random day of the week.
I wake up,
sleep still in my eye.
  Haven't noticed that I don't feel anything,
just tired.

   Dusk starts to arrive, I feel angry.
No one except my father has made me disappointed,
I cried over past events.
My mood changes again,
I don't know how to describe the frequency.
I constantly ask my mother if she ever felt this way,
she replies that she can no longer remember,
nor had she noticed that she would snap at me.
   Nighttime has arrived, I order pizza.
Attempt to bond with mother over a new
tv show,
    she barely pays attention,
it hurts.
My father ignores me.
I enjoy the silence.
     Noticing this new movie coming soon,
I ask a (friend) to join me,
I'm rejected with excuses of non-violence,
confusion of the plot and (ask a classmate).
I pretend it doesn't hurt,
it upsets me,
but I would be less upset if it wasn't pathetic excuses.
Am I angry because of excuses or rejection?
Am I disappointed because of my father's silence or my mother's two-second attention span?

   I wish I could just bleed already so I could focus on the physical.

You left and
didn't say
goodbye.

I thought it
might be hard
to handle,
but it was
rather easy
to understand.

i want a love
that's mine
and no one
elses,
even if
i hate it.

even if it
tears my heart out
and burns my throat
when i speak of it.

even when i want to
crawl away and run away
from it,
ill stay
because its mine
and only mine.

I am beautiful,
don't you know that?

My pimples make other pimples
bow in awe,
gaze with uncontrollable lost,
my flabby arms make the women
sneer with envy.
The stripes I acquired on my thighs
and luscious backside have men telling me
I'm the next best thing.
My unibrow and hairs on my chiny-chin
on my unpainted face have makeup companies
selling my skin across mediterranean seas.
My diet has been written about in many
magazines,
even Homer follows my diet,
it's a very important part of life.
I never smoke,
I hear the world is going to outlaw it.

I have married every mirror I've come across
even my reflection in the ocean
has proposed.
How could I turn myself down
I am beautiful you know.

I am beautiful,
I can't believe you don't know that.

Every piece of me is beautiful
even the fungus on my toes,
but I hear it isn't good to brag.

my breathing is slow, calm.
It's so steady
my chest barely lifts itself.

what if it stopped-

I try holding my breath
aware that my lungs can only
hold in so much air before forcing me to breathe.

my heart still beats in tune
with my breath.

what will happen
if my chest needs
assistance.
will I be grateful of the breaths
I had or angry for the few I have left?

I've known you my whole life,
only one photograph I have of you.
An army photo that hangs in a picture frame collecting dust.
My childhood had more pain than love, I cried more than I smiled.
I developed anxiety and self-harm before I knew what they were,
the kids at school didn't know how sad I was or
how I felt when school was over
because I knew I had to go home.
Everyone hates you except the garbage you respect more than family.
I often wish I had a different father
a father who I would one day cry for when he passed
but I know I'd at least probably shed one tear, who knows.
Someone who showed affection or at least knew how too.
I want to blame you for the way I am,
for the way you didn't teach me about boys
and the harm they can cause
for letting my mother be my father
when you were sitting right there
for believing yourself to have succeded in fatherhood
when you failed
and for the the people I've hurt,
but
should I blame you?
I'm confused on whether to like you or love you,
your my parent
im 50% of you,
a part of you is me.
I've tried for 21 years and I'll probably try until I'm old and gray.
Your mother often spoke worse of you,
my mother and your ex-wife did too
It's probably why you spoke worse of me
without knowing it
without knowing me and how sad I am
I wish I didn't know you
I wish I was a girl whose father's past
didn't complete my lonely future
maybe I could understand you
maybe I could like you,
maybe I could love you.