Prizes, awards, ribbons?
How about a kiss, a hug, a "thank you,"
a memory instead, knowing inside
that you remained true to yourself,
to the inner worth that is in everyone,
sacred and inviolate?
The prizes, awards, and ribbons
remind me of the shiny stars
your 3rd-grade teacher stuck
on your paper after you had answered
all the addition problems correctly.
We have turned our existence inside-out.
We still do not know the locus of our worth,
which is within each of us.
Shakespeare and Michelangelo--
how many prizes and awards and ribbons
did they win? No wonder Hemingway
shot himself dead in Ketchum,
as have so many others.
Remember always the poem is the prize.  

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

one time mary lambert told me that i am a ******* tree stump so i went outside to absorb the earth

always take time out of every day to go out without shoes on
feel the grass beneath your feet and between your toes
go out in public without shoes as well
do not be self-conscious
do not blush and curl in your toes when people stare
always remember that feet are weird anyway
always be proud of your weird parts

one time i did dxm and almost puked
laying in the cool dewy grass made me feel better though
i couldn't fathom how beautiful everything was in that moment
(i do not condone the use of drugs)

one time there was a time when i didn't need nicotine or drugs to feel better about myself
i miss that, that time in my life

i'm getting better though
i hope you are too
i hope you get completely naked before a shower and while the water's heating up i hope you look at yourself and touch all of you and i hope you slide your hands down your ribs and hips and think "******* i am one ****, fuckable *******"
because that's exactly what you are
i don't want this to be a cliche "u r beautiful" thing but i think that's what it's turning into

a cool thing about life is that when you cry your cheeks get stained with black but it always goes back to normal
your skin, that is
a cool thing about you is that you are like your skin
a cool thing about your skin is that it's always changing, always shedding, always growing
what i'm trying to say is that nothing is permanent
that you aren't always gonna be stuck in this **** hole
that you'll always find a way to resurface
that you aren't just a crack in the cement, you're the whole ******* city
haha, i love you you stupid head
a lot of people do
be kind to others because we're all just dumb beautiful walking flesh things
smile at every stranger and love like plants do
i don't care what you say, you are someone's sun
so shut up with all that "i'm worthless no one will ever love me" crap
be a conceded *******
love yourself
disregard rude remarks
basically be like kanye
u do u booboo

keep all of this in mind the next time you're afraid to go out in a certain outfit or to change your hair or to wear lots of makeup or no makeup or eat or any ******* nonsense you wanna do. please just do it. dont be a *****

What if I were there?
       I'd sit in the dark and hope you left. I won't tell you that you make
        me nervous.
And then what? ;)
      Please don't think I care about you.
Send me a pic.
      I know you don't care about me either.
Oh yeah baby
       Is this what we have come to call intimacy?
U know what I'd do 2 u?
      Emotionless exchanges, just for a moment of pleasure and a lifetime
        of shame.
What r u wearing?
      *I don't want this. I wanted love. This isn't love.

I think my lips are chapped because I've kissed so many boys who don't love me.
You ask me 'what do you taste like?' I don't think its very **** to say regret and sadness.
You say 'when can I taste you' My taste has been passed around so many tongues there is nothing left for you.

He tells me 'I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you' as he kisses my neck. The next week the bite mark on my belly is fading and I can barely remember the colour of your eyes.

My sister says 'you will change your mind' she says, 'all woman want to be mothers'.
I have stumbled in at 4am with the taste of strangers in my throat to see my mother sitting upright waiting for me, I think of the night I spent crying on my mothers lap in a&e;, certain I couldn't make it through the day, the way my brother scowls at my mother, my sister telling her that 'you could've done more, you could've walked away.' I. Dont. Want. Children.

My mum tells me she is old, she is tired. She desperately needs a man to hold doors open for her and carry her shopping. I am trying to remember that needing someone does not mean you are weak.

My grandmother gave me waist beads to encourage fertility. She says 'god gave you those hips to birth children'. Ive never told her that i lost my faith in god the year i lost my virginity.  And if there is a god, i don't want his ******* fertility. I want to break these beads and let drugs engulf me to prove my grandmothers blind faith wrong.
I laugh and pray before our meal and kiss her forehead, 'god bless'.

He tells me 'i know youre *****, its natural'. I laugh and play along for his delight. 'women are just like toys, television, easy puzzles'. I think of my father beating my mother, my fathers face all the men ive walked past in the street. My mothers face is my own.

'if you don't want boys to touch you you shouldn't wear tight clothes'. I think of all the boys who have run their fingers over my back when i was dressed in clothes from neck to ankle. I wonder if god is a sexist man. I wonder if there's any men who aren't implicitly sexist.

He tells me, 'I'll spend hours on you, I'll make you believe in god again'. There is nothing I can do but laugh. I ask him, 'does your mother know you speak to girls like this?'
He ***** his teeth, 'do you always have to be so difficult?'  
I kiss him but I think of his mother, foreign and lonely, 2 sons and no husband.

He says 'you need a real man' I think of all the other boys who have told me that before leaving me.
He wants to know why I'm in hospital so much, 'how are we going love each other when you can't tell me what's wrong with you' I don't want to tell him that I've cut my arms so badly I can see god in my blood, and sometimes the voice in my head screams so loud I black out. I kiss his chest. He doesn't ask again. I resent him for that.

I've been ignoring my fathers phone calls for two weeks because his voice sounds like absence and I don't want to hear another 'I love you' from a man who doesn't know my secrets.