we think my great uncle eddie
was on the assembly line that built the atomic bomb.
my aunt mildred said he could never tell her
exactly where he was or what he was doing,
far away in the desert
back when he had to take trains to visit
back when manhattan was just place in new york,  
he could only tell her that he loved her.
we still don’t know for certain,
there are some stories that are taken to the grave.
but i wonder, i wonder if my aunt ever looked at his hands
and thought of the destruction
that could be so carefully hidden in his palms,
explosions under his fingernails,
the shells of burnt out cities in his fortune teller's lines
when he touched her delicately,
brushed her hair behind her ear.
but she probably didn’t;
most people only question what they want to question.
everyone thinks of what their hands have built.
not everyone stops to think of what their hands may have destroyed
in the process.

You can tell a lot about a person from the way they leave.

you were a mistake worth making

lately, we’ve been talking about the way things change
we’ve been building cities with our mouths only to blow them out
as if the future is a candle, with trails of smoke like lace,
just the murmur of secrets across the grass getting
softer softer softer
until they disappear, until everything disappears
everything disappears

lately, i’ve been think about the way things change
like seasons and lovers
i’ve been thinking about how
the only thing more permanent than forever is never,
and everybody thinks it’s going to be forever until it’s not
i’ve been thinking about whether it’s a good thing or not
because all the rock stars whose names
we were screaming at concerts are middle-aged parents now
and it’s weird, but i think it’s kind of cool too

times change and things change and that’s okay
you can’t be sixteen forever, and why the hell would you want to be?
being sixteen was kind of a ******* nightmare
growing up isn’t inherently bad,
and if you’re gonna be peter pan
then you’re gonna be lonelier than a lost boy

and maybe i’m the kind of person who expects
everything to fall apart, but life is equally destruction and rebirth
everything disappears, everything’s gonna be different
everything’s gonna be awesome
everything’s gonna be awful

think of it this way:
everything’s gonna be wonderful
just like everything’s gonna be terrible
that’s just the way it is
luck of the draw, life is a crapshoot
and sometimes your hand is ******, but you’ve still got to play it anyways
or you’re just gonna fold over like house of cards

think of it this way:
even in the darkest of nights the moon is always
hiding out somewhere in the sky
and the sun going to come up tomorrow
i couldn’t tell you why exactly because i didn’t pay any attention
in science class, i was too busying doodling in the margins of myself
and looking for stars,
but the sun’s gonna come up tomorrow
it always has, and the sun’s reliable like that
and i know that only thing that’s certain is that nothing is,
and i know i’ve got no proof, but i’ve got a hunch
that everything’s gonna work out
and i know “you’ll be okay” always sounds kind of hollow
but it does ring true

and we’re still young enough to be dumb
and we’re still young enough that we’ve got so many possibilities
it makes me ******* dizzy
and if you’re lucky enough to have
the world in the palm of your hand, don’t clench your fist;
don’t let it slip through your fingers
don’t let go
don’t let go

time’s going really ******* fast today,
always in all the wrong ways
it’s running out and it’s running away
it’s 10:52 PM and i’m trying to start over like
i’ve got a revolver to my ribcage
it’s 11:00 PM and i don’t want to see anyone i know ever again,
i want to get a car and keep driving
down I-70 until i learn how, until my hands never shake again
it’s 11:14 PM and i missed 11:11 again
it’s 12:01 AM and as i’m fine now, i just don’t want to talk about it
it’s morning now and the sun sets in your eyes
and it rises in another’s
and it’s funny how things change
and it’s funny how things stay exactly the same
this is the difference between a collision course and a test run
and a poem a day keep your demons at bay
or it draws them close, up under your skin and lets them in
a poem a day keeps insanity away
let me repeat: i am only as good as the demons i defeat
and if the monsters make me one of them,
i am only as good as what i’ve become
i am only as good as what i’ve done
i am only as good as what i haven't done
sometimes i think when you bet against the world,
the world bets against you
it’s just how it is
it’s probably karma or something like that,
but i’ve given up on reasoning for reasons and i guess
when you’re a non-believer sometimes no one wants to believe in you
i kind of think i’ll be desperately lonely no matter who i’m with
i think i’m on of those people who was born a little bit lonely
i think i’ll never be completely okay with that
but i think that’s okay
i’m just a stranger in my skin
and nobody really makes me feel at home anymore
and i think some days are longer than others
and i think it’s just never the ones you want it to be

I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.

for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?

the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.

no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.

so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.

hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.

instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son

I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.

I told her
A lord behold she didn't seem to care.
Why am i in despair
I told her people can see my poetry
Respond
See the words that spawned from these emotions
But she didn't seem to get the notion
to notice
She was busy
Its fine
My words can still shine

I was sixteen years old when I effectively vomited for the first time. As my mother’s pasta and the words of a boy I thought loved me flooded my esophagus I grasped the cold sides of the toilet seat with sweaty palms and bitten down fingernails. I looked into the mirror as if my reflection had finally transformed into a wax figure I had been burning at for years and I knew it would never go back to its original form. I’d seen that look before, in girls wiping their lips in high school bathrooms, girls who wore baggy clothes and flinched when boys playfully poked at their stomachs, girls who put rocks in their pockets before being weighed at doctors’ appointments and covered up bruises over fragile bones with whatever makeup they could find in their mother’s drawer. I sit in health class as the teacher speaks of the dangers of eating disorders from a third person point of view and it seems as if the only sound anyone is hearing is the growling coming from my empty stomach. I stand up from a lunch table in the cafeteria and freeze at the words of a girl telling me I’ve gotten as skinny as my three month prematurely born best friend. I walk through the front door and immediately remove every piece of clothing that might weigh even an ounce and I step onto the scale with hopes of seeing my importance rise as the numbers fall but no one ever told me that I am worth so much more than 96 pounds.

I am nineteen years old and I am no longer drowned in a sea of panic when my father asks me what I've had to eat today. When my boyfriend glides his hands under my shirt and over the top of my waistline my head is not consumed by the thought that my stomach is not flat enough for his liking. I do not sit in class and think about the flesh of my thighs bulging from the holes in my jeans that a boy once told me looked like tumors under my skin.
Okay, there are days when the only one who knows I am my own worst enemy is the mirror and okay, I still politely insist that the lights be turned off before I let him touch me with satin fingertips and okay, I still have a way of instantaneously counting calories in my head the same way I counted on myself to stop years ago but
I only weighed myself once today.

Just friends
2 words, 11 letters, 2 syllables and a dagger to my heart
Just friends
Was what you would say when people would ask "hey who's that girl you're always with" or "you look cute together"
Just friends

We talk everyday
I've opened up to you more than I ever have to anyone
I've seen the parts of you that you refuse to show others
I know you and you know me like we finished a PHd course on each other
Just friends

When I am with you I seem to forget everything else
You consume me in the best way possible
Every breath you make clouds my mind until you are everything I feel
I catch you stealing glances at me from the corner of my eye
Just friends

I tell you about this guy I found attractive at Starbucks this morning
You gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of the day
You told me about this gorgeous girl
And well let's just say I thought I was prettier
Yknow well just friends can't be jealous when the other one talks about someone else right?
Just friggin friends

Tell me we're just friends
When we look into each other's eyes like a window to our soul
Tell me we're just friends
When I call you at 3 am, crying and you come to my door and take me into your arms
Tell me we're just friends
When you have the ability to make me feel like everything is right int he world
Tell me we're just friends
With every smile, tear and laughter shared
Tell me we're just friends
When i crave your scent and every minute we're not together I just need to be with you
Tell me we're just friends **** it

At this point I don't even know
If you're just lying to yourself about being just friends with me
Maybe you're in denial about what you're actually feeling
And you don't want to admit it to yourself nor say it out loud because if you do then the feelings become real
Or maybe that's really all you ever think we could be
Just ******* friends