celebrating easter all alone
you'd think I'd be used to it,
being on my own.
The pain never goes away,
I think it's here to stay,
I think I better go and run,
'cause stayin here aint' fun.

I feel the wind is movin...
I better go with the flow
leave my boxes in the rain
let em' grow some mold,
think I'll leave it all behind,
even my name.

I'm just a gold fish,
swimming round and round,
I could be ten times bigger
but this bowl is much too small,

I've got some gravel,
and a little fish castle,
I get fed three times a day
and swim like I'm dead as play,

Round and round
for the rest of my life,
getting funny looks from people
through the ***** glass
that's distorted to make
my body look deformed and heinous,

so round and round I go,
not much to do,
no place to be,
trapped in this little lonely hell,
this little empty hole,
this little glass bowl.

If your ship does not come,
swim to it.
If you find there is no wind,
pull it with your teeth.
If your captain does not know the way,
then steer it with your gut.
Should no crew wish to accompany you,
get a smaller boat.
Do not let hunger or fierce waves or storms hinder you,
think of them as if nature's most powerful forces
are congratulating you on your way.
Do not fear the sinking of your ship,
for as long as you do not doubt,
your ship will keep on sailing.

I think about my cousin,
the girl I never met
because she died too young.

Who were you?
what was your favorite color?
I heard your hair was curly black
and your eyes were ocean blue.

Were you in love?
depressed?
blissful?
what did you like to do?
what did you want to do?
Who would you become?
Who were you,
you whose name has never been said since.
They've all forgotten about you, it seems,
Yet I who've never met you
think about you too often.

I have a million questions for you,
but one reigns over them all,
black haired girl
with blue blue eyes...
I want to ask a dark, twisted question:

What were you thinking when it happened?
Did you scream?
how could you not,
must've hurt like hell,
Did you fight back?
Did you thrash and beg?
what did it feel like to have your body set aflame?
flesh melted away.
what did it feel like?
what did it feel like,
to burn alive
at the hands of your father?

I often wonder,
with a feeling of great tragedy
and listlessness,
of what would have happened
should I have scrounged up the money
to pursue my dream.
Overcome by woe,
I can't help but fear
how different things might be
had I flown off
where no one I know has been before,
cringing at the thought
that I might have sacrificed triumph
for comfort,
happiness
for safety,
that I let the mere matter of money
pour cement over everything I've ever wanted.

Am I doomed to feel loss?
In theory I do not mind
being confined to my own company
till death do me part,
but I am hindered by my heart,
by feelings.
I'd like to say I'm fine
with this solitude
but my wretched heart
beats out in anger
declaring it is lonely.
Why can't my heart agree with the rest of me?
So terribly inconsiderate
to make my life difficult
to make me feel sad for all the things I do not have
when in truth I do not care.
My heart is a monstrous thing
a creature I'd like to be left in a box
on the side of a road
perhaps on a rainy day
because clearly my heart enjoys
dramatic scenery such as that.
Truly the things that make me most miserable,
are the doings of my heart.

I take three showers a day
1 in the morning
to wash away the night terrors
1 after I get home
for me to cry
and shake
and let the boiling water scorch my body
to help distract from everything I'm scared of
which is a lot of things
and then when I'm calm
I'll work out all my regret
then take a shower to clean the extra off.
then I'll go to sleep
and wake sweaty and distressed
and repeat repeat repeat
and I can only be happy
because it used to be more showers
then it was 4
and now it is 3
and that means
I'm getting better.

Why does being told to take care of myself
make me cry so?
I always feel like crying,
I'm always on the brink
of letting waterfalls drip down
but I hold them back
which sets them on fire.
You would think with my daily tears
that I would run out,
dry up like my **** skin,
but they keep coming.
I am an everlasting well
of misery and heartache,
I know not what keeps
this well so plentiful,
but I wish it would dry up and crumble.

I'm in the habit
of thinking bad
and feeling sad
and wishing I had
all these things
owned by the likes of kings
years marked by tree rings

I'm in the habit
of being lazy
no sleep I feel hazy
can't control my emotions-I'm going crazy
breaking smashing going insane
because I'm angry in the brain
obsessed with the idea of fame

I'm in the habit
of eating junk
trying to stay calm as a monk
Hiding knives in a trunk
because childhood nightmares
keep sending these flares
to open a door nobody dares

I'm in the habit
of being jealous
thinking I'm Wiccan worshipping tellus
but I haven't the energy to be zealous
straight jacket
maybe rabid
what's that racket


I'm in the habit
of forming habits
and ticks and quirks
wishing I could leave the stratus
busy wondering if I should
but it does me no good
picking up fragments
should I sew or stitch
confused from the start
outcast built of wood like a witch
these habits
set fire to my wooden heart

I choose the lonely puppy cowering in the corner
I adopt the shivering stray
I carry the wolf collapsed on the road

I eat stale bread
burnt gluten free waffles
straight grapefruit juice
cinnamon on the tongue
pickle juice and
spicy foods that produce tears

I sit in the snow
in shorts and tank
I leave the curler in my hair too long
burning my stale hair always
I wash my hands until they bleed
I eat until I'm sick
I scream until my throat is raw

I wash myself
under scolding water
that leaves my back
acne ridden
itchy
and tomato red

I sleep until I'm disoriented
and sick
then I sleep some more

I cry rivers-
                 never just one tear

I dare not speak a word on my mind
I dare not speak the truth
homework pages blank
no strength to go to school
I dress too plain
or too crazy
too bulky
or too tight

playing Jenga with responsibilities
and never winning
drowning in being alive
but not really trying to swim.

I do everything too much,
or not at all
compensating
                            for
                                     a
                                              million
         ­                                                          different
                                                                ­                                 things.

movies
meals
activities

choice of dress
choice of words
choice of pets

events
laugh
decor

thoughts
feelings
actions
decisions
ide­as
revisions

there is no denying
in every aspect of my life
I am mild

I want an ugly boy
so rough and tuff
don't care bout anythin but me
I want an ugly boy
he'll act as crazy as can be
crazy in love with me
maybe he zef
so I can be blessed
anything I need
he got it
anything I want
he got it
I want an ugly boy
my pitbull
my protector
I don't need to tame him
I like him how he is
he like me how I is
he likes that I am his
he don't need me to change
perfect to the letter
but I change anyway
for the better
I won't have to spend my nights so cold
in fear of growing old
he'll drink my tears
for they're tears of joy
all I really want
is an ugly boy

I’m not paranoid,
it’s just that every word spoken to me
every compliment given
with that pitched tone
that implies an untruthful pity,
sounds like a lie.

Mr. Money's never satisfied
and all those tears you've cried?
honey they better be diamonds because
every penny counts
when you're down
every penny counts
when stomach grumbles sound
Every nickel hurts
every nickel burns
every dime
is worth more than your time
You give it all
to Mr. Money
and Mr. Money
gives all
to none.

The hungry Hungry Hippo
has teeth that will crush your bones
a mouth so big
there's no escape
the hungry hungry hippo is on the prowl
skulking in the water
it gets bigger by the day
because the hungry hungry hippo
cannot satisfy the taste
grinding teeth down to shreds
it needs to eat
needs to fill up
bloodshot sticky eyes
drowning in its own drool
not enough in the water
it's coming onto land
the hungry hungry hippo
is on the hunt
and it's never gonna stop.

I had this dream last night,
about a man
who spent years
wandering the yellow halls
of a moldy hotel.
Always at the end of the dream
he spends his time
hiding in the stairwell.
Up and down
down and up
he goes
hiding with every step--
            what is he hiding from?
        The people looking for him… I think.
He doesn’t leave the hotel,
he just keeps wandering
and hiding
all with great urgency.

The last time I had this dream
I nearly slit my throat.

My life is like sand,
kinda nice,
kinda irritating,
and very quickly slipping through my fingers.

It’s hard to speak
to the people around me
when I know
that when I go
they’ll forget all about me
and I’ll be just a name
with a face
they can hardly place.

It's time for the rehearsal
a hearse rolls
up the gravel driveway
the highway
is closed for business
bunnies
in black suits
hopping along with white flutes
playing along with the tune
coughing in the fumes
the tiny angel is shouting
it's a parade
it's a parade
scratching at boils sprouting
pretending
pretending
the earth isn't covered in something blacker than shade.

I have wasted my life
worrying
and cowering
and sleeping
and crying
feeling so scared and alone
acting so ******* fragile
but now
I have a real reason to be afraid
a fear that looms
and cackles
and quakes me with fear--


I have no doubt
that I have wasted my years,
I've had ample time to grow
but remain stunted
a child still shivering in her own bruises and blood
wondering why her family doesn't love her
why no one loves her
I haven't moved on
I haven't changed
I've never lived
more than once--
the best years of my life
the best people
are behind me
ahead is work and bills and disappointment
I ****** up
I ****** up bad
I haven't made a dent in this world
no not even a scratch
I've done nothing
been nobody
and It makes me so scared
and so sad
that I'm not sure what to do
how do I move on
how do I progress
how do I start living my life
                                         a life
                                    any life
I'm desperate to know
how to fix my wrongs
I'm desperate to believe
there's a way I can come back
from this mistake.

chikity chikity
like train carts
along an old railway
chikity chikity
chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck
rattle me
like a cage
made of bones
from your old friends
chuckity chickity
shaking shivering
like a ******
on the verge
of losing
the only thing
she was told she is worth
in God's eyes
chickity chickity flick
flicking along
along the tracks
with you steaming the engine
coal in the fire
burning brighter
chickity chickity chick
chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck-chuck
down tracks you've been before
and will go down again
again rattling me to the core
chickity chickity chick
chuck-chuck-chuckity-chuck
because      you       can.

Hot showers are not long enough,
the drives seem never ending,
the lines on my face
tally the hardships,
everything I've known
is forgotten by those who hand me my coffee.
My fingers fumble
to press buttons
that remind me how complicated everything is now,
and how it all used to be.
I take walks through the streets
and am alone.
I keep my shoes tied
slacks straight
and shirt buttoned righteously.
I can only brush my greying hair back
and look at the world anew each day,
to see that the world still cogs on,
and then I know
that I am yesterdays man.

I appreciate men with good looks
and good books
With slick black hair
who show they care
cheekbones that cut through my heart
Can't take my eyes off em' from the start.
They dress well at all times
humming as peaceful as chimes,
rough
and gruff
yet smooth like milky batter
mad as a hatter,
pale as the whites of my eye
so ***** I could die.
We don't have to speak
to know our connection is anything but weak,
Maybe he plays chess
Doesn't mind I cook less
invigorates me
to be the best that I can be
for when he holds my hand
space and time snap like a band
and           we             know            we           are            free.

Nobody has time to define
their own beginnings
middles and ends
non linear format
muttering disguise through minimalism and simplicity
in it's rawest of transformations
and I can't bare to sit still long enough
to appreciate it.
The world is going too fast
we can't sit still
shaking our legs at our desk
instant updates
sweet sugar
instant pleasure
instant
asap
at a whim
we're moving so fast
we can't slow down
not enough to appreciate
a tune that can lift you
and carry you
into a mindful experience.
I'd like to lay here
and listen to the bloodflows of sohn
but I was raised in this very fast world
and I don't know how to slow down
to close my eyes
and listen
without checking my texts and notifications
I can't slow down
I can't be still
I can't breath.

Let me post a selfie
how's my hair
makeup
angle
filter
how do I look
did I get likes yet?
Let me post a status
one about how much I love my besties
another on how I learned a new lesson
now here's a photo of my breakfast
I have to comment
like
poke
post new updates
every day
becuase that's just what you do nowadays,
that's just how it goes
because we're all so afraid
if we don't keep posting
if we don't get those likes
and invites
and pokes
and fill up our messages
and notifications,
that we're going to be forgotten.
That if we don't solidify our presence
on social media
then we don't have a presence at all.
We spend so much time
trying to make other people
think we exist,
that we never end up existing at all,
not really.
We don't need all these people
and confirmations
to tell us we exist.
we already do.
If only it weren't so easy to forget that.

Icy breeze
whipping through
my freshly curled hair,
goose bump covered arms
holding on to creaking chains
as I swing,
with her,
under the night sky
salted with stars
and bright planets
and oh look,
over there is the Little Dipper

I can’t act,
not at all.
I’m a disgrace to the theatre community.
Every word I write is shot
and my body feels so **** hot
and so **** cold
both at the same time
should I even bother trying to make this rhyme?
I can’t make eye contact with anyone,
I can’t speak to the ones I like,
the people I wish I could be friends with…
the closer I want to be
the farther away I sit.
Something inside me has changed
I keep crying
and I feel so scared
and so sad
When was the last time I did homework?
I don’t even have the time for netflix anymore
I need sleep like I need air
do I need air? My lungs hurt so bad
I keep having these dreams
these awful dreams
each one I die
those I love most devour me
and at the end always
I **** myself.
I feel so sad
so ******* sad
and I don’t know what to do
and I don’t know why I feel like this
I just know that through the day
my eyes sting like hell
from holding back all the tears
trembling on the brink of release.
Something has changed,
I don’t know what
or how
or why
or what I’m supposed to do about it,
I just know
That something has changed.

Angel.
She was just that
shaggy golden locks
to provide warmth when we cuddled.
She was old and kind
and couldn't love me more.
I slept with her, cuddled and happy
behind the couch
while my sister played violin
and my brother piano to accompany.
I told you stories and went on adventures
and loved you dearly,
but soon you couldn't step into the tub for a wash.
behind the couch was all you were,
It wasn't your fault
it was ours
it was his,
for beating you like he beat us
and when you tripped and fell on the stairs
he wouldn't let you go to the vet
he wouldn't let us fix you..
believe me
if we had the money we would have.
But soon too soon
you were old and broken
and-
I was too little to remember your death.


His name was Shadow,
but he was quite the opposite.
His fur captured all the sun's rays
and kept them to brighten my day.
It was the first time
they let me choose the family pet
and of all the happy golden puppies
that jumped and barked up against us
I had only eyes for the pup
who sat shivering in the corner.
I took that pup home and I loved him.
He was my best friend
and we played for hours and hours
but maybe I shouldn't have picked the pup
that wasn't like all the others.
All the dog training classes in the world
couldn't fix him
they told us that,
it broke my heart, to see him snap.
I was the only one he let near him,
I did my best to play with him
to run around the yard with him,
but as we did
my legs shook
knowing I might have to run for my life.
He left me with bites
and bruises
and always ripped my legs apart
but I loved him anyhow.
I tried and tried
but soon he was too violent
and even I couldn't run about the yard with him.
I just saw a golden slobbery mess
fighting himself
and growling at the glass door.
They took him away, and
I wasn't allowed to be there
when they put him down.

Daisy.
She ran circles around us
again and again
doing what she was bred to do
heard us like cattle
but the small puppy quickly learned
she didn't have to heard us.
She once fit in the palm of my hand
and soon she was too heavy to lift.
Energetic and wild
she shook with excitement at every sound
she loved us with all her heart
and protected us
but he was mean to her too
and smacked her
and hurt her
and made her cower in fear,
she always loved us though
and when it came to separate
I took her with me,
and he couldn't hit her anymore.
we loved and laughed and played
and she howled with triumph
whenever we cheered.
We had to remember though,
she was his dog too.
We didn't have time to take her on long happy walks
so we didn't mind lending her out
and she loved those hikes
she came back exhausted and happy
and
it was a shock to my system
I remember I didn't cry
when they came back without her one time,
he had jumped in the river after her
and my brother went farther down to catch her when she came up.
but darling Daisy didn't come up
no she was never found
the rapids took her rapidly and
I wasn't there
when she drowned.


Arden.
I found him
in the rain
barely moving
laying in the middle of a road
I got him to the side
and I laid soaking wet comforting the whimpering wild thing.
Matted, messy, muddy
a giant wolf
prestigious and valiant.
I took him home and wrapped him in a blanket
and loved him more than anything ever.
I was in highschool and he was big enough to ride
I'd never seen a wolf so big.
I found out he was abused
and kept in a white trash "home"
and he was so sick the darling couldn't howl.
We watched TV and ate chicken soup together,
until he was well enough to eat solids.
He slept in my room in my bed
and we laid out under the stars
for he had become my best friend
the minute I laid eyes on him.
When his voice healed
he howled to the moon all night,
and wolves in the distance replied.
Living near a forrest I couldn't wait for him to heal
to be able to run
and go up and down the stairs
so we could always be-
but
I'm not with him.
So I don't know if he's alive or dead.
many things happened
and his abusive owner called the police
they wouldn't give it back
but by law
we couldn't keep him.
My valiant wolf
who howled all day
until I came home
was taken far away.
I was there when we gave him up,
happy ***** stunning creature
until a stranger took him on a leash and led him to a room of scary cages
and he thrashed and howled and ran towards me
and you could hear his melodic howls after the door was closed
I left to cry in the car
because death didn't take my friend
he didn't have to go
but we went anyways.
I pray he's alive.
but if he has passed
I know he's in heaven.
I'm agnostic
but I still know he would be in heaven.
Because dogs deserve that.
all dogs.

The human vocabulary is vast and complicated,

there are endless possibilities,

but there's a glitch in my system,

for no matter what sentence

is spoken to me

the AutoCorrect of my mind

only lets me hear

that I am not wanted.

hugging myself
only makes me feel colder
wish I could make it out of the storm
but I walk with a ball and chain
foot dragging along the ice
bloated
like a rotten fish
puffy face
from all the times I've fallen
and smacked my face against the hard ground
still I got up and kept walking
then crawling
then stretching my flabby hand out
reaching
and reaching
till only my eyes
could look forward.

When I wear makeup
I feel unstoppable
courageous
beautiful.
so beautiful.

but I don't mean regular makeup,
mascara lipstick eyeliner blush etc,
I mean the kind that takes hours to apply,
transforming myself into hit characters
ghastly ghouls
alien creatures
minotaurs
ziggy stardust
I mean painting myself
with all the theatricality I can afford.

I feel like I can breath when I wear my makeup,
I feel okay and calm and like nothing can touch me
above all else I feel safe.
so safe
with that paint,
everybody's looking at the makeup
instead of me,
they admire and compliment the mask I've crafted
and it makes me happy to know
they can't see my plain pale face underneath,
the outrageous conception
has formed a shield
allowing me to step out in public
without being afraid to exist.

when I wear my makeup
I'm allowed to be whomever I please
and mingle-talk freely with all I want,
my makeup lets me be like everyone else.

The only downside is that not every week is spirit week,
my gentle skin is too irritated by even the most
hyper-allergenic makeup and acne protrudes
and at the end of it all I still have to wash it off,
watch my happy colors go down the sink drain,
the mask doesn't last forever,
and I'm left standing there the next day,
without my makeup
without my shield
and I feel so naked,
I feel incomplete and scared.

I wish every week was spirit week,
and that my skin was tough,
so that I could paint my face every day
              so I wouldn't have to be afraid.

Sleep is the natural state
humbled and secure,
aluminum containers feed energy into me
coffee stained teeth
vanilla spice energy tea
smashing through my veins,
              the only way for me to stay alive
                                                           ­             is if I am forced

I just to be happy.
I want to be surrounded by positivity
and bathe in kind words
sleep, cradled in support
laughs and hugs
kisses and dancing
breath easy
and live in a place,
where tears
are an unthinkable occurrence.

First day of school.
I sit down in class
and my eyes meet his.
He gives a funny head tilt and smile.
and that has been the extent of our communication.
I've had a crush on him since.
not exactly, a romantic wanting crush,
a strange crush.
I'm not sure I'd ever date him,
or that I want him to like me,
I just like him,
if that makes sense.
I like the way he looks,
I think he's funny and odd...
but not many people like him.
in fact most people hate him.
he's annoying and weird
and dumb
and my close friends slander him-
and it makes me feel ashamed for liking him.
It's a year now, I still like him
and find him interesting
but why do I feel ashamed?
I don't see what the others see,
I don't see why he's so hated.
I'm not expecting him to ever like me back
or even acknowledge me,
I just like him and that's that,
and I don't understand why everyone else hates him
and why it makes me feel bad for liking him.
The way they talk about him
and give each other looks
when he speaks in class,
it makes me dare not breath of a word of my liking of him,
makes me feel bad for feeling like this.
I shouldn't feel ashamed for liking that tall skinny boy.
I do.
But I shouldn't.

livin in a big big house
alone all the time
no lights
sittin in the dark
electric light
reflecting in my dead eyes
watchin Dexter claim his next victim
falling in love
with ugly scary monsters
because I understand them
and they make me feel safe
and nobody else understands that
they're the only thing that makes me feel okay
nasty nasty
cruel things
storylines so sad
heroes so broken
but the horrificality of it
makes me sing
ringin in my ears
playin on my fears
shivers up my spine
this is how I like to spend my time

I'm trying to breath
but my open mouth
is drowning
in my tears

I wish I were a tea kettle,
so that silencing the screams
were as easy
as turning down the flame

The happiest music in the world
couldn't move that girl form her spot,
her tears had dried to a sticky tar
and wouldn't let her break free,
the most beautiful of tunes
could not move her
to anything
but heartache.

Empty rabbit holes
no wonderland
I live in winterland
head up in hinterland
frozen kneeling at the stand
holding out my hand
snowflakes are falling
not touching me though
arctic fox calling
under branches low
beneath the white
fox colored
fox match
they won the fight
they live in hinterland
head up in winterland
take me to where they fish
in sunhordland

I'll leave a candle lit for you,
I'll crack a window,
if you want,
so you can find your way in,

I'll leave a candle lit for you,
to light your way,
let you know I still burn for you,

I'll leave a candle lit for you,
so long as you promise not to knock it down,
promise not to set flame to what I have built.

I'll leave a candle lit for you,
always.

here we are in the dark
did they
ever tell you
how hard this would be
how hard you'd have to work
we
here
here we are
you're learning now
                learning to
break through the lies they told you
it's hard to understand
you're running around
with your hands above your head
surrender surrender
they like it that way
kick your heels up high
you'll never stop learning
they never told you
about all you could be
how hard it would be
there's so much more
to everything
and you're just figuring it out
they could have taught you early
but they didn't
by the time you're ready
your skin is sagging
your mind is running in circles
with hands above head
see what they've done
see what the dark has
it's all beginning
you're just now learning
not prepared
and you'll make their same mistake
repetition  
repetition
hands above head
jogging to the beat
trying so hard
but your skin is sagging
and you know
it's too late
to reach your potential.

Maybe if I keep eating
I'll fill the emptiness inside

I am dirt,
I like to bury plastic
and broken glass inside of me.

How do you get rid of a body?
you bury it.
How do you keep treasure safe?
you bury it.
How do you plant a garden?
you bury it.
How do you express your emotions?
you bury it.
                     ..right?
You can bury a lot of things
so why can't you bury those?

My soil is no longer plentiful
all my sprouted plants have died
the grass is thick weeded fuel for fire
because I like to bury
the worst kind of things
inside myself.

I must remember,
that it simply will not do,
it might seem otherwise
but it's true,
you can't bury everything.
                                             (Not without repercussions)

I must remember,
that I cannot bury my fear
bury my lonlieness
bury my depression
anxiety
anger
longing
and heartache
under    food.
My feelings have been hurt
but if I bury it under
some nachos
I won't have to look at it.
I'm not as pretty as the rest
but it's okay,
I'll bury it under a mound
of cinnamonroll frosting
a burrito
a smoothie
a banana
It's okay,
I know how to make myself feel better
my body knows what to do
when it is in peril
to survive
to thrive
I must bury the bad things
through satisfying my tongue.

I must remember, though,
these things cannot be burried
under a buffet
cannot cower behind Ben and Jerry
no not even the fruits of the land
can gain me enough weight
to forever keep these feelings bound.

I must remeber that the only way
to survive the feelings,
is to expel them.

How do you get rid of an old blanket?
throw it out.
How do you toss a moldy peach?
throw it out.
How do you get rid of the emotion-fueled eating?
throw it out.
Throw it out I say
Rather
Throw it up
expel it
get it out
It's burried deep
so I must throw away all that's inside
in hopes maybe these feelings will be cured
throw it out
throw it up
you can throw out a lot of things,
so why can't I throw out this?
I can't burry these trials
so I must briefly drown
and send them down the drain,
that's the only way to feel better
that's the only way to get through this
the only way my body knows how to survive
                                                         ­  and thrive
don't bury it!
throw it out I say
throw it out
rather,
throw it up.

Your dark eyes ****** me in like a black hole
now I'm lost, floating, out of control
unable to catch my breath.

The isolation increases Ebullism,
my heart is swelling up
a feeling of explosion
blood flow constricted
days practicing
holding my breath
all for naught
fifteen seconds and I'm shot.

But I'm lucky, in that,
entranced by your everlasting beauty,
my eyes are open wide
and there they will freeze,
so I may look upon you forever.

Nothing makes sense
this world is nothing but chaos
I need a way
to control something
to find order
wake up at 5am
jog
yoga
smoothie
shower
dress
meditate
school
(hell)
wash my hands
until they bleed
eat myself sick
wash my hands
wash my hands
shake my leg
twitch my hand
twitch
twitch
twitch
cry
no control
I have no control
I can't cope
I can't deal
so I'm going to do these things
wash my hands
wash my hands
so it feels like I can control something.

I like to wear
the bare minimum
and sit out
in the pouring rain.
I let it wash over me
until my peppered shivers
are convulsions.
I lay back
and swallow
the fresh drops,
letting it rejuvenate me,
hoping I will melt in
with the rain
and wash over the earth
into the dirt and roots
spreading
feeding
nourishing,
doing some good,
finally of use.

I need to ask you a favor, Blue.
I want to give you my heart,
will you take it?
I'm not asking you to keep it- no...
I want you to take it far away
bury it
smash it
slice it
I want my heart to be your stress ball
coffee coaster
your punching bag
something you wipe your muddy shoes on-
I want you to accept my heart
unleash your darkest fantasies
and do with it as you please.

I slam the door
lock it
barricade it
back
back
back away
hide in the closet
in the dark
and cower---

but it doesn't do any good.
It's still there.
I can't escape this curse.
what I'd give
to fall asleep
***** my finger
stay in a dream land
perhaps neverland
so that I don't have to face it
endure it
crawl through it.
What good are these?
what have they ever done for me?
nothing but pain and torment
self loathing and disgust
depression anxiety anger
what good are emotions?
what have feelings ever done for me?