mornings of my junior year were nightmares,
because when i woke up all i wanted to do was
die.
school sounded far away, a made-up paradise where
good grades and white teeth would take you to the toptoptop.
my love had left, my friends did not understand.
(oh, you’re depressed? everyone’s depressed)
pop another pretty white halo,
stay up until you think you see the sun scorching your
already fried brain.
mother cried, father yelled
(why can’t you just snap out of it? look at us for christs sake)
trips to unknown people, with thick reading glasses
and rooms that smelled like incense and money.  

i am here. but i am there. i am nowhere.

i was submerged under murky water,
greeted by sirens and drowning fish.
my blood doesn’t look like mine.
i want my blood to run like syrup.

i was here, but i am not there.
drown me through the lines,
until it all sounds the same.

during steaming showers, i decide
whether or not to **** myself, or touch myself
once last time (how many times?) to the thought of
his collarbones and never ending pride.
i like it hot, so my skin is pink like a baby’s ****
and raw so it screams and scathes over wounds
i had long forgotten.
i breathe in vapors thinking them as gas, wondering
how long it took for Plath,
for Sexton until they kissed their own eyelids.


i imagine his lips as he said i was a sweetheart, a doll,
i daydream of his fingers as they entered me with no
worry, two snakes, the venom explosive.

showers are a dangerous time,
i come out alive, with bile and dynamite shoved in my throat,
with my heart seeping through the tiles,
my sanity disappearing into the condensation

my muscles are singing for one more gallop,
my thighs, bruised and swollen, need a
bang.
my back is popping and creaking, but it’s yearning
to arch.
i need a ****.
not gentle, not serene. do not take your time with me,
(let’s get straight tothepoint,
your point, please)
i am sore (always)
but it is the pain i thrive on, the pain that makes me
grin with a cheshire smile each morning.
i need a ****.
animalistic, disorderly,
as the peevish thoughts in my brain.
i do not want flowers, diamonds, chocolates,
i want the blue of your fingers, the red of your teeth,
the overwhelming thunders and oceans
that rest between your thighs.
i need a ****.
tonight dear, right now, dear,
let me hear you
growl.

i am not just my *******, the
breath of my eyelashes, the curve
of my hips, the gasps i take between
*****.
i am brave, intelligent, wild, i am the
horse that runs through tall grass,
the cracks between sidewalks that sprout
weeds.
do not say i am just a “woman,”
i am hell on a leash, and i will be
released.

making love should be effortless,
like sand ebbing through achy fingers.
floating upon pillows made of feathers
and fairies.
making love should be steady, yet
untamed. like forest fires that lick
and clean branches,
kissing the trees with ashy goodbyes.
making love should be heartbreaking,
like the taste of salt with no warning,
the crushing of bones underneath
the ideas of love, and lust, and lost.

making love should be like it is with you & i,
your fingers in my hair, your stubble upon my *******,
your arms enclosing me, never letting me go.
making love should always be like it is with you & i,
the quick, the slow, the kisses, the moans,
the sweet and salty veins sprouting,
covering us in nothing but sadness, wanting.

making love should be everything, and completely nothing.

you have broken lamps, chairs,
doors.
hades and hell dancing in your eyes,
the crescendos loud enough to
quake the entire state.
my chest is locked up tight with
locks and grenades.
but all it takes is your fingers
upon my
cheek.
the locks break, the grenades
disintegrate.
you are my kryptonite, you are my fire.

i am a summer wild child,
i was born with sunflowers in my hair,
sand tickling my pores.
i am a fairy with periwinkle lids,
gold dust when i need to..
jolt.
i am a mermaid with scales to
mesmerize, hypnotize, glorify.
(but i fell in love with a two-legged fellow)

i am the pixie your mother told you to stay away from,
but you frolic through the meadows,
hoping to catch a glimpse.

pop me in your mouth, and tie me
like a cherry stem.
i am your ******, the thoughts in your mind
that are on your tongue, but you have to bite downhard,
because. (because)
smear my eyeliner so i am soiled, outside.
rip my clothes (these ones, not those), so i am pillaged, forever.
toss me, grip me, you can unleash those naughty fantasies,
i am the therapist that will lick your
wounds (with salt & lime, and coconut pie)
find my breaking point, if you can.
lay me to waste when you’re through,
and i’ll be your ***** cat, purring machine.
until your ready to
pounce
again.

"What are those?" You pointed to the scraggly white lines bruised upon my stomach.

"You know what they are," is what I wanted to say. But I bit the words and swallowed them and felt them pin and ***** my inner linings. I wanted to drive a razor across your skin, make sure you bled the same.

"Nothing."

"I thought you had stopped?"

"I thought so too."

I was hoping words of courage, endearment. A pat on the shoulder, arms around my tired back. I wanted to escape into the place that held your tin heart. I wanted to watch Good Eats and laugh about things that didn’t matter. I didn’t want ***.

But you did. You pushed my head down, ignoring the scars, ignoring the tears.

You could have taken a knife to my throat. It would have felt all the same.

he said, “you’re such a doll”
beautiful on the outside,
with nothing but hollow thoughts
and jingling parts tangoing
inside.
"i’m no doll."
more like a rag doll,
waiting for the next
throw.