His fingers barely brush my body
It may only be atoms connecting
Molecules bonding between the two.
He uses them to read me
As if my skin is covered with Braille texts
And he's trying to find the answer to a riddle.

The ache in my brain
May be from the alcohol
Or it may be from the intensity.
Maybe too many sensations
Can cause brain cancer.

The memories play in my head
Like a silent movie.
The kind with mustache-twirling villains.
Except in this movie there is no villain
Just a man and a woman
And whiskey and a pool.

Tomorrow his sweet nothings
Will run through my head
Though they're far more than sweet
And far more than nothing.

I cannot need anything more
Than his hands.
His electricity will power my heart.
I cannot need anything more
Than his words.
His soundwaves will bring me to perfection.

I have to get out.
Havetohavetohaveto.

If I stay where I am
I will become a black hole
Absorbing negative energy just by being.

Havetohavetohaveto.



If only I had somewhere to go.

There hasn't been a night since I met you
That you haven't starred in my dreams.

Sometimes protector
Sometimes lover
Sometimes victim
Sometimes villain
But always you.

I guess I can't get enough of you when waking
So my subconscious picks up the slack.

You have invaded every inch of my being
But sometimes invasions are positive.

hands too soft
lips too hesitant
him, any him any one- never enough

push me grab me bite me
anything

anything to make me feel
something
again

I know that I'm trying to hard.
I'm not the natural poet
novelist
singer
dancer
lover
But I wish that I was.
I know the words dripping off my fingers
Onto these black-and-white plastic keys
Are ridiculous
over-the-top
unnecessarily esoteric
But where's the fun in life if you can't be disturbingly aware of your dysfunction?
This one girl
This ever-changing sunflower
She writes novels like there's no tomorrow.
At least, she starts them.
I don't have the creativity for that.
This other girl
An iris, though she'd rather be a daffodil
She writes poetry
Emotional, heart-wrenching poetry.
At least, that's the impression I get
I can't imagine it'd be anything uplifting.
But me
I occasionally get into a trance
In the shower
At the river
In my bed
And disjointed words fall out.
While they're flowers, I'm a leaf.
Unnecessary. Available in abundance.
But occasionally you can rip me out of my home-stem
And run me through your fingers
And tear out my veins.
These words are my veins.

Covered with your arms,
I feel your pulses-
One of your heart, one of your soul.
As they rush through you
I too am filled.

Safety, warmth,
A vise grip, but without pain.
Tightly wound, but never tense.

In fact, melted
A molten creation
In which we are just are.

That is not blood in our veins
But the ichor of the gods.
You are my ambrosia
And as I devour you
I will be strong forever.

i wish
i could just
have
everything

I've been thinking that I'm kind of awesome lately
You know, in those quantifiable ways
The ones that don't really matter?

I've been kind of kicking *** at life
And I haven't really done that before.
It's an interesting sensation.

Apparently I can only write well when I fail, though
So that's kind of a shame.
Maybe once this high rides out
Maybe once my days aren't full
Maybe once you aren't amazing
I'll be able to do that again.

I don't really know what I am or what I want
I just know that I'm kind of proud of myself
And I don't know what to do about that.

It's true that when the moon glows brightest
Incidents of ****** rise.
But when you can't see the stars out here
You have to take some risks.

Modern-day Rippers can catch me if they like.
I'll be too distracted by the bright hole in the sky.
You know when you look through a paper towel roll
And it's all black
And there's just that bright circle of escaping light at the end?
Maybe the moon is our escape.

Like I said, I'd lie down and stare at the stars
But the lights here make that difficult
And who knows when the sprinklers will go off.

Instead I'll pretend I'm an astronaut
The Argonauts and I, haha.
We'll find out what's beyond our paper towel tube existence
Via slingshots and arrows.

A lunar eclipse is a beautiful thing
Except that it covers the escape portal.
We must ask the gods:
How will we get out
When you put your hands over it?
How will we seek greater things?

There are no stars here.
No pinpricks have penetrated this world
Pins pricked so the gods can have a peepshow
And don't all have to share the window.

Maybe the ****** rates go up
To entertain them.

I was taught to idolize women
And the female *** in general
From a young age.
I don't think my mom ever realized
That that was what she was doing.
But that's what happened.
And now I do exactly that.
I see beauty and intelligence in women
Easier than I do in men.
In my mind, men are always second best.

Maybe that's why I question my sexuality so much.

I let you into my safe, where I keep my heart
And gave you access to words, rare and true.
My moral compass shook, needle spinning
I guess we were near a pole.

I've shown you what I am and how bad I am at navigation
Who I am, inside. What I think.

I don't know what it means
Or I'm just not mentioning what we both know.

I just want you to know me.

Paycheck, oh paycheck!
How you are missed!
This MoneyNetwork card
Will soon eat my fist.

No proof of deposit
No numbers I can see.
It is all a plot
To cause my insanity.

I cannot prove
That I have been paid.
I can only hope
I can find a hearing aid.

Only verbal knowledge
I now possess.
I thought I got paid
But alas, I regress.

I yearn for my paycheck
That ink-splattered slip
To know I have money
To know I won't have to strip.

My life is a strict routine
Of self-flagellation and control.
There are specific ways to handle
Every situation.
I manage to keep tight control
Over my own soul
By constantly reminding myself
That I'm not important.
It's not about me.
They won't remember me.

I think if I do it too harshly
Or too long without a break
It might accidentally break me.

I must keep this in mind.

My words have started leaking out like a virus.
They are meant for the page
Some just for my head
But they leak out
Sneak out
And pop up in conversation.
Strange phrases
And extravagant diction
Creep into my daily life.

Soon they'll send me to the nuthouse.

You
and
I

become sweetgrass
become riverwater
become cryogenics

Not
Frozen in time
Not
Slowed, stopped, surrendered.

A new field
With hope.
Timeless.

You? And me?
Yes.

I've thought of a lot of things to write
In the past couple days.
I should write them down now
But the tv is so tempting
And I'm so comfortable
And I'm so full of excuses.
What a shame.

Maybe I'll go write something silly
With rhyming and stanzas.
Let's find out.

Let me live in the palms of your hands;
They can be my palm trees, indeed,
And your arms my desert island.
I will survive on the salt water
And coconut meat
That I'll search throughout your body for.
I'll spend my days exploring, learning
All the mountains and caverns you hold.
I will be the first native
And you will be my first home.

Oh come on.
Seriously?
You know perfectly well
There's little I wouldn't do
For a klondike bar.

We're both here
But we're not together.
I'm just waiting
For you to see me again.

Please
See me soon.

I don't remember to wash off my green beans before I eat them.

I'm not patient
And I think complaining is pathetic,
But I still end up doing it.

I'm not considerate
And I have trouble empathizing
And I'm always desperate for attention
A sure sign of a weakness.

It's not necessary to tell me my faults.
I'm well acquainted with them.
Probably moreso than anyone else.

I read because it distracts me from how empty my life is
And I like when people don't know my music.
It makes me feel superior.

There are thousands more.
Some very silly, like how I never really finish my own beer
And some important, like how I play the martyr way too often.
But just trust me.
I know them plenty.

Let me survive.

The sugar courses through my veins like adrenaline.
I feel it in my blood.
My arteries expand with energy
And my ankles start tingling from the inside out.
I feel like I should go to sleep
Is this how diabetics feel?
I feel like my body will start to swell
And I will explode once my innards take over my flesh.
I will turn into a cloud of glittering crystals
And unicorns will spout from my eyeballs.

She's getting older.

I always knew she was old.
The dry lips
Can't just be a family trait
The wrinkles
Can't all just be smile-lines.
The fact that she was my father;s mother insinuated the fact.

But I didn't realize she was old.
She's never been old in
The feeble way
Hunched over while walking
Not noticing everything around her.
But now she hunches
And she doesn't notice
And her voice doesn't take
That cutesy tone when talking to me.
She doesn't use her silly sayings
And doesn't scout the store
For shirts I might like.

She's old.
And when you get old,
You leave.
Forever.
But she can't leave.
I love her
And I need her to be around.
I need both of them to be around.
Forever.

I don't think that she believes she's beautiful.
I mentioned
Under the influence of alcohol
Under a flood of familial emotion
That she's always been the pretty one.
It wasn't meant as a compliment
Just something to cheer her up.
A reminder.
Facts are not compliments.
But her reaction astounds me
Confuses me.
How could she not know?
Every woman has doubts
Self esteem issues
Different thoughts on beauty
But I always thought she was the base
And therefore knew all.
But I guess she doesn't.

She's always been a beacon of normalcy
The lighthouse I aim for
When I try to socialize
When I try to look acceptable.
I know I can't reach her level
But she is what I aim for.
My petite
Thin
Blonde
Beautiful sister.
Funny
Intelligent
Easy going.
She's always had friends
And boys
And a life I never even thought I could achieve.
Not because it was particularly amazing
But because it was so beautifully normal.
She is what I've always tried to become
And always known that I could never measure up to.

What's this mean for me now?

Poems, have I failed you?
I have shown two of you
To two of them.
Neither were impressed.
Am I not allowing you to live to your potential?
Should I send you into the great open
To find yourself
And learn to express what you feel?
Apparently I'm not allowing you to do so
To your full ability.
I am deeply sorry, dear words.
I really didn't mean to.

Everything is too easy.
Not once have I suffered
To win.
I skim through books
Glance at notes
And I am a perfect success.
The only difficulty I've ever had was social
Or maybe physical.
But I haven't earned my life.
I haven't tried
I haven't made the world better
I haven't been of use.
Maybe it's time for some
Self-imposed
Suffering.

Summer burns out, becomes fall
And you are still here.

I want to watch fall fall with you
See the cedar trees turn to pollen
And the sun cool to a new amber.

Winter will wither,
And I will want you with me.
Warm me in the cold, shield me from the wind
I will do both for you.
The year will change,
And so will we.

And when spring springs no more
And we shed our safety nets
I hope you will stay.
I will stay.

The changes will come.
I want to watch you change.
I want to watch the world evolve.
I want you to see me evolve.

I think her life went in sections.
Clearly defined.
Dysfunctional family
Independence
Trying again
Raising kids
Finding herself.

I really like where she's ended up.

The stale stench of criticism and loathing hangs in the air.
My thoughts are replaced with the cacophonous crackling
Of plastic wrappings.
I think my soul left weeks ago.
My body is run-down and deprived of the necessary fuel to charge it.
The minuscule amount of hope still clinging desperately to life
Is the hope that maybe tonight,
I can get a few hours of blissful unconsciousness;
The hope that the smooth, cool hand of that sweet, sweet death
Will soon calm my aching essentia.

You are more poetic than Donne
Smoother than Shakespeare

You are more romantic than Austen
More mysterious than Doyle

You are stronger than Neruda
More interesting than Vonnegut.

You are
Wasted.

I am a ****** woman.
My every move is connected
To a ****** act
In my mind.
When I bend down to fold at work
I'm arching into you.
When I **** on an ice cube
It's you in my mouth.
Dancing is nothing but ***.

One of these days it might get me in trouble
But I don't think anyone notices.

There's a shirt at the store.
A beautiful blue shirt
Cerulean, like his eyes.

It reminds me of him.

Everytime I see it
I fold it up
And try not to worry.

He's leaving this week.
To the desert,
Where there's danger
And guns
And war.

I know he stays on base.
I know he can handle himself.

But when I see that shirt
It reminds me of him
And it reminds me
That my brother is leaving again
And that I've never been as close to him
As I want to be
And that I've never seen eyes as blue as his
And that, again
He's going away.

I am not the night.

Mine are not the stars and moon
Or the black holes or the planets.

But I can't hold the dew drops and morning glories either
Or the sun or the blue or the twilight.

I am not the day.

If I could choose, I'd be the night.
The poetry of the night calls to me
Saying-
Christine, I am made for you!
Christine, I am all there is!
But I cannot be the night.

However, I see both in you.

My brain is filled with static


I feel like I'm not here

I feel no pain
I feel no pleasure

How can I tell if I exist...


All I can hear is white noise
runningthroughmyhead
softsoftfuzzfuzz

All I can see is blurs of color
greenandwhitesandbrowns
ohmy

All I can smell is nonexistant
airrushesthroughholes
nothinghappens

All I can feel is without reaction
dryhandscoldteeth
don'tcaredon'tcare

All I can taste is tasteless
coatofliquidonmytongue
pleasantunpleasantneutral




Ma­ybe this is what it's like to be. Or not be.

It wasn't a big deal.
He just asked for some help
Can you help me find this shirt
Can you let me in the dressing room
Can you fit me for a jacket.
But I was petrified.
Terrified.
What if I do it wrong
What if I say the wrong thing
What if I upset him.
What will happen?

In reality, nothing.
but in my mind
Everything I am frightened of.
In my mind
I am burning.

I'm not sleeping tonight.

I know if I tried, I'd fail
So instead I'm thinking of you.
Cataloging you in my mind.

Simple things: favorite colors and foods
Deeper things: experiences and viewpoints
Deep things: do you notice when the moon glows?

I've got most of the first section down, I think.
The second will need time to fill.
The third keeps changing.

The third is most important to me, you see.
What color do you think music is?
When you see the sun
Do you think of power
And creation and destruction
Or do you think of skin cancer?
When you eat
Can you feel your taste buds celebrating?

Basically, do you notice important things?
Do you see what some people don't care about?
Because I care.
And your catalog can't be finished
Until I know.

----------------------------------------------
He was older.
He paid attention to me.
Years of being alone
With no sense of self-worth
He noticed.
I knew he was short
And chubby
And had a strange face
But he noticed.
I knew it was strange that
He was interested in one so much younger
But I craved someone to care for me.
A reprimand from my mother
My brother
A teacher
And it was over.
Then months past
I needed it again.
I was slipping
Again
Into somewhere I didn't want to be.
A secret rendevous
With his mother asleep in the next room.
A lost shirt
A gained shirt.
Months past
It was over again.
----------------------------------------------------------­--------
A year passes
The boy I had a past with
[Secret hand-holding in a football field
Stolen glances
Nothing serious]
Shows renewed interest
In the dark of night
In the backseat of a car.
The first time
I noticed an *******
Against my backside.
The first time
I saw one
In real life.
Months past
I never cared for him
But he told me he loved me.
I told him I didn't.
Eventually I couldn't hurt him anymore.
I wasn't getting anything from it anyway.
Just experience.
-----------------------------------------------------­---
Now I have him.
He is mine and I am his.
But really, I am mine.
I'm too independent for him
But we share our awkwardness.
Three years have almost past
Many more will, too.
From him
I have gained a family
A patience
A sense of self-worth
And love for others.
He is the end of it, I guess.
I had to get through the others first
(And I honestly wouldn't mind going through more)
But with relationships, you grow.
--------------------------------------------------------

I want to know what your favorite is
Because I think it would tell me lots about you.

Whether you care most about intent
Or style or diction or timing.
Or if meaning is your all.

And then maybe I can use that for us
And see what you notice most there:
Intent, style, diction, meaning.
When our lips touch, do you judge it by the repetition
Or by the desire?

Slowly, I will come to understand you.

I can't be this alone, with you.

If I'm to be alone, let me call myself alone.
Don't make me suffer this killing hope.

Wrapped in your sleeping arms, let me not think
"alone"
Watching you laugh, make me not think
"alone"
Feeling your lips on mine, force me not to think
"alone"
I can't be this alone, with you.

I think of you by the minute. Can't you think of me
sometimes?
You say you know, but if you know why don't you care?
If you know, why don't you try?
I can't be this alone, with you.

Free from expectation and hope, I can survive.
But this, this drains me. This will leave me dry.
Choose one and let it be that. Just choose.
Because I can't do this with you.

I was beautiful because
You told me I was.
You were beautiful because
There can be none like you.

I'm working on remembering you.
(not that it's possible to forget)
But I want your details
So I'm working on remembering you.

I think I have your chin down
But your nose is not perfected.
Your eyes are almost there
And your hands are probably halfway.

I was beautiful because
You made me believe I was.
But you were beautiful because
There can be none like you.

I want to know you.
Your no banana pancakes
And your Dr. Pepper
And your gas station champagne.

Our atoms are getting familiar with each other.
At least, that would explain
Why my skin, no, my whole being
Both tenses and melts when you're near.

Your fingernails know my back
My hands know your chest.
They're close friends, you know.
I'm sure you've noticed.

I am beautiful because
That's what you bring out.
You are beautiful because
There can be none like you.

Killing me, or parts of me
       But only in the best of way.
Ever strong, ever open;
       when at the worst, the best.
Variable, voracious, vital
       even victorious, occasionally.
In time, consideration. In time, concern.
       Affirmation, creation, recognition.
Now only this; nothing more, nothing less.
       Now, only us.

Jalapeño pizza burns my mouth.
Your persistence burns my patience.

You need to find another candle.

It's kind of bizarre how totally in love with you I am.
I think about you and me, about us.
I think about what we could be.

I wonder if you'll have Santa eyes too
And what stories you'll tell.
Tell me, will I be there?

I want to be with you, now.
Forget school, forget work.
I want to lay in bed with you for hours
And feel you and me, connecting as one.
I'll feed you candy, you feed me your thoughts.

An hour, a day, a year
Let the seconds pass, but let them never end.
You and I will be two, but united by flesh, by breath.
I am in love with you-
You, yes, are my hourglass.

I can't really talk to you right now.
I know you want to
But it's seriously not a good idea.

If I talk to you right now
I won't be able to hold in my resentment.
I will put you on the spot
Ask you cruel question about
Why won't you get a job
Why won't you get back in school
Why won't you move out of your parents house
And that interaction would have only a horrible outcome.

You claim to be an adult
An all-grown-up man
But I feel like I'm dating a child sometimes.
This is unacceptable.

[the thing is, I'll never break up with you.
i tried once, remember?
i can't hurt you like that again.
i just can't.]

So you have to get with the program
Before we have to have a confrontation.

Franzia oh Franzia!
You are my savior.
With just a box
You clean my slate.
I have no problems!
And no insecurities
I fill up on you
So I don't devour gallons of ice cream.

You save me
From the person I could be
And you raise me
Closer to who I want to become.

I don't want to lose nights under your arms
Dusks in your eyes
Mornings in your hands.

I do want to lose those nights lying alone
And those dusks observing what I would never be a part of
And those mornings, feet away from you.

I don't want to lose you.
But I do want to lose missing you.

I'm just afraid the two must come as one.

I love the sound of clicking keyboards.
Of beating hearts. Of waking up next to you.

I love the steady, the whole
The more than I thought I could have.

The sounds of you and me, at night
In the morning
In the afternoon, skyrockets flying.

I love the sounds of your lips on my shoulder
Of your fingers in my hair.
Of our skin combining.

I love the noises of now.

Like the forgotten birthday
Of a dead girl you knew once.

Like the time of a tradition, now fallen apart
With no family left to keep it together.

Like the twelve days of Christmas
Where no one notices the first eleven.

The anniversary of past love
Recently deceased.

So you like solitude too?
We seem like similar souls.
I bet you’re uncomfortable with your body
And you feel you aren’t living up to your potential
And you like to read books that make you look smart.
I want to go ask you,
To see if you want to share your serenity
But that would debase both of our natures.
I wonder what you’re reading,
And why you’re in your swimsuit in the shade.
Do you adore the feel of the breeze and sun and earth on your skin too?
I think we’re the same.
Too bad I can’t ask.

No sweet sleep, let me linger a little longer!
You are the gas station I need to loiter in
For in you, I'm with him.
Let me stay, let me see his face, let me feel his eyes
False as they may be.
You are my sweet savior; why do you choose to torture me so?
Torture me with dreams of love and desire
Dreams of magnetic attraction and tiger-sharp want.
But what delicious torture it is.

If it is Chinese water torture, the water is the nectar of strawberries
And it drips down to my lips,
Allowing a desperate and fevered taste
But gone so quickly.

Sleep, why did you leave me so?
He was about to fulfill me
About to say he loved me
About to break that tension that was filling my fictional home so  
completely.
About to be a dream I could dream again.

Don't do this to me, sandman.
Let me return to that dream,
If only for long enough to get one
Sweet strawberry drop.
Long enough to hear him say it
To hear him show it:
He cares for me.

Everything’s wrong.
Going to a sub par school for a liberal arts degree
That I’m not sure I want or even need.
Drinking alone at night, six nights a week.
Lying in bed for hours waiting for some sort of nocturnal relief.
Failure at ***. Failure at friends. What stories do I have to tell my uncared for grandchildren?
All I have is a brain of useless trivia and shameful memories I would give anything to erase.
My past is embarrassing, my future’s depressing, and my now seems pointless.
Really, what’s the use?