at the desk, applying for jobs
there is coffee in my cup
and paint in the creases of my fingernails,
on the wall, a whiteboard with new song lyrics
and a list
of things I need to buy,
of course, once I have the money to buy them,
which brings me back to the desk
which an empty bottle of Cabernet Merlot
sits with an empty glass
and notebooks and a mason jar
with cloudy brown-red water
from the bristles of my paintbrushes
my coffee is cold
the french press is in the kitchen
but my flatmate is filming in there
so I’m stuck at my desk
with two sips of cold coffee left,
applying for jobs.
I feel very fragile
right now,
partly because I didn’t go to a job interview
today,
partly because I didn’t go to a job trial,
on friday
though I don’t want to be a waitress
and **** modelling for art classes scares me.
there’s a plant on my windowsill
named Lucy
and she doesn’t have to do anything
and there are two vanilla candles and an incense holder
with lavender incense burning
but **** all the things that
"bring peace"
like small plants, candles, incense, crystals and photographs;
I want a healthy and clean life,
so I have these things
part as a protection
from my own mind
but to be perfectly honest,
I’m at the desk, browsing jobs online,
saving them for later into a bookmark folder entitled
"Wellington Jobs"
instead of actually applying.

i think you,
when the world
(easy with roses)
speaks a hymn
like the mute
crushing of
parted night,
will rise beyond your body
to sing with fierce grace
your hands as lips to speak;
such love (even the roots
of flowers have never known)

We both know it's over,
Though we haven't spoken a word.

And I hear your sleeve rustle
As you run your fingers through your golden hair,
Nervously. Impatiently.
You don't want to be here.

Our eyes meet;
They match the coffee sitting on my bedside from this morning.
Cold.
Bitter.
Unfinished.

My hands rest in my lap, clasped together;
As if to pray to some obscure divinity
That can't hear me.
Gaze fixed on chipped, red nails,
Trying not to bite my tongue.

You knew it was wrong;
You knew it would come to this.
You knew all along.

Didn't you?

Jaw clenched,
You stare out a window,
Plotting your escape.

I try to remember the good times,
But they all seem so out of context now.
Your smile seems so crooked now,
Your eyes seem cold and distant now.

Your charm,
But free deceit disguised as cheap love,
A poor alibi for worse decisions.

You don't love,
You lust.

Because that's all you've ever known in this world,
That's all you ever learned from your sick father figures:
I want.
I need.
I have.

Human connection,
A waste of time.
Love and affection,
No worth to speak of.

So, tell me.
Was she worth it?

"I love her," You say quietly.

"I know," I reply.

The motherly figure
Locked away in fumes
Smelling of skunk
The green smoke taking her away
To anywhere but here

The man of the house
Glass after glass
Of wine
*****
Beer
Even Listerine
If that is what it took
To get even a slight buzz

I sit alone
Adding another mark to the tally
Behind the mirror
Only a few more
Before it is accepted
For my life to end

The youngest
Unaware of all of the despair
In her family
The only one
Who truly smiles
In our family portrait

Society fears
Us looking in mirrors
And liking what we see
Posting 'selfies' online
Is a narcissistic crime
Because we're not allowed to be
Proud of how we look
'Cause in society's book
Insecurity plus jealousy equals pay
And when we cry
We're likely to buy
And the world wants us that way