this floor feels like a raft
& i am a castaway
in an ocean of empty bottles
"don't worry wilson -
i'll do all the paddling"*
wading through the night
looking for morning's land
the soothing, softness of sand
i still feel you,
like phantom limbs
clinging to my hips
like the tide to the beach
like the smoke to my lungs
beer & cigarettes heavy on my breath
dread weighing heavy on my chest
last night,
my fantasy you fell out of love
with my saintly me.

when i was young
i drew hearts that looked like the letter "B" -
B for battle
- for bullies
- for boys who would sting me
a thousand times over
and i worry about my allergies.
when i was eight i was a cub scout
enlisted in a group on how to become a man
i didn't want to play dodgeball,
you stupid ****
i just wanted to sit back and look
at the other boys in their uniforms
my heart pounding like a moth on glass
i promise that i will do my best
to keep it inside of my chest
to try and suppress the urge
to walk over to peter
and kiss him like i ought to kiss girls
well, i didn't earn many activity badges
and i never won a game of dodgeball
but i've washed away the shame,
come to learn it's okay to kiss boys
like i ought to kiss girls
infact,
it's
*******
great

i was born second
out of a pair of twins
on march the 1st 1990
i always ask
for an extra shot in my coffee
when i was a kid
my favourite power ranger
was the pink power ranger
i felt like this was wrong
so i pretended my favourite
was the ******* ranger
i am black & blue
from all the things
i beat myself up about
i used to carry my shame
like bags under my eyes
it was so heavy
i think that's why
i always over-pack
when i'm away from home
i am almost always
wearing sweatpants when i'm alone
if these walls could talk
i'm afraid that they wouldn't have much to say
except to tell you that
i'm getting better at letting go
of my shame
i live vicariously through drew barrymore
i can't ride a bike
my sense of balance is terrible
sometimes stringing together a sentence
feels like an assault course
and i am the least athletic person
you could probably meet
i am a perpetual mixture
of sunshine & sleet
i'm scared
that if you come into my bedroom
you will read all my secrets
on my sheets
the wrinkles on my forehead
are really threads
holding an earthquake
inside my mind
one day
i will burst at the seams
climb to my highest tower
and scream
"my favourite power ranger
is the pink ******* power ranger."

if i tattoo your favourite words
all over my body
would you breathe in my pages
& kiss my spine?
because for you
i could be a timeless classic
come,
quote me
from head to toe
so i can find myself
on your lips.

your snoring is so loud
it sounds like you are feng shui-ing
the furniture in your head
but i love it
see,
i could list all your bad qualities
& the thousand reasons
why i love them
but instead
i wanna catch your flaws
like fireflies in jars
and hide them on a high shelf
so you never
have to
see
them.

i heard that women tend to
tell lies more often than men,
but when they to, it's to build
other people up, while men usually
lie to make themselves look better

so at midnight, when you said
that you loved me, and i told you
that i loved you too, which one
of us was really in the wrong?

some of my friends have this habit
of waking up with letters on their foreheads
and falling asleep with numbers
on their lips

what happened to
when you grow up,
you can be anything

now people are essentially saying
you lost the right to a future
with your grade on that math test

do you see an L
on my face?

i won't starve just because
i'm not a human
calculator.

I saw a woman in a restaurant yesterday.
It was a family restaurant;
the tables came in fours and fives, not ones and twos.
She sat alone on a table with three empty seats.

She studied the menu with concentration,
paying no attention to the world that swirled and lashed around her like vicious waves; a coming tide.
Then she did a funny thing: she took out a book, and began to read.
Amidst all the chaos, she somehow found solace.
I envied her, really, for being able to do that—
to not care,
to dare.

I wanted to admire her.
I tried to admire her, I really did.
But I couldn’t.
I pitied her, and cursed myself for it.
And the plates kept clinking,
and the cups kept singing,
and families kept laughing,
and she kept reading.

The bones of you spoke to mine,
finger and thumb picking the ivory,
screaming softly at daintiest pushes
and ground sweetly at my bones.

My hands washed over the high keys,
though settled for the low. You see,
my fingers ached without yours.
They suited the high; they were nimble

and sharply caught each note,
whilst I kept the wallowing octaves
moaning like an ocean’s breath.
Now the hammers thundered softly,

they plummet through the sails
having had lost that lengthy breeze,
tumbling into a lonesome abyss.
I had you, though now your chime

resonates right through the depths;
it leaves my heart crying for a shine,
a glimmer in the dark. These bones
play bones, and a piano plays me.