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There are lips between me and the sky
whispering down to me
spread your arms!
feathers will grow!
You will be an angel and you can soar
you can fly.

But if I listen hard enough,
I can hear them whispering
heh. I told her she can fly
What a silly notion
a spider
*that thinks it can fly!
Hey!
Hey you!
Shortie!
Yeah, I know your struggle
I'm not here to pick
I just want you to know
that I hate em too
and it's all alright
there are times when we can just **** the world
hole in the ozone
from the ****
but is that right?
****, I'm mad too
and No, I can't pretend to be a better person than any body else
but I am not thoughtless
so Kid,
don't get mad and punch the wall
crack through it with the broken bones in your hand
no,
take up a brush
and paint in spite of it
*** then
maybe, just maybe
some one will listen
I am becoming afraid of falling asleep
Well, not falling asleep,
but of the time in the dark immediately before
when I am haunted
by the things that aren't there.

But tonight, I had my first positive hallucination.
I saw pretty black wings
sprouting from my own back.
Soft,
like kitten fluff
of a newly fledged bird.
I wonder
I wonder

can I fly?
I miss when we were one
one breathing creature,
watching television,
cooking side by side,
making love
and kissing after
hugging and holding and being glad
because I got over my phobia

I miss the feeling of being independent
not worrying about how far you are
and being able to think about ourselves for once
because we're not preoccupied by the distance

this year
how long will it be?
Christmas?
Christmas and I'll see you again
just six more months
good God

till then,  you will eat up my thoughts
till then, I'll go mad with wanting you
till we can be together and ourselves
I will simply breathe for you
Being so far
my brain begins to wander
trying to retrace the roads you took away
The trumpeting of metal does not startle
my hungry soul
My English teacher warned me
not to fear brevity
there are times not to be concise
but for the most part, wordiness
can only
hold me
back
The only orange on earth
grows 3 days by train, 7 hours by car, or 30 minutes through the air away
many years it had spent wasted,
yellow and bitter
too sour for any girl to kiss.

But when, by chance, I stepped into his orchard
I found him, not rancid,
but ripened
and sweet, full of western lights .

Now I'm dying for you, my love.
My skin falls off in great swollen swaths,
and the chill from the biting rain cuts to the core,
melts my bones better than any heat wave.

State lines as fences?
Well.
I will simply find a way to jump them.
Kumquat loves Orange
Ah, Jacob
I love you
(look! I have personalized my poem! But alas, that means I have isolated
the audience.
By mentioning your name-
such a wonderful name, it reminds me of church bells
Doritos
and a good shower after a long run-
by mentioning your name, I have ensured
that those not in love with a Jacob-
and I pity them, for if they do not have one, they should seriously consider finding one-
Anyway
By mentioning you name, my love
I have ensured that those not in love with a Jacob
will never understand the soaring
joy
sorrow
trust
security
never understand what it is they have just read).
She dropped out today.

Out of school, village housing, and our lives

and Mickey Mouse sat
on the edge of his bed,
a controller in his gloved hands.

They are swollen under there,
a gangrenous trap of envy and greed
and she saw those hands with the gloves off,
and as they slid down her face
I heard funeral bells from across campus
because she's gone now and there are too any girls like her
girls the school refused to help
because god forbid they help
if the **** rate on campus might go up
and Don't call it is what it is, Christine
There's nothing to be done, Kara
Just take it easy, he was just playing around
and we don't know what intentions she had with him anyway

Well it's good for them.
They don't have to deal with it anymore.

She dropped out today.

Out of school, village housing,
   the side of the world, the cracks of the law,
           the sound of clapping hands, grinning faces,
                  the coffee house music hour, the soaked sheets at the edges of  time
                                                       and out of our lives
rough in need of editting
The dragonflies here are massive
so big
I think they could carry me away
just ****** my soul and take it
tie it up in gossamer webs
that they borrowed
from the spiders
the spiders are my friends
and I could feel safe and secure
a little moth
hardly flapping
*** I don't need to get away
His days in the saddle long ago spent
and grand children in school or on vacation
(he could never tell which)
Old Mr. H took
to gardening.

One day, he was bent over with a rake in hand
over some big bulbs
peonies or tulips, he wasn't sure
and then
he just
stopped.

The world was not as he had known it.
It is the curse of age, he supposed.
And he was lonely,
people so far away
his wife three miles over and six feet deep.
She didn't bother him much.
After the first ten years, the pain had mellowed out
and another ten,
while not forgotten,
it was dulled.
Still,
there was not a magnet on his fridge
and no new smudges on the front welcome mat
'side from ones from his own boots.
The flowers kept him company,
but they weren't much good for talking.
And all the while
the sun would whisper things
clicking like a clock
till his own last day.

Mr. H,
he lit a cigarette
picked a flower
and walked next door
where pretty Miss Diane, widowed for fifty years
sat with some sweet lemonade and a floral mumu.

Excuse me, Miss
*I think these are for you.
Music is a firework
when Honey Bear isn't around
to hold the splinters of me
I have music
my temporary fix
My ability to listen for hours on end
surprises my mother
and I am better than anyone I know
at memorizing others' words
I know over 10,000
from what my Ipod tells me
and although I can never remember the songs I write
(My band mates are patient saints, I must say)
I can lace those words together so well
Music!
My true angel!
If I were God,
Music is your savior
what I bore and want to give to you
for it is what all of man has made
I simply bundle and deliver
So, more or less, I make a **** ton of mix tapes.
May I recommend the band Miracles of Modern Science? They always make me feel a little better. They write songs about science, sci fi, and social anxiety, among other things. Seriously, I have been semi-obsessed now for a decent two years. I'm bordering on groupie, but I can't...like...drive yet? So I can't properly stalk them. So instead, I'll push them onto you! They kick such ***. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9CEqJXiq2nM&list;=UUEhVu4EfQiS83lDqgbR7fVA
There are few sounds so grand
and that of a hot dog splitting its casing
as it heats on the grill.
Even as a vegetarian, I missed hot dogs.
And yes, I know what we don't know what's in them
and yes, I know the barbarism of eating them
But do you know something?
It is a perfect summer evening
I am leaning over the grill
and the afternoons are long and hot.
I have one glass of pink lemonade, and,  I swear,
it is sweating more than I am.
It is a perfect summer day
and this is my last summer, really;
next year it's college,
and then work and a family
and all those grown up things
and by the time I can really enjoy a summer day again
is when I am weathered and bent
and can't leap spryly at the chance.
So I will eat my hot dogs
and my coke-cola
and everything that I am already nervous of,
and I will slide down the waterfalls at Fall Run park,
and talk to my beau until four in the morning,
and throw parties with my friends around the camp fires,
and go to plays, and base ball games, and concerts.
I will do it all and more
and revel in the sound
of snapping hot dog cases.
The days are shining simple
(the monsters only come out at night.)
i set my phone on the table
i do so fear that house
the upstairs is nothing but dark rooms
the curtains drawn
and the stuffy old furniture laid in too-big rooms
nana's house is nearly 150 years old
and the joints creak more than hers do
every footfall is an echoing scream that rebounds into the dust
whenever you go into the bathroom upstairs
faces show up in the glass
in the fog that always shows up
and sit there like when you were a kid making hand prints and smiles
it doesn't frighten me any more
but
when i come downstairs
my phone
is on the top step of the basement stairs
the glowering darkness warning me

i am so glad to be back home
no lie. my nana's house is scary as ****
it got to the point
that all she could hear was
the fluttering of moths
when my hands move
light as finch's bodies
punching like hail shot them down in the final gale of summer
landing on your face
your stomach
your heart
i walk with the swagger of a dog who was never trained
and when people point it out
that i
a chubby girl standing at five three
walk like i got something to show
i think back to when i made mice of crocodiles
and beg them to start something
i am small
make me feel alive
push me, please
push me too far
it has been too long since dying birds have stained my shoes
and i have broken my nose
i put pepper in your tea and you,
in good humor,
tossed the salt shaker at me
we laughed
but twenty minutes later
you left
all of you left
quite abruptly
and i was caught with my miserable yo yo man
going back and forth between hating you
for hating me
and wondering if i had done something
when clearly i hadn't
this string is pulling too fast at my head
I want to run
and throw my arms out at my sides
laugh and cry in the night
and feel everything I have struggled to bottle
That's all
I want to know what it is to be human again
not the saturated product of equalizing tokens
that melt in my throat
and hold me in place as who I am

The fear has subsided
The voices, the faces
but what am I?
My leg is broken
and I can't stand for very long
no matter how quickly I hobble
I cannot keep up with my running spirit
who is tired or being tired out
The curtain rod does not fit into my window
so the sun has a key to get in
My room is on the unexposed side of my house
and the morning light climbs into my bed
like a lover
that I had a fight with the night before
who I told to
stay
on
the
couch

and so, I wake up crabby.
in no way
am i attracted to your arrogant swagger
that i walk with
to get to class
and we have no common interests
hell, i HATE linguistics
and the beautiful nuances of every word
every tongue
that sounds like a kiss to my ears
we are the best friends who ever lived
and we totally do not want
to hold each other shaking in the back seat of a car
as passions set our blood a blaze
nope
no way
****
*** we have like
significant others
and
****
we're in deep
laughing folks
and kids playing far off
the ocean murmuring
wing beats
bird songs
and the roaring of fighter jets
from the nearby naval base
bit of a juxtaposition, really
hey
one went by upside down
have you missed my absolute *******
screaming in lower case
at a keyboard pounded harder than the **** of a fifteen year old boy
and twice as self indulgent
what the **** have you been expecting to receive from me?
a great aria of who i am
in pretty trills
legatto
i am a soprano only when i sing
and this is no song
this is a mad dash to get myself out
and if you're reading this, fine
but expect nothing else of me
but raw and angry *******
with a miserable side
that is all i am
*******
i am not worth reading
but i'll post it anyway
because why the **** not
i have embarrassed myself here
i have spilled secrets into the world
and you have read them gleefully
expecting greatness
i am greatness and a trash compactor at the same ******* time
and if you think otherwise
you're wrong
there are still crickets outside although it is mid october

i try to tread softly on the way to class
or to breakfast
the quiet spot that i pull high up over my head so no one can hear

the noise of the cricket that cast itself under my boot
oh! little surprise!
i am so sorry
but your scream was only a crunch
that rang out two weeks ago
i still remember
not actually about crickets (though this did happen) but rather a summary of a state of mind
everything about it
the raising waves of sound
and the pluck of the violin
the fiddling fingers on the mandolin
and the swell of the drums

his voice bows like a singing saw
and curls down into the depths of his own feeling
and art not only in the poetry
but poetry in the very sound
i want to see the things you see
             because i like the way you breathe

it pulls a soul onto its toes
both of the mind
and of the feet
and sends it dashing down the snowy roads lined by broken corn stalks
and gray buildings
and fairy lights of the city
brings us one with the buskers
and into the hearts
of every other person
who has heard it

my god, it has made us into a pool of humanity
each soul touching
in ways deeper than this
to my dear violins
and violas
and basses
and mandolins
and drummers
thank you for the gift
of sound
You have an old soul
I can tell
your blue eyes look youthful, they still have a sparkle,
but they crack around the rims
like an old woman's,
and behind your smile
I see the skepticism
of a divorce
and your tongue laughs with us
but I know
and you know
that you're holding back sick venom

but there's something else
some of those smiles are still real
some of those laughs come from your belly
you have an old soul
but you still have hope
God, are you there
or are you listening from behind my own eyes?
Watching, waiting for me to sin
and shame myself.
Do you hear me?
I have sinned.
Do you have it to do
to strike me down, to burn me?
Or are you too lazy.
Or are you a hypocrite.

Or am I  merely screaming into a mirror.

If that is the case
I will be an Old Testament God
one who devoured ***** and Gomorrah
and who will drown herself
her sinning form
in blood.
open mic night
stands shivering with
star shine
and a little coffee house
just north of the furthest peak
of the Appalachia chain
pour your soul out
i was there
with the skyrockets behind guitars
nothing but a raw voice
and a standing ovation heart
brought the hands together
when copper met copper
where my lining had been torn off
from tonight's session
i brought a crowd to their feet
ahhhhh <3
He did not come prepared to dance
but then again, he never does
and suddenly finds himself
in the same tux
as always
that is pulled just a little too tight
that was starched just a little too much
and the scratching of the cuffs
reminds him

He always has the same partner
though he never learned her name
some times, he hears her whisper
'Hal'
but that is his name
maybe it is hers too. He never knows.

She wears a light champagne dress
with an iridescence about the aura
that keeps changing
he can't
he can't quite
wrap
his
head
around
it
but she grabs him before he can figure it out
this strange girl
and begins to spin
feet thrown wildly
spinning
she rests one hand above his crotch
it is almost nice
and then he feels the blood
of a stab
to the waist
he can't scream
her lips muffle it
the kiss melts his bones
sets him vibrating fast
she has him tight; one hand wrapped around his intestines and her tongue ****** down his throat and they are still spinning
spinning
until
until
until
Are my poems too introspective?
It isn't like you read them for anything other than that thrill we all get
from someone else's pain
I hand you tales of mythical things
of other people
and I must say,
they are far better written than anything else that I have made
especially what I have written about myself
Why do you love
the raw hurt that I show?
Is that what feeds you?
Why does everyone watch me?
Through pinpricks in my skull
the eyes are peering into me every where.
Pain!
You want entertainment?
I shall take up the whips for you!
You want me to beat it over my shoulders so you have something to read!
No,
I am far too paranoid
the fact is,
what is raw
is honest
and I do not do honesty well
because they watch
they always watch
my boyfriend told me i am the definition of passionate.

It isn't really something to brag about.
Passion
it feels like a thumb in my throat
and fire in my belly
like all of my bones are ready to boil out.
It makes it so no moderation will make your drinking okay
or anyone else's
It makes it so some girls can't sleep
till they get just
one
more
idea
down
on the canvas
in paint and glitter
It makes an animal of me
but **** it
He's right.
It's all that I am.
our bodies are quilts
made of the shreds
we pull from everybody else
My lips part eagerly
as a welcome party for the peach
so juicy and ripe
and in its own way, eager for  my mouth.

The juice mingles sweetly over my tongue
and slides down
shocking my mouth
with the sweet growth of sensation
my mouth full of the sweet water of the flesh
so wonderful,
so sensual,
so much like love

I miss you
pretty new blooms!
don't fear the ants
they are not who ***** you worst.
their bites will come
and their bites will go
but in the end, they will only take the bitter sap of you
and let your petals unfurl.
no no, do not fear them
but draw tight against the frost
who sings sweet serenades in the moonlight
and clings to you come morning
this insidious beast
will freeze your cells
and let them burst
letting that pretty pink soul
come flowing out
less sharp than mandibles
more of a constant tug
a pull
a yank
a collapse of self
do not fear the ants!
fear the long lasting dread!
and oh,
fear the cold
The crowd swelled and billowed out
a thousand panicked footfalls
pushing, stamping, trampling

Some one had set off firecrackers in the foot tunnel
on the 4th of July
and they even had a friend fall backward
so it looked like a gunshot
hell, it sounded like a gun shot

The wave of [people]
fled for their lives,
as if they had ever been in danger

A man broke his leg
someone fainted
and people vomited, screamed, fought

But me?

I saw the kid who did it.

Some laughing ringleader
starting **** all night
Fight or flight response- in an adrenaline haze,
they had all chosen to flee
but me?
I almost reached out
and broke his nose
My wisdom teeth are coming in
and, like everything else in my mouth,
they come up straight and perfect
they don't have to be removed.
The dentists say that it's a blessing
my boyfriend says it's  because I am an angel
and my snaggle-toothed family is just jealous
never even had braces.
That's me:
gifted.

I want to shove a scalpel into my mouth
and yank them the old fashioned way
be just a little more
like everyone else
i built a house on flower petals
the voices grew high around me
winter, spring, fire, fall,
the plants withered in the summer heat

the vines grew high around me
i tried to find a pattern but
the plants withered in the summer heat
my home was just funeral pie and soot

i tried to find a pattern but
there was too much to see
my home was just funeral pie and soot
my vision burned all i could be

there was too much to see
but my tears can feed my daughter's field
my vision burned down all i could be
but the future will not be forsaken
wrote this about my **** and all of the ensuing abuse. while in a lot of ways i gave up on ever being okay again, i refuse to believe that the future will stay so rocky, and i will continue to speak out against violence
I grew up a girl of the cliffs
where the houses would hang on for dear life
and those wild ones hang on behind the trees
glaring down from yellow lit windows
as if wondering if it's worth it to succumb to gravity and pounce upon the cars below.

I grew up with my feet in the creeks
loving how sharp rocks felt beneath
we are the kings of those mighty rivers
but every so often
they reach up and bite us
sweeping us
till only the wilds remained
and we have remained!

I grew up a girl under fairy lights
with towers rocketing up above holding my breath in long tunnels choked by sweat
and battling mountains.

We all know how our city speaks
wild and loud, a sort of twinge
voices are a different language to those who
do not already understand.

We are the wild things
crawling, running, laughing,
where really a city never should have been
Still it stands,
old as the nation,
no, older!
Waiting

look through the trees
glaring with golden eyes
with smoke stacks
with steel mills belching fire
bridges like reaching spider legs
holding music and art and Oh! These lives!
We are Kings
and we wait to pounce.
This city is drowning
not everywhere, not yet,
but I remember when the waters rose up
and swallowed Etna
Millvale
Girtys Run completely consumed
but I was fine
up on the cliff home
just watching
as homes became islands in the flood plane
the waters settled like glass
as silt sank to the bottom
where there should have been grass,
there were clouds
and it was beautiful.
But I remember after the water left
and the caked filth of the world stuck around
I never want it to happen again
but it will

the city is drowning
but we learned to swim
The roomba gets stuck every once and a while
I come and set it right, but,
I have to let it struggle a bit
like watching a cat stuck in a box
and only after I've had my laugh will I fix it.

It's times like that that reassure me
the man kind  
isn't obsolete.
Why do my friends
pick the man who took my flesh
and ate it like a plum
but was still writhing to get away,
why do my my friends choose
who squeezed my innocence hard against a bathroom wall
and rubbed it till it was red and then gone
why do my friends,
why do my friends,
why do they still like him?
There was poison in the coffee
and i was too shy to tell
there was poison in the coffee
was it my fault?
i can't quite
can't quite recall
suddenly spouting lies
like a whistle
high and shrill
pointing fingers
is that what this poison does to us
first thing awake
it's just the falsehoods of porcelain dolls
and i sure hope that it was
poison
and not just who we are

i was so true last night
my lips formed perfect words
and i was harsh and charming
i meant every thing i said
since the morning i am a liar
and i do not wish to be
but look!
it spreads like a plague!
is it on the wind?
or in the water
like typhoid
carving up our innards
and turning the devil out
please,
let it be the coffee
that much we can cure
Darling, if you loved another
that would be fine
as long as you loved me still
Polyamory is no threat or stranger to me
However
the words that take us from lovers to friends
should always be banished from the kingdom of my ears
I could handle another
as long as I was still me
based off of a dream i had
I HAVE EARNED
THIS ******* CHOCOLATE
SO STEP OFF
I LIKE THAT I AM CHUBBY
SO *******
I LIKE MY BODY
AND I AM NOT OKAY THIS WEEK
I AM NOT OKAY THIS MONTH
SO BACK THE **** UP, "HOMIE"
I AM EATING
MOTHER
*******
REESE'S
it is no secret
i am the women in the grocery store with a skirt too short that mommies warn you about
i am hot venom and warm beer and blood from your forehead
i am angry
and i have earned this wrath
i am angry
and i will use it to move mountains
i am angry
and every man who has ever ground their boots into my broken ankles, any man who dares speak my name with anything other than reverence or good humor, and man who tried to stand before me
had best watch their ******* backs
i am a bull with you in the corner of the pen
and i will rip out your ******* guts
and you will feel me for all i am all at once and be no more
i will show you who i am
and i will build bridges out of you
I've not written since the words stopped flowing
in between the pills and the chemicals
there wasn't any blood left in my to spill on this keyboard
i have neglected friends
and built up your sorrows
clogged my arteries with the narrow disdain of stagnation

what life is this?
where i write for classes only
and draw for clicks on a website
what are can live there?
none, none, none
none save my dreary blue eyes
drinking in the rocky sodas
of dying youth
i have not been well
not been unwell
i've just been
and to the same ends
Jesus, i haven't eaten in two days
and my arms ache from playing the scissor violin
i repent for nothing!
save leaving you alone, my dear friends
what kindness did i pay you
by leaving?
I hold back
in everything I do
when I go to hit a ball,
I have a nasty habit of slowing myself down mid swing
and my driver send the ball
half as far as I could have before.

When I speak,
my voice does somersaults
and keels from high pitched to husky, low
but it's annoying
so I do my best to keep level and
not express how I should
but even that is annoying
because it doesn't sound natural.

When I argue my views I don't say the real point
I don't defend them all the way
I am too afraid of my arrogance
for I can be so full of myself
and level people
telling them the truth and
flattening friendships
but I only want friendships with the people who upset me
and they do not want to see who I am
I covet them out of pride
so should I not crush them?
Favor my idealism over my greed?
But no.
I hold myself back.

Is it out of mercy?
Cowardice?
I would like to think mercy
for I know my own strength very well.
The last time I sparred with my beau in earnest
(out of training, certainly not wrath
never wrath)
I broke through his block with two punches
and gave him a ****** lip,
a black eye
the guilt that grabbed me was
empowered by the power I felt
the black-belt struck down by the meager street boxer
It was something I had not felt in so long
a clear cut victory
But before my joy made it to my face
I noticed the blood dripping down his
and that joy became a mark of my evil
as I patched his wounds
Never had I wanted to hurt him,
never really
he was just training me
and I knew no restraint
Restraint
It would have been mercy and cowardice
for how could I ever live to feel that terrible guilt again?
I do not want to annoy anyone
not do I feel it right to hurt them
but mercy
that is the term that gods use
and I am as much a god as I am a demon
so perhaps it was cowardice
perhaps
it was some of both
I keep trying to look at the sunset
but I end up scorching my eyes instead
RX
RX
It is so hard to swallow pills whole
they fight you at every effort
and when the day comes that you have swallowed too many,
your tongue will try and push them out
begging you
to please stop,
to live with the headache, the stomach ache, the pulled muscles and joint pain.
Refusing to be sixty at seventeen, you ignore it
and force yourself to swallow.
Anything to stay loose
and to stop the pounding in my head.
Stomach ulcers, blood clots
Doctors say I'm a hypochondriac
I know that I am
but the pills help
they do
all the asprin and ibuprophin
I think my body is half Clariton
Reverse bulimia
I make myself swallow
Day One on my meds
nothing has changed yet, but
I'm optimistic
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