When you say insomnia,
people think you’ve had too much caffeine.
That it’s something you’ve eaten that day.
That maybe you’re just a little stressed.
Those people do not have insomnia.
Insomnia rolls off the tongue.
It is a noun.
It is four vowels and five consonance.
It is staring at your ceiling at
four o’clock in the morning praying
to God that maybe you’ll sleep tonight.
Insomnia is knowing ahead of time
that you aren’t going to sleep tonight.
It is drinking four cups of coffee at 1:30
in the morning because your eyelids
are so heavy they feel like anvils
are holding them down.
It is seeing shapes and figures in the dark
that aren’t there.
Insomnia is dying a little inside
every time you see the sunrise.
It is watching the moon reach it’s pinnacle
and sink beneath the earth.
Insomnia is your mind working at the speed of light
and taking sixty years.

Insomnia is running a triathlon without training.
It is wondering how long your body
can take the stress before folding in on itself.
It is wondering what the hell is wrong with you
that you can’t function like a normal person.
Insomnia is taking pills that almost make
your waking nightmares look like children’s play
compared to your sleeping nightmares.
Insomnia is having waking nightmares.
It isn’t the inability to focus.
It isn’t easily fixed.
It isn’t something you deal with.
It isn’t caffeine or something you ate.
Insomnia isn’t just a noun.
It’s a disease.

I have never been a religious soul but I found a cathedral in my bedroom in the form of your body hardening beneath the white linens attached to my mattress. It was the perfect combination; I'd begin on my knees between your thighs and sin again and again in the form of sliding you down my throat, and then I would crawl up your body and sit on your lap and rock back and forth as I prayed for redemption. I never knew grace until you pressed your kiss to my breast and I never felt a revelation until you tucked your hand inside me for safe-keeping and wouldn't remove it until my whole body was shaking. And because I have never been a religious soul I fear that I cannot promise to return to this cathedral but I'll be ****** if I don't burn it down before I go.

My body is not poetry.
My spine is curled up
into a question mark
from centuries of insecurity
and the weight of the
worlds trapped in my skull.

My thighs are canvases for
atlases, road maps, and
interstate highways that lead to
nowhere. Or everywhere.
They’re big enough for both.

Not when my hands
are the kind that are meant to tremble
not the kind meant to be held.

My hips are not made
for you to skim
your hands over.
They are guideposts:
between (here) and (here)
lies a dreadfully broken girl.

My body is not poetry.
Because it won’t last as long as
dried ink on yellowed, musty pages.
Because it breaks more easily
than the cracked spines
of a beloved, well-read book.
Because it is not something that
soothes the soul and
makes my heart ache all at once.

My body is not poetry.*
Mostly because I’m
just a little afraid
of anybody who would be able
to read me so well
to put me into words.

When you get the news
that I've left swinging from a noose
to rid my head of not only the blood but
all the terrible thoughts
you put in
with your gun shots
of cruel words + icy empty eyes.
Don't you dare act like you
ever gave half a ****,
or like you'll miss my presence,
or how you'll crave
my skin upon yours again.
Don't you ******* dare
scream out to the world
how you miss me so
or explain how I'd lend you my broken pieces
to try + fix you + help you be less broken.
When I was truly the broken one -
broken into a million pieces -
inside + out.
No, please.
Please, don't you dare
leave just yet.
These are my last words.
Don't you dare interrupt me,
this time.
I beg,
it'd be best if you'd just shut the **** up.
+ listen to me,
for once.
Yes,
you're going to finally hear me out,
for once.
Just please,
I deserve to be listened to,
for once.
This is your fault.
I want or more so need you to know that.
I mean, you know everything else.
You knew I was broken.
+ you knew I was hurt.
+ you knew I was lost.
+ you knew I needed your help,
but I was not good enough.
I was too berserk.
Maybe what people say is true,
maybe people are worth more dead
than they were alive.
Don't you dare
put this paper down,
+ give up on me, again.
I've drained my heart + soul into this pen
+ I've allowed this pen to dance freely
on this piece of paper.
You will soak up every word,
for me.
+ taste every syllable,
for me.
+ I will be watching
+ I will be hoping
you fall apart
just as I did.
Comical how things work out,
isn't it?
sh, calm down.
Stop blaming my insanity.
Baby, you did this to us,
not me.
I'm so sorry.
I will not be vicious during your downfall
like you were towards me during mine.
I can explain this.
I can justify this.
I can show you why.
All the shattered pieces
that broke off of me.
I've decided not to destroy
these leftover pieces
like I've destroyed myself.
I want you to know
it wasn't easy
being alone
being casted out
+ feeling lower
than the mantle
+ I can tell
this may never make sense to you.
I knew it was ridiculous
of me to think
someone as perfect as you
could help someone
as helpless as myself.
+ I knew it was so ******* stupid
of me to think
someone as flawless as you
would actually give a **** about
someone as unimportant as me.
But I know that
I am a human being too
just like you
+ I know I deserve
love + attention too.
How dare you?
How dare you?
How ******* dare you?
How could you do this to me?
Look what you've done.
You took someone
who was already crushed
+ you picked her up
+ you allowed her to
feel a new type of rush,
but then what did you do?
You dropped her,
just like everyone else before you did.
I had the best of intentions.
When I met you
I thought to myself
yea
I will sneak a peek
+ maybe blush when he looks my way
so just maybe he will feel
the same rush.
But **** my intentions.
I meant well!
I truly meant well,
but look where that has left me.
I'm more lost than I was before
you came along.
Because let's forget my intentions
+ lets take a second
to question yours.
If you merely wanted to
smash + dash
you could have done so
but instead you got to know me -
the parts that weren't so pretty
touching things that were not tangible
+ tasting memories that were sour.
So,
yes when I was cut open
+ analyzed
+ the person I thought was perfect
didn't like what he saw
+ he just left
without suing me back up
without saying good-bye . . .
I was left,
bleeding out
+ feeling empty.
But now,
you understand what everyone means
by "she's insane,"
now you believe it too.
They made you believe
that I was insane
+ now I believe it too.
That's me, now.
I'm insane
through + through.
+ I cannot succeed
living in the same world as them.
So here,
I will sacrifice myself for you.
Because I realize it wasn't just you,
+ I need to decide who
I'll give myself to.
Because I can only give so much
of myself to strangers
who look as if
they need something to keep
them going
until I just stop.
+ I've decided to stop
to stop breathing
to stop living
to stop existing.
I'm donating myself to you.
Don't you dare
think this is me giving myself to you
as a way to show my love.
I would just hate to be wasteful,
+ I know you're broken.
+ I know you know
people do not belong to people,
so take my ashes.
I've left them all for you.
When you're feeling low
I know you'll
grab your smokes
+ I know you'll grab your coffee, too.
I know how you like to roll your own
because it makes you feel more at home.
+ I know how you like to brew your own
because it taste more fresh on your breath.
+ I know you'll be tempted
to throw my ashes in.
+ I'd like you to know
that I do not object.
I actually encourage it.
Because now you truly understand:
that it isn't easy
+ that it isn't our fault
+ that you're morbid, too.
Don't you dare
forget this.

I saw you today!
Though I couldn't talk
I saw you
Standing in the sun
Talking to your peeps and
Getting yourself tanned again!
I saw your hair
Go up in flames
Due to the reflection of the sun
You looked beautiful again

Then I saw you leave..
I kept looking over my shoulder
To see if you would return
But I guess not..
This will still be another unfinished fairy tale..