it has been discovered
by yours truly
that no matter how bad your thighs look when you sit down in ***** shorts
it's ******* worth it
you don't need to sit down anyway
you're a girl.
they'll take you standing up
or anywhere else
they can get you
just wear those ***** shorts,
baby
they say

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.

i feel like i don't have any poetry anymore. it's cool, you guys haven't been digging my recent stuff anyway. maybe i finally got it all out, maybe i'll be ok now. thanks for reading...don't know if or when i'll be back...could be tomorrow, could be never. i like unpredictable

pick apart
the pimples on your face
which is really
a great reminder
of all the things
you can't erase
push that restart button
on your ancient NES
click click click
punch
it won't make you less
hurt

my sister says
"you are just like mom."
she says that
i ignore people
who only want to apologize
people who only want
reconciliation.

well i guess
i should have gotten that down
by now
i am the one
who has been here
to take the ****
instead of in a fairyland
where all of this
doesn't exist
in another
state
I STAYED HERE.
don't EVER tell me
i am like her...

i don't talk to you
because i can't handle
anymore hurt
i will break.
and i know
that you would break too
if i let that happen
so really
by not responding,
sister...
i am
saving
you.

i suddenly long to forget nights.

chasing white pills down the tangle of my throat,
i am disturbed to remember frantic dreams in the waking moments.

i begin to fear that the air is making me sick
in this closed off room where i sleep and dream
where my neck aches and my stomach burns
where he laid the night he touched the string that would undo everything
that kept me standing.

i want the peace that i felt in the white slab of the rubber gloved doctor's room
beeping gently
looking to see what burned
inside of me

they didn't find it

If we think hard enough
We'll turn into a fire
One lone whisper
In a field of desire.
We'll imagine our way out of this
We're not scared at all
There's nothing to be afraid of,
We'll think down that wall.
Nothing exists if we don't want it to
We can close our eyes
We don't see the hurting
We don't see the lies.
We're neck high in refuse
An inch deep in love
We're not scared of the consequences
If there's nothing up above.

Love,
Can't you understand
That poems don't mean anything?
When you stretch out your hand
You can't hold them.
Can't you see
That all I am is a tangle
Of words?
Of things people have told me
To be?
I'm paper thin
Reluctance;
sin.

You don't KNOW ME
I don't
Know you
I'd rather have you spit at me
Than just look through
My heart
Like it's nothing.

(pop pills
like you used to pop balloons as a child
eyes closed
tentative hands
face turned away
scared
of the explosion that follows)

they say you used to be so pretty
healthy, thick red hair with gold hightlights
bright blue eyes with brown around the pupil
lips that dispelled depression
with their curves

now they ask you why your hair
feels dead like a barbie doll's
why your eyes don't smile
why your lips curve
in a different direction

they ask you why you're alone
where's the boyfriend?
like that's some sort of
validation

so many different answers to one question
"so what're you up to this semester?"
i'm
trying to figure things out
hoping to transfer
taking a gap year
...again
hell i don't know
i'm just
******* around

are you ok
they keep asking
i laugh it off
"i'm awesome
how's the boyfriend
girlfriend
semester?"

(the ache in my head has made me mean
my birth was my validation
i don't need you)

crawl around on your floor
searching for clothes
that will change you
rearrange your hair
for the fortieth time
i've just realized
this is how i express
my social anxiety
i look at my face in the mirror
and all i want to do
is cut it
pretty sure this isn't
healthy

help
me

gather all the evidence
sort out all the papers
you're gonna get it right
this time
no arguing
she can't argue
with the truth
set all the papers out
where you can see them easily
get your phone
dial
her number
call her
at your old home
(the battlefield)

FIGHT.

she cannot resist
she cannot defeat
what is right
forever.

i wear ancient friendship anklets
chipped toenail polish, a gritty smile on my face
sunshine seeping under my fingernails i
walk on the top of the railguard and look down
over and over
teetering.

see the ditch,
see the road,
see the trees.
can't see the forest but i see the trees
and i feel a nearness to the wild undergrowth
missing that blank, trodden look of a ground too often explored
i crouch in the ferns and remember the feeling that i lost.

hair smelling like wind and earth and sky
fists against the trunk of the tree
in a forest i can't see
i fight the bigness of it all
i fight against the all encompassing picture that threatens to lose me
lose this tree
i chip off the bark and put it in my pocket.
lose the tree,
but still have
a piece

i stand in a forest that i refuse to see
comforting the trees
battling the sky
screaming at the crowded leaves
dead friendship anklets
dragging
me

take me to a carnival, please.
just make sure you
protect me
from all the people
(big crowds
**** me off)
and don't win me
a stuffed animal
let me
do it
myself
but
tell me
how
wonderful i am
afterwards.
hold my hand
maybe just a little
give me
light kisses
on my lips
smile at me,
baby
baby needs a smile
sometimes
too.

casually observing my body from the outside
watching me fall apart
my face sliding off my cheeks
my abdomen rotting
my hands and feet lying listlessly against my bedcovers.

i have become a bystander
a slightly curious stranger
keeping an eye on the ****** on the street -
me
watching my antics
wondering at my behavior
cringing at the pathetic pleading that stretches from my eyes
to my toes
to his phone screen

i wonder how long she can carry on
before her head blurs in its motion
before her hands claw together
before she smolders out
a wait and see
sort of game
how long
can she
last
how fast
is too fast
how much
is too much
how long
before he leaves her alone again

the world blows up
once again
facebook
twitter
tv
poetry
people....
....people who gave up on prayer
decades ago
have returned
suddenly
i hope all this
didn't just happen
to teach us how to pray
again

prickly little thoughts
rudely address me
in the quiet
of the air conditioned
hidey-hole
i've spent my summer in.

thoughts like:
you're a *******
you're going to die here
they think you're joking
you should tell the truth, sometime
maybe it'd
be nice
why can't my face be
the way i want it
why can't my
stomach
be flatter
why can't
mom just
spontaneously combust
so i can have
my family back
why
why
why
you are
you are
you are

.
..
...
....
...
..
.

i talk a lot about
flying

i like the idea
of it

it doesn't even bother me
that those that fly, fall

i'll cheat the system
i'll have a rope

catch
me

will i allow one year to pass?

will i go out to dinner and celebrate my weakness
celebrate my futility
smell the roses
that reek of decay

maybe i will.
and then in march
celebrate the day he forced his hand down my pants
in april, the day he taught me to use my mouth
in july, the day he popped what he fondly called
the christian girl's "buttcherry" to his friends
or september, the day i was so desperate to remember how to feel
that i tried to jump start my heart
by letting him finally take my virginity

guess what?
it didn't work.
it made it worse.

now i wait for the searing, pounding, aching anger
to remind me that a heart beats in its empty, echoing cavity
anger is the only thing that reminds me i am human
that i have the capability to feel
to be hurt, but not to be vulnerable
no,
to be hurt, and to hurt in return.
yes, this is what makes my heart beat again.
this is what keeps me alive
i thrive on the thought that he will suffer for what he did
like i suffered
for what
he
did

life isn't fair, is it?

i remembered today
in the shower
that pottery kit
the aunt that now hates me
because i chose to live with my dad
gave me
for my
seventh
birthday.
i was so surprised
so excited
because i never knew that i liked pottery
until that bright yellow box
entered the scene
(my aunt did this sort of thing
a lot to me
with knitting
and scrapbooking
only those things
i hate)
ripping the box open
i found all the necessary components
the wheel,
the clay
those other funky things
and had gotten all set up
when i realized
that the motor that made it run
which was some sort of pedal
was not in the box
i searched for it
i cried to mom for it
finally
i found the box again
and it said
that the pedal
was sold separately
not included
you'd have to wait
mom'd say
i've waited
for thirteen years
and now i wonder
if i was supposed to learn that lesson
at an early age
whatever the **** that lesson was
because that pottery wheel
with no motor
and no hope of getting one
for at least thirteen more years
would be
me.

well
i
haven't talked to you in two days
which is
weird
haven't done that since
early december
we kind of collided tonight
and ricocheted apart
boy
that was quick
and then i leave
and you're asking everyone
about me
i think i'm starting to lose track
of what we're doing
where we are
how far
along
we've gone

i feel kind of bad
that i left you by yourself
but it was too weird for me
i always do something like this
personal fault
i guess
whenever something gets too unfamiliar
i pack up
and leave
i always try to tell everyone
(myself)
that i'm nothing like my mother
but i guess after all
maybe
i
am

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

if you give me a few minutes i'll trick you into thinking that i enjoy your company
like a jester i'll flop around in my jingly hat
contorting to the contours of your personality.
i'll convince you we're best friends
i'll come see if you're ok when you're sitting alone
i'll feed the insecure monster in your ribcage lipstick and
"my god, that shirt is way too big for you".

it's not even that i don't like you or something
i do
it's just that i have no time but i pretend that i
do
and i like to help other people instead of myself
and
i know i'm about due for a relapse
and
i know that i won't tell anyone
and
i know i'll keep helping you
even though you'd never dream of doing the same for me
and
i know that this ******* *****.
but i have decided to be a charismatic jester
this is where my home is
and i don't have enough money to jump ship

i never realize how much i miss my bestfrand
until he messages me

...the *******.

i was in love with him for awhile
blue Skys are tempting
any time of the year
i have a thing for
boys with smashed hearts
but i
got over it
can't chase blue Skys
my whole life
high as **** Brian S.'s come along
cocky Dougs
slick Adams
****-naked Gregs
smooth-talking Wayne Gilberts
and smiling Elliots
and they take up the time
inbetween
they give me reasons to smile
or cringe
at least they
******* entertain me
keep me
busy
that's all i look for
i guess

...i'm shallow as ****
and i don't even care
i'm just glad
my blue Sky is back
i don't love him like i used to
but he still loves me
and that makes it
ok...
time to raise hell...
blue Sky
and summer time
go together
perfectly

i wait
and i
wait
and i
wait
for you to respond
and i watch you
and i think
wow
is he going
to say something
that he means
for once?
then you open your
meaningless
chasm
smile
shakily
tell me
goodnight
and that you love me
as an after thought...
sometimes i think our life consists of
the antics
of
an after-thought
theatre troupe
oh well
i guess i love you too
in a meaningless
sort of way

you know that moment
when someone begs you to stay
but you leave
as awkwardly
and quickly
as you can
just because
you can't
emotionally
physically
handle them
anymore?
sometimes i feel like
that's my life
every single
day.

I sit here
Trying to read meaning into every missing second
Every little blip that it took you to think about what you just said…
Doubt? Restraint? How best to lie?
What flies
Through your mind?
Does it have anything to do with the fact
That you told me that you loved me
And then apologized…
What of that?
I apologize for nothing
I regret not a single thing done
I take back not a smile, a laugh, a song sung
In joviality…
Somehow our love was just this odd joke
That we entertained off and on
We were thrown into chaos when it broke
Over reality…
Like an egg cracked on top of a globe
It encased our small, narrow-minded world
Made it slip out our fingers
Made it roll, made it whirl.
Now we sit here with this
Slimy, newborn thing
Not sure whether or not to laugh at such a preposterous idea
And fling
It from us…
Or to examine it, seriously and closely
Think about it for a while
Pick and choose what we want
Contemplate the weight of denial…
If you really just want someone to always be there
Someone to watch movies with
Someone to laugh with
Then I guess I don’t really care…
I just wish it hadn’t been said at all…
A ball
Will roll if you push it…
An object in motion will remain so
Until something stops it…
But really,
Your apology has gone and done what it ought…
It has successfully replaced and retracted
All that was thought…
I’m sure we’ll be great friends
Until you slip up…again.

my cousin always gets a new puppy when the last grows up incorrectly:
misbehaving while she's gone,
wrecking home and belongings.

that is how you feel
no, not special or an isolated circumstance
don't bloat yourself on the idea that you are unique to me --
you are every other boy who thinks with his ****
every other boy who seemed playful and innocent
and grew to destroy home and belongings...

this arm belongs to me, this breast
this neck
these thighs
you wreck every one
smiling in your play

i do discard you,
but not before you damage me...
and there is always another
ahead.

it's been a while since i've felt worthless.

you didn't do it on purpose

been a while since i cared

if someone liked another girl better

this sounds like a bad taylor swift song

but the sinking energy

and the sleepy ache

the tired unhappiness

i remember it

i usually cried

i don't cry anymore

because no one matters to me

least of all you

i knew i couldn't have you

i don't get to have things that are pretty or worthwhile

too ugly

too sad.

out of my league
like a man holding a gun to my chest
your eyes crinkle
lovingly
loading bullets
between my eyes
out of my league
like a dog with sharp teeth
me,
an overweight ragdoll that you shake
playfully
out of my league
like you're just here to be exposed to someone better
i know the feeling
it's okay
i cut the heartstrings
i'm not even sure if they grow anymore.

your eyes are cool steely pools
of pure ***

the drunk man says
what the sober man thinks?

empty carcass christmas
green in every way
(green around
the gills)
christmas tree is just something we killed and stuffed and hung up
just like the love
my mother claimed she had for me

just a photo on a ***** refrigerator that i never look at

merry christmas.

hi,
my name is
littleredwritinghood
and i got
a C in psychology
this semester
and i am here
to try and
get over it.
i feel like
i have a big red
YOU FAILED
sticker
a big red C
on my forehead
and that my dad
will eventually
notice it
i had a nightmare
that i couldn't get it off
no matter how hard i scrubbed
i am expecting
four more C's
to join it
on my cheeks
it's not that i'm not smart
i just didn't go to class
because i wanted to slice my wrists
not get out of
bed
daddy,
i wish you
understood

my anxiety makes me feel like someone has cramped me into a little box
and my lungs have shrunk
and i cannot help but tremble
and i wonder if the millions of other people
who are so afraid of existing
would crawl out
and sit with me
so we could try to make each other
braver
cut a lip
with a fist,
maybe

these melt-away anti-anxiety tablets
don't work well enough for me
the coiled spring in my chest
is threatening

will you come with me
come make believe with me
come make believe that we
are happy.

paint a smile
like a clown
paint a smile
cover your frown
paint a smile
on your lips
paint smiley faces
on dead crypts.

arrange my limbs
any way you please
bend my elbows
straighten my knees
make me
happy.

you must come with me
come make me happy
you will see
you will believe
me
you'll be
better
lies make you
better
i
should
know
i put on
a great show.

that bridge is long burnt
embers floating away
in the water
the current
dispelling the nightmare

but i still remember the bridge.
and when i see a stretch of water i feel the ghost of it there
clinging to the dirt and the undergrowth

i know it was there.
and it frightens
me

take
three bites of cereal
to calm the burn
in the pit
of your stomach
float
on

I sit
And I look through my planner
At all these days that I am expected
To live through.
Part of me
Doesn't care about what is expected,
And longs to do the UNexpected
Just to regain some small respect
For myself.
This small part of me
Wants to tell all these little, boxed in days
To go to hell
That a day
In a week
Can't confine me...
But then the rest of me remembers
That a GPA
does define me...

The active part of me
Reminds the inactive
That you are what you do
That it is simply not acceptable
To just be
you.

i should stop looking at your pictures
because they ******* depress me
your girlfriend is one of the ugliest people i've ever seen in my life
but you guys look so
happy
i want to be
happy

trip
drip
crash
the hours slam by
dear
you're supposed to be writing an essay
stop telling it to *******
you're never going to be anything
ever
you're not a poet
you're some dumb kid with a pen
trip
drip
crash
you're going to be out on your ***
if you don't stop
mooning around
trip
drip
SLAM
i wonder how much it'd hurt dad
if i opened that door
started walking
and never came back
maybe he'd only feel it
for a little while
i wish i wasn't always so
guilty
about everything
trip
drip
fall
dad i wish i could tell you
i don't want to be here
at all
i wish you couldn't see me
leave
does it count as running away
if you're almost
twenty?
back
forth
the hours sweep
and recede
dad i think i miss mom
i miss our big yellow house
i hate living here
let's leave.
skip
jump
flee
where will i be
in ten years
no
five months...
tomorrow
five minutes?
trip
drip
fly
i don't even have
tears
to
cry

i am not flowery.
i am not poetic.
there are many more adept than me.

i simply wish to express
the best i can through the language that i am confined in
the truth of emotions
the purity of rage.

if i could stop existing by tomorrow
i would.
because though everyone thinks me
quite the social butterfly
being social actually gives ME butterflies
and not the good kind.
instead of going to
five graduation parties
this weekend
i would like to curl into a ball
and wish myself
out of this world
rather than worry about
every angle
of my body
every inflection
of my face
all day
i would rather not
try to make everyone smile
because i am too tired
to smile
myself.

It is vitally important
That you find somewhere to hide.
If you can't manage it in private,
You must at least try in public.
Find all the round, yellow little cubbies you can
Pray they are unoccupied.
If, in fact, they aren't...
Wander, pointedly examining the floor,
A wall,
Your phone
Until you find a cracked
Worn
Red one.
Slink unnoticed into it,
Keep your head low
And let the grody,
Curved
White wall
Protect you.

the feeling that no one is listening
because there are no likes on my latest status
no retweets
no hearts on the face of my instagram
the cement words of the internet do me no good
because no one
is listening
no one hears me
when i speak with floating words or lead-like typography

my self-assurance falters
am i not popular
is this highschool
is all of humanity one big highschool class that doesn't want to sit with me at lunch  
is it the internet that taught me this?

is the internet bad because it is the internet
or is it bad because i am exposed to more humans than i ever would be
normally
is that what
makes it
bad

wrapped up in pretzel shapes on my bed in the middle of the night
contorting and twisting
holding my head, lifting my legs
bending my knees
happily.
much unlike the way you contorted me for your own pleasure
much unlike the pretzel you kneaded me into
alike, but different.
so different.

snuggling on the couch, watching coraline

your **** shoved in my face
ready to blow
forced in my mouth
almost chalky dry

holding my hand in the store
hugging me tight because mom has a new boyfriend

pushing me against the sink
thrusting in

crying on the couch
you smother me
till i smile

first night i met you
hands down my pants
you asked me to get on top
i said no
it happened
anyway

helping me work my way to college
moving for me
buying me
so many
many
things*

hard **** against my thigh
rubbing
forceful hand against me
too hard
frightened

hugs
kisses
he takes care of me
cries when he tells me how much he loves me
tells me how i saved him
from depression,
suicide
anger

if only to tell you the depression you brought me
like one of the many presents
wrapped tightly
i swallowed
let it spread to my lungs
now i only breathe pain
i did not dissipate the bad parts of you
i consumed them
and now they are mine
to bear

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

we had a real conversation for once
about your ptsd
you told me
you remember 100%
every guy you ever killed
and you went to iraq...
you told me
stories
what it was like
when you got back...
about waking up from a night terror
slashing your pillows
with a knife
about another guy
who almost strangled
his wife
you told me
all the reasons
you can't sleep
i wanted
to lay my head on your chest
but i
didn't

house your pain
in a birdcage
don't put it in a cement box
where it can concentrate
and get bigger,
fouler
let it breathe

and maybe someday
with enough air
that pain will go away
taken on a breeze
that had nothing to do with you counting scars

...good things happen
you told yourself so
this morning in the shower
good things are brand new baby girls
that don't know what a family they've been born into yet
soft, sweet-smelling darlings
who don't understand the politics of their birth

good things happen, red.
just not to us.

ben,
you make me wonder.

i wonder about your ex wife
and how you used to say ***** things to me
before you saw my face
and the innocence in it
you make me think about your kids
and how much you care about them
despite hiding behind a computer screen:
an important man on an unimportant online game

and after you stepped down from your role
when you realized online games are like real life only worse
you sat on facebook and played icon games
for three days

ben
i worry about you
i don't even ******* know you
but i hope you're ok.
it looks like all you did is transfer hidey-holes
...you've beat the icon game finally
what will you do now
why do you have to win everything
and is that why your divorce is killing you