I don't know why my heart stopped when I saw you.
I don't know why I fumbled over my words more than usual.
I asked you twice nearly thrice how you were doing
and tripped into the desk
and shuffled my piles of books onto the desk-
God I was so awkward
but you just smiled and shook your head-
like you did long ago.
You asked me what I was doing
and my brain rocketed to the ends of the earth and back
desperate to find something cute, clever, and witty to say,
I so badly wanted to be interesting-
for you to think I'm interesting-
But somehow the only thing I managed to say was
"nothing"
and you smiled and looked at me with those big,m familiar brown eyes
and I couldn't place how I felt.
I couldn't keep myself from remembering.
I felt so safe in your arms,
wandering the forest
and napping in that boat
at the edge of that lake
while the party raged behind us on land.
I thought it was cool that you had been to juvy
and I'm a sucker for asians
and you didn't mind that I was a loser
and the way you pulled me closer
and burried your face in my neck-
I've only ever wanted to feel safe,
and I felt safe with you.
and today as I fumbled to act normally
I saw that you still didn't care that I was a loser,
and in all your steroid-esque muscle
and thick bag that you had put yourself together
after your third round at Juvy last year.
I don't think I ever liked you,
and you never liked me,
so I don't know what it is I feel
or why I stumbled so,
but I have a small fear inside
that worries this feeling is from seeing
that you are very much different from then,
and I am very much the same.

It feels like someone telling you you're beautiful,
like you're floating,
like you fall asleep smiling at the memories,
like when you're cold, and you picture their arms around you, warm,
like you're having conversations in the shower with yourself that you'll never have,
like you're checking the phone hoping they'll text first because you're too afraid,
like you're eating well and exercising well because you want look well for them because, they make you feel well.
like you don't have to lie anymore
like you can grow higher than ever
like you can smile in a photo and not delete it seconds after,
it feels like all of these things together, when you know they do not do the same.
it feels like you're holding your chin up, pretending you can just be friends, pretending your heart didn't decide, that they could make you happy, and whole. It feels like, with every breath, pretending you don't love them.
it feels like it hurts.

My tongue
my fingers
I paint the grass green
but I'm suffocating in the fumes

I could write for hours

of a life that doesn't exist,

I can feel it even with open eyes,

cautiously glazing past

the rural          

jagged world

I resist

Allowing it all to feed off me

destroying my life under the guise of coping,

and only furthering the incoherent dread of which I consist

Boys talk of the best legs
hair
lips
and body
specific to each
that palpitates their ferocious hearts
and it makes me weep
for I confess
facing mirror
I have none of these,
not an inch of me
there is none to speak of
or dote on.
The girls shame boys
for objectifying them
but oh
what I would give
to be objectified
just once
treat me like meat
treat me like I could yet be desired
for that is all I want,
love
and desire
and objectification.

She slapped me across the face
and told me I was a ***** *****
it's all my fault
Everything is-
the divorce
the abuse
my fat ugly face
I'll get nothing out of this world
I repulse her
She wishes I was one of her miscarriages
I've ruined her life
I'm disrespectful and *****
a sinner and ****
I make her cry and I don't care
and it's all because
I'm not just like her.
My hearts going to explode
under this weight
but who am I kidding
she's right
this is all my fault.


if it wasn't my fault,
why else wouldn't she love me?

Baby I want to live forever,
I know you do too,
Pipe dreams we can't let go of
Doesn't mean you can't give me your love

I'll do my best as long as I can
layers of my skin in the trash can
pieces of my nose
where only rats go
if this is how I keep you
I will slice right through where the doctor drew
forget about my birthday
I'll be 19 forever
Starvation is the only way
to give you immortality-however
none of it is real
and you know that deep inside
so after all I have denied
distorted and betide
lost every inch of my pride
you will cast me aside
and everything I deride
will have died
knowing
if I stay alive
again again again
I'll continue to try
and with every attempt
I'll lose all content
take one more knife
and decide
it'd be best
if I died.

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.

Elusive cat eye

in the corner

notebook out

voice absent from the chatter

"she must be an artist"

                   they say

"she must be an artist"

I hate going to sleep.
It's the worst.
My bed creaks and moans
its springs bursting up into my sore back
and it sinks down in the middle
like the pit in my stomach.
It's old and awful
but it knows my shape.
Knows how I sleep most nights,
curled in a ball.
And some nights,
some nights it's too much.
I revert to the shape I and the bed
are so familiar with
but it overwhelms me.
It's a lonely shape.
It's a scared shape.
It's... an awful empty sad shape.
So I toss and I turn
as the shape calls my name
and I throw the sheets off
and decide not to sleep at all
because the shape imprinted on the bed
has never been touched
been hugged too few a time
and is still sadly clinging to the memories
of those few hugs.
I've spent too many nights
in that stupid shape,
hugging myself
trying to recall the exact feeling of being hugged by another
and I'm sick of it.
I'm sick of tossing and turning
because I can't feel comfortable in any position
not even the one imprinted on the mattress
because they're all so frustrated
and alone.

"ssshhh
it's okay,
you don't have to cry anymore.
I can make it better.
trust me-
no no don't doubt yourself,
everything can be okay,
it will be okay.
trust me.
I can make it better.
I can end your pain."

with each passing day
the steel blade talks to me,
and with each passing day
I begin to believe it.

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 can see you
laying in the grass
listening to the waves
sun on your face


                                                   I wish I could be next to you

who is the girl
whose smile
reflects in your ocean eyes?
who is the girl
that prompts
that sly smile?
who is the girl
you haven't mentioned
but gives you
a reason to live?
who is the girl
who makes everything okay?
the girl
you fall asleep with
the girl whose petite frame
cuddles up next to you
whose small smooth hands
hold yours
as you walk in the dark
who is this girl
that has your heart?
I hear
her name
is Envy.

"She's dying"
please stop saying that.
Stop the tearful calls
and sad looks
just stop saying it.
"she's dying"
******* I heard it the first time,
and once is far too much,
stop saying it.
I don't want to believe it.
This doesn't happen.
This shouldn't happen.
She's so young,
she has a family,
she has a brand new
beautiful baby boy,
with the bluest of eyes
and the most innocent of smiles
please God,
don't do this.
She has to see him grow up.
She has to see him happy.
We're going to eat pizza at the same place
we always have whenever one of us graduates highschool.
She's going to see my first book published,
my first short film.
I'm going to see her books published,
I'm going to see her happy, quaint life.

She's not dying.
She's not.
stop saying that.
I'd give anything to be nothing but a child
too young and ignorant to understand what's happening.

Please God,
don't do this.
I'm crippled on the ground,
can't sleep
can't eat.
I've felt my body go completely comatose.

Please, God,
give me a miracle.

There are worms in my heart.
There are larvae in the crooks of my ribs.
My skin blows away in the cool breeze of the night.

I am crumbling.
I am decaying.
It is eating me from the inside out,
Tugging at my
taut veins.

Blood pools.
The mind so distant and broken
frantic with worry-
all thoughts
are nothing but a dizzying mumble,
confused and afraid
trying to break free-
trying
to accept.

It eats me from the inside out.

Your eyes are not blue.
I can't swim deep in them
explore your lost memories
like Atlantis,
no,
your eyes are better than blue.
They're nearly black.
Your eyes
lift me off the ground
and float me,
breathless,
into space.
Your eyes are black as night
with a lighter brown rim of galaxies,
your eyes are otherworldly,
and I like them so much more
than the bluest blue.

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?

Give me a sword
and I will cut through the tension,

give me a gun
and I will shoot the bullets
into the dirt
so they don't go elsewhere,

put me in a ring
and I'll tap out
before the bell has rung,

try as you might,
gossip
spit
hit
kick
blame me
insult me
taunt me
and tease me
there is nothing you can do
to make my fists clench,
to make my brow furrow
to incite a rage within me,
for even in defense,
I am a lover,
not a fighter.

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
or to the winter wind
that blows down the valleys
and whips your hair
into a glorious tangle
as you climb forrested peaks
in hopes of catching
the blazing star
just sinking
slowly
gently
purposefully
religiously
beneath the horizon
coating your kingdom
in orange
and pinks
and purples
setting all you see
on fire
as if it burned
with each quick beat of your heart
and blow colder winds
to replenish your lungs
for a strong
and careful journey down
your many times conquered mountain
so that you may come again
and again
and again
to see the sun
and the view
and breath the winds that blow
and fall in love
every
single
time

at night
pitch black
king size sheets
her cold, clean white skin
and long apricot hair
lay sprawled against
his hot, smooth dirt skin
and military hair.
she runs her hand
up and down his arm
reflecting on their perfect day.
he hums that tune,
a hand running through her hair
and the other down her back,
she closes her eyes and hugs him tight
as she listens to his heart beat.
du-du-du-du-du-dudududududududu
it will never be in sync with her
thump....thump....thump...
she says
"your heart always beats so fast, even when you sleep,"
"it means I'll die early"
"don't say that"
"just the facts"
she holds him
listening to the doomful du-du-du-du-du-du-du
the heart that's revving up
to burst from his chest-
he wraps his arms around her tight
and falls asleep
she wonders if
he fears death
if he wishes things had been different
she wonders about his younger years
she wonders what goes on in his head
she wonders about all the things he does and says
and wonders
perhaps
if he has given up.

my hands
twirl my hair
clockwise
as my being is paused
in uncertainty,
for none is your master,
not even time.
no, you refuse to consort
not for any thing
not for any one
not even time,
not even time runs your schedule,
so here I am,
my hands go clockwise
as I wonder
how long
you will keep me waiting

"I like you an awful lot, kid"

He knows that when he asks me if I'm okay
tears well up in my eyes.
He knows I smile brightest when he speaks to me.
He sees
he knows
"I'm trying to figure you out"---
I didn't know he was trying.
I didn't know he cared,
but he cares about all of his students
and I'm lucky enough to be one of them.
He says that he's always there
that I can talk to him,
but sir, what would I say?

Adopt me
and love me.

I'm free so
kick me
break me
***** me
drug me

so long as you love me.

Maybe it's time to grow up,
the fantasy world I've been hiding in
is killing me,
there's hardly anything left,
just an empty shell
for a heart
that once beat true and blue,
or did it ever?

I try to convince myself I'm special,
I can do something great
that I'll leave this **** town
and not be as poor as the ***** who raised me,
that I'll be somebody,
that I'll be loved-
I'm not looking for a fairytale
I'm just looking for a way out.

I've spent too much time
cowering in my books
and spells
and Doctors and demon hunters
and wizards
and zombie-slayers
--but it's been so long since
I've written something I could be proud of.
It's been so long since my imagination
has brought me euphoria,
since my eager anticipation
of the impossible
has granted me talent
to write a story
to bring readers to tears...


I guess I'm growing up.
Shaking solemn hands
with a childhood
thats lasted too long.
good.
maybe now I can die.

and she is undone
at the edge of shadow and sun
her will given to the wind
and her rich furs errant and skinned.

What would happen if I stopped?
Simply stopped.
Would it be all that bad?
No,
no it would not.

I sit frozen in front
of the fridge the cupboards
stocked full
but nothing to eat.
So maybe I'll just stop.

I'm exhausted
but lay awake,
so maybe I'll just stop.

Would it be all that bad?
No,
No it would not.
This life is complicatedly simple,
and very hard
and very scary
and very sad,
so maybe I'll just stop.

After all,
Living isn't for everyone.

my darling is like most
and does not understand.
He believes
because our trials are different
that I do not struggle the same.
He does not see
my desperate battle to crack a smile,
only another mood swing.
He does not understand
how hard it is
to throw 18 traumatized years away
and pretend it never happened.
He sees twelve hours sleep
excessive and lazy
because he cannot understand
how one can be so sad
they cannot get out of bed.
He can worry
about clean hands
and crumbs
but the millions of worries
that send me sprawling
to sharp breaths
and tears
are inconceivable.
My darling is always level headed
calm cool and collected
and is unaware of my days.
I spend all day
doing what I can
to make sure he is happy,
I avoid the mirror
for a glimpse
summons waterfalls
I take mood stabilizers
exercise
and eat well
but most days
I walk around the house like a zombie
in despair because he,
like most everyone,
will never understand how hard it is,
the weight on my chest
the constant tears
the black dog
the ball and chain
the panic
the fear
all the little things
I struggle through
everyday,
the daily war I wage with myself
the never ending hell
the bravery
and strength I have
to admit I need help
and speak my troubles
to one I trust,
my hours of hard work
are not spent at a paid job
but trying to love and live and breath
and smile and be healthy
for I've got a long way to go
and it will take a long time, but,
my darling does not see this
and is now
no longer my darling.

I'll play a song for you,
you who told me I was strong
when the bruises raged on.

I'll write you a melody,
for you who was the armor against their words
and happily sat in the sinking ship alongside me.

you who turned your back on the world
because nobody understood us, like us.
You who knew every inch of me
and I of you.
You who knew when I was lying
when I hadn't eaten-
when my stitches had come undone
in the middle of the night
there you were,
needle and thread in hand,
without warning,
simply because you just, knew.

This song is for you,

For the years you kept me company,
for the looks you gave
for the undying trust
from keeping the knife from shedding my wrist
for letting me know it's okay to break the rules
to know there is no shame in who I am
for letting me know day after day
that I'm stronger than any,
and I'm kind,
and I'm worth it,
and awesome,
and... that I shouldn't care what people think because,
because I'm all I need,
and
you'll always be here.

But you're not here.

So, I guess despite the unsewn stitches
and long nights
and month where I convinced myself I hated you...
I guess it's true that I'm all I need.

I've left behind who I was,
our names no longer rhyme,
you found someone else to rhyme with.
But it's okay because I'm ignoring
the pit in my stomach,
the void in my heart,
the voice I once used so often,
I'm ignoring it all because-
I'm all I need.

so indeed,
this song is for you.
You who told me,
from the start,
I can do this alone.
You,
who is more like an imgainary friend
I see ghost from place to place
every now and then...

This tune is for you.

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.

Tug at me
with your yellow teeth
stained by cigarettes and alcohol.

Assess me with dilated eyes.

Show me a gross kind of love,

the kind of love I'll understand.

Am I a fool?
waiting on a rainy stair step
      shivering through bitter winds
on the chance I might see
     headlights pull into the lot?
   That I could catch him smile
     as he sees me?
        Am I a fool?
two hours in
   to think still, he'll embrace me
and squeeze me so hard
     the million little paranoid parasites
     might just pop out,
             and while I bury my face in his neck,
I won't have to doubt.

        Am I a fool to think so?

Don't speak
shut up
cover those bruises
one word and it's over
if you make too much noise
you'll get hit.

Curl your hair
and hide your ugly face
no one wants to hear you
nobody cares
sit down
shut up
keep quiet or you'll get more bruises
you're nothing
you're worthless
you don't deserve to be alive
keep crying and I'll **** you
shut up
stop lying
you know he'd never hit you
you gave those bruiess to yourself
shut up
stop lying
nobody cares
you know its your fault
stop being dramatic
stop screaming
stop crying
you're not really in pain
shut up
shut up
shut up
shut up!



I've heard it since forever.
It's all they've ever said.
So that's exactly what I'll do,
I won't cry,
pretend not to feel
I'll sit down and shut up.
it's been true all along,
nobody really cares,
you're right
it's my fault
the bruises are gone
but I still feel them.
but it doesn't matter
because I know it's my fault.

So that's what I'll do/
I'll pretend not to feel.
I'll sit down
and not speak a word
because I've been told that
since forever,
that I am nothing,
and that is all I'll ever be.

So I'll sit down,
close my eyes,
and never speak a word.

Nothing depresses me more
than when a picture is taken.
A day of bliss
but when the camera comes out
I suddenly remember
how ugly I am.
Even on the days I feel pretty,
I smile and it flashes-
and the results bring me to tears
for even though I know I'm a heinous beast,
born with a pig's face
isntead of a human,
I still always wonder why I was cursed like this.
why I am perpetually a mutant.
I still have hope that I'll be satisfied with a picture one day,
that I won't grimace
and cry
and not feel a tremendous amount of guilt for the swans
that have to share the same photo as I,
and that maybe this nasty pink pudgy acned pig face will peel off.
I know it won't.
But I can hope.

I've written of it before
but I gotta tell ya
nothing feels better
than dancing in the dark

Music overwhelming
body moving
unconscious about my size
my arms and stomach unbound
my face can smile
without concern
I'm unstoppable

oh nothing is better
than turning out the lights
and feeling free
from scrutiny
turn the sound up loud
and let it pulse through your veins
lose yourself in something new
because nothing is better
than dancing in the dark.

I haven't seen you in so long,
how have you been?-
I don't care that you played me wrong,

to see that smile
it brings me down,
My heart I can feel it
it says "paint me now"

It remembers when you made me feel like goddess
like together we could have killed all this
It remembers every thousand poems I wrote
and how every time I waited it was always false hope
who are you now that you show your face online?
I remember when you hid like you done a crime
always a man of secrets
a man I'd never know
how dare you -don't you know
it was curiosity that made the kitty go
dyin dyin dyin dying
that made the kitty go
dyin dyin dyin dying
just to try to know
just to try to know
who you really were
and if you'd ever explain yourself
I only wanted it to be ourself
then I said goodbye
then I said goodbye
and it's been so long
since I'd seen your face
now that I see your smile
it makes me feel so out of place.

I want to give you up,
put down the pen.
I want to stop writing
about all these awful feelings
I can only announce
through tacky rhymes
to strangers I'll never know.

I hope some day,
I won't have to write poetry.

I  like the idea of hair blending in with skin,
I like the thought of being colorless,
I like the notion of being so thin,
so frail,
one touch could shatter your entirety.

A fleeting thought
Of something so sick,
So broken,
So disturbed
That it can be nothing more than
Beautiful.

She offered me chocolate
she had brought home from work-
I lashed out
and shouted my decline,
slammed the door
and cried,
screaming into my pillow.

I'm still going to pretend
that this isn't taking over my life.

I listened to my stubby heels echoing light clicks and clacks

on the ***** pavement,

a sound far better than the the laughter and chatter of the previously escaped classroom.

I mozied along the empty campus, feeling warmed by the bits of fog that clung to the air

and moss trees towering from pine needles in a very still way

that if not for the fog's gentle swaying I would have assumed the world to have stopped.

I liked it that way best.

When things are still and quiet and full of posibility

but you choose not to reign in that possibility because you love the freshly chilled air,

air so fresh it makes you want to fill your lungs with it

and take a To-Go bag as well.

Sometimes I sit and look out,

silently hoping that if I sit there long enough I too,

will become quite still and fresh fog might cling to me

and someone else might admire me as part of a still world,

like a picture in a golden frame.

I want to bathe him in sunlight
or moonlight
whichever he prefers
as long as it's light.

I want to speak words
that'll stitch up the heart
and bandage his wounds

I want to wash away
his sins
and let him start again

I want him to wake
eager to start the day

I want him to have no doubt
no fear
no worries

I want to make him happy,
more than just okay
I want every day
to be worth his while,
even if those days
do not involve me.

I wish I could say words
that would make him better,
but I don't even know how to make myself better,
I don't know what to say
I don't know what to do,
but I know I must try.

There's a sad song playing in this cafe
and I'm scrolling through our texts
knowing you mean more to me
than I do to you
   my least favorite episode on repeat, once again,
feeling like I've done an injustice to myself,
                                                           my heart,
giving it away too easily,
giving it up so quickly,
because I'm trying too hard
to fill the emptiness
but the more I pour
the wider the cracks get
but still I pour
hoping to fill it
thinking 'maybe this time it'll be different'
but it never is
       it never is

I dreamt

of Ombra

and others

violating

the sanctuary,

and the Goddess,

   loved it.

I don't want to break
but what's the point
any one
of these old fat rich men
I'd never have to worry about money again
I'd never have to feel the preassure of the outside world
people say I'm brave
maybe I'm tired of that

I wish I could write love poems
as beautiful
and enticing as all the other poets
as all the other heartbroken teenagers
and young aspiring children
and wise old fools
all happy to let themselves be whisked away
with a flurry of emotion.

I wish I could write like them.
I wish I could make my a reader smile
and sigh
and feel envious of my sweet sweet poetic love
but I can't.
I wish I could write poems like him and her
like all the others,
wish I could write a love poem,
but I don't know love.
I don't know what it is to love
or what it is to be loved
so how could I possibly write a love poem?
where would I begin?

I wish I could write a love poem,
but I don't know love,
and I'm so scared that I never will.

She kisses the frog
in knowledge that
a handsome prince would arise.
But would she still kiss the frog,
should he be anything less?