when they pull up to the stop
i am the last to get on
i sit in the front, with a good view
of the street
(i know the route by heart)
turn left at ryan road and
pass the old run down convenience store
broken and unwanted, like,
a mole on a hand-model's finger,
or perhaps me;
did you know that they all wave at each other?
the bus drivers, i mean
when they pass on the road
nothing meaningful, just
a quick wave of the hand
i see you there
doing what i'm doing
hey, buddy, why'd we pick this job
anyway?
there's a kid behind me who always kicks my chair
and the blonde ******* my left
glares at me from above
a paper-back romance novel
i try to smile, but
i don't think she wants to be my friend
(she laughed at me last year
from across the plastic cafeteria floor
and called me a witch
if i recall correctly)
when we pull up to the school
i pull out my phone
and pretend to be texting
(i don't even have a plan;
the phone's for music)
so that they all get out before me;
once i pushed ahead of a boy
in a snapback and sweatpants
and i think that's just about the bravest thing
someone from the front of the school bus
has ever done.

we have listened to the
same three albums over
fifty times, and i am
running out of way to
avoid telling you the truth

five minutes past noon
the air has run still
life is frozen
people glancing left and right
they cross the road of truth
I remember the boy
the boy called William
his hair so messy
scuffs on his knees
mud on his hands
scrapes on his feet
I remember the girl
the girl he liked
she payed no mind
he was just there to her
he never gave up
childhood innocence ran free
it passed quickly before blinking
they got older
his knees healed
his hair settled
his hands were washed
his feet scarred
his heart kept beating
she kept ignoring
ignoring what he said
putting him to blame
blaming him of the silence
he stopped trying
his heart was breaking
he couldn't stop the pain
she didn't have a care in the world
only he was to blame
the rain still fell
the winds still blew
life went on without him in it
truth in a Disney movie
it's the circle of life

i want to walk
the same shores
odysseus did,

i want to be
important like
him, i want to

be important like,
i want to be

important

some days,
i let myself
love you a
little too
much

Want you please speak to me in the 60's
In far out psychedelic rhymes
Take a ride beside the blacklight
On the Velvet Underground

Wake me up with the Strawberry Alarm Clock
Serving incense and peppermints in bed
Fixing a hole where the rain gets in
As the 60's flood my head

Walk with me through Asbury
With a flower child in hand
Listening to the groovy tunes
Of Captain Beefheart and His Magic Band

Hang out with the hippies
Before Monterey goes pop
As they fly like butterflies
At the moment the acid drops

Want you please speak to me in the 60's
In the innocence of peace and love
Back then we all had our share
But is there ever really enough?

they took my hand, held it,
told me how soft it was. {you've never worked a day in your life.}
maybe ive lost track of myself,
forgotten the present for
a glorified past;
i had callouses there.rough armor-skin scraping my arms, or
i thought i did, but
you can never trust the body and how it undoes its own defenses.
i wore away my purpose and
i am waiting to believe i am real.
there are gaps in my mouth and when i breathe i hiss; you told me dont worry,
i still love you,
i made a necklace from your teeth.
her shirt rides up and i think of kissing the small of her back.
somehow i have grown soft,
my thighs give to any hand that presses.my arms have lost their harshness.
i feel unsafe.my clavicle is too thin to be a shield, you told me
you like the way
my skin yields to you, you asked me why
i grow my fingernails so long.
have i always been this vulnerable?i dont like how fragile i feel,
delicate and weak, this is not me.this is not me.
i remember being sharp edges to dig into ribs.
crude bone,
body strong enough at least to hold the door shut.  
identity strong enough at least to sketch a line between me
and you.
stark boundaries of light and dark make me so afraid
that i blur it all to gray.
the back of my hand is streaked red
from all the lipstick ive rubbed off, strangers ask
how i hurt myself so much.when you left your lipstick on my mouth,
i wore it like a bruise
and lost it on the mouth of a nameless boy.
i never meant to grow up like this.i do not feel like myself and
i do not feel anything for you
though i want to.do you remember the first word you realized meant more
than its definition,
the sum of its parts?
my mother told me my twin died in the womb and when i found the word 'implosion,' i knew
nothing would fit better.
i am a slow implosion.
pragmatic destruction, dissociating others,
shrapnel within, never without.
the roof back home is sloped, i think of slipping
while it rains.the trails here are gnarled.
the trees are too tall to climb.
look at this:
im pressing rabbit's feet into your hands, im weaving 4-leaf clovers
into your hair.im filling your pockets with coins. im just unlucky in life, you said.
unlucky in who i give pieces of myself to.
im always betting on the wrong horse, falling for bluffs and parlor tricks,
misdirection, legerdemain,
sleight-of-hand.
take them, i dont want them, you need them more than me.
i dont want luck and complacency, i want to grow rough again, i want to feel safe.
you love me and it hurts, i want my teeth back.you knocked them out but that does not make them yours.
maybe this is how its supposed to be, maybe this is how it works,
maybe love is a ****** brick and soft bruised arms but all i want is my edges back,
caution tape, this girl is
a demolition zone.
you are not in this room and this is what matters.
you have never been in this room and
this is what matters.