I am a master seamstress
I sew on a grin every day
You can never see my seams
Careful little stitchings
All across the surface

At the end of the day
I cut every little string
I let my sewn smile fall weak

I could smile without it
But it wouldn't be true
Because my cute little smile
Is merely a façade
The real me hides behind seams
She sews to be a survivor
The little seamstress I become


I am a master seamstress
I sew thoughts onto papers
The ink could never bleed through

My strong tight stitchings
Gliding across the blank paper

At the edge of the sheet
I find myself stopping
My stitches want to unravel
I have to let them out
Because they look so caged

So I exterminate my thoughts
They never come back to visit
I set them free for a reason
And it was for them to survive
This little seamstress has a heart


I am a master seamstress
I turn colors into thoughts
The thoughts I turn to material
The material I turn to beauty
The beauty I turn to stitches
The stitches heal broken hearts

My work is so well known
But then they go and leave
I do my part and they are pleased
I stitch their hearts up

They cut some stitchings
Right off my patched heart
The little strings I use
On my seamless tiny grin fray
The seamstress I was works no wonders


I am a master seamstress
I sew the strings onto the puppets
They act a lot like I do
So I admire their tough hearts
They are controlled by another
Little hands lift them up
And make them walk through life

They have their grins plastered on
Just like my seamless little smile
They prance and fly among us
But we never seem to notice them

It's like they are invisible
Falling upon deaf eyes
But I keep them alive
Because a seamstress always saves


I am a master seamstress
I sew what some call impossible
I prove them wrong with one stitch
Still they see right through me

I sewed myself invisibly
Don't let them see the real me
Don't let them know the seamstress
I've sewed their eyes to know
Not to look upon me
As I fix as I repair

They think of me as a fairy
Patching up their cuts
I'm just a small little figure
They never really see
That's just the way a seamstress likes


I am a master seamstress
I sew my wings of thread
Wear them proudly like a trophy
Every stitch is always perfect

They fly up off the wings
They soar when I fly up high
Drooping when I try to walk

My wings are seamless grins
They pretend to be when I'm not
Just like the little grin of everyday

Fly away all you little seams
All the little frayed strings
Gather up in all my stitchings

They look upon the air with care
But the seamstress can't fly away anymore


I am a master seamstress
Sewing up what cannot be fixed by man

I don’t mean to alarm you
But I am dying
I’ve been dying for awhile
And I hope that when I go
I join the ranks of the greats

Robin Williams
Audrey Hepburn
Robert Frost
George Washington

Names everyone knows
Names I grew up admiring
Aspiring
Wanting
Wishing

Everything tries to be them
And falls flat
Probably because I’m dying
And when you’re dying
You aren’t as great
As you once thought

My jokes will never crack a smile
On the wrinkled
Cavernous face
Of Mr. Robin Williams

My beauty lies inside
Since I lack the seraphic
Elegant
Graceful
Beauty of Audrey Hepburn

My words are mere letters
Where they could be scars
And stars
Like Robert Frost

I lack courage
I lack leadership
Greatness finds victims aside me
Leaving me
Always one step behind
George Washington and his armies

Bet he keeps those armies in his sleevies

I’m dying up here
Just like these sucky jokes

I’m dying here
From school
From work
Anxiety
Grades
And all the like

And I’m dying in here
From loneliness
Ostracization
Failure to complete
Lack of motivation

I’m dying here
Can’t you see

i fell in love with a boy
who was fragile
like paper

in a way we were paper
together
i was falling apart
he was
sensitive
and vulnerable

this boy wasn't much
he was plain
save for a few typewriter smears
under his saddened eyes
and paperclip wings
adorning his back

we painted on each other

i covered him with strokes
of happiness
distractions
and a sense of
something
he was a brush upon me
reminding me of who we were
and what it meant to
know

he started to fall for me
the girl who was blown over
by a breeze
the girl who
thought eating was a bother
the girl who loved a boy
who was nothing more
than an intangible
whisper

then there we were
holding each other up
when the wind came
and took our painted bodies
ripped his paperclip wings from his back
tore our paper selves into shreds

we were blown into the world
strewn and lost

and apart

under tires
that tread terrible teeth
into our tiny pieces

stamped us into cement
and stole us
from what was

and now here we are
in what is

i can't pick myself up
because i don't know where i am
who i am
and where the paper boy i loved
has gone

out here is a world
where fragile love
and caring hearts
cannot bond
without loss
without being forgotten

just like
the paper boy
who smiled when he saw me
and who painted me into meaning

who saw
something
who
knew
who was
there
but now is
here

is

gone

thanks
no i mean it

thanks

i was actually feeling a bit
d                          
o                  
w        
n

and­ i needed you to tell me
on a monday night
at 7:53
in the middle of july

that i had i nice ***

it really brightened my day
to know
that i
a human person

can be complimented
because of my
assets

instead of the fact
that i work
all the time
without getting tired
or giving up

or that
i study
so much
i feel like
i'm falling apart

or that
i spend time
trying to make the world
around me
a little
bit
better

i really wanted to affirm
what girls are told
from the time
they can listen

that cup size matters
and whether or not
you fill out your jeans
means
whether or not
you might matter

that we will be ignored
in the work place
if we aren't
supermodels

and even if we are
that is all we become

bodies

not people

you know
somebody once told me
it doesn't matter
what you look like
because your personality can make up
for anything

which should be good
like
i look like quasimodo
but with a sense of humor
and a bit of *****
i'm esmerelda

i can look like a spork
but if i laugh
and play along
like nothing's wrong
like girls should
i can be a full fork

i love that i have to be something

really

i do

i love that being
is more important than
existing

i love that i have to be someone who listens and never speaks

i love that i have to work with all my might to be thin enough for people who don't care about other people

i love that i have to have a double d and up in order to be even noticed

i love that my **** has to be filled out and gigantic so that i can be assured personhood by a man

because girls are only

what

the

men

see

we are reduced to objects
who give up
and don't fight

because the women who fight
are criticized
and *****
and killed
and we can't stop it

because the more we speak

the more we are silenced

so thank you
sir

for reminding me at 7:53
in a menards parking lot
your wedding ring glinting
like the malice in your eye
that all i am
is
what you see

there are so many
letters
words
phrases
i want to write all over
my skin
so that maybe
just maybe
the bits of me
inside
might come outside
and show that i
in fact
am not a shell
not
just a body
with so much lost
and so little left
to lose

the thing is
we're all bodies
going through a day to day
like there's never anything wrong
like there's never been anything wrong
like there's never going to be anything wrong

but there's something wrong
with pretending
because it hides
the truth
from even yourself
you think you know everything
until it's early in the morning
late in the night
and you're screaming
crying
who am i
to no one
because no one is always there
and no one always listens
because no one cares

and we tattoo ourselves
with
letters
words
phrases
that mean something
so that when someone passes by
they just might see
who
instead of just a body
just a life
that can never be as complicated
as our own
because nothing is as good
as our own

our own
letters

our own
words

our own
phrases

that at least make us
some semblance
of own
some picture
of self
some symbol
of who

we are like nothing
until proven something
we are guilty as one of many
until innocent as individual

i want my name to adorn my forehead
so i can scream
i am here

i want your name on my lips
to whisper
i love you
like it's the one thing
you can always believe

i want alone pasted to my hands
as though
anyone can see
all the hands i've never held
and will never hold
and the holding i'll never get to do
by being
so
****
alone

i want a's grafted into my chest
because
once upon a time
i was told they define me
so if i ever
get ripped apart
they'll see
my worth
as a grade
90-100
a
a minus
a plus
a bit of self-worth
assurance i am worth it
approval of who

i want praise shaped into the thinning skin of my stretch marks
because
there should be
no reason
to give a ****
about the carefully placed
skin caterpillars
after all
as soon as they become butterflies
everybody loves
once more

i want feelings plastered on my legs
because i'd love for what
i hate
to be covered
in someone's love
even if only no one cares

i want to be covered
crown to toe
with visions of me
to make
self
and individual
out of
no one
the only one
who cares

He comes by my house nearly every day
To court me, I’m sure, comes sandy-haired Mack
Again, I forget to ask if he’s gay…
At least I know tomorrow he’ll be back.

I am always the one to call him first
And sometimes he doesn’t even pick up
My parents think he and I are the worst
We cost much money and greet them with “’sup”

He’s only around for fleeting minutes
Leaving too quickly to suit my liking
For a few seconds in his car, he sits
I bet debating taking me hiking

I think I might love him, oh me, oh my
Beautiful pizza delivery guy

we live in the salem of judgment
acting as though
these are the societal judgment trials
acting as though
we are perfect
and everyone else
is either subpar
or evil
by comparison

we look at people we don't like
or don't know
and act as though being propelled by
a mob

throw our judgment
like rocks

douse it in oil
and light it up
to surround those
we deem
inherently suspect

string it
at first as innocently
as christmas popcorn strings
growing into a licorice rope
and soon
it is a rope we unconsciously
throw around necks
at people
with lives
and loves
and families
we always forget they might have

because we're so
****
obsessed with ourselves
it's like
no one else
matters
or even
exists

only us
and our lives
and loves
and families

i'm not blameless
but whoever says they are
is not

just like the witch trials
though
our salem
tries to end
once it gets personal

it never seems to matter
who we hurt and judge
until
it's us

because that's all we care about
isn't it?
only
us

...

forever

i have a question
are you

gay

or just

a hipster

i never can really tell
you dress the way
of either

your poetry
provides
no hints

you compliment
girls
and complement
their interests
and yet you never
date
any

yet you get along
with guys
and don't seem
to flirt
but i could
just have
a weak gaydar

so are you gay
or just a hipster

taking pictures
writing poetry
dressing well
and flowery

like oscar wilde
you're a dandy
and just like him
we don't know
your true love
identity

you could be gay
or just be
basic
liking dudes
(or dudettes)
before it was cool

so before you sip
your corporate
starbucks

riddle me this

do you like guys
or vinyl more

do you need a beard
or want a hipster beard

do you fancy testosterone
or organic cupcakes

are you gay
or just a hipster

my anxiety is like
driving alone
through eternal yellow lights
you're always ancipating
expecting
fearing
the red light
unsure whether you have
time to go
or if you should just
stop
cease
panic
and you know there's green lights
you just passed one
but the red feels
so close
so much more real
that you can't imagine
ever seeing green again

but sometimes
you're afraid it's the
point of no return
and you have to slam
the brakes
at a yellow light
and people are honking
staring
laughing
screaming
why are they screaming?
and you want to move
to say something
but you're frozen
in time
almost as if
the yellow lights
all are broken
frozen
dysfunctional
just like
you

Picture me as a rocket
Soaring through the skies
As I wave to you all
And call out little goodbyes

Picture me as the planets
Whose touch you won't know
Though I'd trade them
To be with you on land below

Picture me as Mercury
The closest to the sun
I only know what heat feels like
From the summer with you, done

Picture me as Venus
My oceans all dried up
Where I used to wait for you
With lonely wine in my cup

Picture me as Mars
A last ditch at saving
When the Earth is gone
And people are still waving

Picture me as Jupiter
Whenever you breathe in
Then sing our little song
And flash your beautiful grin

Picture me as Saturn
When you see the rings
The ones on our fingers
And on our angel wings

Picture me as Uranus
Rolling on my side
To catch a better glimpse
Of the one that is ocean eyed

Picture me as Neptune
A bright blue colored orb
So far away from everything
No sunlight left to absorb

Picture me as Pluto
A forgotten little thing
Though I'm so small and cold
I'd rather just -- with you -- sing

Picture me as the moon
Shining down on you all
When I try to get to you
Without the terrifying fall

Picture me as a clock
Counting down the days
That I want to go faster
And I need that gaze

Picture me as your timer
You keep me near your head
I'm there with you in spirit
And we lay by your bed

Picture me as the stars
Whenever you are alone
I'm always watching you
From this golden sky throne

Picture me as a fireball
Made of ice and gas
A star falling downward
As you just watch me pass

Picture me as the sky
As I hold up the space above
And look down and see you all
In faith and hope and love

Picture me as the galaxy
Far away from you
But I'm full of constellations
Remember when we named a few

Picture me as space
Jumbled high and flying
Starry skies you see
From the moon's teary crying

But picture me as a rocket
That didn't mean to leave
So see me and the stars
Whenever you wish to grieve.

long before the days of the netflix
streaming services
people either had cable
on demand
or got netflix dvds
like a mail order
redbox

but i grew up
with public television
pbs
the the public broadcast station
filled with stories
and shows
that wanted to teach
while entertaining

liberty kids taught me history
while cyberchase showed me
math can save the world
when it's important
arthur allowed children
everywhere
to see that we all are equal
and we all can be friends
because everybody that you see
has an original point of view

and i say hey!
why have we abandoned
the important lessons
for the sake of entertainment

my little brother makes jokes
about logan paul
recording
and exploiting
a suicide victim

my little brother told me
he wants to be the next
bachelor
on abc

my little brother called me
a **

when i was nine years old
like he is
i asked my mom
for extra television time
so i could tune into
fetch with ruff ruffman
at 3pm
and see science
in action

i begged for a game boy
not for madden17
i read by the light
of a little reading lamp
not with a blue glowing light
exuding from a new samsung tablet

i'm not saying technology
is bad
or that we should
regress

i'm saying our children
our siblings
and maybe even our friends
are growing up ******* up

and we can change that
but we never do

i want to tell my children
dragon tales
dragon tales
not to turn off youtube before bed
i want children now
to learn before they even
enter a classroom
but i suspect that no one
will listen
or even stop
to care