the same dad who doesn't know how to spell my middle name
has me gather the trash every monday night.
it's trash night,
he says.
i woke up this morning with a pink ponytail holder on my wrist that wasn't mine
which someone must have used to tie my hair back
as i vomited half a bottle of ***** into that godforsaken porcelain bowl
which is to say that one way or another a&e; most definitely
took
new year's eve
and being drunk is fun but annie get your gun because you'll read about your laughy happy self in the news the next day and you'll want to shoot yourself in the head, honey you
made yourself trash night
if you give a mouse a cookie
if you give a girl anxiety
she's going to want a drink to go with it
but while drunk is temporary
sunk sure feels permanent
but so what
aud
you're at the bottom of the heap
you have broken bones and unknowns
you left people and pieces of who you thought you were behind
you can't find your way to wonderland lately and you're
shaking
because voices are calling you trash.
the same trash
that you collect on monday nights
but lil homie you're pretty **** recyclable
so you fell apart
put yourself together again, one more time
maybe one of many
don't use the same parts this time
or do
use whatever you choose
build her from legos and lilacs and laughter and after
wards if you breathe words into her she'll come right to life just like
she always does.
but you're not trash,
audrey nicole without an h
i don't care what you drink as long as you stop feeding
yourself lies like that.
you're not invincible, no.
but even with eighty pound weights tied to each of your feet
you'd never be sunk
forever.