each day feels longer.
I am not sure where I am
going tomorrow.

I don't care
anymore--
nothing
is interesting.
it is all
one shade of midnight
blue
it is all
one shade of
*******
(as if I even had the energy to
feel such anger)

these words come from
oops, I am spiraling again
oops, I already spiraled
I hit bottom
and I think I will stay here for awhile

feel free to come join me if
you think you can

the soft melody reminds me of
the summer
and the low finger picked guitar
****** my heart, making it ache.

remember:
lonely car rides with mixed CDs
to nondescript houses
where wires attach to heads
that zone out in the hopes of being fixed
in the most science fiction type of ways.

houses where the doctor wrote notes about me
that felt just as painful as the words
the others said behind my back
her words dug deeper
her words stung worse

and so

the water was gonna take me
and I was gonna let it
because I had decided there was
nothing left.

but each time the tub filled
the little strength I had withheld
drained out of me
and I just sat
adding salty tears to the scalding water--

there is something heartbreaking
about not having the will to die
even when its the only thing you
thought you had the will left to do.

the room smelled so
suddenly of my grandmother
cigarettes doused in perfume
--cover the smoke

my jaw is shaped like hers:
a protuberance of chin on a face
{the bump of a curly bracket}

in her split level cottage,
a home away from home,
I made

little tea set memories
positioned in pastel houses
“I’m a lady,” I told her,
only dolls for witnesses.

smell the similarities of our faces.
hints of cigarette perfume
emanating from the pores
in my plastic doll skin

evaluating descriptions
of myself and what it means
to have high arches
and elbows that crack.

or angry base ****** expressions.
I don’t look friendy.
or personable
or happy.

what I’ve found is I don’t fit
into a perfectly shaped puzzle piece
hole (that was made for me
to help identify who I am)

I am unidentifiable by choice.

or maybe it's not willingly
but rather an unfortunate truth
I have mistaken as my own decision.

all I really wanted was
someone who fit into
the puzzle with me.

like two nesting birds
that stuff their feathery bodies
into too-tight spaces.
(we don’t fit)

instead I am just one
lonely bird in a too big nest.

my feathers are ruffled
from frantic, panicked waves
of agoraphobic episodes.

this immense space
looks ridiculous
for one body

I can't be the only one who feels so

alone.

All of the identical houses
have identical stains--
each one a sprawling green spot.
a moldy, neglected reminder
that somebody didn't finish their chores.

slanted roof tiles, now crooked, yellowing
like unbrushed teeth.
weeds erupt from the cracked pavement.
these are the signs of undetermined futures
lost.

forget the ugly idealistic fantasies of tomorrow.
optimism has found a new home

and it has moved far away
and it has packed all its boxes
leaving only vague memories behind.

once upon a time
I did my chores. ( Not well)
But they are done.
I asked for help but I only received
blank stairs.