbled up then
because they were too tall
and fall down now
because they are too short

i outgrew my mother and father's bed
which is only my mother's now
my four siblings and i
would no longer all fit
to snuggle against the warm fleece of her sweater

i am too big.
too big for many things.
too big to listen to fights and be silent
too big to slam doors in my mother's face
too big to grab her and keep her from leaving
i am too big
and she is too small
everything that was once mine
that she owns
i have
outgrown

i live in a big girl house now.
mother said i would understand
when i was older
i wish i didn't

sometimes i'll go way back
in the lost annals of facebook
way back to the strange days
right after mom left
and i'll look at all the posts
the few people who knew what happened
posted on her
wall
all "i love you"s
and "please call me"s

please...
trust me
you didn't actually want her to call you
panic attacks aren't fun
they aren't a joke
when you're sitting in the room
in your sisters house
that you've been thrown into
on the floor
gasping for breath
clutching at air
raggedly
you'll wish
you never talked to her
on the phone
please
don't even

and then sometimes when i'm
brave
i'll scroll
and scroll
and scroll
until i get to the days
when we were all together
and everything was
ok.
i'll read all the things i said to my mom
...isn't that funny?
i used to say things to her...
all the nonsense things
wishing her
a happy birthday
talking about
baking her cake
and it all makes me remember
that father's day
in june
right before she left
in a chinese restaurant
how awful it was
how thoughtless the gifts
that mom picked out
and it will make me think
of my older, married sister's face
when she heard
mom was gone
how she came over to our house
where me, dad,
and another older sister sat
empty vessels
filling up with pain
that we still couldn't shake
two years later
i'll remember her saying to me
that she couldn't believe mom would just leave
we'd all been together for father's day
just the week or two before
had she been planning it
even then?
yes.
she had.
she had been planning to leave us
for months
i just wonder
how she could let me love her
when she knew she was leaving
how could she do that to me
how...
how.

for two years
i have counted firsts.

first
time i
got hurt
drew blood
on accident
i
took a picture
and it was so innocent
but looking at the scars
on my arms
now
i cannot look at any cut
the same way

the first time i
cried
washed the dishes
put on a new shirt
slept
laughed
smiled
after mom left
i remember every one

i remember
sitting in the yellow room
of my sister's house
with the few things
i managed to grab
when mom kicked us out
listening
to the foreign sounds
of this new house
breathing
and making
a pretty little
asterisk
of red welts
on my forearm
with a
knife
for the
first time

tonight
was the first time
i played
ghost in the graveyard
since leaving
the first time
i ate a sugared
tomato
and i still remember
the first time
i learned
to not think
about
anything
that hurt
and now i wish
i could learn
again

the thing is i don't need you
that's the problem
you need me so, so much
you don't know what you'd do or be without me anymore
even just after a week

but me?
i know what i'd do without you
i'd be fine without you
i'd do what i've always done
your absence does not frighten me at all.
the fact that mine does...
must be unfair
but i do not know how to tell you

does it mean i don't love you?
or does it simply mean
i understand how to survive
heartbreak

wonder at the innocence of the year before
feel tired of complaining about it
feel nothing when the anniversaries of your eventual demise begin to unfold
ungently
ripping the lace and dirtying the satin

feel like this is just the way the world turns
and that you turned with it
turned from everything you learned
turned to all the horrible
disgusting **** that you knew was in you from the beginning.

just let it happen
just let it let loose
stop trying to stop it
stop crying after ***
don't you want it by now?

there was never any romance because there was none in you to give
your mind bubbling up with the backs of naked girls
lying in beds
that you will never have
but you had this one
and oh,
how i wish you hadn't.

the flowers grow back now that you're gone
the bamboo loses its sickly pallor
it drinks water now
instead of letting it stagnate.

i don't know how long.
i don't know how many months or days.
time passed is meaningless to me now
i have lost the desire to frantically recall what i lost each day i was with you.

the flowers grow back and i grow strangely around these past events
coming up through the cracks
like a gravelly ****
still inside me
but dormant

sometimes

finally wrote a poem about me that is nice.
was nice...
will be nice -  
when you stop pitying me.

one nice poem out of
many, many hateful
poems.

you write more flowery than me
maybe even better
i feel that i should struggle with that
be angry with you
my little
sister
taking one more thing that is mine and making it yours

it is ok.
if it makes you happy, makes you feel better, makes you smile, makes you feel accomplished, makes you feel smart, and
ok,
then
it is
ok.
it is even
good. maybe you even need it more than i do.

maybe i don't even need it anymore.
i don't know what i need.
i don't know where my reason went.
i just know that if you are happy,
no matter how disillusioned you are in your happiness,
it is
o
k.

"bling" goes the dial of people who feel sorry for you
"snap" goes the rope hanging from the ceiling

i have an issue with pity-partiers

the holidays are rolling around and i am determined to be ok
i will not write poetry about how much i miss my un-broken family
i will continue on as if nothing happened
if i do it long enough maybe i will believe it
maybe i won't have to burn my arms to jolt me back to reality
maybe things will be ok

good things come of it?
good things already have.
i'm just waiting for the good
to out weight the bad

paint away the grey smudges
underneath your eyes
little black rainclouds
of your demise
cautiously stroke
inside the lines
so no one will notice
their actual size
and the lack of skill
lack of will...
little red
what goes on in your
tear-soaked
head
why do you
sit up in your bed
so late
why don't you
finish the day
with a little game
of pretend
it will carry you through
till the end
honey,
every thespian
will tell you
never to leave home
without a mask
darling,
you never know
when you'll need to
act

every time
i am too hurt to move
or say anything
to anyone
my cat comes
and lays down on my stomach
and purrs
and looks at me
and her slitted eyes
tell me
to be ok.

i knew when i walked into my dark room tonight
that i was going to cry.
i've been ****** up enough times before
i know what it feels like.

and it's not even that you did it on purpose
to **** me over
i understand
you're just a kid, really
kids gotta have their fun
gotta have their rebellion
gotta have their fist wrapped around a heart -
i get it.

i think it's the fact that i've lost the last person i give a **** about
that bothers me
that i am now entirely alone
even though there are 20 others to take your place
i would never let them

another "bestfriend".
pound on my door, honey
go ahead
i won't be answering

i don't like crying
it makes me feel pathetic

i have managed to evolve just enough
that i am no longer bothered by you.
i have someone i can fake text
a badly designed little game
meant for six year olds
that i can play
or i can
scroll
scroll
scroll
and pretend that so many other two demensional people
want to get ahold of me
i can do all this
in the most superior manner
and never even look at you
because you are three dimensional
and you are too hard to figure out,
process
analyze
you are simply
too big
for my screen...
i must wait for another upgrade
before i can open you
you are too
real
i cannot sort you out
into little
megapixels....
you will
break
me

i wanted to
sit next to you
absorb
you
i wanted to
lean into you
feel
you
i wanted to
see how your shoulder felt
against my cheek
i wanted to
have you
put your arm
around me
just to see
how it felt
i wanted to
feel
you

missed all three classes
this morning
dad didn't even
bother me
maybe i'm not the only one
who's given up on me
is this what i wanted?
why am i still not happy

the two amigos
standing through constant ****
since 2011
fell asleep
i on the couch
he in the armchair
trying to ward off
the oncoming
despair

composed entirely of
the simple seduction
of contradictions
i play a fine balancing game.

good vs. evil
happy vs. sad
fine vs. im fine
alive vs. dead
dad vs. mom
sassy vs. mom
sassy vs. the shitshow
sassy vs. hatred

spoiler alert
right wins.

my stomach is trying to **** me
it says
red you left me empty
three days
now you try to eat something
tough luck, *******
haven't you learned yet

today
God took one of my friends
instead of me.
and i will not
do what i wanted
now,
either.
because i cannot watch
one more family
feel this.

the elephant girl
draws excellent swirls.
i trip across the beginning of one
run along the loop
until i come to the inner-most circle
where i sit
and wait
for class to grind to an end.

i can never sleep the night after a party

every worst situation that didn't even happen rams through my brain
in the quiet, frightening time between sleep and awake
a never ending loop that terrifies me

i get so angry
joe tells me not to be angry
but i can't help it

untangle your limbs
from the odd position
you wake up in
comb your fingers
through your knotted, ginger hair
streeetttchhhhh.
sit up,
look out the window
see if it's a nice enough day
to keep breathing for
hm.
maybe it is.
think about libraries
and walks to rivers
but mostly about
scrubbing off
the dried mascara
on your face
smile.
right there and then.
only because someone told you
that if you smiled enough
it would make you happy.
like magic.
try not to remember
the empty room
next door
and the stop-motion
perfume
on her vanity
realize that this is only
day one...
smile
gone

i hate those nasty little ***** of advertisement
that i get on facebook
about melting off my belly fat in "JUST DAYS!"
they show skeleton frames
and expect me to believe
that this is
pretty
right
healthy
correct
wanted
they are trying to teach me
like i learned
as a child
say a word,
show a picture
she will learn,
they say
i fear
that they are
right

people will try to say you're golden
people will try to say you're ****
i'll try to tell you that life is
what you make of it

ultimately,
you decide who is right
not them

there are a lot of boys in the world.
and some of them wear your work shirts
and some of them wear his cologne
and some of them laugh like you
or peer through your eyes
at my drunk,
sliding lips.

there are a lot of boys in this world
who have your hands -
maybe gentler,
but same intention
running down my back
and under my jeans.

there are a lot of boys -
and some variety,
but all factory built
with the same core.

you are a beautiful little box at the bottom of my screen.
and somehow i am always shocked
when you want to talk to me.
the first thing i remember you saying
involved naked women and steak
and we were
twelve...
you're more awkward
than anyone i've ever met
and
the way you carry yourself speaks of unfamiliarity
with everything
and i feel like two planets trying to smash together
to make one
when we talk
because somehow
we never get
our point across...

...but
i
spent several years of my life loving you
a quiet little box
on the bottom of my screen
and you spent several years
loving a girl
with the prettiest feet
i ever saw

...i feel ok about this now.

dave,
i would make you pancakes
but instead i wrote you this poem.

i love that i am getting
farther away from you.
if i wanted to be close to you
it would be easy...
i don't like anything
that is easy.
i love *******
this long
spacious
gap
i love stretching
testing
seeing how far i can reach
in the opposite
direction.
i love this
big
empty
space
between us
i love how it gets bigger and bigger
the more i pry my heart
out of yours.
i love
how much room there is
for dancing
for leaping
for doing all the things
there wasn't a spot for
before.
i love that i can take
huge
deep
breathes
and not breathe the same air
as you.
i love
that i am not so close to you
that i have to mimic
your every move
i love that my hair
doesn't get tangled
in your fingers
anymore...
you left my hair
in knots.
i love that if you reached for me
not even your fingertips
would brush me
i love that if you yelled for me
i would never
hear you
i love that if you wanted to kiss me
you would be
disappointed.

i love
that i am not
near
you.

you really like
labels.

you like being able to say
"i have THIS"
or "i have THAT"
now the therapist can begin a new ritual
a new rain dance
a new prance of prescription
to make me feel better about myself.

dyslexic
anxiety
adhd
PTSD

google is your doctor
informing you of all the ways you are ill
and without a formal analysis
you diagnose yourself
and then inform the world.

you like being able to articulate what is wrong with you
so people will stop accusing other outside forces
of being the cause
like maybe
mommy
problems.

this makes it all easier. because honestly
you don't know
what is wrong with you.
and you don't know
how to make your lungs feel able to breathe alright again
though you profess you do...
and that my lungs are in need of your theripistal jargon as well -
personal salvation at the hands of a 16 year old child.


i have seen more than you.
and the more that i have seen i have even understood better
and fully.

want to get wordy?
i was able to
cognitively deduce the situation
because my brain was fully developed.

tell THAT to your therapist.

this alcohol
has drunk me
so efficiently
i am one of those empty bottles
rolling around the barroom floor
collecting dust
until they come to take me away
clean me up a bit
refill me
only to be
drunk
again
i am that little bottle
that says
drink me

these things
happen

they tell me

these things
happen

every day.

i reply,

what planet
are you ******* living on

today
the entire world
was five minutes late for class.
i elbowed,
clawed,
tore my way
through the throng
lay gasping
like a drowning fish
on the doorstep
of psychology class.
you all need to get watches,
*******

if i just were more confident
if i just were sweeter
if my voice were higher
if my stomach smaller
if my face a better shape
if my laugh a better laugh
if i just adjusted to your every need
like the way you tune my guitar
on my bed
singing to me
(is it to me, or all the girls on my floor?
nightmares argue the case
frightfully)
if only
if only
if only
i was what he wants
i don't even know how to begin

new sorrow to make the last
dull against my wrists
i am immune to all knives
because i don't open them anymore

escaping from wherever i am currently is always in my best interest
i am looking for means and venues and opportunities to distract myself
whether it's
boys
video games
youtube
***
running through abandoned girlscout camps in the middle of the night
drinking until my bed feels like an ocean, trying to expel me
i will do it
i will use it
i will bring myself to lows i said i'd never return to
just to make sure you're there
in the background
available to take me away

which sometimes means rough fingers i never asked for
or drunk nights dancing in cages with friends i'll never forget
or walking down winter sidewalks in the middle of the night
or sitting by canals that happy older couples powerwalk along
while my mind tries to run away from a school i never wanted
...trying to make you care if i live or not

every night my parents screamed
every moment god made me feel disgusting
every girl that watched food go from my fork to my mouth
the two men that put their own pleasure above my sanity...

i escape you
through just as evil means
but it is the only way
i know how