It's been so long
since you've been here.
I think I wish,
I hope you're near.

Days seem to pass
so ******* fast,
but still the thought of you
won't pass.

the lullaby of
your breath
on my shoulder;

it ruffles my hair.

dear Mother--

like nails on a chalkboard
the sounds of your
Cruel Words
hurt.

a biting, pinching, sharp
little hurt.
a string, a twinge.

it felt like a
punch, an ache
a WHAM!
each day
You ignored Me.

Mother, did you
forget Me?
your Daughter,
your girl?

your hate
no-
your disdain
no-
your disregard
for Me
feels like ice in My veins.

you've poisoned My heart.

do You remember?
I grew inside You
came from your flesh.

dear Mother--
is this your revenge?

i am forgotten memories:

smell of the milk
gone sour
in the back of the
bottom shelf of the
fridge.

sound like the muffled cries
and broken screams
drowned out by the
newest- catchy
radio 'bop'.

feel of the fingernails
and rusty scissor blades
in far left desk-drawer
on skin.

look like the purple
bags on pale skin,
clenched teeth,
red knuckles.

i do not know my name,
it is better this way.

itch-twitch
wrist, lips
hips kiss!
limp dicked
****** kids

In the summertime,
in Michigan,
I wore my feet bare.

Let them:
Blister and burn
on the sticky black pavement.
Skin broken on sharp
little pebbles.

Let the:
sticky popsicle syrup
mix with blood.
Red and blue-
like the of Fourth of July.

Feel the:
Skin transform,
harden, callous,
an armor of scaly skin.

My brother
caught a snake, once.
Proud little fists,
hoisting in the air.

But:
Proud little fists
squeeze too tight.
Red- like the Fourth of July.

tremble
slightly ripe
melted ice cube
shhh... listen now
tremble, tremble, tremble
pink floyd's playing
pour some more
stink of wine
tremble

yellow
                                                  used to be my favorite color
                                      i could live
                                                         within its warmth.

                                  but our kitchen was green:
                                 green and white
                                                      wallp­apered stripes.

                and those stripes
                                 weren't warm--
                                              they were filled
                                                                ­    with pain and hate.

      my mother
                               tired from the cold,
                           tore down
                             down!
                                          that ugly
                                                                ­    kitchen wallpaper.

                        clawing at the walls
                        she broke it
                                     into bits.

              yellow paint
                                       then filled the walls;
                                                         a promise of a change.

                                 but like all good things,
                             yellow too
                                                  seemed to fade.

                      my little kitchen,
                               are you why
                                      yellow
                ­                                      now brings
                                                                ­ me pain?