I promise you I don't want to **** myself
This isn't a letter saying goodbye
Not a poem blaming you for not seeing this coming
But sometimes
When I'm all alone
I sit in the bath just a little bit longer,
hoping and hoping I drift off to sleep
Or smoke three cigarettes
one after the other after the other
and hope my lungs get so filled with tar that I
stop breathing
Or stand dangerously close to the edge of a building
and close my eyes hoping the wind might *******
just hard enough to fall

It's easy to imagine
I know what everyone would say
How some people would cry
And some would secretly be glad
Some would feel guilt
Others sorrow
And in about a week it wouldn't matter

But I want to matter
Whether it be to just my mom
Or the man I helped cross the street
I want to matter

And so I tuck those thoughts deeper in the closet
And I step away from sharp objects and steep edges
And I sit and write poetry
Poetry will be the death of us all
Anyway

I am terrified
Of the demons camped out in my mind
I did not welcome them
None of us do
But out of a ****** up gene pool and a thunderstorm of circumstance they emerge
Ugly horrible creatures
Now you're saying I'm crazy
I sure as **** am
We're all ******* crazy
We're mad
We're Ginsberg's Roman candles shooting violently across the sky
That's not fair
(Though life hardly is)
Perhaps it's not just us
Perhaps it's these demons
Demons so keen on gardening and planting seeds in our heads
Seeds of emotion
Of self-doubt
of love
of laziness and disappointment
Seeds that sprout and consume
Winding and twisting
allowing such little light
Of course we have the power
We have the shears
We can cut the vines
But do we have the strength?
Do I?

Be impeccable with your word.

I am called too honest
too confident
too bold
I am told the way I'm thinking
the way I'm reacting
I am told they're all wrong

But I mean the words I say,
I may be honest
but I'm real
I may be confident
but I'm me
Hiding my deepest
insecurities
and diseases
with my loud voice

2. Don't take anything too personally.

3. Don't make assumptions.

4. Always do your best.

I **** men who don't like me
in hopes that they will.
I give them small kisses
and smile when I stare.

I know all the moves.
How to bite my lip
Show slight cleavage
Glance at them occasionally
Don't break eye contact
Touch my thigh
Widen my eyes

then I open my mouth

And they think:
Man, she's ******* crazy

Just crazy enough to ****
Too crazy to stay
So they run
And the cycle continues

Someday someone won't be afraid of
my loud, opinionated mouth
and my wide hips

I met a man
ragged, older, *****
in Union Square Park
on a chilly
Tuesday morning.
He asked me to marry
him
I said
No
he sat
he spoke
I listened
The city will strip you.
he said
It will make you the most naked version of yourself.
O.K.
And you can either clothe yourself in substance
or clothe yourself in art.
Both will leave you broke.
Both will open your mind.
But only one will make you happy,
give you purpose.
You're right
And don't be ****** about it.
You're too beautiful to be ******.
Appreciate everything.
I will.

I am a contradiction
I am an eighties perm in 2013
I am not thinking
I am not ebbing
I am not flowing
But I am happy
I am seaweed that fails to move with the current
I am the loneliest I have ever felt
I am the most sure of things I have ever been
My mind is an ocean
My heart is a plane
My fingertips hold the pulse of earth's heartbeat
I spin intricate webs of thoughts through the overcrowded bookshelves in my mind
But that's okay
Because when you're lying in bed at 3:18 in the morning
you begin to realize that you don't need to
ebb or flow
Your **** doesn't need to be formed into a
tight and perfect sphere
You can just be
And whether being is
having the puzzle complete or
the pieces scattered across 7 different continents
in the end
it's all just pieces
Incoherent shapes
existing

My god is poetry
My god is words and oceans and rising suns
My god is abandoned buildings and meaningful graffiti
My god doesn't pressure or judge
My god doesn't have rules or contracts
My god lets my life die with me
My god is yoga and fresh tea and new music and modern art
My god doesn't condemn
My god isn't a man who chooses what happens
He doesn't choose who dies or if you deserve good fortune
My god is happiness
My god is creativity
My god is intelligence
My god is love

I thought I knew exactly what I wanted
I thought I was the one who had **** figured out
You see those girls who wear too much makeup and laugh too loud and don't really speak their mind because they don't want to be judged
I was never one of them
Feminist some would say
****
I prefer independent
But I'm ******* 19 years old
And I am totally changing my path
I have no ******* clue
what I want
where I want to be
how I want to live my life
And everyone is constantly in my ear telling me how much I'm going to amount to
How talented I am
How lovely I am
**** that
Tell me what to ******* do
Tell me not to worry
Tell me everything is going to be okay
I don't want all this spoonful of sugar *******
I want to make the right choice
I think this is why I've always been slightly suicidal
The anxiety of life is almost
Almost
Too much to bear

And you know what calms me down?
Brushing my teeth
And thinking about you

**** that

I was naked
encompassed in You
******* (of course) about how I
hated having to put my clothes
back on
Nevertheless
I crawled out of Your grasp
scoured Your room for the bits of
cloth that had been so
passionately ripped off but hours ago
And, in my naked oblivion,
You watched
Or was it gazing? For gazing
requires feeling
I felt those deep green eyes
my body clenched
my heart pounded
I felt You burning a hole into
my spine
my bare ***
my chilled arms
What?
You are just the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
That was it.
I placed my heart delicately
in Your palm as though I was
giving a small child a kitten
The ******* was useless
no clothes were worth that day
only my smile
and believing I was beautiful
for the very first time.

there are a lot of words that begin with un
and
most of them ****

unlucky unloved uninvited unaccepted unachieved unacknowledged uncomfortable  unadmired unheard

but there is one word that starts with those two letters
that can make things all better

understood

At 12 years old I learned that love
wasn’t forever
I sat
and I watched
as my makers fell apart
& the only thing I could do was
Cry

At 14 I found love for myself
I was
young &
all it took was a mutual hug over
our lack of god
& I was absolutely and entirely
hooked

At 15 I was broken on my own,
but at 16 I was truly destroyed
there was cheating
& lying
& new girlfriends to be had
& once more I was reminded of
love’s
expiration date

17 and I thought I’d give
love another shot
but that was not for a person
however, for the substances said
person could fill me with
& I danced
& laughed
& was left again to my
guilt & self-loathing

I am 18 now
and I hate
love.

You’re really cute
I believed that
Because you were 18 and I was 14 and you loved me
And though I was just a lamb
Being lured into the trap of a
Lion
I followed
In the dark our lips became one
The lion pulled the lamb on top of him and the lamb
followed
Did you know that yours were the first lips mine had ever met?
Did you even know the color of my eyes?
Don’t worry
we can play a game
you can tell me when to stop
The lamb told you to stop
But the lion pretended not to listen and only pawed more aggressively
When the lamb grew the courage to get off the lion
and pull his paw out of her pants
and her pants up over her knees
the lion roared
Fine
Whatever
Your ****’s not shaved and your stomach’s not flat enough for me anyway
That’s gross
And I believed that
Because you were 18 and I was 14 and you loved me.
I still believe that
Because yours were the first lips mine ever met
The first lips that told me they loved me

my Dreams are too big for my
head
She said
I told Her
but Darling those are the best
Ones
for Dreams inside heads have
no room to grow
no sunlight to feed on
no water to drink
but Dreams that burst through
can shoot up to the sky
can spread like vines
and bloom like gardenias
the only thing better,
I said
than a Dream that is too big
is a Dream that becomes
real

He consumes my mind
He eats at my soul
He sprinkles our memories like salt on scrambled eggs
He cuts at every bit of independence I have

Because I want nothing more than to be one with him
To sit deep in his stomach
Make him full with love

I want my love to be his favorite food
And I want to feed him every day.

This poem is for
You
You who spoke in words that
sprouted flowers of hope

And I picked each one

Like a disrespectful little girl
walking through the gardens of her
various neighbors on the way
home from school

And I inhaled that scent perfumes
only dream of producing

You didn’t stop
So neither did I

And then you did.

This poem is for
You
You who I thought would never be
a poem

But you are now
For even flowers of hope
wilt

This poem is for
You
You who taught me more than 13
years of public schooling
You who was no different
You who left

I hate you
I do.
I hate that you convinced me to
listen
Convinced me to
grow
I hate that I have to avoid my
voicemail box
And that you can’t respond
I hate you






I don’t.

You used to
Love
Me
But now you’re
Gone

You have left me with
A journal, some
Memories,
An empty bed,
And a couple of
heart pieces

I have since
Closed the journal
Blocked out the memories
And
Glued back the heart

As for the bed?
I will fill
with desperation
with empty feelings
And boys that try to do me right

None of them can do me like
You did.

A big **** you for
He
who left his
memories
sprinkled like
Ashes
Tossed into the ocean on a
brisk, fall day
Throughout my life
Under my  covers,
On my skin,
In my scent,
On my doorstep,
On every person that meant something to you,
when I meant something to you

I do not hate you
I couldn’t possibly
I simply hate the power you have to possess me to whine after all this
time
Time
TIME
Like your tapping foot when you got restless,
Your cracking thumb when you got comfortable

One day
When all is passed and I have found a semblance of
Happiness

You will remember

She rises
& looks at her clock
******
****** either that it’s too late and She will be rushing (again)
Or ****** that it’s too early
(for only those in the military need to wake up at this god awful time, right?)
She rips free from the forceful grasp of her lumpy mattress
& walks across the dusty floors of her perfect one room apartment
She doesn’t need breakfast
(perhaps a gulp of orange juice straight from the bottle)
but the view from her 7th story high window
is enough to feed her for the next 80 years
Or maybe more
The
City that
NEVER
Sleeps
Or the city that never lets her sleep at 7 am
but She forgives it
because each morning She is fed by the
honking taxis
& shouting people
& airplanes overhead
because everyone wants to visit here
but She? She lives here

The next bit of her day depends on
drive
& talent
& passion
& a little bit of luck
She could be late for work
a waitress
& campaign staffer (for the latest liberal agenda)
Or
She could be simultaneously
trying to find that sheet music (again)
picking out an outfit (unique but not revealing)
practicing that dance move (again)
& reading the scenes aloud (again)
Or (if drive & talent & passion & luck have done their job)
She’s spending a little bit more time at that window
thanking the City for the inspiration
smiling (maybe bigger than usual)
calling her family to ask when they’ll be coming out
reassuring her mom she doesn’t need any money (but taking it anyway)
(for now)
dressing for rehearsal
heart-pounding
Debut

Either way (whether  drive  &  talent & passion & luck have done their job or not)
She covers up that small tattoo She got in her (now) younger years
pulls up that hair that has gone from brown, to red, to blonde, to brown, and through the cycle again
covers up the spots on her face
swipes on mascara
(lipstick if She’s feeling up to it)
and thanks whoever or whatever that She looks good for her age

But aside from physicality (and more important than physicality)
She thanks whoever or whatever that She has loved
& been loved
& continues to love until all that is left is the stories
& the playbills
& the people She met
& She loved each one
more than the stage
more than her apartment
more than the view
more than her bed

But perhaps not quite as much as the
drive
& talent
& passion
& luck
that got her there in the first place

Lost
In seas of
age and
self-doubt

As I watch newcomers
Drink to a new year of
Love
Work
Play
Knowing tonight will be one not
remembered by morning

As I watch middle-aged couples drunkenly
spill over
Each
Other
Slur words like
"Iloveyou"
Slop kisses onto
*******
Cheeks
Lips
Not knowing which is which but knowing
that lips belong on such places  

As I watch old folks taking their toast of
champagne
Bundled up to face the cold on brittle
bones
Thinking quietly to themselves if this
New
Year
Will be their
Last

As my head ***** with itself slowly
Tortures
With wishes of being those who I observe
Tricking
Myself
That satisfaction lies in the
Future

This
Year
Will be another one
Closer
To satisfaction.