They kissed you with that mouth
Wrote books about you
Took pictures and hung them up for beer ads
For humans with high testosterone to ogle
While they ******* the top of a beer bottle
Like it will bring their fathers acceptance
Back into their eyes.
Your nine inched heels gave me whip lash
Your ½ inch eyelashes gave me heartburn
Your spit
Indigestion
Because they kissed you with that mouth.
And you still believe,

You asked for it

You still believed you were not worth getting out of the hood for
The hood
what good is the hood and the hood-rats

You ******* ***** in alleyways

All 10 of them lined up
said I might as well have the money upfront
If I'm gonna **** **** I'm getting paid for it

They bashed your head into concrete so hard.
You forgot how your mothers voice sounded like
Almost forgot how your uncles knuckles tasted like,
I don’t know your story
I don’t know your name
I don’t know you
I just know that your friend
And my friends
Last night
Came to the conclusion
That you were a ****
And you were asking for it
You asked for your head to be bashed into concrete
And hey maybe you did
Maybe you wanted something to hit you hard enough to make you forget
The hate inside
The misogyny you swallow
and wash down the drain
maybe you were there in front of 10 guys because you wanted to know what power felt like
what being wanted felt like
because you thought you were worth the money
but they didn't
because maybe that's what you asked for
because maybe your mother taught you to get high and surrender with glazed eyes
rather then take your higheels off and fight

because your laughter sounds more broken than you do
because your eyes hold remnants of your skull
because you remember the taste of your blood too keenly
because my friends, my female friends who are not evil or sexist

my male friends the protector of women
came to an agreement
you asked for it
put yourself in the position to
smell the inside of your brain
because your blood meant power
because finishing them off
meant swallowing or bleeding
and you did some of both because
maybe you chose survival
because maybe you came in kicking naked and maybe thats how you wanna go out with
another mans hands down your throat
some to aid air some
to constrict

weather you bleed or swallow you are only
emptying out

and I tried to explain that to your friend and my friends but
there is so much anger about what happend to you
and none of it is directed at the ten faceless penises.

Because you were once a chandelier of candles
And now you are a faceless light bulb hung on the moldy hotel building
Because your **** gives you free crack and
My friends have disgust on their faces
And I feel
Pity

I am a poet
And my world is my own
No ingestion of substance can compare

I am a poet
My senses I hone
How else can I color them to share

I am a poet
My pain is my pride
My wounds bleed raw on a page

I am a poet
My hope burns alive
Experiences transform me to a sage

I am a poet
I overflow with love
I accept all for who and what they are

I am a poet
Who needs not a shove
To weave a story in whimsy from afar

I am a poet
My passion rules the mind
However logical I pretend to be

I am a poet
I coax the words in kind
Filled with feelings only memory can see

I am a poet
I see the verse as yet untold
I bathe pages from the beauty of a look

I am a poet
My pen leads to my soul
There is intrigue in every shadowed nook

I am a poet

I watched my father from a distance
Being mauled by a bear
And even from this far away
In his eyes i could see fear
Pure ******* fear

I listened to lucy tell me
The worst thing Ive ever heard
About how 2 men grabbed and  ***** her
Is that worse than being mauled?

I do not know
But i guess they mustve screamed
So loudly into the distance
She was only thirteen

Only thirteen
And I was twelve at the time
I asked her if it hurt
I should’ve known better
Instead I made it worse

I met Daniel at a party
He showed me his scars
He said his father shot himself
So he decorates his arms

And monica paints pictures
Of skies so beautifully blue
Though she herself is dying
Just skin and bones and truth

I asked her if she found it
In all the painting’s she created
Did you find Daniels father?
Was he cremated?
Did you find Lucy’s innocence?
Unburdened her of her shame?
Can your paintbrush do that?
Can it make you sane?

What about my mother
Does she have a say
Can she ever get back
What was lost that day?

Can you paint my eyes
So they un-see what was seen
Can you paint the sounds
Of Lucy's silent screams
Can you paint Daniels arms
Make the scar's disappear?
Can a ******* painting
Ever make things all clear?

I gave your voice to the sun
I tried to catch the stars in my hands
But they fell through and cut me
Sliced my fingers into two

There is nothing in the sky but your silence
Looks like the sun burned the sound of music away
And the stars sparkle on the floor from when they landed here
As for me I am nowhere
Nowhere

I tried to give your voice to the sun
But the sound of music burned away
And the stars, they fell one by one
Cut my hands away
Tried to give you to the sun

Our moon is incompatible
November's cold and grey
You have ***** fingernails
Whereas I try to wash the dirt away

And what I once thought was music
Was just the sound of a thousand shattering stars
And what I once thought was beautiful
Was merely a thousand glittering scar's

You are a silly little man-child
And I am just a little girl
But as for me, I am tired
Of the blunt beauty of this world

I am on Pluto dear
You are on Mars
We sold each other out honey
We destroyed the stars

They pretended not to notice how much you had changed
But they did comment on your thinning face
And how much healthier you looked
How much better
They pulled you to the side "Oh my gosh, how did you do it?"
Quizzical looks
They didn't know that the weight you lost
Was unintentional
A compensation for the heavy load inside
You tried to somehow shake off
You hated your jutting rib bones,
Losing your sanity along with your "baby" fat
You lost what made you a woman

No no one noticed your gaunt eyes
and the sharp angle of your cheekbone
Like pain
and the way you started drinking
(Although you never stopped)

They didn't notice the new scars you kept hidden with makeup
Meticulous
careful
calculating
So unlike you
No no one noticed how your eyes shone a little less brighter
Especially when you smiled

Apart from that ex-boyfriend you left a winter ago
Standing in the cold
Because he was an *******
But ******* can be right
And you saw the way he looked at you like-
the way you used to look at a broken mirror
Wondering which piece to pick up first
And start gluing back together
The way you looked at your own blood flow from your wrist's
A little scared, amazed, numb..
Like "Where do we start first?"
And "What happened here?"
Thats how he looked at you
*Atleast someone noticed

You bathed me in a bath
Full of shards of broken glass
That glimmered and swam
So beautifully bright
"Not all beautiful things catch the light" you said
Such cynical views for a patient man
Such awful thoughts of blood once shed
"It doesn't mean they're not there."
Then you ran
ran
ran
Like the coward you were

I bathed you in roses
But forgot to take out the thorns
See my beauty wasn't intended
But neither was yours

"Sometimes the smallest things, can hit the hardest."
Another one of your wise saying's

No wonder you were guarded

Now I bathe him in feathers
And ashes
and death
But the dead don't speak from their coffins
And blood wasn't shed
From all the things that we said

Like our words could fix
what was broken somewhere else
You said that only paper clips
And broken strings

Could undo the damage
One does to *oneself

My dad, he saved a child
Almost two summers ago
Beat on his lifeless chest
Until he got up and started breathing on his own

Whilst I, in this empty house
Make promises I cant keep
And feed my blood to sharp razor blades
Because I know its a luxury to weep

I wanted to be the one to tell them
That Grandpa died
To summon up human reaction
But as soon as I watched their faces crumple
I wanted to take it back and say "I lied"

Just like how he battled to keep that kid alive
I wanted to stop him, shake him, say
"Dad, leave it, hes better off, you see this world is a filthy filthy place,
its a ******* ***** world daddy, you'd be doing him a favour.
So Save your breath
Save his grace."

But I didn't, I stood and watched and felt
nothing

While his mother pounded on my fathers back
Screaming words like "God" and "Please" and "Son."
As if there are such things


As I, in this empty house
Carve my wrists
And paint ****** pictures on
white hairless canvases
and think about that little boy

That my father saved

Blood is not thicker than water
Just harder to wash out

Me the perpetual messiah
Trying to fix
all broken things
The never-ending, savior complex-

Like that bird we found in our backyard
When I was five;
And I had to learn that
"All living things die-"

I wish mom would've taught me that
"You cant save everyone"
Instead.

You are not a bird
You don't suffer from broken wings
Your wound's are internal
Invisible

Forever perplexing the mind of
thousands of
boggled doctors

Like I was supposed to pick up
What an X-Ray couldn't.

And inject you with some secret serum
That escaped from my lips
I spent so much time
Trying to clasp your wounds shut
So much energy
But you bled out
Right in front of me

You aren't a friggin' bird.

And I cant save you.

Stu-stu-stuttering
Under those beautiful shadows
Near edgar street
Halloween, light lamps
pumpkins
Sh-sh-shaking hands
You looked so
broken
shattered

"You haven't been yourself lately."
"Well maybe I have."
"No no no this isn't you."
"Maybe it is, maybe im just sick of pretending."
-"Have you been eating?
When's the last time you had a goodnight's sleep?"
"Why does it matter..."

I wanted to remember how the light illuminated your cheekbones
But made those shadows under your eyes darker
They seemed to taunt your face
Dancing around producing fearful images
I was surprised you were still awake
What a beautiful mess you looked...
What a beautiful mess you looked like

"Y-you-you think the world is a beautiful place dont you?"
"I think It can be." You looked haunted.
"Yeah, for those who sleep."

"I feel sorry for you."
His voice was never one to mock.
It was always gentle, non-judgemental. (where's the catch?)
It didn't stop me from laughing anyway.
"Why?"

"It must **** to go through life too scared to really give a **** about anything."
(no really where's the catch?)

I admit, I lost my wit, there was nothing I could think of to say.
My tongue rolled around in my mouth looking for lost words
Checking behind every tooth to see if they were hidden there.
I managed to cough once to see if any were lodged in my throat.
But all I could think of was how
beautiful
he looked in the moonlight
the only thing giving light to his eyes, half a cigarette
I wondered then If the burning stump gave his eyes that red tint
or maybe
he was born with it.
******* on his cancer stick.
Maybe that's were he got his words from
I should start smoking too.
Maybe
"The world isn't so black and white, you know?"
He had a way of making the truth sound poetic
Like it did on that hill, by that creek, under that moon
By the burning cigarette
all I could think to say was
"The truth is only pretty in certain light"

You spoke addiction
like a language
like an art form
marks on your arms
on your thighs
A Mosaic of patterns
You said they looked prettier than the
ligature marks around your neck
the invisible noose
you constantly swayed from
Like addiction was a guy
you couldn't make your mind up
about
at-least they had more meaning
You said I never understood the purpose of tiles
and how beautiful they looked close up
and how you never got bored of counting them
There was more life in your bruises
than in your eyes
like each little hole
****** out a little more of you
said I could never understand the
beauty in
feeling
really
feeling
lukewarm bath water
turn cold
In a womb of your own destruction
in a needle
in a rope
in a razor
a false sense of life
of *life

Next time you tell me to go away
I'll show you just how good I am at disappearing
You just haven't stuck around long enough for the
vanishing act
You have the audacity to
say my name tastes like filth
But have you ever thought
that the source of your uncleanliness
was born somewhere in your lung's
and made its way up your throat
I can taste that
when I kiss you
No wonder everything turn's to grit
in your mouth
You have the stones
to say
you're an insomniac
But there's a difference between
not wanting to sleep
and not being able to
And your hands wouldn't shake so much
if you didn't drink so much coffee
and you wouldn't look so tired
If you smiled once in a while
and your breath wouldn't taste
or smell
or look
like ****
if you didn't smoke
100 packets a day.
So you have the audacity to tell me
"Well, baby the truth hurts."
In that southern drawl
With eyes so animated
I wonder which movie star you're impersonating now
After four months of Kurt Cobain
I've had enough of your angst and love letters
And I'd love to lay
my hands against your throat
and let you feel the threat
of life
draining away
But I know you would just smile
and rack your brain
for a quote from a movie you have stored somewhere
away

I've seen boys turn into men
   hands full of grenades
made of anger, of hurt of
cold
hard
beer
and smiles that could light-
no ignite
This cold heart of mine

I've known boys so steady
so calm
so sure
But they ended up dragging me-
along the cold hard pavement floor
Until I was nothing but a tattered corpse

They let me go
Like children do balloons
When my burdens grew too heavy
For the both of us to bare

I've seen boy's
-no men
With eyes so bright
so happy
so full of
life
I've known kids
so
so hollow
so empty

That even a rhyme couldn't describe
And I tell them to sit
sit down
and write it all out
But the paper grows damp
From the tears of their pens
And their poems unstructured
Their names but a blur

So now I know
I know
You can't tame all wild things
You cannot confine
Pain
To paper
As Pen to paper