slip through new cracks this time
cracks you had no idea existed until you pulled the classic
'look through boyfriends messages while he's sleeping'
a game you're too ashamed to admit you play.

it's not just you
you aren't the only one who objectified me
you taught me how
now i do it for you.

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

sometimes when i think about being skinny
i get worried that if i ever do
i'll be one of those ugly skinny girls
instead of one of the pretty ones
and that would be terrible
i mean
isn't the object of the game
to be the highest
in demand
and if that doesn't work out
what do i do?
get fat again?
shoplift my features from a twisted magazine
in the media maven's fist?
yeah, that's a good idea.

**the problem is not that girls or guys are ugly and need to be prettier
the problem is on the inside of people's faces
i have begun to realize that this is not all their fault
we are desensitized from a young age
and though we might try to resist
television, facebook, tumblr
flashes us a picture of an unhealthily thin young woman
and tells us to strive to that standard.
even if you mock it
the image is in your head
and you begin to make small comparisons
i don't know if we can change our thinking anymore
people try, it hasn't worked very well
but WE CAN CHANGE the images that are put in our mind
for the people
by the people
rage against the barbie doll machine.

i remember every carefully constructed smile
that i composed for you
a melody
that i prayed
would snag you.
my eyes crinkled
into rainbow smiles
all their own
plump lips shaped
perfectly
dimples placed
with practice
just in the right spot.
you told me
over and over
"don't look at me like that"
jokingly
"you're destroying me"
you'd say
as you laughed
and smiled back
into mine
i wish i had known then
that every carefully composed smile
was wasted on you
you took my smile
and smiled it at a hundred other girls
you not only stole everything
that had ever made me smile
but you took my lips, too
no more
smiles

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

i've started to resent people with two parents
i mean
what do you got
that i don't got
what did you do
sacrifice a ******
or something?
god.

in all reality...
i know i make it out like a joke
but i'm actually ******* tired of writing about this
about being abandoned
and not knowing what the **** i'm doing with my life
i'm tired of feeling like **** every time
i see a mother
on tv
every time
i wish i had one
I DON'T WANT ONE
i'm better without one
i'm fine
i really am
i am
fine.

trembling
shaking
horror
freezing cold on your couch at 4am
i discovered that you are a monster.
something that i knew when i first met you
but ignored.

i will hit my head
until it stops remembering
and saying

you should have known
you should have known
you should have ******* known

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

back to blank eyes
slouched shoulders
ringing in my ears
numbness in my limbs
my frankenstinian moment of animation over
pushed down once more
dead on that cold slab of table
sedated, uncaring
dull ache in my womb

Cheap lipstick
Smudges in the corner of your mouth
A wilted flower,
Regretting the chance it missed
To get out.

i like red pandas because they sleep like they just don't give a ****
on a tree branch with their legs hanging off
like they're just ******* chilling.

today my daddy bought me
a soft red panda
with a striped tail
and fuzzy eyebrows
from the zoo
he took me to.
he said
"this would be you, Red
if you were an animal.
aren't you cute?"

i smiled so much today
and felt so happy
(like a glass full of sunshine)
i forgot to be afraid
of everything.
i didn't even realize
that i felt alright
until
after
in the car
the red panda in my lap.

i am twenty years old
but i still love the zoo
i love even more that you knew
just what i needed
to be ok, dad

i'm losing touch
someone reel me back in
i can't feel
the bottom anymore
i went too far
pull me back
please
i don't want another scar
with your name on it

i am a ****** up clown girl
and i **** up the nice things around me
too
i am so very good at it
i don't even notice i'm doing it
it's
reflex
muscle memory
subconscious
i do that which is done to me
thank you,
mommy

your razorblade tongue ran across my forearm
my *******
my thighs
i know it isn't right
but make a mistake enough times
and it no longer feels like one
i am always fine
until i am alone
in my room
thinking about you
and your
quick
cutting
tongue
on my skin

forgive me lord
i have
sinned

three people i love just called me
right after i screamed for someone to help me
my tears are falling in my mouth and suffocating me
i can't take this anymore
i threw out the knife, but that nail file
will do

help.

scream out all the things you've been writing for three months
right to her face
when she comes
to apologize.
know that she will compare you to mom
you're ready for it
it rolls right off you.
tell her she's full of ****
tell her she's a ******* *******
tell her what is was like
this summer
watch her
not care.
watch dad
subtly check your arms for cuts
when you come downstairs
hate every minute of it
dad prays with you
asks God for help
i've been asking
for three months
time to stop talking
time to stop leaving
your white walled room
time to become recluse
once again

so ardently
so passionatly
so often you voice your feelings for me
it's always been what i wanted
but you've caught me too late
too unwilling to reciprocate
even if it were chris
i would change direction
i would sever ties
too immature for love
too small
too frightened
too unsure.
i wish you would let me be.

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.

facebook messages
blinking at me
angrily
read me
they say
say something back
they scream
but i don't want to talk to
any of you
mostly because
i don't know
what to do
about anything
anymore
stop asking
me

sees the cuts on my thigh
still has his way
but it's all fair
i am a tease

purple splotches
on my
cold arms,
wrists...
thick
red
unfeeling
scars
that never fade
i'm waiting for the day
they turn
white

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.

today i asked my dad
what the point of me being in college
was.
he
thought for a minute
as i waited with bated breath
for the answer that should
i thought,
be some sort of revelation
he looked at me
seriously
my eyes widened
my chest constricted
and he said...

"So you can buy
toilet
paper."

lips still red from the hungry mouth of another boy,
examine your face and wonder what they see.
taste of another boy on your breath
his scent in your hair -
makes me feel like i'm watching what's happening from somewhere else.

it was pretty fast.
but not fast like the last time
there's a new sheriff in town that can't be bought for ear kisses
or rough hands down the back of her pants
this time i said no
and he
stopped.
and that is what i deserve.
not what you did to me.

separating the sheep from the goats with a religious eye,
i protect me now.
not your fragile ego.

someone else in the world thinks i am wonderful enough to kiss.

i remember telling a girl
(maybe
asking her)
"what is there
besides
love?"
i guess there's
mockery

all i said
was that i'd always wanted to own a used bookstore
since i was a kid
and you replied
that you could get used to
seeing my **** ***
behind a counter
i don't mean to be cliche
but that kind of escalated
rather quickly,
******

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.

the demands of lilred's friends are too high
they are too expensive to keep.

she was too tired today
didn't sleep
drank a large coffee in the morning
a rockstar in the afternoon
three more coffees in the evening
all because these friends required her presence
to keep their social activities alive
lilred is in trouble now
too much caffeine and anxiety problems don't mix
they want her when she is awake
but when she is scared and alone
they don't bother
stomach hurting
head aching
back prickly
red is in trouble...
why don't they care

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

you know what they say
you've heard it
forever
"the separation
gets easier
as time goes
on"
yeah
that's what every
single
person
who has never
ever
come close
to your situation
says
like the concept that
people will like bread more
if it's toasted
or that
cheese
is better
when you give it time
to mould
those are the kind of people
who are trying to tell me
it's going to be ok
someday
shut the **** up
drink your expensive wine
and leave me
alone

they tell her she is pretty on facebook
and truth be told,
she has a face like a southern bell...
but she sits with her hands folded
and her ankles crossed
and tips her head ever so slightly to the side,
chin raised
light glinting off
the brooch on her kohl's sweater...

she is not pretty
to me.

she has perfect cheekbones
big eyes
pouty lips
but she sits
like a doll
stiff,
posed,
placed
perfectly
intently
eyes
bright
i want to
smack her until the rag doll comes out
she is too perfect
too sweet
she is so sweet
that she is
sour
to me

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

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?

it feels like i lose blood each time
like the pastor's daughter once told me
(a wide-eyed ******)
that each man we give our hearts to
keeps a piece in their pocket
and that if we give too much
we'll have nothing left.
and maybe that was just christian *******
trying to make me fear the loss of my virginity
more than death
so that when i was *****
when i was 20
i was silent
and ashamed
and the blood i lost
came from between my legs,
not my chest.

but my heart is different after this last one,
so maybe she was right after all
and after him
every time someone kinder
is intimate with me
i feel like my hands are covered in gore
and when he takes them
they slip
muddy his shirt
his hands.
and that's something i'd never want
to inflict -  

i grew up being told
my sins
were covered
in blood
as i grow older
i am convinced
it's true.

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.

i've been chasing laughter in **** rips
and pipe hits
for a week now
addicted to that loose,
wild, inexplicable euphoria
a level of artificial joy
that i can't seem to reach any longer
on my own
and i'm fine with it fake
like i'm fine with fake christmas trees now
(though my 8 year old self
would quake
at the thought)
i understand that it's cheaper
easier
less mess,
less maintenance
and though i'll always miss the authenticity
the smell, the feel
i see the charm
in the illusion
now

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

when my dad cries he can't talk.
there's a pregnant silence while he whistles air through his pursed lips
trying to catch onto words.
a slight wheeze
a reoccurring clearing of the throat
as if this would distract you from what was happening -

when my dad cries
he can't talk;
he doesn't cry very often.
when i cry
all i do is talk

i am still my mother.

these aren't things
he understands
all he feels
is how cold my lips have become
uttering words
i've swallowed
for years

and he'll reassure me until i want to scream,
vocal chords shredding
temples pounding
i don't care if you'll always be there for me
i don't care if you'll never leave me
i don't care
about what you have to say anymore
your words chafe my mouth
like sawdust
dry, tasteless, choking
i can't breathe
your hand on my neck
because you love me
getting tighter
the more i pull away
i wish you knew
what all of this
feels
like

yesterday
i found out
my mom sold my dog
and chopped down the tree
that my brothers and sisters and i
spent our whole lives playing under.
my little sister
gave me a sawed chunk
of the Big Tree
to remember it by
everything in my life
is a sawed chunk
a ****** piece
of something bigger
that once was all mine
and whole
and perfect...
mom,
i'd rather have
the ******* tree

They filled you up
too much
now you have to cry
the constant
"Them".

i took
2600mg
of ibprofen
and my body feels numb
i wonder
how much more i can take
until the big lake in my chest
that is trying to escape out my eyes
will feel better

it feels good to sob.
the familiar tomb-embrace of my room
comforts me
but i want to take my heart out
with this knife i cut my arms with
and step on it until it is quiet.

someone make me feel better
anyone
please
.

albatross shot,
dressed,
hung around my neck:
you placed it
tenderly.

palms toward heaven, nailed down
your lips kiss like the metal bites.

crown of thorns -
falsely placed
driven into my flesh
where a laurel
once bloomed
golden,
trembling,
sacred.

i carry you with me
in the scars along my forearms
and the thighs you once worshiped
i bring you to every hill
feel your weight at every incline,
the albatross
you brought me:
dead weight
beating against my chest.

my second coming is half-through,
and i'm beginning to emerge
i stay up late,
sew my ***** back together.
let the nightmares pry my eyelids open
i soak in the fear
i draw wisdom from the grief -
while my laurel
regrows.

i slip back into my own skin after you leave
pull my scalp over my eyes
look for secrets i once held.

want to pull apart my scarred forearms but i let them be
let them continue to go white
and puckered:
little secrets in themselves.

should i have let you watch?
should i have let you observe my rebirth?
is it coming, after all,
now that i've blinded you?

these secrets i wrap and bind
and create myself.

i ache for the dimly lit late night cafes with wine bottles on the walls
and foamy brown cappuccinos on the tables.
i lust after the nameless, elegant dishes
and the martinis
and the sophistication.

you are wendy's at midnight
a chain restaurant on our anniversary.
practicality.

i want mindless rewards without guilt.
i want cafes and restaurants no one outside of this town has heard of
i want to be what i am:
twenty years old
fresh off the french coffee press
ready to sweep my way through all the archetypes i have observed longingly.


you're seven years too late, darling.

i fill my hollow stomach with hateful words that i spit at you
from the swamp of self-induced numbness that i stand in
ankle deep
even my self pity
is shallow

blood will bring me back

i found the poetry site
my little 15 year old sister is on
i hate reading her poetry
because it reminds me
how wrongly
she sees
everything
today she wrote a poem
about last night
when i saw one of her paintings
i knew exactly what it was about
but said nothing
she lied to me
then in her poem
wrote me
like a filthy
angry
wrong
sister
who misunderstands
art
oh,
sister
if that is so,
you and i
are the same.

the small wisp of heart i have left
was almost wisked away with the dismissal in your face.
the dismissal of my family
a thing that you have no right to write off
like a shopping list of things
you already bought
i don't give a single **** for your teenaged melodrama
it's a holiday
and i wanted a ******* photo
of the stretched scrap of a family that i have left
why couldn't you just let me have one thing
that felt normal
you are a selfish ******* *******
just like our mother

write all the mean poetry you want
about how twinkling lights
and family photos get old
you cut my arms with the things you write

little sister,
you should be ashamed.

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