I remember when I was small
No more than a few inches above my mother's hip
I saw the world through kaleidoscope eyes
Because when people hurt themselves
I didn't think it was on
Purpose
And when people mysteriously died
Suicide didn't come to my thoughts
Because who would do that
End their life so quick
Like snuffing out a small flame amongst the larger ones
And the repercussions could be huge
Because what if that little puff of breath
Traveled further than you wanted it to
And blew out a dozen more than necessary
What would you do then
But when I was small
No more than a few feet tall
I couldn't even begin to guess where I would be today
And I still can't

With leaves so rainbowed
And sky like ice
In the heart of fall the trees
Bear witness to true loss
With veining gold fronds
Of deepening red
Fluttering to dormant soil
Met by sleeping grasses
Whispering in the cool breeze
swish swish
Swaying to and fro
In the hard packed ground
As I trudge thru
The crumbling leaves
That disintegrate underfoot
Like drying sugar
Lay down and inhale
That warmth of fall
With colours flowing
Thru the currents on the wind
Brown and red
Orange and yellow
Fire licking the senses
And hearing the birds
Winding down for the winter
Fall

Tis only 7 o'clock and life already has me down
With the solemn tick tocks of the clock
And the feeling of time passing
The only consolation that tomorrow might actually
Get
Here
The vague sense of not belonging is plaguing me
Once again
But I can't seem to shake it
No
Not this time
The wind howling my name outside my window
Knocking it's icy fists on the panes
Tryin' to get in and shake my
Bones till they rattle in their sockets
So I huddle under the covers of my bed
And
Hope
Nothing comes in
Because it's
7 o'clock
And life has already beaten me down

I'm sorry


For


Being


Such


A


Little


*****

Death is the poor man's doctor

I almost took a blade to my skin again
Can't quite remember when exactly
I was too hyped up on over the counter medicine
My memory kind of fogged after the first one
I think I did it a few nights ago
But I can't be sure
I apologize though
I know I disappoint you
I am so very sorry

Dear World whom she fears,
When she is dead (which is now)
She hopes you feel it (but you don't)
Because she wants to be missed (not really)
And she wants people to know her story (she doesn't though)
But people don't know pain (not fully)
Until they are pain (she always was)
Until they become and embrace it (make love with pain)
Things get so much easier (only after death)
And things get simply quiet (deathly silent)
She got well (trust her)
But it was only after things got too far (and they did)
And that was after you said you hated her (on a regular basis)
She is strangely okay with that now.
*(She committed suicide)

She can't let them know
The pain she has been through
So she puts on a show
'Bout the places she's been too
With a Halls cough drop
Fresh in her mouth
And a connection with a cop
Somewhere in the south
Living the ways
Of the street savvy hipster
And the scent that always stays
A cold Vics smell, always bitter

The world is a little ****** sometimes
But who cares?
I don't
I just am tired of worrying about the opinions
And the judgments
She is so quiet
Why can't they all just be quiet
I don't point out their flaws
She looks anorexic
Okay, maybe I do
But not like them
God, she wears the dumbest things
I am just, tired
That's......
That's about it
Tired.....
Yeah

I am a social
Not-erfly
One of the outcasts
From that group
Of people
You sneer at
Whatever

The demons
Hover
Just outside my
Peripheral
Vision
They lie
In slinking wait
For the slip
Of my eye
Or the move of
My head
To attack my hands
And force
Them to do
Things I wanted
To do
Anyway
Then they flit away
To
Tattle on me
To my parents
Tell them
Secrets
About my hips
She bruised them
She hurt them
She
Is
Crazy
They drift
Back to me
Wide and
Wicked smiles
Spread across
Their
Gruesome faces
And they hover
Just outside
My little
Circle of
Light
Which isn't
Much anymore
Because they
Know how to
*****
It
Out
She is worthless
She is alone
She
Is
*Crazy

She thinks that puking will make her
Pretty
She believes that starving will make her
Beautiful
She thinks that cuts lined up on her arm will make her
Pitiful
She believes that bruises dotted on her thighs will make her
Lovable
She thinks that suicide will make her
Better
She believes that not being alive will make her
Fixed
She thought that bulemia would have made her
Pretty
She thought that anorexia would have made her
Beautiful
She thought that cutting would have made her
Pitiful
She thought that bruising herself would have made her
Loveable
She thought that suicide would have made her
Better (It just made her dead)
She thought that not being alive would have made her
Fixed (It just broke her neck)
She thought she knew the solution to everything
(But every solution she knew just killed her more)

A crack and a clap of thunder                                                          ­      
Makes you jump                                                             ­                       
Steam rolling off the cement                                                           ­           
In tidal waves of fog                                                              ­                    
The scent of freshly washed                                                           ­           
Leaves and pavement                                                         ­                     
Fresh in flared nostrils                                                         ­                 
The sound of the downpour                                                         ­         
Slaps your ears with splats                                                           ­             
Of condensation                                                     ­                               
But then the clouds rumble by                                                          
Freight train roaring                                                          ­                    
Full steam ahead                                                            ­                          
Lightening striking    
So close you can smell the
Burning scorch
Of electric
And then gone in a wisp of smoke

We may grow up
Grow naive
Grow too haughty
For our old friends
We may become old
Become senile
Become too ancient
For our previous life
And the world
May die
Die with pride
Die with shame
Die because
Space has become
Too small for the
All of us
Or
Perhaps
We just change
So much from
One day to
The next
That everything
Changes with
Us
But cannot keep up
So it falls behind
And grows naive
Becomes senile
And eventually
Dies
In the order of events
That we are born
That we grow a bit
Make a mistake
Grow a bit more
Make tons of mistakes
Then grow until
We can grow no more
(Which is impossible)
Until we cannot
Keep up with the earth's
Perpetual rotation
So we die
Space needed more room
Anyway.

A cup of water
Spills
And
Slides
Down the concrete of the driveway
Wriggles this way
And
That
Upon the rough road
I watch its struggles
With leaves
And
Sticks
And Fire Ants
And I think about how pretty
That would be running down
My arm
Except
Thick
And
Red
With rivulets of
Broken veins
Oh!
What wonder and
Beauty
That would be
Trickling down my
Pale skin

Sitting at the piano
Useless because I am deaf anyway
As a baby one too many insults were thrown my way
Hit a key
Vibrate through my arm like the rev of a Mustang engine
Poking needles into my brain saying listen
I try and try
But nothing is heard because I am deaf
I cry
My tears soaking the keys like a saltwater and vinegar bath
Acidic and all sodium
But then the piano sings to me
And cleans away the cobwebs in my ears
So I hear
And I listen to the vibrations that sound like
The purr of a Camaro
As well as the hum of a harp
Such a beautiful combination for a girl that
Can't hear

What if he knew about my thoughts?
                                                    
  ­                                    "What do you mean"?

I meant those ones that involve bad things.
                                                    
    ­                                  "Well, what do those bad thoughts include?"

I guess those ones that only crazy people think of...
                                                   
       ­                               "Like what?"

The ones that involve sad and love and God.
                                                   
        ­                              "All thoughts of God are crazy."

Well then I guess I am crazy. I guess we all are.
                                                   
        ­                               "And what of love?"

Forever, I suppose. Thoughts of forever.
                                                 
      ­                                 "Forever is an impossibility that clouds better judgment."

I guess I have horrid judgment then. I guess we all do.
                                                   
            ­                           "The talk of sad...and those?"

Death.....
                                            ­      
                                       "Death is for the weak. The ones that give up."

I guess I am weak, then. I suppose we all are.
                                                  
             ­                          "You are a crazy one. Different."

I get that a lot.
                                                 
              ­                         "But it is a good thing, I guess."

Why would that be?
                                                    
           ­                            "Because it means you are not afraid of those things."

I do not understand...
                                                   ­
                                      "You choose to think about that, therefore, you face the fear."

I suppose you are right.
                                           
                    ­                   "Of course I am."

Yes....of course.....
                                                   
 ­                                      "You are different because fear cannot taint you."

But oh, I am terrified.

A star is dying
Somewhere in the space
Of out vast universe
It is creating iron
The second it makes
That small atom of
Metal
It is doomed to
Death
An imploding of
Gas and bits of
Stardust
Overtake planets
And other sister
Stars
And a nebula
Forms
New life and new
Beings
They create us
And every molecule
Of atom
We are ultimately made
From different stars
Parts of one
Half of another
We are
Star Children

The summer of my eighth grade year
I was terrified of high school
My mind raced with
Unthinkable thoughts
The what if's and the ands
A panic attack on the horizon
First day drawing ever closer
Even though
It was an hour after the
Last day of eighth
Cry myself to sleep for
The first time
And suddenly it is
Time for the first day of
Being a freshman
Wake up and wipe away
The falling mascara
Already, falling apart at the seams
Feign excitement and smile
Nobody notices the difference
And then it is over
And you are not a better person from it
In fact
Things are worse
And only progressing in that direction
Of backwards
Food is fat
Weight is sin
Gaining it is worse than death
Or is it?
And I am smack in
The middle of it all
Just where I wanted to be
When I thought about the end
Of this year
At the beginning of the summer
Of eighth grade

A field of daisies
A field of roses
It makes no difference to me if they
Are red or if they are
White
I mean really
A flower is a flower
Beauty of different kinds
And they hardly mean anything anyway
Flowers wilt in a few days
And you symbolize our love in a measly
Plant?

"It is just a stupid and suicidal world, Tumblr is."
No
     It
        Isn't
"All it does is provoke those negative feelings."
No
     It
        Doesn't
"What does it do for you? Obviously nothing good."*
Oh
    *But
         It
            Does
                  And
                 ­        You
                       Have
                    No
               *Idea
         How
   Much
It
     Has
          Saved
                *Me

Craving something so impossible yet so
Wanted
Wishing for that small wish which is too far
Away
Hoping for that first time, that first, meaningful
Time
In which your lips meet
Mine
And we close our eyes and breathe in the
Other
But alas, I am a hopeless and romantic
Mess
A fantasy girl that nobody
Wants
So I shall wait for the absolute perfect
One
Wish upon the dead and falling stars that claim to have
Luck
And on every 11:11 clasp my hands and
Pray
Because I have figured out, I can't wait
*Forever

I tried to cut myself today
I backed out at the last minute
I instead took a rubber and
I left marks up and down my legs
I didn’t cry from the pain
I cried because of the nothing
I felt
I cried because
I didn’t feel anything
I kept the welts in line and
I maintained the perfect sloppiness
I proceeded to make wishes
I made a wish with each snap
I wished for necessities
I wished for oblivion and
I wished for a place where
Nothing was a feeling and
I
Felt
Nothing

"Why are you mimicking me
Oh foul beast?"
"Because I had this glorious pattern first
And to help me better feast."
"But you are so loud,
obnoxious even glorious."
"Alas, I am not, but I do admit that it is
My hide for which I am notorious."
"My gleaming fur is also well known
to people far and wide."
"I see your stripes hung up, strung out
And dried."
"Our likeness is uncanny,
Used for such different reasons."
"But they both bring upon
Those two legged demons."
"And for this sameness, this
alike this identical..."
"We are created the same,
All of us are equal."

Rain splatter
Wetting my bare ankles
And my lanky hair
Looking at the world from a side view
And pitter patters graduated to booms
And floods
Headlights illuminate each rebound of
Water
And the lightening illuminates everything
From an angle
Trees elongate
Grass elongates
I elongate
Wind pushes weary droplets onto
The front windows
They explode and scream
And die in a dripping mess
Blue/grey/brown clouds look as if God
Swiped a ***** paintbrush on a flawless
Canvas
To create a work of art out of
Watercolours and oils
The trees stand bare *****
Outlined with black Magic Marker
And shaded with the blackest of
Crayons
To birth a skeleton
The flowers wilt in their
Nests of leaves and rain catching
Umbrellas
And the people dash into their houses only to be incinerated by the white washed
Lightening

Just go ahead and strike me
   Strike me with the flash of the lightening
And the pop of the thunder
   The blinding quickness of
Light
   And the earsplitting crash
Of sound
   Strike me with deft severity
Because I am at your mercy
   O' Storm
The sheer beauty of the rain
   And the rattling howls of the
Thunderous uproar
   Make the flags whip with frantic
Ecstasy
   Create a terrifyingly beautiful
Chaos
   And in the process
Hit my flailing form
   Outstretched on the lawn
And coat my body with crackling
   Film

Yeah
I totally understand
When you delete all of
My social networking sites
Yeah
I completely sympathize
When you go all overprotective
Parent on my ***
Yeah
It's a shame
When I defy your rule so
I can fit into the nest of popular
Yeah
I utterly hate it
When nothing goes your way
And your children misbehave
Yeah
I despise it too
When people lie
Kind of like I am doing right
At
This
Moment
Yeah
I know I am faking understanding
But I won't for long

The snow dips and curves
Gentle as a woman's hips
Crisp edges
Sharp as the blade girl's cut with
Looks like whipped cream
Tastes like clean and polar
Fresh from a rocky hillside
Dusty, *****, unclean
How much a look can deceive
Colorado is a heaven on earth
And the mountains will never cease
To blow my insides apart
Bit by bit
Those gaping mouths of
Shaved rock and
Blackened pits
Massive boulders lie scattered
Like blood drops from an arm
Yet still, the beauty haunts my waking visions
As well as my
Deepest nightmares

Look at you
So easily lying and fibbing
Like a naturalist
It makes me cringe every time you
Tell that same lie
Over and over and over again
"You did well"
"You are amazing"
"I like you a lot"
My only option is to smile with my
Broken teeth and bleeding gums
Ravaged by the bones I have been cracking on
"Stop lying to me"
I try and scream but absolutely nothing comes out
Why?
Because I have gotten so used to the
Shattered glass of untruths that
The crunch of it underfoot and the zap
Of it in my skin has completely gone
Away
So all I can think is
**My, What Big Lies You Have

She was f-u-l-l and stuffed to the brim.
Not another thing could be shoved down her throat
She was silent though,
Deathly quiet because she was in actuality
E-m-p-t-y,
Empty of food, that is.
She was full of emotion and feelings and
Suicides
Her wrists whispered those attempts
And her legs moaned those failed tries
Her throat ached with pills stuck there
And her neck was ringed red with burns
Her blue nails wailed underfed
Her blue lips screamed lacking.
So she took a k-n-i-f-e,
A big, butchered blade
A laid it flat against her sewn on skin.
And she shaved off the first layer of shield
And then she swiped off the second layer
To reveal nothing but words underneath,
Crawling out like spiders and centipedes.
She screamed and shook them away onto the floor.
Then she took that k-n-i-f-e,
That big, butchered blade,
And pressed it to her battered heart
And let it slide in with slow precision.
And she didn't feel anything because there was nothing there.
And she let the words crumple to the tile
Along with those bright red droplets of
Tears.
By the time she was found, she was no longer
F-u-l-l,
But rather very very
*E-m-p-t-y

You can judge me
Hurt me and
Rate me

But I cannot seem to judge you
Hurt you and
Rate you

Doesn't that seem a bit **unfair?

Force and fluidity and
Strength
Swimming through
Thick-as-porridge water
Fifty meters gone by
Calm and serene ripples of laden
Muscle and
Waves
A dollop of chlorine soaked into your skin
Fragrant beyond belief
The artificial lake
A square
Of stony beach and
Eight foot deep
Marina trenches
Catch your heavy breath
And react to the adrenaline
Sink deep into the
Blue-black liquid
Admire flecks of
Melted silver emanating
From the fluorescence above
Land on the bottom
With weighted feet then
Push back up and break the surface
Breathe again

The pale lips are smashed together in a fake smile, the teeth not wanting to show in the little pod of the mouth, hiding like scared peas. It’s frightening.
The eyes crinkled just right so that it looks so plastered on that you can tell it is fake, the folds overlapping again and again in an unnatural way. I blink.
The cheeks covered in makeup, splashed on in spots, smoothed over in others, splatter painted to look realistic. It doesn't work.
The fingers resting oh so stiff on the stomach raised a bit so that they are hovering above the skin, like he doesn't want to touch the dead fabric. I wouldn't.
The suit, so neatly pressed that not a wrinkle shows, except for on the collar where nobody notices. But I do.
The silk lining of the box he is resting in is shiny and overly polished, like a cherry wood dining room table with an overload of Pledge. It hurts my eyes.
The bouquet of flowers is a bundle of Death’s heavy perfume disguised as a bunch of roses and daisies. The smell is disgusting.
The picture frames surrounding the box are shined like pairs of leather shoes, embedded with gems and memories that are long past. It makes me sad.
The stuffed animals in the corner gaze deadly at the group, mold and dust sapping the life out of their beady eyes. They make me shiver.
The chair I sit on is hard and stiff, the cushion starched to the breaking point, the crackly material hardly comfortable. I squirm.
The vent above me blows a gale of cold air and underlying currents, which whips up my hair in a flurry of brown. I pat my head.
The people around me clutch tissues in bony hands, the wadded up paper soaked through with tears and makeup. It looks gross.
So as I observe every detail of this morbid place, I close my eyes and breath deep. Mistake. The air is ripe with anger and sadness, misery and frustration. Musky lady perfume, sharp man perfume. My hands clench, unclench, furl, unfurl. My throat closes up then swallows that lump of matter lodged in my my esophagus. What is death? What is Heaven? What is God and Jesus and church? What is all of that if it ends up like this? Like a cancerous tumor, like a lump of mutated cells, like a painful death? It is forgiveness and freedom and newness.
With that I open my eyes again and cry.