Like a stale cup of joe
and cigarette smoke
Like endlessly writing
and saying nothing
Like crying for no reason
to match the rainy season
Like the void is too strong
and I'm barely holding on

There will be days
when it feels like the sun
is trying to burn you alive
There will be weeks
when it feels like the moon
is your only friend
And there will be months
when it feels like you live on
cigarettes and instant ramen
These are the bad times
We're still in the bad times
but I'm trying to get better
for you

When you die, I promise to care
I'll remember how you were before
And forget when you weren't there

I'll speak of those summers past
Our smiles and laughter
"Oh, how those days went too fast!"

Recall the life we so adored
Relive those memories one more time
Then finally close the door

Dear, mother, I swear to you this
If only you promise to sleep in bliss

I have 17 empty notebooks
This morning it was 16, but I bought another on my way home from work because it was leather bound and on sale
It cost an hour and a half of work
...
So, I have 17 empty notebooks
One is missing a page 
I needed to write down an appointment but I didn't want to ruin the whole book
Another has three pages that are actually written on
It was meant to be a bullet journal but the box marked "bullet journal review" was never checked off
Notebooks three, four, and twelve are actually binders which are usually in a different category but what is a binder if not an evolved journal?
Or maybe they're all subspecies of paper
Its all paper
Paper that speaks, whispering to me in my soft moments when there is nothing to do except worry about all that unfilled space
"We were trees once. We were alive. We were cut down and reshaped to fulfill a larger purpose and this is what becomes of us?"
My guilt turns to anxiety turns to pen clicking and that makes it worse, reminding all 18 of us that I am perfectly capable and yet wholly unwilling
It's not like I haven't tried
All of those notebooks were bought with a specific use in mind
Well, they were all bought and then later justified by thinking of a use that I knew would never come to fruition
Bullet journal, grimoire, dream journal, poetry journal, school journals
...
So, I have nearly 17 mostly empty notebooks in a drawer
They used to sit on my shelf but it didn't seem right placing those empty vessels amongst a universe of universes and filled pages
Like parking my totaled '97 Toyota Corolla next to a Porsche
So they're in a drawer with a few torn shirts I keep meaning to turn into patches, a barely used oil pastel set, and a dusty Bass for Dummies book
So maybe this is a lesson 
Maybe I'm making oceans out of puddles
Maybe this is a metaphor for my life and all of its wasted time and blank pages; blank from the months I spent lying on a couch, wrapped up in the cold snow blanket of fear and regret
I regret so much and the more I regret the more anxious I become the more unlikely I am to get up and pick my story back up the more pages pass by as barren as the day is short
Or Maybe
Maybe I should just stop buying new notebooks

Is there a word for the feeling of desperate hopelessness that only presents itself in the early hours of warm mornings? Is there a word for when you can actually feel a bond you have with someone begin to fray? Is there a word for the way the sun sometimes shines through a window and you can suddenly see an entire galaxy of dust?

There should be. I think whatever the word is, it must be the same for all three.

This uniform is grey
on grey on grey,
like the building too.
All walls but the fourth
are glass from the waist up,
so that any who pass this 9 by 6
can play as witness to a living painting:
Modern “Woman”
Monotony – Shipped by [REDACTED]
#D3D3D3, #808080, #262626

Relief comes in seeing
the other painting here
known only from this side of the frame.
Just beyond the asphalt
there is endless green and blue,
and once a day
the setting sun lights this side
in all the colors of my love’s bouquet.

She lived too fast
Loved too hard
Felt too much

The experiences built up
up and up
They piled all around, clouding her vision
Closing her eyes was easy

The loves crashed hard
harder each time
Those losses created cracks, shattering her heart
Stopping her heart was welcome

The pain came often
so, so often
That hurt brought shadows, darkening her soul
Releasing her soul was freedom

Life became dull
Love turned sour
Feeling was weak

She stopped

Wild ride girl
Windows down, hands up
fingers splayed
trying to catch the sun rays

Soft Summer girl

tells me to buckle in
that we're going for a spin

Flower petal girl
all wilderness and
thistle bush 
tugging my shirt sleeves

Morning dew girl

knows we're headed for a cliff
but **** if i'm not ready to fall

My shoulders aren't strong enough
to carry all your emotional baggage.
They are weak.
It's been a long journey and
I haven't even crossed the half-way point.
I am not a mule.

My heart does not have enough empty space
to store your repression and sadness.
It is small.
Last year was hard and
A harder one has already begun.
I am not a locker.

My eyes don't have an endless amount
of tears to spare for your sob stories.
They are tired.
These eyelids are heavy, but
They will not close until it's time to rest.
I am not a fountain.

My ears are far too sorely over-sensitive
to suffer through your shouts.
They are in pain.
They've heard enough of mine and
They will endure many more.
I am not  the void.

My mind is simple in a way that won't let it
sift through and solve your issues.
It is strained.
The last few problems have been hard and
The most recent is seemingly unsolvable.
I am not your therapist.

My shoulders are wide
My heart is open
My eyes are gentle
My ears are accepting
My mind is alert

I know I am the easy choice.
I am the easy choice
when you just need someone.
I want to help.
I swear I do.
But I am worn down to my core
and the wind is chilling.

Baby, I can't keep doing this
I am on my knees so often
my feet have started to atrophy
and I have taken your maybes
and somedays,
threaded them into
the worlds most pathetic rosary
In place of a cross 
there is only the highway between us
"Holy Abbey, forgive me of this love
but don't let this be our hour of death
Say you love me too
and I will kiss every inch of asphalt
between my heart and yours
until my mouth is bruised and ******,
but still begging you to stay
Amen"

i feel a strangeness in the air this winter
what do you call progress while standing still?
or growing inside the box?
is this what normal is meant to feel like?
cloudy skies
eyes
mind
i've lived a thousand eons in snow
and i fear the eve of my spring is farther still

Here we stand on the cliffs edge
The precipice of destruction, my hand in yours
and yours in his and his wrapped around his bleeding heart
If you fall, I fall
This is where we learn strength and our true will to live
Not some "we can survive this" *******
"We can make it if we just hold on"
No, I want to live
Not passively coast by until the wound is too infected to fight back
I want to fight back
We will turn our backs on the eve of our eternity,
look the monsters in their face and say *******
Swallow their hatred and let it mutate and boil in our guts,
pulling forth a cry so raw and primordial
our ancestors will wake to lend their spirit
Whisper in our ears secrets of war times
long forgotten by everything except the earth
Hope and peace and treaties do not make for a winning team
unless the cause is for everything to stay same
No one listens to a "soft please" or notices a downcast frown
**** them with kindness was a term created to keep us silent
and passive
and our arrows aimed at our own hearts
Bullies have existed since the beginning of time
and three night rebellions will never win our safety back
but neither will silence
And I've seen a lot more come of riots
than from mumbled prayers to gods who might not exist
and wouldn't care anyway
There's a time for revolution - for fighting back
You have to pick your battles in this world, so I'm picking them all
and I say the time is now
If we fall, we fall,
but we will fall with our knuckles bloodied
and band-aids on our hearts
And if we fall, I'm taking some of them with me

Come wade through 
my blue eyes' shallow pool
Tread careful across
my heart's unsteady floorboards
Do not fall for
my laughing throat's pretty words
Bundle up against
my mind's drafty corridors

Careful now, love
Many dangers lurk here

Grandmother used to tell me tales
Of same-feathered birds seeking each other,
But the crows I know
Prefer the company of sparrows
Blackbirds and Magpies tend to bond
Into yin-yang twins of neutrality
And sharp-toothed Hawks
Run with soothing Owls,
Both aware of Sheep and Wolves.

and so we mourn again
another queer girl killed
at the red hands of men

a bullet meant for another
and a thousand hearts bleed

an old wound reopened
a pain that never fades

and so we dig a grave
another queer girl killed
time to bury our gays

Coals burn out in the city of ruin -
all rebar skeleton and ash
and running on fumes

No fire tonight
No spark to coax a flame
The wind set it all ablaze,
but left as soon as it came

Empty gas cans 
and soggy matchsticks
litter an abandoned camp

All that's left to do
is to hit the road
Off to find a new home
and hope it explodes

They look at you like you're the sun
too bright

You give them light and life
but they look at their shadows
and blame you for the darkness
it's always the sun's fault

don't you know you burn too hot on cloudless days?
don't you care how cold it gets when you're away?

well, maybe you never wanted to be the sun
maybe you don't know how to be anything else

The harder you try to pull away,
the tighter I squeeze,
and I swear I don't mean to come off too strong,
but a history of abandonment
and fizzling potential
has left me with constrictor instincts

Ah, there she is
Do you see her?
Yes, her
Eyes soft,
like morning dew
Inviting smile,
like a summer morning
"Who is she?"
...If only I knew

They say you'll spend the new year
the same way you spend it's eve,
but I pray that's not true
because a year without you
might be the end of me

my mind is an abyss: completely devoid of any original thought

Plagiarism is the seventh deadly sin of writing
Not only does it hurt the owner, but it also hurts you in time
Why do you need another's words to be noticed and set apart?
Those little red hearts aren't worth **** if it's not your art

Don't you feel incomplete?
Isn't it bitter without the sweet?
Can you not use your own voice?
Do you not feel guilt or remorse?
Don't you have things to say?
Or is likes all you seek in this day?
If that's true,
then I've got news
This won't make you happy
Happy comes from within
(or with some therapy)

But you will not find accolades
in claiming words you didn't say!
If writing is a passion you wish to pursue,
then, by all means, continue
With some practice, you might just be
as good as you lie to make us believe

In the air, the soft buzzing of my desire
My bed, yours
My peace, yours
My heart, yours
There is little I can do but surrender to you

Follow my softness all the way to the cliff's edge
Let me show you there is no fear in falling
Please show me there is no fear in falling
We stand at the precipice of everything,
galaxies and dandelion wisps as far as the eye can see
Take my hand, love
Take my hand
Let us jump into the void with certainty;
With the knowledge that there is no end
Let us not wish for one
Let these feet never touch solid ground again

Being away from you feels like needle pricked heart
Feels like every passing grain of sand
drives a canyon between us
For every moment we're apart
another ray of sunshine is drip-dripping from me
Like the faulty faucet in my bathroom,
baby, I just need a caring hand
A hug and a band-aid and a promise for tomorrow
But, until then,
sunshine rains in my gut 
and my sink still leaks

The wind blows on a listless night
and I remember the one's left behind
They're calling out to me
from the rustling tree leaves
No louder than a whisper
No softer than a scream

I cannot be still
My mind runs
My legs bounce
My hands twitch
I wander
I don't know the meaning of permanence
Everyone leaves
Everything changes
How am I supposed to put down roots
when my life is a constant landslide?

"Goodbye, I guess..." :
The last words I spoke to you
and I saw that look in your eyes
like you weren't able to understand
what was going on.
Like you were Tod and I was Widow Tweed
in that scene you loved but I hated
because I couldn't handle the pain in those fox eyes.
(Goodbye may seem forever,
Farewell is like the end)
I felt our connection fray
and I was no longer grasping at threads,
trying to keep us together like I said I always would.
I'm sorry I broke my promise
but you broke a hundred of yours first.
I jogged away, hoping the momentum
would keep me together for a little while longer.
Still, my heart resisted, begging to go back
and I compromised, glancing to where you were
only to see empty space on a forever haunted sidewalk.
(But in my heart's a memory
and, there, you'll always be)

The thunderous thrumming of sorries

words and worries
racing to and from my most
vital of organs just like we used to
run, as fledgling beasts,
  season after season
from our temporary houses
to the ghosts of rotting homes;
Back when we were alive

bright and breathing,
daring the world, so full
of thorns and hard corners,
to make us heel and obey
  "Go on and try!"
not realizing
even the most ferocious of wildlings
can grow brittle

whittled and world-weary.
Taming is a slow poisoning.
The arsenic of fear and loss
  Like acid in my throat
clogging my arteries and pores
with a feral tenacity we
once owned, making me weak

greasy and gray.

I'm trying this thing
Where I soothe my constrictor instincts,
Don't cling so tight.
But I learned life in extremes.
Only consume in excess
Or not at all.
How do I temper this,
Portion out my love,
When I'm so
*******
Hungry?

I never thought I could relate to a planet,
but today I learned Pluto's heart is a frozen wasteland.

He says, "Today's generation is going to ruin the world"
He says, "Today's music is trash"
He says, "Today's media is brainwashing the children"

And I can't help but wonder
how utterly exhausting it must be to hate that much
With all that darkness clouding your vision,
did you notice how bright the sky was today?

When was the last time you played in the rain?
When was the last time you walked through the woods?
When was the last time you told someone you loved them?
When was the last time you felt happiness? 

He tells me I know nothing about growing up
about hard work
about life

And that may be true
I don't know much,
but I know there is a fine line
between growing up
and giving up

No one talks about how hard it is to leave
Being the one who walks away
can break a heart just as thoroughly as being left
I should know
I have played both parts of this story

I should not have to feel guilty for choosing me
when you chose yourself long before
This was not selfishness
This was self-preservation 
I won't let myself regret learning how to swim

...

Sometimes I regret not drowning with you;
I wonder what it's like sleeping in a bed of seaweed,
but this is a bad train of thought
and I will not go down this path again
I'm still actively picking me

Some might say I should have taught you to swim as well
or pulled you back to safety,
but we both know I tried
I fought like hell trying to pull you out of that self-made current
Maybe I just wasn't strong enough

I don't know what I'm trying to say
I'm sorry?
I'm not sorry?
The effects of our friendship still have me spluttering on the shore,
coughing up saltwater and unspoken apologies

Little girl wanders through the woods -
lost, shrunken, and barefoot
She leaves small holes in her wake,
Hansel and Gretel-ing a path of lost and unfound 

Little girl is searching for something
she buried and abandoned long ago
A pirate searching for hidden treasure
with no map and waning hope

Her heart
She knows it must be here
The one in her chest is wrong
It's too cold
and beats to a tune she's never heard
It reminds her of ravens
and their slow, melancholy flight
Far too unlike the sparrow's flutter
she was once so familiar with

Little girl has become frightened;
convinced this new heart will **** her
The honey in her veins has been replaced
with arsenic and vinegar and spite

Little girl needs her sparrow heart back,
feeling like a different person without it
She has no love or passion now
and mistrusts any kindness in others

Like an abused dog
The helping hand that cares
is a curled fist waiting to happen
and though she knows the saying,
she cannot help but to bite
Anyone who comes too close says,
"She's a good girl, but be careful
That one comes with a sharp wit
and a sharper bite"

Little girl grows more tired every day
She can't take much more of this;
of the endless search for something
that's too far gone to return

Little girl stands at the edge of the woods,
having admitted to herself a hard truth
She'll never get her old heart back, 
but this new one has potential if she let's it grow

On the edge,
with darkness behind and light ahead,
she's split on what to do
She looks ahead and knows
all she needs is water and sunlight
to help this new self bloom
She looks behind and knows
all she wants is a little more time
to remember who she was before
Moving forward is painful, but right
Going back is useless, but safe
Old heart or new?
All she needs to do is choose

somehow, i never learned to run
i was once told i move like a drunk newborn camel
and, admittedly, that is not entirely inaccurate

im from a family of shaking hands
bullet hole egos
and wobbly knees
all of us clumsy with our hearts and each other

its no wonder i trip over my own apologies
stumble at a pretty smile
falter at opportunity
this is apples and trees all over again
and nobody likes bruised fruit

i am all bruises
i am fall over anything
fall for everything
fall into everyone

there is a secret to moving gently that no one wants to share
and maybe i dont want it anyway
i am the bull and the world is my china shop

i am not afraid of falling
i am not afraid of bruises

i am a crash course in wrecking *****

I learned love like
half truths and white lies;
A shifting labyrinth of deadends and pitfalls.
What I mean is,
in my anxiety-ridden daydreams,
you remind me of the King, babe.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I can't control.

I learned love like
chasing a rabbit through a nonsense forest
where only questions exist.
What I mean is,
in my best case nightmares,
You live in a timeless place of teatime madness.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I don't understand.

I learned love like
conditional, contractual rules unveiled by a
crazed chocolateer as honest faults are revealed.
What I mean is,
in my fantasized ever-afters,
you get everything you ever wanted, and I lose.
I mean,
I'm sorry for what I can never be.

I learned love like a riddle
so, I never learned love at all.
What I mean is,
I'm sorry, but I don't know why.

Slow down, butterfly heart
You're pumping life too fast
It disturbs the hummingbirds
fluttering through my mind
Take a beat
Be calm
I will inject daisies into my veins
so you have a place to rest

Man comes through my line and strikes up a conversation
Man is 20
30
40
years old 
and shows an interest
"Hey there, darling
little girl
condescending verb"
I swallow against the pit in my stomach
Smile and engage
I am not my own person here
I am an image
An extension of the corporation
Man insults my religion
or hair
or whatever else he decides isn't to his tastes
Then a smile and shrug
"You're too pretty
sweet
female
to decide who you are"
And I smile or laugh,
dig my nails into my skin
hoping to stall whatever is crawling beneath it
I am not myself
I don't have the right to be angry
and I can't afford another complaint from a wounded ego
So I thank him
What else can you do
when both fight and flight will land you homeless and burning
Man smiles
and I imagine what it'd look like ******-ed
It strengthens my waning self control for now
Man asks when I'm free
and I try not to remember the crimes
of other men who took an interest in me
I apologize and tell him I'm seeing someone
Sometimes it's even true
"Must be a lucky guy
owner
chain holder"
Sure
I don't correct him
I know what men like this think of girls who like girls
and they tend to respect what they perceive
as another male's claim
Eventually, it ends
but he still lingers
in the back of my mind,
when it's close to midnight 
and I'm walking through a dark, empty parking lot,
keys clasped in my fist
I am not wearing a name tag
Nobody owns me out here
I am me again
and I dare a ******* to take an interest

I.
I look both ways when crossing the street
even if the light is green and it's 3 am.
I sleep with a light on and my door locked,
though I know the danger of locking the door
counteracts the safety of the light.
I don't drink, even in trusted company
and I definitely don't let it bother me that I'm missing out.
I've learned from other's mistakes.
II.
I cry when scolded by authority figures,
but not when I've been betrayed.
I never go to sleep on time
especially when I really should.
I say everything on impulse
and shut down when faced with anything I don't like.
I don't learn from my own mistakes.

I have an image in my head

As unlikely as that may be

Of a Spike in love with Jelly

Splitting it at the seams



But the Jelly doesn’t mind

As the Spike rusts and chips

There’s always room to be made

And loves the Spike to  bits



I see that image

Even in my dreams

It looks like me and you

And it makes me want to scream

I long for the day when
the forest rooted in my gut
blooms once more;
when it can make something young
and beautiful
of all these dead leaves
Tell me,
when was your last Spring?
My birthday tells me it comes once a year
but nothing has been reborn
in at least ten
It's all rot
and rot may give life,
but only to maggots and
fear and
the shadow horrors that
lurk in abandoned parking lots
No hope grows here

Somehow, I never learned to compromise with gravity.
I’ve been told I move like a drunken camel
or a newborn giraffe on ice skates.
I say it’s just bad genetics.

I’m from a family of shaking hands,
bullet hole egos,
and wobbly knees,
all of us clumsy with our hearts and each other.

It’s no wonder I trip over my own apologies,
stumble at a pretty smile,
falter at opportunity...
This is apples and trees all over again,
and nobody likes bruised fruit.

I am all bruises.
I fall
-over anything,
-into everything,
-for everyone.

There’s a secret to moving gently
that my ancestors forgot to share.
So, this Irish heart runs
on Romanian magic and beats
to the irregular tune of
mis-matched feet
skipping over sidewalk cracks.

Really, I don’t mind the bruises,
The doors turned windows,
the sound of shattering glass.
I just wish I could stop before I smashed
Grandma’s dusty Chinaware and antique mirrors.

Three cups of sadness
Another two of anxiety
Then add a dash of restlessness,
a tablespoon of apathy,
and, hey, a couple more
of self-loathing
Now a pinch of salt for
one can't be bitter enough
and bake until there's smoke

One moment you're on your way home, driving a car you just bought two weeks ago and the next you're gasping for air, tearing at a safety feature that now seems to have been created to keep you trapped
The dead hands of despair and terror and loss grip your heart and rip it from its home in your chest
You're out of the car and screaming and a man is asking if you're okay while you're wondering the same about the woman in the other car
He's holding your dog and looking at you rightfully wary
Swears spill from your mouth faster than the blood and you didn't even know you were bleeding and everything is panic and pain and hopelessness because **** there goes everything you've been working for for the last six months
All of your dreams were wrapped up in that car and now that car is wrapped around itself
You wrap up around yourself and the rest of the night is a blur
You let everyone take care if it for you, immediately falling back into a pit of old habits you have been clawing your way out of
The car is in your garage now and your college acceptance letter sits in a box, both collecting dust and pity and your avoidance

Hey there, lost girl
I know things have been tough
I know life has roughed you up
and I know Peter always taught you
to never grow up, but honey
"Never is an awfully long time."

Besides, you know what else Peter taught?
You can fly!
But you have to believe
and I really need you to believe
So, please, close your eyes,
picture your happiness,
take that leap,
and fly straight on till morning

I keep writing 
writing and writing
on scrap notebook paper,
in the margins of my favorite books,
on old receipts for new notebooks
my hand is not yet worthy of
writing in circles
around and around
around the issue
around myself
big wide circles
turning everything i do
into a cyclone of denial
and hand cramps

The faucets in Lisbeth's bathroom leak.
She soaks up the saltwater;
Hard cotton on shea butter skin.

A lens, everyone, no one, Lisbeth
Shines fluorescence on her starving sorrow;
Examines the gnawing.
She wonders how long she can survive on her own flesh.
Does not ask for food, but for advice.
How do the rest of us do it?
Subsist on ****** thumbs and bitten tongues?

Lisbeth, we start within.
There is a black hole growing in my gut,
Born of the desperation and repression I have harbored
Since the day I broke into this world, ****** and ravenous.
The devouring is slow,
But, one day, it will swallow me whole.

They will bury me in the weeds of an abandonded corn field.
And my hunger will slowly eat the world too.
Because I was starved.
Because I was not loved.
Lisbeth, you are hungry.
Let me feed you.
I will love you.

Little girl, what happened to you?
Little girl of chocolate milk 
and dandelions

You were so free
Sure you cried easy,
but you laughed freely too

Little girl, what have I done to you?
Little girl of day dreams
and make-believe

Your heart was so big
Maybe it was bruised at times,
but it always bounced right back

Little girl, I'm so sorry
You would be so disappointed 
to see what we've become

I lost you over time,
piece by piece,
like an old lego set

Out of broken glass
and cigarettes,
we became something new

It's hard to believe I was once you
That I was ever so pure
Now I'm what we never wanted to be

Little girl, I miss you
Little girl, I need help
Little girl, please come back

My home before the last was a hard place
I was in a hard place
You were in a hard place too
We've kind of always been similar in that way
Hell, we share a name
But similar isn't always a good thing
Head-butting was to be expected
With you having two
and mine having horns,
I'm surprised we didn't cause more damage
(We should have torn the roof off old Ward Street)
We were in a hard place
But you bought a hydrangea bush for me
and I... sung along to Dancing Queen
We made the best out of our hard place, Gemini
A basement cleared of cobwebs
Coffee after a hard day of nursing school
However, we also made that hard place
even worse for each other at times
and I'd like to apologize,
but I've never been good at showing weakness
My hands shake
and my eyes become lakes
I'd like to say I've forgiven everything
but this salt still burns

Sometimes, I remember the good before the bad
It feels like that hydrangea is blooming all over again
and I can hear your smile when ABBA plays
I think I'm on the right path,
but I've always been clumsy
So, if you've already made it through,
please be patient as I stumble.
And, hey,
maybe I'll forget what was so hard about that hard place.

There's something wrong with me
I know it
I feel it
In the pit of my chest
A dull ache
I want to plunge myself into a lake and breathe