can i stitch myself into you
so my hurt becomes yours
and yours becomes mine?
can we heal each others scars
and halve the pain?
can we travel the world
and grow lemons
in the backyard of an old house?
can i share a life with you
or will the weight of our problems
sink the stone to the bottom of the river?
because i promise you
when the scars keep opening
and you can't hide them anymore
i can't promise to fix you,
but i know you won't bleed out alone

the voices are never quiet
the sound creeps under doorways
and through keyholes
until it's everywhere
and there is no escape
from the endless noise
****** yelling
silent whispers
bombs and
knives sharpening
infiltrating
penetrating
perforating
until it's all you hear
until it becomes all i am
until it becomes all i know
until the voices and i
are alone together
always

"the reason i hug you so much is because that if i let go i'm afraid you will too"

loud
the world invades
until
i die
but no
"false alarm"
my mind says
like i didn't just lie on the floor
clutching my ears
in pain
hurting so much
   d
y
      i
  n
        g
until i feel like a ghost
in the shell of a person
lost
caves
tunnels
offices
hallways
lockers
and i can't return
to the shell of me
just watching from above.

i've always wondered what it would feel like to stitch my skin open
to have control over myself
finally

to reshape my body
by cutting away at parts
and stitching in others

will the silk thread
and red-hot needle
bear the weight of my troubles

or will it snap

and my stitches come undone

it happened again
the bathroom floor is covered in blood
mom help
i'm stuck in my nightmare
how do i get out?

why did you leave
why is it always me
why am i the sick one
why are you always perfect
why should i have known
why didn't you tell me before
i didn't understand
i didn't know what i was doing wrong
and now it's going to happen all over again

why did you leave me
and why didn't i deserve to be okay?

my mouth burns



since i was young i was taught to please,
taught to hold the flames in my gums
and let them burn my flesh
for the sake of others

the words i have eaten rise like flames in my throat,
scorching every bite i take
like it was my fault

the charred teeth make it hard to eat
so i stopped
(it did wonders for my figure)
(at least, that's what they said)

the root of my teeth turns green with rot,
until it's indistinguishable from the bile in the sink
their opinions served to me on a silver platter,
red and pulsing organs matching the scarlet scars
on my wrist and in my mouth

this life was given to me,
this heirloom passed down,
so everyone gets to feel the weight
of wanting to be needed
and needing to be wanted

when the opinions go uneaten
(i'm full on my own)
the heart goes unbeaten
(why should i help you)
the response unsweetened
(you're not helping)
and the meat reacts
(violently)

so the scars are ignored,
the burning mouth and charred teeth unnoticed.


their rotting flesh is painted red

there was a boy with scars once
he had anger
years of red hot gum stuck in his furnace of teeth
the mirror of his mouth protecting his soul
like thread knotted
twisting
twisting
s n a p .
he punched the mirror
and the glass fangs swallowed his heart

there was a child made of flowers once
the fangs are still embedded in their ribcage,
but now flowers grow from their scars,
sedum and chrysanthemums
sprouting for all to see
but every morning,
the flowers are carefully glued on,
so the scars underneath don't exist

once, there was a girl made of thorns
she glides on the wind,
the forest echoing her name
(because there was always someone calling)
she comes and goes,
a child of the road
never a home, always a house

once upon a time, the girl made of thorns and the child made of flowers were one,
and the thorns taught the flowers to take pride in their scars,
as the flowers taught the thorns to push back the glass monsters,
(but leave the fangs so you never forget)