mum always breaks my heart
she always knows how to tear me apart

she can very cheerily be so nice
the wrong word can make her turn to ice

most of the time she's distant
solid, fortified, distinctly resistant

but intent on my every word choice
note the changing of tone in her voice

sometimes she's odd, accepting;
after two days she's bored and back to neglecting

searching out 'wrongs', use to ream me
she knows the exact strings to pull and unseam me

and it hurts even worse when I see that she tries
she always gets my hopes up & dashes them in front of my eyes

   then she goes into her fantasy land
   we're Lori&Ror;; Gilmore, talking men

I try to play along; it's hilarious to see
that as hip as she likes to think she is, she's as bad at this as me

Real attachment
Real trust
is hard because
it means I
have to lay there,
trying to believe him,
feel loved.
Try to gracefully accept
the love notes he
leaves on my body:
the physical way he
shows me I am
important.
Truth be told,
the *** is incredible
when there are no illusions
about why I'm there,
naked and stranger,
only valuable
because I'm so
useful & useless.

***** traps set inside
my head. Not my fault
I'm ****** up. But hey,
family is too, I guess.
We still draw the same
conclusions, though
changed, aged, fermented.
Friends intensified & set
in stone by blood
gone bad, past it's prime.
Bonded by abuse & anxiety,
the Brotherhood of spoiled blood.

she poisoned the
sound of my own
name in my ears.
to hear it is to
feel the heart
pick up pace &
see the walls
ease into the
rosy red haze.
(lowering herself
to grace me.
she descends the
stairs that sh
will most likely
stomp & blister through
upon her ascension.
watch as
Firstborn basks in the "Glory")
it's wrong,
the way she calls
for me...
                 ...so why do I always answer?

I find myself in only my underwear (again), bloodletting at 5am, trying my best to let it all out & start anew. Nothing matters & especially not me. I want to die but I don't want to leave him behind. I want to fall asleep & stay there forever, but I love waking up next to him. The sun kisses him as he kisses me. I keep trying to hold the lids of my eyes open but they shut & shut him out. I could watch him smiling across the pillow at me always but ****** I slip back into wonderworld. It's the Nowhere & Everywhere that occupies my every thought, except the ones of him.

I spend twelve hours a day planning my death & twelve hours a day sorting through, preparing for my life. I have two bracelets on my wrist: one reminding me of my friends & the other reminding me of nothing. Isn't that beautiful?

He understands everything about me except how haunted I am. Each time I see him I cry. He breaks my heart but stitches everything else back together again. He tells me I am important & he will never leave me but history stands over my shoulder whispering in my ear reminding me that I am not & yes he will. If I hold up my smallest finger to the looking glass, he on the other side will lift his & pinky promise to stay. Forever. If I throw a blanket up over my head & the mirror, he will do the same & I can finally have him to myself for a few minutes.

Even he wouldn't believe me if I told him how often he saves me from cutting off my crusts, peeling my skins, unseeding & trimming away. When we fight over who loves the other more, we have to give our reasons, back up our claims; each time, he agrees that I win.

every girl just looks so **** good
I try not to be a lion on the prowl
bite my lips & take the drag of a cigarette
I need to help restrain myself, to
breath in the fresh air and constrain
myself; don't pounce girl, you've got this.
but he's still the name I call to while dreaming
the hands I want on me
the lips I need to be kissed by
& the air I dare to breathe.
He is the man who moves me
try to understand, he's the magic man
shifts me inside in ways
no wife I covet can.
He's the one I'm nervous to lie with
scared I'll lose myself in the thought of him
that's all it is, really: the illusion,
the daydreams of a girl who lives
more in her head than in the world
distant sometimes hazy others
& totally unreachable occasionally.
I wish I could have him
under my skin
but I'm not ready
to deal with the consequences
of being his girl.
I'd love to
live beside his shadow
the relief that washes over me
when he says my name
erodes the disorder
lifts my eyes from my feet
makes my heart
swell & body melt.
it's the kind of contentment
that I know will destroy me
in the withdrawl.
it's the kind of baby young love
that encapsulates the happy victims
imprisons you in the sugar & honeycomb sweet wonderland
that turns sour when you relax in the beauty
& forget that lambs
are often lions, too.

I'm not worthy
of his
total affection adoration enthrallment
it isn't fair for him, truthfully, to have the one
who is scared of all that.
terrified to not be the girl who
belongs to everyone & no one at once
the girl who is writhing
trying to hold tight & strangle
the guilt grief regret shame
but also driven by
anxiety that all my writing
suddenly needs to tell everyone
that I am trying & anxiety
that I am so moved by him, the
affected girl who can't
function
walking into the sunset hand in hand.
I seem to fight every step
as if I'm not sure
I feel safe
being near the ocean that lets roam unchained & wild the
sharks, giant squids, leviathans & my beloved giant leatherback sea turtles
so endangered & dear.
The anxiety of the surprise contract to
dedicate every poem to him
& plan a future
without planning an end, too.