they say i'm a hard girl;
hard to please,
hard to talk to,
hard to handle-
because they don't know
where easy got me.
he fed me lies upon lies,
vomiting my secrets across
the floor leaving only
a  bitter aftertaste of
betrayal hanging in the air;
the weight on my shoulders
dragging me down into the depths
as the traitor takes his leave.
they said i was a hard girl;
hard to understand-
because i washed
my backstory in a river and let
the letters bleed into each other,
because no one acknowledges
damage that only leaves a bruise.

I didn't do my homework
But you can say
That I tried
Tomorrow they will notice
My latest rebellious behavior

It annoys me a lot
Because no one ever asks why
Why did our straight A girl didn't succeed
Not this time?

I wish they would ask
Then they would see
That I am no rebellion

I'm actually just being me.

Streaks

from worn out wipers

dented cans, plastic wrappers

the glow of a cigarette ****

lying comfortably 
in the ashtray

white knuckles tight

on a weathered wheel

empty roads

cold and black

eyes tired but open

like trucker stops

or roadside diners

with the neons

still on

I keep driving

teetering between

my existence

and a sweet dream

I’d slip into that slumber

if not for the passengers

still fast asleep
in my back seat

So I keep driving

as quiet 
and as lonely

as it may be

I keep driving

because 
somebody

is putting
 their trust
 in me

Anticipation heights within me
I cannot hold this pensive feeling
I'm climbing walls and hugging ceiling
My thoughts won't let me be

This hesitation strives inside me
I can't release this burning feeling
I'm scratching marks and hitting ceiling
My mind hates OCD.

Fingers like pieces
Puzzled together,
Like they were made
For the other's hands
Clasped together

Each not strong
Enough to hold
Themselves
Together,
They are

Side by side
Left close to right
Next to the other
Partner, partners
With, us, we, ours

Her wing stretches
Fifteen, maybe twenty
Feet, to either side
Again, by side
One wing each

Clouds sweep by
A jet, below, so slow
They grace, diving
Like a raptor
Then their wings

Switchblade
Out, zipping
Pulling, ripping
Them headlong
Out from the ground

Like a flower up, up, up
To the sun, to the sky
Back to the clouds
They were born
To explore

I'm feeling an expansion
That isn't physical
Nor inside of my head
I know, I've checked
And, though easily tired
I have scoured my depths
For what?
A notion of things past
Experiences not realized
Nor will be
Misogynist, hater of existence
All but mine
A gift to myself
Fruition to be
Or not yet seen
Both awake and in slumber
I writhe, lain flat in covers
Real and fictional alike
There's nowhere to direct a longing
If ever I would create one

Carcinogenic gasps
between photogenic thighs
create esoteric muscle movement
that moves me inside.
Your parents are therapists,
and mine choose not to be alive;
the words they say
don't work for moments we hide.

Jesus Christ before the sunset rust,
if I'm so alive
then why do I lust
absence.

There's a place
where I'd like to drown
every Saturday.
The water's warm
and thick in my lungs
and I'm no longer afraid.

Colliding with epinephrine,
your neck thrusts forward;
you kiss the steering wheel.
"Do you know
how much
you mean to me?"
Your eyes meet mine  
before disappearing in the glass mist.
I love you.