When the weather changes
and it's finally September
I feel in love.
When the breeze is cool
everything is better
I feel in love.
When I can wear a beret or
don a favorite coat
I feel in love.
& when I sit down and read
something that you wrote
I feel in love

when i was little, a kid I rode the bus with told me that alligators lived in the sewers. I still think of that to this day, and watch my step around street drains.

when I was even younger, I asked my mom how the stoplight turned from red to green. She said "theres a mouse inside of them and some cheese. When the mouse goes to eat the cheese, then the light turns green!"
I believed it.
And some days, when i'm driving aimlessly through town, I remember the mouse and the cheese when I get stuck at a light.

I've always been afraid of drains, whether in pools or bathtubs. Maybe it stems from the kid who told me the alligator lie. But either way, I still hate them. Possibly even more than ever.

I wish I had more memories of my childhood. The older I get, the more they become blurred, erased it seems. They survive through family photos stored in closets and old tapes with the wrong labels.
But for some reason, I do tend to remember the bad memories. Those never leave my mind. Like the alligators.

Now I am 29 going on 30. (Living the last couple hours of my 20's as I write this actually). I feel nostalgia setting in and I also feel sadness. It is officially the end of an era. My twenties will soon be a thing of the past. Just a moment in time.

We constantly grow. From baby to toddler, child to teen, and on to adulthood we go. Each year delicate as the last. Learning more about the world and the way things work.
I now know how traffic lights actually work. And I think I am certain alligators don't really live in our midwestern sewer systems.
And I'm also not ready to turn 30.

I'm the quiet one
& also the outspoken one.
I'm the "gets in arguments at bars with sexist men" one.
I'm paint splatters on a white wall.
I'm spilt glitter in the carpet.
I'm hopeful in the sense that everything has to work out,
but i'm not going to actually do anything about it.
I'm a lover. Maybe too much, even.
But you probably wouldn't see it in me.
I'm stand off-ish.
I think every car on the highway is going to hit me.
I spend hours watching crime show re-runs.
I think i'm a "manic pixie dream girl"
even though I ******* hate that phrase.
I'm a wino.
I'm paranoid.
I'm reckless.
I like to do drugs that take me out of my mind.
I'm the kind of person who keeps trinkets,
such as old love notes & my high school prom ticket.
I guess I'm a hoarder of sorts.
A hoarder of nostalgia.
I'm a dreamer.
I dream way too much.
I'm the one who holds on to the good memories
& pretends like they're still there, when they're not.
I'm clueless but i'm learning
(I read that somewhere)
I'm the one who watches a movie & afterwards
pretends i'm the main character.
I'm like sour milk.
I'm a jealous person at times.
I'm a good soup maker.
I'm an even better pen pal.
I'm not good with money,
but I am good at wasting it.
I'm really good at wasting things.
I'm a great party hostess, ask anyone.
I'm a record lover, a music lover really.
I'm the one who has a "Suicide song"
and jokes about it.
I'm offensive & blunt.
I curse too much,
but I think people kind of like it.
I'm somewhat of a narcissist.
why else would I still be writing about myself?
I'm a good person.
A solid gold oldie.
I'm the girl of your dreams if you want me to be.
I'm stubborn like my father, who was in a Italian mob,
or so he says.
Which reminds me,
I have "daddy issues"
(I also ******* hate that phrase)
I'll never tell my secrets.
I'm an interrupter.
God that must be annoying.
I bite my nails. Ever since I was a kid.
I look up plane tickets & Airbnb's for fun.
I'm teaching myself French.
I usually sleep until 1pm.
I'm the oldest child, yet need my mom the most.
I'm a collector,
But nothing of value.
I'm magazine clippings & unfinished projects.
I'm bad at remembering to take my medicine.
I'm impulsive.
I'm always on the run.
A girl with a plan.
Girl, uninterrupted.
I'm just me.
Whoever that really is.

I know you'll never understand
what it felt like to be a 8, 12, or 16 year old girl
with a "father" who told you things like
"pull your head out of your ***" or "you only think of yourself" while he snuck out at night to **** other women, and blame it all on my mother.

You'll never understand what it felt like as a young, growing girl with big dreams and a big heart and was told I will never achieve them. I wasn't good enough, and for that I needed to pull my head out of my ***.

You'll never understand the fear I had as my whole body shook in "that spot" in the hallway where leather licked - no bit and twisted - my fragile skin. It was never quick. It lasted an entire life time. I had to beg like a dog and apologize for things I did not do or dreamed of doing. I didn't lie like I have learned to do now.

Meanwhile the dog was usually treated better than me and I was ok with that.

But you'll never understand why a simple phrase can take me back to that little girl, scared in the hallway. Awaiting the belt for something I did not do. Crying in my room and thinking up apologies to say so my "father" would love me and be proud.
I would do anything.
And now, as an adult, I have let many men take advantage of me. Who am I to say No to? Men rule everything they walk over.
& that will never change

I know you will never understand
Because in ways, I have him instilled in my being. In my brain. The way I speak to people, my impatience. My lack of love for myself and for others.
You may never understand, but I will

Anytime i've had a little wine, and i'm feeling as if the world is against me, certain memories like to flood my brain.

One time I almost told you I loved you
because I knew you wanted to hear it.
and another time I let you put your tongue down my throat,
because I knew you wanted to do that, too.
Who was I to say no?
You were nice. You let me pick all the records out.
You bought all the wine. You let me talk and complain, and talk and complain.
So who was I to say no?
Want another ***** cranberry?
yes
Want to take this hydrocodone?
sure
My friend is in town and has real good coke!
ok lets do it

Motels. Boxed wine. Cigarettes. Pills.
(my love language apparently)
I can still see myself wandering the narrow halls of a highway budget motel, looking for an escape, but knowing there wasn't one.
You were passed out on the bed, exhausted from a night of drugs and drunk ***. (Oh, you poor, tireless thing!)
You looked dead almost. Dead but pleased. It pleased me to think maybe you were dead. Then I realized that would be a complete **** situation.
I sat there and poured a glass of wine and stared at you. (by glass of wine, I mean cup of wine. The thin plastic mouthwash cups that come with the motel room)
Nope, not dead. So I took the hotel key and snuck out with the plan of not returning, as if I could actually get away with it.

I found myself at the motel pool. I lit up the last cigarette and sat there.
I think my soul left my body as
I listened to the cars zoom by on the highway. The freedom they had. They were going home to their loved ones. Or, at least they weren't stranded at a 1 star motel with a master manipulator.
I sat there,
wrapped in the invisible chains of lies and regret.
Just sat there. Soul-less.
And then it dawned on me..
I can't leave. I can't make this grand escape I had planned in my head.
So out went the cigarette,
and out went the light in our motel room.
As I crawled into bed,
You were snoring and
the sun was about to come up.
I had never wanted a sunrise more in my life.
And you just laid there and snored, as I lied there wishing I had more drugs to put me out of my misery

I'm driving
and i'm remembering
a dream I had
And you were there, and I was there
and I'm driving
driving on the dark, empty streets
(the city can't afford to keep the lights on)
And in my dream you came to bed with me
You kissed me
A honey kiss
Sticky & sweet, leaving your nectar on my lips
leaving me wishing I had more
And I'm driving, still.
remembering more things,
but they aren't that important
Nothing really feels important
Except you kissed me
that sweet surprise of a kiss
the kind of kiss in a French New Wave film
And i'm driving
And i'm remembering
It was just a dream.

my little wasteland
four corners and me
gloom fills the room
nice and bleak
then you appear
and burst the seal
want it closed
now it leaks

there is no end
in my wasteland
the walls all laugh at me
they know my empty
cold, cold heart
they laugh at me
my misery

my body is a home
proof of shelter
the doors are locked tight
each night
windows are open during the day
i offer tea to my guest
& sometimes coffee
my body is shelter from the storm
as long as you stay inside
you will be safe
but every storm passes
and every bird leaves its nest
i only hope my home will
have prepared you
for that
leap
but then my arms will be your
safety net
and my voice, a reminder
you are loved
and i will always be here
the voice
the shelter
the open window
the cup of tea
your home

The laundry pile is growing
taking different shapes
I plant flowers
and they live to see a day of sun
only to die right after
My baby,
my darling Coquelicot
She cries and I don't have what she needs
I don't have what I need.
Is it as simple as a hug?
A loving kiss?
A touch of the hand on my hand?
Could it be that simple?
Oh, nothing is simple.
Nothing is easy.
You can talk and talk all day long to your therapist
But at night, you are alone, always.
And that laundry pile will grow larger
than your dead end dreams
And the flowers will all die
and take you with them

It's been one year since you dropped in my life
unwanted
like a stray cat that claims your porch as their new home.
How easy it was to fall for your ruse
to give you water, shelter, endless attention
to lose myself entirely, all for you.
You should know, when given such attention, a wild animal will stay.
They rule you now.

It's been a year since the loom of your existence
& that hot, hot summer.
You, a mosquito ******* all my blood, all my energy.
Once you were full and licking your lips clean,
you drifted away
Or should I say, you became
disinterested.
I was not pretty to you
but I was convenient enough
for you to dip your claws in
to use me, toy with me
A classic game of cat and mouse
I lost, of course.

It's been one year
since you took my soul and wrung it out like a rag
and hung it up on the clothesline
left for good out in the summer heat
to dry it up, to a crisp.
(My memories keep going back to how sweltering hot it was that summer)
My car with no A/C,
your sweat beads dripping down your scalp,
down your chin, to your neck.
You were always sweating
like the devil himself.
I'd wipe the poison as soon as you left the room
Left me there, alone on the bed, staring at the mold stained ceiling of yet another ****** motel.
"Why am I here?" I thought to myself. Then I reached for the plastic motel cup meant for swishing your mouth out with water, and instead filled it with wine. Classy.
My body covered in your endless sweat.
So. much. sweat.
It must have been the toxins your body carried oozing out of you.
& I still wasn't pretty to you,
just convenient
An easy ****.
You never asked if I wanted to
You never asked me anything
Did you even know my favorite color?
It didn't really matter,
there were no colors anymore.
The world was red and red only
from the summer heat we never seemed to escape.
I've never been so hot in all my life.

It's been one year, and the flashbacks keep growing. keep flashing
and its almost like i'm still the mouse,
being tortured for my past.
Always running away from it,
Burrowing my brain
to keep you out of my thoughts.
How many years will it take?
Are you still a stray cat, just on another girls porch?
I do not pray
but I will, for her

new anxiety
new fears
new irrational thinking
new negative thoughts
new things that i'll probably never do
and new things I wont want to do
new disappointments
new lows
new breaking points
new year
but not so new me

like summer to fall,
our romance went
from vibrant greens and dripping sweat,
to fallen leaves and cigarettes
our romance went

When the weather changes
and it's finally September
I feel in love.
When the breeze is cool
everything is better
I feel in love.
When I can wear a beret or
don a favorite coat
I feel in love.
& when I sit down and read
something that you wrote
I feel in love.

You tell me this as if I don't already know
As if I don't go to therapy weekly to try and sort out my ****
As if i'm not a new mom completely drowning in postpartum depression behind closed doors
You think I don't know i'm angry?
I'm livid.
I have trauma I have to sort through daily
I have a baby that cries and cries,
but when her father walks through the door, she smiles
Did I see her smile today?
Maybe. But I am so ******* angry I forgot.
And heaven forbid, me, a mother, say such verbiage like "*******" in regards to my child and her endless agony
Because yeah, I am *******.
But do I love my daughter more than life itself?
Yes.
And we will continue to cry together, mother and baby, exhausting ourselves into slumber with tears streaming down our cheeks
While the man, the father, (the savior if you will)
Defeats me
over and over and over
again

feels good then it hurts
visions fight me in my head
i constantly break my own heart
dreaming of what you never said

I wake up and you're not there
and my lifeless eyes are dead
forever waiting for the day
you turn to me instead

and I am the idiot fly
who sees sweet sticky gold
and I think to myself,
"jack ***"
but there is no prize.
you either die slowly, suffocating on honey
or someone puts you out of your misery

I give nothing to you
I have nothing to offer you
I will dig a hole
and bury you in it
walk away,
and try to forget it.

I rather be bored than stuck
I rather be sad than out of luck
maybe I've just lost my mind
I need to be with my kinda guy.

You always care after the flowers fade
You always forgive me anyway
I will turn Jerusalem Cherry
for you
I'm always cherry, baby

im falling down the rabbit hole
im peeling myself off like a smushed bug on a wall, or shoe
im staring empty and shallow eyed into the void that is my life
a ghost, observing it all from the outside,
I look at myself and don't recognize her
my friends are worried
my husband is mad
I want to tell them it's alright. "It's me, i'm still here".

But i'm not
I'm not quite sure where "here" is anymore

what do you get out of thinking you're alright?
what do you dream in your room when it's late at night?
how do you feel, are you stuck in a
Déjà vu?
no, its not real
but I bet it's catching up to you.

I always felt like life was a beautiful
sad song
& if you hear me, I hope that you'll stay with me all night long
because I can't accept my loneliness,
I am my only friend
I just want to vanish to an iridescent land
life is such a beautiful sad song..

& I'll always be in some type of
love with you
I'll decide for myself what I want to do
taking the turnpike, sitting in sunny rooms
dead flowers in my head, yeah
flowers always in bloom

I fall in love too quickly
and I quickly give up hope
that things will remain perfectly
but usually they don't

I have these dreams I'm losing
all my teeth
Feet are stuck in sludge
fingers caressing me

Love & feeling
the latter is killing me
I know you think it's me,
but I ain't no prize
worth
possessing

Dunkin donuts wrappers in bed
Wine stained coffee mugs
Coffee stained coffee mugs
So many ******* mugs and cups it was hard to keep track of the one i was using
Piles and piles of clothes & junk on the floor
A guitar
A tiny amp
A window covered lazily with a dark blanket
to keep the sun out
Another window partially cracked at all times to remind us theres still a world out there, we're just choosing to live it inside your bedroom wasted and cracked out on adderall
The bag I lived out of, with a wonderful selection of like 2 outfits
The box of wine always sitting on a nearby surface
The box of wine constantly being replaced by another one
The always missing vape
The hair all over the bathroom sink I desperately wanted to clean but didnt have a single ounce of motivation or care in the world to actually do it
Chickens
Fish tank
Cats leaping in and out the window
A little polaroid of us I snuck on the wall, to make it more "home-y"
Our halloween costumes on the floor (a collection of last minute thrift store finds to complete a royal tenenbaums couples costume which we totally killed)
Walls filled with late night conversation
But most of all,
A room with two sad people
that somehow made each other
happy

I'd hand my very soul over for a couple hours of making out on the couch.
I'd sign my life away for a night out getting wasted and ending up in parking lots or the edge of the river.
I'd go as far as losing myself entirely for a shared cigarette or cup of coffee in a diner on the same side of the booth.

I would die for love

some days I think about paint colors & home decor
other days I think about traveling
& getting away
I can't seem to make my mind up
do I want "hushed violet"
or do I want
to escape

monday i'm tired
tuesday i'm late
all the days of the week
start feeling the same
she's getting so bored now
can't stay entertained
she's just trying to find out
what she likes today

i am concerned for my memory
i feel nothing when you look at me
i want to sink
disappear
lay in bed
im in here

if you find me
just keep going
if you love me
theres no knowing
i cant tell between the two
happy days spent
missing you

i constantly ***** everything up

but i am always set up for failure

There's an itch in between
my sanity and sleep
it keeps on trying to bring me down
And I don't see the key
I'm running in my dreams
and I'm trying not to drown
I love you too much
you can't see me drown

tell me i'm pretty
tell me i'm dumb
tell me that i'm your only one
i sit at home and wait for you
i sit at home
now what do i do?

this beat on my brain
is what i'm used to
this noise in my nerve
it's sticky like glue
i think i know a thing, or two
i think i want to die with you

I just saw an ad online
that said "House spiders the size of your hand
are invading UK homes
& looking for love"
and I couldn't help but
somewhat relate

i'm happy just to lay in bed
because my glow-in-the-dark stars
above my head
make me happy
but I wish I was dead
would you be happy,
if it were you instead?
i'm happy just to lay in bed
because the thoughts & the voices
that consume my head
they make me happy
& I like to pretend
i'm not lonely
but I am in the end