Because we want to fit in--
tough to sleep.
Because we want to experiment--
eyes glassy and bloodshot.
Because we want to escape--
heart racing
Because we want to relax--
losing weight.
Because we want to rebel--
can't sleep
Because it feels good--
giving up friends, giving up family
Because we're anxious, angry and alone without it--
car crashed, fell, burned, drowned.
Because we crave it--
withdrawals.
Because we can't stop--

Dear you,
I’ve found you,
But what do I do?

Dear you,
I love it when I have you,
But people are noticing.

Dear you,
I need you,
But I don’t think I should.

Dear you,
I keep trying to stop,
But I cant.

Dear you,
I love the thought of you,
But something isn’t right.

Dear you,
I keep coming back,
But I have to stop.

Dear you,
I’ve gone back and forth with this,
But I’m done.

Dear you,
Goodbye.

Dear you,

Some go by blades, bringing forth slices.
Some go with carbine, with a blast of thunder.
Some go by leaping, drop down to the pathway.
Some go with diving, muffled under the waves
And some go by tablet, to ask for a deep slumber.
But the lighthearted go with nature, no need for assistance.

The moon watched her as she roamed the meadow,
And the lake would not let her go.
There was a force pulling her in,
And she had a desire to dive but not swim.

She stood on the edge of her feet,
And if she flew down, she could be complete.
With a sharp cold wind brushing her shoulder,
And the water seemed closer and closer and closer.

When she hits the water, she won’t feel pain,
And she’ll know that she will never feel again.
She floats in the water down and down,
And she feels peace knowing how to drown.

She’ll make cheeseburger pie and zebra cake for your birthdays.
She’ll go to Vermont and wears water shoes down the stairs of mossy rocks.
She’ll lay a towel to the side of the mountain with streams cascading down.
She’ll baby you and treat you like when you were 5 years old.
She’ll introduce you to Shakespeare and Monty Python.
She’ll fall in love with your school shows.
She’ll talk about dogs she had as a child while you sit with yours.
She’ll tell stories of when your dad was a child with his little brothers.

She’ll never leave your heart.

Rain is falling down
Little girls jumps in puddles
And watch the water leap out

Goop for the lashes
Paint for her pale countenance
Crayon for her lips

The buildings fall down
There is only destruction
Pick up your legos!

Her eyes stayed on him
He leaned in closer to her
And lips finally met

I felt:
a. Like a *******
b. That there was no way out
c. It could never get better
d. There wasn’t a point

I went:
a. To the bathroom
b. To the roof
c. To the medicine cabinet
d. To the lake

And then I:
a. Jumped
b. Swallowed all the pills
c. Swam down
d. Sliced my arm open

I:
a. Had my stomach pumped
b. Got stiches
c. Resuscitated
d. Dried off
e. None of the above

This institution, which feels like hell
Forces a labor of no love, which little survive well

I jumped from couch to couch, avoiding the floor that was lava.
The balloon soared and floated in the air, and it could not touch the ground.
Circus animal cookies and chocolate milk were there everyday.
When I was small, the world was big and magical.

My role models were Barney and Babar, Kermit and Elmo.
I wore pink leotards and frilly tutus and stretchy slippers and shiny, black tap shoes.
I’d look up at the sky to see that fluffy white clouds were bunnies, hippos and butterflies.
When I was small, nothing was impossible.

Parks were kingdoms and the jungle-gym was the castle.
My glittery costume gown and my plastic tiara meant I was a real princess,
Peter Pan would come take me away, to live in Neverland.
When I was small, I was immortal.