it's so strange afterwards
when it's finished
when it has been finished for some
time--
she sat on her bed in her bedroom
and I sat in a chair
and I had to tell her how strange it
was--
"nothing against you
but when I look at you now
I can't understand how you ever made a
madman out of me,
how you got hold of my feelings..."
she just sat there and smiled,
her body the same,
her red hair as long as ever.
she had never loved me.
it only mattered a little to her
that I had gotten away.
she was working on other prey.
she sat there and told me about him.
I listened.
when I left I didn't kiss her goodbye.
I got into my car and drove away.
after driving 4 or 5 blocks
I was no longer
thinking about her.

if you ever read a poem
i hope you read me.
i hope you find the poetry
that hides in my body,
my rhyming eyes, my dancing feet,
the curve in my lips,
the cinnamon of my skin.
if you ever read a poem
i hope you read me,
i hope you read the words
written on my skin,
how my eyes spell out the word
'light'
and how my hands speak of art
and my heart sings words like
bravery and hope
and if you ever read a poem
i hope it's me.

The thing about losing one’s mind Is that it doesn’t happen all at once.
No, the loss is a creeping gradual thing, never occurring in a *****.
It starts with some forgotten names; some dear, some famous but, to you, not.
Next you’re at a loss for words you’ve often used but now cannot.
You find yourself on an oft trod trail which suddenly is strange and new.
Its getting dark, its growing cold and the police have to be sent for you.
There is a fear that chills the soul that only knows that it knows not.
Hanging on that precipice fearing you will be forgot
Yet when that last forgetting comes your fear will be forgotten too.
And you’ll greet Death like an old friend whose name will surely come to you.
.

I kind of feel sad today.
Doctor says I have depression, and well...I believe him.
My dad thinks its just for attention
attention, uh?
I always feel ******.
It's an everyday part of my life now.
See, today someone stole my laptop charger at school,
and my project got stolen, too.
I've never cut in my life.
I've never done drugs.
I've drank a few times, but who hasn't?
I think I'm suicidal.
But I can't wrap my head around death.
It scares me.
So instead of dying,
I tear myself to pieces wishing for it to come,
but never speeding up the process
I feel ******.
I said that before.
Like, I follow a Shepard.
I'm a little lamb
but my blood seeps through my white wool.
Until eventually,
this little lamb is killed.
****
I'm sorry.
I ramble
I never make sense.
And they wonder why I am suicidal.
Last night,
there was a party.
Instead of going,
I bounced a tennis ball back and forth against my wall.
fun, right?
I hate the world,
but I'm scared to leave it.
Doctors don't help,
mothers don't help
Friends don't help
being single sure as hell doesn't help
I just feel ******.

With all that she's felt
She feels every memory.
Everyday that drags on
for an eternity.
What seems like a gift
is really just misogyny.
Misunderstood
She was never truly okay.
With all that she's felt
both emotionally and physically
They still hurt
It always hurts
and it burns
With all she's felt
since she was a child
(Her fingertips seemed to touch everything, she longed just to feel)
She would never understand
She would never be
more than
*misogyny.