I want to sit in the soil
until my veins transform into roots
and reach through the Earth
clinging to nutrients
thriving
slowly my skin becomes petals
opening with the rise of each new day
basking in the glow of the sun
infinite

I want to sit in a jar
that you placed on your bedside table
on a warm summer afternoon
reminding you that I am forever yours
captured
but as I slowly wilt and wither away
and you begin to lose interest in me
you will find a new love to call home
replaced

lungs of salty air
seashells for hands
a pocket full of sand
sun rising
sun setting
over the vast blue blanket
covering mother earth
with waves as lullabies
she sleeps well tonight
she sleeps well tonight.

Get me out
out of this skin
out of these bones
out of this mind
out of this soul.

I need out
out of this place
out of these walls
out of this circle
out of this all.

I need to feel
feel alive
feel loved
feel wanted
feel you.

Make me feel
feel warmth
feel serenity
feel something
feel anything.

Show me a spark
a spark of hope
a spark of light
a spark of joy
a spark of life.

Give me a spark
a spark of trust
a spark of wisdom
a spark of strength
a spark of passion.



Wrap me in your love, surround me in your light.
Pull me out of this darkness, help me win this fight.
I can not do this alone anymore.
I surrender, I surrender.

sometimes my parents will ask me
"are you really going down that road again"
with such disdain and bitterness
and it just makes me so angry
because they do not realize that depression
is not a road one chooses to go down
and it is not a road one can easily exit
it is an unpaved road riddled with cracks and potholes
with no street signs or stoplights to guide us safely home
and to accuse someone of willingly taking that road?
well, that is how some of us end up there in the first place
-

It's kind of hard
to find a Mother's Day card
that is fitting for you,
Mommy dearest
So I wrote you my own:

"Thank you for never loving me
the way a mother is supposed to love
her darling daughter.
You taught me that I will never be
good enough
skinny enough
pretty enough
to make it in this world."
-

"You're afraid of growing up."

Perhaps
but I see no shame in that
why would I ever want to grow up
if it means being
miserable
lonely
and drunk
like you,
Dad.
-

we looked silly with our goggles on
splashing around in your pool
somersaults and handstands
chlorine kisses and tangled hair
summer is coming
oh yes,
summer is coming
-

and I count the patterns in the paint
and the tiles on the ceiling
and the freckles on your face
and the scars on my wrists
and the threads in the sheets
all in the midst of
a cough syrup haze
-

guilt
can you smell it on me
can you smell him on me
can you smell her on me
how many more people
is it going to take
to get your tongue
out of my mouth

                                   release
                                   my hands have let you go
                                   my lips have let you go
                                   my heart has(n't) let you go
                                   how many more moons
                                   is it going to take
                                   to get your face
                                   out of my nightmares

relapse
again you are here
again you are alive
again you are(n't) mine
how many more goodbyes
is it going to take
before I finally board
that train to the coastline

you once told me
that you wanted to make me smile
the way I did when you kissed me
for the rest of your life
and I am smiling like that now
I have been for a few days
and you are the reason
not because you picked me flowers
or because you said I was pretty
but because you let me go
and now I have the sunshine
and I have the garden
all to myself
and oh,
does it feel good
thank you.

I hear your heart beating
from across the room
your asthma is so cute
when it is trying to **** you
-
Sink your teeth into me
****** fixated on my flesh
salt lingers on your tongue
here comes the chemical reaction

I can't draw worth ****
even my stick figures suffer
my paintings look like
pathetic Jackson ******* wanna-be's
spilled milk is more ascetically pleasing
than my attempts at water color
but there is one art I have mastered
(I'm not really okay)
-

the night we camped in my car
in the backwoods of the city
I had an anxiety attack
so we drove to a gas station
got some water and antacids
slept in the bowling alley parking lot
woke up with ice covering the windows
it was only 28 degrees that night
but we slept safely and we slept soundly
because ******* it, we had each other
-

she's the kind of girl
who wears rain boots in summer
in hopes of catching the eye
of anything or anyone

he's the kind of boy
who sews patches on his denim
in attempts to impress
the punkrock cardboard cutouts

they're the kind of kids
whose parents keep a watchful fist
on nothing but the bottles of gin
hidden in the top drawer

It's been colder in my bed
without you here
I have no arm around me
no hand tangled in my hair
there are no good night kisses
no good morning tickles
bathtime is routine again
no more water fights to be had
afternoons are spent alone
no spontaneous sessions of love making
(I'm sure the apartment below
is quite thankful for that)
-
basically
what I am getting at
is that I miss you
and I hope to god
you miss me too

Thoughts racing, heart racing, lungs racing.
Stop.
Breathe.

This isn't real, you are not real, nothing is real.
Stop.
Breathe.

Falling, drowning, choking.
Stop.
Breathe.

Losing control, losing faith, losing my mind.
Stop.
Breathe.

Closer to the edge, closer to insanity, closer to you.
Stop.
Breathe.

I am broken, I am alone, I am surreal.
Stop.
Breathe.

In. Out.
Inhale. Exhale.
Let go.

I didn't really know much about whirlwind love
or shotgun weddings
Until I went out with a forbidden boy in my new city
almost immediately we were struck by lightning
electric and on fire
with his hand on my face
dancing and kissing and sweating and laughing
someone thought we were married
so to make it right
he got down on one knee and I spent the week as Mrs. S
I broke all my own rules with him
*** with the lights on, holding hands in public
giving up my jaded and calloused heart
my favorite moment?
standing in the shower with him
listening to Beach House
hot water falling on us like sweet honey in the summertime
the soft glow of afternoon sunshine beaming in from the window
we took turns washing each other's hair
and kissing each other's necks
nothing has ever felt so pure
so safe
so beautiful
-

tongue tied
knots of guilt
taste like him
taste like you
replace you
I'm trying to
he ****** me hard
better than you
he kissed my forehead
but I still felt you
the *** stained sheets
lead to blood stained wrists
I don't know what else to say
I hope this ruins your day
in one way
or another.

Instead of going out on that Friday night
she got out her old suitcase
and filled it with every memory
of the one who broke her heart.
She gathered every picture,
every love letter and poem,
every baggy band sweatshirt
and gently packed them away.
With her warmest scarf and mittens on
she hauled the baggage
down to the taxicab
and gave the driver an address.
"Here you are, miss
did you need a hand with that bag?"
She kindly refused the offer
and stepped onto the pier.
The suitcase grew heavier
and heavier by the minute
as she drug it all the way
to the edge of the dock.
Waves crashing against the wood
and the wind ruining her hair
she took one last look at the bag
and tossed it over the edge.
A single tear streamed down
her rosy red cheeks
as the tide took away
the suitcase full of broken promises.
She ran back to the cab
and asked him to take her home
where she could finally exist
without the burdens of love.
There is no moral to the story,
no real point to be had
Except that I am that girl
and I put you in that bag.

“How did you know you loved him?”

I was too drunk to answer with a lie
So I poured out the truth like wine

I knew I loved him when
His name tasted sweet on my tongue
The warmth of his touch became an addiction
Every dream, every thought was consumed by him
My smile lit up as if I swallowed the sun
Each kiss was a flower blooming with color
Making love to him left me feeling infinite

You see,
I knew I loved him because
Losing him took the breath out of my lungs
and
Telling you this took the beat from my heart

summer was my favorite yellow sweater
a poly blend of cotton, mental stability, and personal triumphs from the previous months
my summer sweater was the best I ever had
smelling of campfires and kisses and travels and euphoria
but, it had one fatal flaw
the loose thread
the loose thread that I chose to ignore until it got snagged on his car door handle the night he kissed me
the loose thread that then began to unravel the sweater
for a little while, it was still wearable
I could keep it together with the assistance of safety pins and wishful thinking
but now I sit here, naked on the hard wood floor
clinging to the big bright yellow mess that was once my favorite summer sweater
wishing I could go back to the beginning and just tie that ******* loose thread a little tighter
so that I would never have to let go of my favorite summer sweater
-

it hasn't even been a day
since I got out of the cave
and I can already see my demons
emerging from their hiding places
hello anxiety,
no I did not miss you
I see you there, razor blade
you can't hide from me
******, you sly devil
how did you get out of your bottle?
Since you all are here,
why don't you take a seat
and I'll brew us a *** of tea
For I have some bad news for you
and some good news for me
You have overstayed your welcome
I am cordially asking you to leave
and to never, ever return.

the clock is ticking and talking
to me with its hands around my neck
until my throat is bruised, black and blue
reminding me of past events, of past lives
(I have died three times)
there's a boy, another boy, and another boy
no
there's a wolf, another wolf, and another wolf
they all must have the same taste in meat
(young and vulnerable, marinated in alcohol)
they aren't from the same pack, but they feel the same
when they hold you down and devour you
leaving nothing left but a pile of bones
(and a lifetime of paranoia, trust issues, bitterness, panic attacks, depression, rage, therapy bills, suicide attempts, hospital visits, scars, addictions, alcoholism, low self-esteem, family estrangement, failures, eating disorders, and the ever-present feeling that I am being watched)
-

You love me,
You love me not.
Which petal will you pull off of the flower today?

-

So unpredictable,
like a weather system moving in.
Cloudy with a chance of heartache
Sunny with a high of butterflies.
I never know how to prepare myself.
Do I board up the windows,
or do I put my heart back on my sleeve?

-

Getting dizzy from the circles you spin me in,
my legs are growing weary from chasing after you.
I always follow your lead,
never asking where you are taking me
never looking before I leap.
That always comes back to haunt me...

-

Why is this all so one-sided?
Don't I have a say in things?

-

*Ha, that's a good one.
Just sit back and enjoy the ride.

unfold brain like a napkin
separate thoughts from emotions
place them all in bottom drawer
seal with lock and key

power on
human mode
charging
battery full

She looks beautiful with that face on.
That is her goal
distraction.
Her chapped lips painted red,
sunken eyes lined with black.
Her skin and bones dressed up in silk,
lifeless hair pinned back.
She looks beautiful with that face on.

But no one knows what is pumping through her veins.
Those magic chemicals
synthetic.
She can no longer feel the things we can,
caloused to all emotion.
Her heart was sold to the devil,
the devil on the street corner with a bag of goodies.
No, no one knows what is pumping through her veins.

She signed her name in blood on the dotted line.
All she wanted was an escape,
temporary.
Now that realm is all she knows,
reality is a thing of the past.
She can never return to the life she once had,
but why would anyone want to go back there.
To that place.

Besides,
she looks beautiful with that face on.

the realization
that it was never really love
but it was just an idea
a seed that was planted
beneath infertile soil
with the hopes of a harvest
bringing color and beauty
luscious and full
but you see, my dear
a garden can not grow
without being watered.

I only ever fall for the damaged ones
like projects, or patients
I want to fix them, cure them
And I sew pieces of my heart onto theirs
to cover the scars and holes and cancers
Maybe it's because I feel that I myself
will never be a completely whole person
so I spend all of my time and energy
trying to fix the ones I feel deserve to be
-

one of my favorite places in the world
is a beach made entirely of glass
each little piece of color was once a broken story
sharp and jagged, it could cut open veins with ease
but the sea was patient with the shards
spent time polishing and softening their edges
until their true beauty was revealed
-
(you are the waves
I am the glass
you make me beautiful)

time
it mocks me
perched on its throne
tick tock
you are getting older
one step closer to the grave
that you have been digging yourself
*******

so many inconveniences
-
the tiny parking space I am given
the red lights on the way to work
the empty pack of cigarettes
the commercials on the radio
the obnoxious children next door
the distance between you and I
the fact that you are just a boy
the realization that I am getting older
the light that flickers on my vanity
the churning in my stomach
the god awful heat wave
the lack of flowers in my garden
the lack of a garden in general
the promise of you moving on
the ache residing inside my chest
the empty pill bottle on my dresser
the nightmares about you
the heart that refuses to let me die
-
so many inconveniences

I am so much better than I used to be
in every way possible
I don't cry as much anymore
I don't scream as much anymore
I don't let unworthy men put their ***** hands on my body anymore
Recovery comes in waves, big and small
and sometimes it is hard to celebrate the little victories
so here's to those triumphs, the forgotten ones
Here's to getting out of bed before noon
here's to not calling in sick to work
remembering to return the dvd's on time
eating food that will make me feel good
eating food in general
bringing my inhaler with me when I know I'm going to smoke cigarettes
not beating myself up for smoking said cigarettes
here's to a summer in which I am actually comfortable in my own skin
and here's to daily progress
-

it has been more than a hundred days
since I gave myself a scar
but last week I paid a doctor
to give me three of them
(how oxymoronic of me)
-