I live through visions of distortion,
Wondering how to remain confident
Even through all the troubles and trials
That bind me from being who I thrive to be

I gave you a minute
To live for yourself
For once in your life
And you rolled up all that I had
To create a person
I had never met before

Through these visions you find
A hazy glimpse of what-once-was;
It spirals and contorts around
To find its chance at a true color
But it stays in its kaleidoscope of craziness

I'll remember those times
Long ago when it felt real
To visit someone amazing
Who I could spend every moment
With and not want to leave

I could explain everything to you
And you would listen and be
There for me
I would want you to be here
To smile full of joy and whisper,
I'm so proud of you

You will be there watching
All those great moments, and
I will feel happy knowing that
You are there to witness it all

I wish I could go back
To that happy place
once more.

The girl with purple hair is sitting at my bar again.
I think she is beautiful. And not in a way that I wanna have awesome *** with her but in a way that I want to drink chocolate martinis with her
and go shopping for christmas vests that have tinkly bells and possibly polar bears with hats on them.
She is having a full-body cry. I am the worst bartender, simply
because I don't know how to counsel people without crying back at them.
She is crying about the state of women.

I know that we come from the same rotting wood, so all I do is nod.

"How is it that three quarters of the women I know have been ***** or molested?
What does that say about the men that I know?
**** is not a man behind a bush with a knife, she laughs
It's kissing you on the mouth like whiskey at a nice bar."
The girl with purple hair and I are holding hands now,
"I only wanted an apology,
an acknowledgement of what occurred."
Grappling as artists, as girls, as ships in bottles,
how do we change any of it?
I tell her I am going to write a poem.
She says no one wants to hear a **** poem.

And I know she's right.

Have you ever seen a stampede of horses?
Do you wonder what the hooves look like from underneath?
Have you ever tasted the blood from biting your own lips because you couldn't say no loud enough?
"I never fought back. I kept my thighs tight and
closed, but once he's inside you, you wish you were the streetlamp, the
store clerk, a street lamp, a bed of calla lilies-

anything but a woman.

In that moment, our eyes glaze over, and they stay that way for years.
That's when you've lost.

I’m a civilized individual, I must admit,
Caved inside a privileged home where I
Live in solace; it’s hard
To complain about anything else
Living isn’t the same as living, and it pains me
Each day is never like the next
It took me years to hit my lowest, and somehow
I still function with this empty gas tank of motivation—
I’m the true face of an unwanted miracle.

I feel like Jimi Hendrix at his lowest,
After his high during Woodstock
I live in a world where expression
Is laughed at, casted off as batshit crazy—
Maybe this slump of mine is the great art project
That Andy Warhol never got to craft
Of course, he would never give this mess
The time of day; no one wants to see
A car crash of lost innocence
I should be out on a football field, people say,
Acting as defense, yet I can’t
Even defend my internal suffering
Life’s a ***** with those kind of things
To cover up and protect other people’s ugliness.


I would never want to do that; I’d rather slowly
**** myself ten feet away from a computer screen,
Reading the ****** judgements of the world
And understanding that I’m not the only one
Living a life of regrets and decisions.

Oh yes, life is a *****—
But it’s the most interesting ***** you’ll ever meet.

Behind these four walls
I see a man looking for an escape
He grips a knife, looking at possibilities--
Perhaps he'll slash his wrists
And let his love pour open;
Maybe he'll **** the noise
That surrounds his daily fuss;
Either way, I know better
Than to answer the calls of such a man
In the mirror, I see him, say goodbye
And wonder when we'll meet again.

It's always nice to stick my head out
And let the wind hit my restless pupils
As I drive along the rocky road
This is where I find the greatest solace,
Never having to explain myself,
Never having to worry about life
And the troubles of being human.

I think about her on these trips,
With her hair flowing freely
Against the sides of my car
With my hand pressed against her,
I find us at peace with each other
You are so gorgeous.

This is what I live for.

You died,
and a year has passed

I don't know how to explain
how much I miss you
without being stabbed
by needles in my throat
sometimes I wonder
if the pain from losing you
is drawing me closer to you
but I pray it isn't time yet

You died,
and a year has passed

And every time I write those words,
it hurts me inside
because I can't believe them;
it can't be about you,
you're here

You died,
and a year has passed

I loved and I lost,
and I will continue to love
with your memory inside me
with every person I meet

I died,
And a year has passed.