i'm tired.
come lie
with me

lying
gives you
rest
lying
lets you wake up
refreshed
i want to
lie
with you

let's
get in a tangle
the ancient dance
of lying together
as one

touch me
lie with me
next to me
slowly
as you lie with me
kiss me
i will let you

life has taught me
to only love
li
ars

i will chase happiness,
my childhood dream
down to the riverbank
in this foreign town
i will look for it
in the reflection of my face
on the water
with the sunlight
in my eyes.
i will follow it down the sidewalk
to the baseball diamond
where i once kicked up dust and gravel
on a sunny day
in contempt
of a bad call:
a dry-mouthed
wonderful
day.
i will pursue it
until i get to the big yellow house
of trauma
and i will close my eyes
and pretend that
home doesn't smell
like a crypt
i will see mom and dad
standing in the sunlight
on the shore of the lake
smiling.
i will think happy thoughts
i will dream happy dreams
i will be
happy
as long as i can tuck away
re
ali
ty
like a child that has
finally fallen asleep.

honestly,
i'm sick of faking it with you.
i deserve
reality
and i'm getting everything but
every night
i spend with you
i've always been so suspicious
of being used
people use me
all the time
because i'm good
for a laugh
i can keep things going
i make parties
fun
but that's the only reason
anyone wants me around
they use me
to keep things interesting...
i
am
worth
more
than
that.

so honestly
let's be honest
(something never are)
if you wanted me back
you should have said something
fifteen minutes ago
and not fifteen seconds
ago
because fifteen minutes
is long enough
to put fifteen thousand miles
between me and you...

to be honest:
i'm tired of being used
i'm
leaving

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

empty stomach acid gnawing at my intestines
feels better than this

you're like
something i like....
....like
a cat
or....ice cream
but a cat that's flat in the road
and ice cream that's fallen on the floor
i like you,
but i wouldn't
like....
keep you

today
you said
no,
red doesn't love me
she feels sorry for me
i'm like a
*******
puppy
and i
looked at you
wondering if you'd read my mind
or my poems
but came to the conclusion
that you hadn't
even though you'd hit the nail on the head
twice
you missed the part
that meant something
if you had read my mind
or my poems
you would know
that i do love you
in a strange
sort of way
i love you
like i love my baby brother
like i love a puppy
like i love forrest gump
like i love
anything
that i have ever loved
that is how
i love you

i had this strange notion that new clothes would make people want me.
like a tripping over a new stereotype and taking it home to dry
would make people notice me
like my pictures on instagram
now that i can hashtag "gamergirl"
"nerdgirl"
"glasses"
"geek".

like somehow big bows and tight jeans
loose sneakers and earcuffs
and fake glasses
would finally sort me into the right file
with all the other people
like me (?)

like me.
are you like me
as in the clothes i'm wearing
the movies i'm watching
the games i'm playing
are you like me like the words i use
like the smiles i smile
like the imitation kim kardashian perfume that i buy (?)

i had the feeling that people would notice me
that hipster boys in starbucks would take a sideglance, then go for another peek
that boys from ivy-league schools
would ask for my number
that gamestop employees would stand too close to me...
and i was right.

but being right doesn't always mean you're happy
and though i am somehow now interesting
and attractive
and easy to sort into small plastic boxes
i feel
empty
poor
cold
materialistic

basically, i feel like every girl i have ever envied.
i don't know why i envied them.

they are not like me.

it takes two seconds
of chit chat
for me to get down
to why i am so angry
with you.
how could you leave me
all summer,
sister.
all the **** that we've been through
these two years...
isn't my family
divided
separated
scattered
enough?
everyone leaves.
it's easier
to just
leave
i want to leave...
but i must be the one that stays
because no one else will.
don't yell at me
for not applying to colleges
for sitting
staring
at the ceiling
slicing
my arms open
not eating
passing out
hitting my head
screaming
don't yell at me
for things you don't understand,
sister.
maybe
if i was better
if i was happier
nicer
...better...
you would want to stay here
with me.
but i guess i messed it up
just like i messed up with mom
i thought i was so good at
giving people
what they want
i never know what i want...
maybe that's the problem

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

ma'am,
your weekly quota
of teeth gnashing
is up.
no, no...
you may not have more time
your slot is full
move along
the line
ma'am, i told you
we don't have any more mercy in stock
we're sold out
move along
ma'am...please move along
security...
ma'am,
you're out of time
stop gnashing your teeth
MA'AM...
SECURITY
GET THIS WOMAN OUT OF HERE
we don't have room for her.

i'm tired of the feedback in my ears
and the low, settled silt in my abdomen.
i'm tired of staring at the little box on the screen that you try to communicate with
and i am so ******* tired of hearing you cry.

i get stuck on ideas and things that happen to me
i write about them over and over
trying to understand them
i am sorry for the repetition,
and grateful for the few that have stuck around.
thank you for staying with me.

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 *****

my little sister
who is just fifteen
speaks of things
she knows nothing about
she is always trying to tell me
that dad sexually abused her as a child
but she only believes it
because mom told her
i hate
divorce

i am
giving up
i'm tired of sharpie butterflies
over the cuts
i'm tired of eating
i'm tired of
being
let's drop out of school
***** all those golden rules
gold is ******
anyway

who can i call
to drop out of life?
can i call the dean of admissions
for that one?

if you don't live the dream
you live some ******
substitute
full of these cracked smiles
and paper dollars
that we trade
for happiness
only we don't get
that it doesn't come all packaged up and pretty
happiness is ugly
happiness is bitter
you have to give up
too much
to be happy
these days

when you finally reach
the glittering end
of the tunnel
it's just some light
and what the **** am i gonna do
with a handful of ******* light

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

ask anyone i know:
i have a tendency to forget things.

i forgot moose's middle name
my password
what day i have to go to the dentist
what i did yesterday
if i ate this morning
what year i stopped talking to ryan
the words to my favorite moldy peaches song
the name of a childhood friend
the book that i was supposed to return
the movie i was supposed to bring
the cookies i was supposed to bake
the smile i was supposed to smile
the words i was supposed to say

but this is only lately.
i used to remember everything

i thought my tactic of not thinking about the bad things
made the bad things not real

but it only makes me
forgetful

i am working very hard at being noticed.
long streaks of eyeliner keep my paper white face from slipping into 21 year old patterns
that i often see on my walks
skinny jeans give my body permanence
new, high-heeled sneakers
walk me back to flesh and bone:
the stains on my lips remind me to exist.

i am falling behind
blending in
fading away
from over-exposure
i must find new ways
to darken my frame
define my lines
make me easier to see
if you look at me
then i exist

i exist

i exist

i exist

i should really try to eat something
but dad is gone for the day
and when that happens
i lose myself
all over again

i sit
jump up and down
on the over-stuffed suitcase
that is my mind.
it won't close;
i take some things out
examine them
decide if i want to
take them with me
but some things
won't leave...
i was hoping to lose my luggage
properly
this time around
but the ******* customs people
always send it back home with me
*******

i remember that feeling*

like a dusty childhood memory
of playing in the sun
under the trees
like something that we can recall
but never revisit
she talks about love like it's a stage of life that we move through
not an enduring present

i am the same
it is an illusion we use to torture ourselves with
and the wise choose to forget the crossed stars and the blue lights and the blood trails
we align ourselves by other means
grinding our feet into the ground
cementing the way we interpret human connection

truth and love aren't universal
they are abstract concepts that no one can pin down long enough
to understand
we believe in floating definitions
and base our actions thus
truth and love are bullet-fed cherubs
murdering humankind

i will give you little paper hearts
and hope they'll make you feel better
a million of them
dropping from the sky
little love bombs
that float
like ash

i will give you hand grenades
of happiness
so you can throw them at the people around you
and make the life you live with them
better

i will give you a special one
for you to pull the pin
but stand there and hold it
until it releases
in an explosion
of peace

i will give you heart-felt bullets
to shoot into your vital organs
and anyone else's
you see fit
in order to penetrate
their crusty
bent
rusted
shells
and make them
feel
again

i will give you
and endless supply
of tasers
to wake us all
up
to love

i will give you
bombs
lots of them
but you must promise
to set them off

sometimes i wonder about you
if you're still where i left you
like my room at home that i leave for months at a time
are you still in the same places
waiting for me to come back
sleep in your bed
lie in your arms
cut myself in your bathroom
burn my wrists on your couch?

i look at the pieces i can still see
and wonder about talking
how you do talk to a ******?
like you talk to anyone?
i should know
of anyone
i was with you
for so
long
before i decided
that i was worth more
than a **** that i didn't even want.

fat girls have it rough.
girls have it rough.
we feel less than human
so unlovable
that even if a man rapes us over and over
but says that he loves you
it's okay
because
he loves you.

clearly
he ***** me
in
love
the purist
form
of love -

lust.

love is just an excuse
to get what we truly want.

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

they say my art has abusive undertones,
lit up on the projector in class.
my mouth tied
like a bow
ashamed,
speechless
wishing it would stop bleeding
through my images.

i called you an angel,
Gabriel.
my angel.

i really believed
that if there was a god
he was instrumental in your sudden
appearance
that if anything was ever going to go right for me
it was you
that december
that christmas

and now i sweat you out
like the demon that you are
labor in the night,
screaming
waiting for my rebirth,
contracting.

i called you an angel,
Gabriel.
i told them
you were
an
angel

black coffee and asprin for breakfast
and i'm still shooting blanks
pouring it over my face, scalding
dripping down my *******
black coach bags
staring back at you
your hungry mouth
reaching for mine
regardless

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

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

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

if you knew
that without make up
clothes
earrings
and shoes
i was nothing,
you wouldn't want anything
to do with me.
if you could only see
the real me
you'd notice that i'm tired and cold
you'd see every crease, every fold
the bags under my eyes
and the real beneath my lies.

but you
don't see
because you're blind
and the barriers i've place in your mind
are in fine
working order
and prevent you from seeing
past the border
of fake
that i make
with every stroke
of mascara.

i would cry a lot
right now
if i had any tears
left
after these
two years.
you ****** me dry
but you haven't stopped there
you want the empty shell,
too.
i hope that she'll
keep a smile
on your
gravestone face
put some sort of light
back into your
chopping-block
eyes
i hope that shell of me
will keep you warm
on the freezing nights
you are alone
that you have inflicted
upon yourself
i hope this hollow girl
that used to be
your daughter
will make you happy
finally

you know,
i really don't need much to be happy
i don't get what the big deal is
give me a big tree
dirt
sunshine
a blanket
to lie on
a family
and i'd be set
why are the hardest things to get
also the easiest
and if they're so easy to get
why can't i have them
oh
frustration.

my mother says things about me
rudely
right in
front of me
to people that i have known
my entire life.
she tells them that i
never call
that i
don't care for her
one bit
that dad has
turned me against her
mother,
i am
five feet
away from you.
i am not
deaf.
i can hear
everything you are saying
to that poor old lady
who has no idea
why you are telling her this
she just wanted to tell you
how pretty i looked
mother
dear,
i came to give you a hug
only because
i knew that if i did
everything you just said
to that old woman
would be revealed
as a load of ****
yes mom,
for once i hugged you
and i meant it

when you have to take pills
to sleep
and your dad wonders
if you think too deep
at night
and your friends wonder
if you're talking to a creep
sometimes
in secret
and your mother doesn't wonder anything
because your mother too
doesn't sleep
littlered,
sleep
so you won't
be her

today i became small.

just a dot on a campus full of people who don't sit with me at lunch
and small snowflakes that fall to the ground and melt just like i do.

happiness is a conundrum.
with it, i cannot feel content.
when i am sad, i am myself again.

something has changed today -
and it has made me small.
it has shrunk me out of proportion
down to my original size
where i remember what i am.

i remember the way you look from down here.
i remember the tall, garish dollhouse water fountains
and too big tiles for my doll feet
and exaggerated bows for my doll hair.

i am content with cracked surfaces.
i slip into them and feel the warmth of the burning earth below us
and i feel safe
like drinking hot milk when it's snowing outside
melting my insides.

i let you make me small.
i let you make me insignificant.
i like it here.
i remember it here.

my memories waited for me  
to return and lie in the melted lake.

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

i just
charged my old phone
my first phone
i got when i was 18
the phone that i didn't have long
before my mother
cut off our account
after she'd left

and on that phone
are hundreds of old
messages
from family
friends
me
pictures
oh god
pictures
of the old room in my sisters house
pictures of the packed truck
that me and my sister
and my dad
were shoved into
a picture of the sheriff's car
outside the window
of my sister's room
the sheriff
that stole our
family
no...
i guess that was
mom.

there are
pictures of a scrape i got on my arm
while moving dad's filing cabinet
into a house we didn't belong in
an innocent picture
meant to remember
the day
but somehow
over a year and a half
it's become obscene
in my eyes
cuts on my arm
are remembered
for different reasons now.

pictures of the one happy day
before we were forced to leave;
the waterfall.
the day before we left
i slipped
and fell into
the rushing rage
of that waterfall
almost drowned
but held on
to the ledge
i wonder why
i lost control
of everything
so suddenly

so many texts
of advice
from my eldest sister
we had to be so careful
how we talked to mom
so she would keep calling
so we could try and figure out
where she was
the absolute
crushing
engulfing
horror
of those summer days
slam into me
like a wrecking ball
today....

god...
will i ever
get over
the pain

discarded.
empty stomach.
the word mother carved into my arm.
finally proven insane.

chasm carefully constructed with the carcass of our love
lying in the bottom of the shallow swamp water i am grounded in.

alone.
so, so alone.
this white washed prison soaks up the bad thoughts and the blood seeping from the cuts and reflects them back at me
the mirror through which i see our relationship.

you will never
ever
understand the torment i have endured
i would give anything to have simply been a bullied, privileged fat kid.

your apologies will never satisfy the aching block hole that is my abdomen
mostly because you never apologize.

today i wished i could tell your mother that you are a ******.
today i spared you, and cut open my arms instead.

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

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

see the problem is
all i want to do
is shoot you
and take your money
what can i say
i grew up in america
*******

some people are just cursed
with bad noses.
they could have an alright face
maybe even a really good one
but some out of whack
funky nose
comes and botches the whole deal.
p.s.
90% percent of the people affected
are bitter
*******
but i guess i can't blame them.

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 decided to take a break from snapping selfies
i'm a child of this century and that is our primary form of communication -
don't judge me
anyway, i've found that it's really not that hard
if you think you look ugly all the time it's ******* easy.

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.

they want to know why your hair falls out

too many trapped thoughts
they creep into the roots
poison them
they
fall
out
red strands
everywhere
fistful at a time
hair thinning
mind winning
i am tired

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

i miss my hair.

i miss feeling healthy.
i miss being able to brush it
and straighten it
even just touch it
without it falling out.

i miss feeling normal
feeling happy
feeling beautiful
somehow he makes me feel not beautiful
maybe it's not even his fault.

march 28th.
things got ****** up then
almost a year ago.
will i let it go a whole year?

i guess it wouldn't be too drastic.
i've already let so many things go.
i don't even remember what i used to be like
this new persona is so consuming.
i miss myself.

wow
you actually did
care.
though i'm still
at a loss
as to why...
not because i don't think i'm worth
someone
caring
for me
or caring
that i exist
i'm at a loss
because i can't tell
how you feel
and it's
******* me
off.
you said you're not
sad
you're
ticked off
but what are you
ticked off
about...
that i left?
why do you think i left?
i want to know
but i won't ask you
i don't want to
get mixed up
again
you always
mix me
up,
skyler.

nothing lives forever
except hatred
when mother dies
everything she touched will smell of it
it will hurt to throw it all away
but it's better than living with something so repulsive
as hatred