One day 250 years ago
a man talked to his grandfather.

A blind old man told his sons son a story
about how he saw flying handkerchiefs
and pretty women
a man in his smoking robe.

realistically,
you're so far from my grasp
and it kills me
every
*******
day
when i see your arms
(god, i love your arms)
around other girls
the skinny girls
and the pretty girls
and the not-me girls.

if it is suggested to me one more time
that my self-worth
is defined by
• my weight
• how attractive i am
• my ability to be submissive and agreeable
i will unleash
in all her feminist glory
my inner warrior princess
and she will rip your soul out
and spit on it.

school is probably
my least favorite time-****
because i don't learn

i'd rather be on
a big farm where i could learn
about animals

or in the ocean
where i could swim with dolphins
and ride on a while

i could be in the
jungle hunting with tigers
eating papaya

i want to be in
australia, hugging a
baby koala

i mean ****, i could
just be at home reading or
writing or singing.

i would like to be
anywhere around the world
anywhere but here.

Bright lights from above
Seem to shine down when you smile and when you cry
Angels faeries and nymphs and elves come out of the warm oak wood floor.
They crawl into your covers, and onto your head, trying to make you love yourself again.
Their kisses heal any scars and their hands can warm the world's most frigid heart.
Free as can be they could be with anyone, even me.
Time and time again however they chose you and brush away your sins, comb out the kinks, and make your body, you.

we had a real conversation for once
about your ptsd
you told me
you remember 100%
every guy you ever killed
and you went to iraq...
you told me
stories
what it was like
when you got back...
about waking up from a night terror
slashing your pillows
with a knife
about another guy
who almost strangled
his wife
you told me
all the reasons
you can't sleep
i wanted
to lay my head on your chest
but i
didn't

the cosmic balance of all life
    is perhaps beyond my perception
  but still may hold the key
         to why love and hate are so **** close
and why i never win at bingo.

oh,
dead
sleeping
snoring
college student,
i have the strangest
affection
for you.
drooling
wheezing
beauty
you lie on your desk
like a spilled milkshake in a parking lot
occasionally mumbling
things about
classes
and rap lyrics
finally,
a man who understands
my ideals.