the only funeral i've ever been to was my great-grandmother's. it was alabama in june. i was young, maybe 8 or 9, wearing a church dress and watching strangers offer me comfort and candy.
when the viewing was happening, my oldest sister took us outside and told us stories of mama. how she fled from the phillipines during WWII with a five-year old kid and a dead husband. it felt like a made up story then. still does sometimes.
my father gave a eulogy at the grave sight. he compared my great-grandmother to a magnolia tree. how southern. we prayed. then we ate.
i remember my grandfather crying. sobbing. openly expressing his grief. i remember the look on his face. like it was all over. like existing hurt now that his mother was gone.

that funeral has never ended for me.
i still feel the humidity in my head.
the mourners, unaffected, continuing
staring down into the ditch where she lays
empty condolences from faceless relatives
overlap each other until they are only mumbles
an ongoing buzz of misery.
and when the bells toll, it isn't space
it is the ground in which the box lies
a perpetual reminder that i will join her soon.
grey matter the soil, nerves the worms, and i
the ditch digger. searching for my great-grandmother's
pearls, her soul, my soul.

that funeral has never ended for me.
and when the plank in reason breaks
the worlds i hit will be those of knives
and monsters and crucifixes nailed to
the walls of my childhood bedroom.
shadows envelop me further,
anonymous lovers will invite me to believe
that i have finished knowing yet
i am no where ******* close.
my great-grandmother's shaky hands
will try to catch me as i'm dropping down
but no luck. i will keep falling
until every single person who has
broken my heart and whispered truths into
my skull has ripped every inch of skin
off my body while the mourners watch from
above. i will keep falling as long as this
funeral continues. as long as my life continues.

we named the magnolia tree in our front yard after her. Mama's magnolia. when it blooms, my grandfather comes over and stares at it for a long time. like i, he and silence have wrecked.
solitary. here.

the cracks in the shades
make stripes along my sheets
eternity and death
laying beside me

it's time for them to leave
but their promises
will never vacate
the indentation on my mattress

their breathing, their whispers of truth
that progression is happening
that the world is spinning
that I am dying

spending hours assuming
that their touch will render me
into anything but a funeral
pacing in a skull

when they leave, I
am sure they will never
return. for this figment of my
imagination, has ended me

he used to stroke my hair. we would be lying there veiled from the world and he would stroke my hair. softly and intimately.
looking back, what he was really doing was slowly scratching away something from me. my heart? my dignity? my hope?
innocence was leaking from my pores. naivety gushing from my eyes. releasing a pheromone that only predators can smell.  
he was so soft. so warm. a short one sided love affair with a man with poison on his lips. they tasted like home.

we lounge there enveloped in the tangible silence. the void within my soul is pulsating with the rage created by your hands between my thighs. if heaven had arms and legs it would be laying down beside me now.
words hang in the air above us, not daring to close the distance between our lips. my feet are cold in the sheets that our love story is printed upon, just small enough for us to barely read. our breaths become one until neither of us can tell who is inhaling and who is exhaling. as i bestow my fingertips on your eyelids, softly memorizing the details of your skin, the chasm closes.
my home i've been searching for is now a part of me. not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.

heavy breathing and anxious touches and extreme tenderness is what brought me close to you.
the way you smile like you've seen my soul gives me a desire to curl up inside your chest. i bet its warm in there.
because your words are comforting and your hands are soft. but they aren't for me. you aren't for me.
i think our hearts were made out of the same stars. do you feel that? do you understand?

men write books filled
with pseudo-intellectual proclamations
about the meaning of
this ****** up world we live in,
complete with citations from the bible
and shakespeare and the devil himself.
words drag down pockets until
they are shuffling along the streets
almost unable to move and their pants
are picking up dirt which god created
for the exact purpose of being
swept up by the pant legs of
rapists and murderers and housewives.
bitterness spreads like rabies
foaming from the mouth of pretty girls
who spread their legs for whomever comes along
to whisper words they barely understand
with bad breath and sweaty palms into
their ear.
the pigs sit in line waiting to be slaughtered or
to create the next degrading law that will give them more money.
at least barbecue can bring happiness to people instead of
institutionalized bigotry this great nation is built upon.
meanwhile, the slaves they like to name the "lower class"
work their *** off in this capitilist society
to feed their family and get an education
that these pigs were spoon fed since birth.
a birth given by a mother who was more than likely
sexually assaulted at some point in her life
and cried when she heard it was a boy.
rain still falls on forests that are molested by
energy tycoons who release toxins into
our drinking water and the air we breathe
and the food we eat after it's loaded with more
toxins from the processes that make sure
it doesn't expire until we are all dead and gone.
as long as the white people enjoy their food
everything will be okay, however half of
the world doesn't have access to clean drinking water
and when they fight back we bomb them or
massacre them or use them.
we are taught to ignore these things
that plague the human race and
but how can you ignore when the pictures of
white men who **** and **** and steal
hang up on the walls that
are supposed to protect you?

i've become overwhelmed and i need to put my emotions down somewhere.
i've realized my feelings for a boy who in no way deserves it. he is young and selfish and in love with another girl and i am a woman and impatient and incredibly annoyed.
we are friends. he has spent the night at my house and i his, and i've told him things very few people know, and i hope its the same with him. however he is in love with a small beautiful girl who will break his heart and i hate it. i will never be with him but he deserves someone who will treat his hardened heart and kind eyes the way they should be. he runs away from his problems and uses drugs as anesthetics and talks about the universe like it holds every answer and when he's tired he uses my shoulder as a pillow. his eyes are light brown and often red from tears or *** and he cries at movies and he wants to kiss her so much and she is silent. she loves the attention and he is willing to give it and i don't know what to do because he is incredible and this is pointless bye

i’m afraid that someone will meet my lips and taste stale cereal and close the lid. i’m afraid someone will open my heart and reveal cobwebs and old books about death and that i will have to explain and decorate, apologizing under my breath and they will never feel at home. i crave human affection in every way but i’m afraid my skin feels like sandpaper and my eyes are an abyss of the razors from my past and my tongue is nothing but a loaded gun with bad aim. people want soft grass and dandelions and cotton scented bed sheets and i am a splinter in the fingertip of their love.

i'm afraid i am nothing but a vampire who ***** the life out of anything that looks my way. i'm afraid that my nightmares will become reality and i will be the villain. i'm afraid that my bed will feel like spikes under his back. i'm afraid my demons will begin to haunt him if he gets too close. i'm so afraid that my knives will dull and it will be more painful than i intended. no one wants a destructive person to hold their ******* hand.

i'm afraid that i am none of these things and that my eyes will turn red at midnight. but even more so, i am afraid he will still find me beautiful and that i will **** him.