i listen to your
loud music leaning over
the steaming stove

i'll cook you a meal
not wait for a thanks because
you never give one.

little things go by
and if i mess up you will
scream and shout. i'm numb.

{(+)}
we are all okay
until you come in
{(+)}

my poems
with feeling
i guess
are no longer
considered
good.

what do you want
me to write
do you want things
that don't make sense
or things that
are off topic

the only thing
i can write
is feeling.

and those poems
seem to
be
out of season.

([<+>])
i'm stuck.
([<+>])

the longest runs
are the things that **** us
we can train
we can raise our knowledge
but we can never prepare for the hurt
the anger
the tears
the scars.
when i say what's happening
people pity me
they try to 'help'
they look at me with sad eyes
and tell me to just solve it.
i can't, now can i.
it hurts.
i love.
i hate.
when you think you get out of it
it ropes you back in
if i cry
you don't care
if i yell
you don't care
if i leave
you hit me with words
you slap me with insults
tell me
i'm stupid
i'm an idiot
i'm worthless.
you pull me back in
into the fishing line
and i'm caught
caught on the hook
you trick me
say that you'll always love me
no matter what.
then you go along
and shed your hateful words like a snake
still,
i'm caught in the fishing line.
i'm stuck in the hook.
and there's no getting out.

your touch
makes sparks
f
         l
                         y
and throws away my conclusion.
i can't help loving you
because you are blood.
i can't help hating you
because of your actions.

your embrace
makes me want to
d
             r
      e
                           a
                                                 m
and dance
then roll around in
          l
                 o
                         p
                e
         s

but i can't,
now can i.
your **** love
is making me pay
and forcing me to break
the remaining shatters of my life.





. . .




i know i said i'm not thinking about it.
but how can i not?
it's so appealing.
everything gone in an instant.
so easy.
so simple.
the glass that sticks into my palms disappears,
along with the bruises.
the cuts.
the scars.
i just wish that

**someone would listen.

a sweeping overload of emotion
that takes me and chains
my ankles and wrists the ground
and takes my soul from me

They want a perfect child.

Someone who likes sports.
A girl who gets good grades.
Friendly.
Funny.
Innocent.
Someone who pleases them.

I'm not a perfect child.

I don't like sports.
I don't get good grades.
I'm not very friendly.
I'm not funny.
I'm not innocent.
I don't please them.

Still, they want a perfect child.

They're not going to get one.
At least, not out of me.

I'm still not a perfect child.

I'm not a child anymore.

I'm broken.
I'm bent.
I'm destroyed.

happy mothers day
to those who have brought life
to those who have cared
to those who have welcomed the actions
to those who have shielded us from the world

happy mothers day
to the person who gave me life
to the person who cared about me
to the person who welcomed my actions
to the person who hidden me from the harsh world

i love you mom
so happy mothers day to you.

just another day
of racked
tangling
mangled
emotion

-

Locker room talk.

Yes, it's 'cool.'
Sure, it's was considered 'awesome.'

But have you considered that
Women
Are humans
As well?

Locker room talk.

No, it's not cool.
No, it's not awesome.
No.
It is not what makes you tough.

1 out of 4 women are sexually abused.

And I see you.
I see you.
Your eyes are glazing over.
"What joy. It's* *this talk." You say.
Yes. It is that. talk.

What if,
Though.
It was her.

When I meet someone new,
They ask,
"Hey, how are you?"

Why do you ask?
I mean,
I can say,
"I'm good, how about you?"
Or, I can say,
"I'm dying inside with the deathly feeling of the solitude that has become my life, and slowly withering into small pieces from the constant harming words that now dominate my life. But then again."

"You don't care."

"So go ahead and spill your life story. The ups and downs. The amazing and mysterious dilemmas that have appeared in your life. So talk to me. I will listen. Or try to cut in, and try to enter. But. But."

**"You won't listen."

NO.
We are not simply
'together'
Because we are friends.

NO.
We are not
'dating'
Because I am female and he is male.

NO.*
Also, even if we *were.
Why is it your business?
Let's just say.
We happen to date.
Why,
In the name of god,
Do you care?
You are not him.
You are not me.
So stop wasting your words on us,
When you could find someone for yourself.

Closing my eyes
Accepting the darkness
Isolated from the crowd
And I'm a confined human
Bathing in laughter that isn't mine
Living a lie in the oak tree shade
Shivering in the hail that covers the land
Around me. The hail that makes everything ice.



Accept it. Please.
*PLEASE

My name
Is
Allie

My story
Is
Lost

My past
Is
Absent

And
Me?

*I've vanished.

A consideration for the smallest things.

pebbles, sand, birds.

I look down at the smallest things,
and try to express the sudden urge of gratitude
that lays a blanket on me.

fire, sun, warmth.

Yes, they are small.
Yes, most people overlook them.
Yes, most people take them for granted.

water, ice, snow.

The smallest things
Are the things that change us.

See, a few days ago,
I was standing outside in the pouring rain.
A child walks up to me.
She says,
"Miss, are you alright?"
I say,
"I think I am now."

So the smallest things
Are the things that change us.

It happened to me.

Statistics.
That is me now.
I scream and I cry
Into the depths of my pillow.

I had not been wearing something that showed me.
I screamed and thrashed.
I am now a
Statistic.*

Help me.
Rid me of the memories
That play across my eyelids
Whenever my eyes close.

I regret every second
Of that tortured night.
And just when I thought it stopped
and the pain was gone
The real pain
Hadn't even started.

Nails on my skin
you pull me back
the only thing keeping me from death
you whisper,
don't go..
But you let go
my arm falling limply to my side
I shake my head slightly
and you nod
Tears streak down your red face
but you know
that I have to go

I remember,
looking up
I could see the shining stars
twinkling happily
out my old bedroom window
If only I could be as happy as them
Clouds cover the stars tonight
coating the world in a navy slur
But I hold this knife now
taken from my kitchen
hidden in my sock drawer
And I stand here
feeling stronger than ever
hidden so no one will find me
I can't deal with this
I don't care about the abuse
I know you won't miss me
I write this to inform you
that I was never happy on this earth
I might be on the next
No one will know
No one will care
So today I draw my knife
and I press it to my chest
as one for the billions
No one will miss me
My hand shakes
droplets of blood fall
mixing with tears
I have to
Don't worry about me,

**I'll be fine

I wipe tears from my eyes.
[**** it this is hard]
I cloak myself in darkness.
[i guess it can hide me]
My eyes are rimmed in red so I hide them.
[blah, bah. she says to look like i'm okay]
Chin up, head high.
[but i don't want to lie. i'm not alright.]
No more tears.
But I'm sobbing still inside.
*I never stopped.

{-[<>]-}
if you put a bucket over my fire.
the bucket will burn.
{-[<>]-}

:{+}:
I'm sitting patiently.
I'm waiting for the changes.
The new features to fade into black.
The new screen to disappear.
Maybe I'll head off.
Maybe I'll set off into the world of unknown.
Possibly.
Or I can wait.
Or I can stay.
Or. Or. Or.
Or. I can start something new.
Or. I can find something precious.
Or. I can hide behind the blankness of it.
Or. I can break through it.
Or. I can sit off for a while and wait.

I guess that's something to decide.
:{+}: