Hail Mary, Full of Grace
as tears are streaming down her face
the problem of evil
clambering up her throat
but her teeth creak and rattle
and make a cage
she dare not pose the question
Blessed are Thou
her baby girl in agony
and the world spinning
and nobody's winning
and everybody's sinning
Blessed is the fruit of Your
and why can't anybody love me
the way you promised I'd be loved
why can't you love me the way you said you would?
why can't I ask you that?
A man and a woman
Seated at the bar
"Will it hurt much?"
"Hardly at all."
Her feet wander
To the hardwood floor
"Do you think this is moral?"
"Others did it before."
He reaches deep in his throat
To pull out some good reasoning
It's just an operation.
He spits his words out onto the table
And the girl just taps her feet
"And after, we'll be back to normal?"
"Yes, after everything will be good."
"But we're giving everything away."
"Nobody's making you."
Her drink slides down her throat
And it shatters in her stomach like a wine glass
And she remembers
That her body is not hers
That our body is not hers
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just fine."
i wanna ******* throw my words into the ocean
like an anchor
and i wanna sink down with them
I am the type of person who is petrified of blood.
When the doctor asks to ***** my finger
And I say “no thank you”
The doctor reminds me that it’s not really optional. And then
They ***** my finger
To see what’s inside
I have to close my eyes and tell myself it’s a bumblebee.
I think I’m so afraid of my pulse because
It reminds me that my body is a highway of blood
And that every slice is an exit
Propelling me somewhere—
Somewhere where I have no roadmap.
You would think
That I wouldn’t sting myself on purpose
Ode to the shiny, metal bumblebees.
They buzz about so orderly
More orderly than I could possibly arrange
Or merely my schedule
So control freak runs rampant in the hive.
To archaeologist, now:
Have you ever dug into your skin
Hoping to uncover some beautiful relic
That knows why you can’t sleep at night?
What I’ve uncovered thus far is only a vase. Cluttered up scraps of desert and shards remind me I’ve an awful lot more searching to do.
Elsewhere, of course—there’s far more elsewhere than I could ever uncover here.
lives among us
Sharing is caring!
Or so I've been told.
Yet, to tell you my feelings:
Dare I be so bold?
Make people stay
My lack of sharing
Often drives them away...
I don't want to be secretive
Nor do I like to bottle up
But pushing everything down
Has worked well enough.
I'd rather not burden
I'd rather just listen
But it makes you feel isolated
Alone, but this is
Nothing but a character flaw
You fetch the crowbar and I'll fetch the saw
I've so much to tell you
So please, sympathize
It's hard to separate
My truth from your lies.
I wanted to fall in love quietly.
I dreamt that
It would be simple
Black and white love:
The sort that holds hands on sunny days
And sends one another love-stamped postcards.
However, it would seem that
You entered my life rather boldly
You crashed into my monotone art gallery with vivid colors.
Tore apart what I thought love was.
Thank God you did.
People are, well, real-
And so are lovers.
I think we often forget to separate the two.
Falling in love quietly seemed boring, anyways.