I spent my last night in Tennessee at your house.
We ate dinner in your front yard
so that the cars could watch us
as they drove by.

You said,
you're rarely as burned out
as you think you are.

Last night I counted the states between here and Montana,
thinking back to that night
I wished away everything in the April sky
so that you could shine the brightest.

This is the part where life cracks open.
The final lap around the Sorry board,
the moment where a German man
chokes you on the Subway.
Your throat closes but your heart opens up
and there are bees in there.
General Mills was wondering where they went.

Skin kisses skin
crossing cheeks, pecking noses.
The breadth between ‘be my shadow’ and ‘enough for now.’

Blow out the candles if you’re listening God,
we need a little flicker here.

father blank be thy name.
thy will follow the script,
thy must be kind.
on earth as it is in heaven.
give us this Christmas our yearly word
and forgive us our hypocriticalness
as we judge others before we repent ourselves.
tell us not of our faults,
rather teach us the ways to earn our tickets
as allegiance is not forced, it is learned.
for thine is the bread and the wine and the whiskey too
for ever and ever
amen.

I’ll start out by saying that my parents don’t like us to label ourselves.
They don’t like us to share them either.

As a child it used to take me at least two hours to fall asleep.
Thoughts would race through my head like boxcars.
I would repeat what I was excited about the most
until my brain would get tired enough to let me rest.
Some doctors would call that insomnia, but that’s not what I had.

Since the age of six, I haven’t believed in god.
His existence always felt like a fairytale
that adults never grew out of.
Some people would call this atheism, but that’s not what I have.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been worried.
Every event in my day was cause for panic.
I would string them along like paper chains
with no rest in between.
Some doctors call that anxiety, but that’s not what I have.

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t pick at my skin.
I’ll rip off pieces until my skin gets mad
and bleeds red with anger.
Some doctors would call that dermatillomania, but that’s not what I have.

Since middle school, I’ve been afraid of germs.
I won’t touch my face without washing my hands first
which makes it take twice as long to put on makeup.
I can’t eat without sanitizing my hands
which makes people skeptical to get to know you better.
Some doctors would call that germaphobia, but that’s not what I have.

When I was fifteen my throat used to close up
every time I thought about death.
Sometimes you don’t realize you’re breathing until you’re gasping for air.
Some doctors call that a panic attack, but that’s not what I had.

I’ve been on antidepressants for three years
in order to calm down my brain
from running too many marathons.
My heart was never able to catch up.
Some doctors might say that this is because I was depressed.
But that’s not what I have.

My therapist told me…
— ****, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.

Somebody told me to come here today so that
I could be honest to myself and others
about the problems that don’t have names.
The words that I can’t say out loud.

I’m hoping with this discussion
I will someday be able to say that
I used to not be able to fall asleep for hours.
I used to not believe in god, I used to worry all the time.
That I no longer pick at my skin.
I’m no longer afraid of germs.
My throat used to close up,
and I’m no longer on antidepressants.

Because I have problems that can't be labelled.

15-10-19
I want you to read this.
Know that I'm a psychopath.
It would be easier if you hated me for creeping up your neck.
For holding a snare around your ankle.

For being obsessed and inhuman.

If I'm not human. If I'm not real. I cannot be hurt.
And since your opinion matters the most in this hour, tell me I'm surreal. So I can surrender.

~

Barefoot.  
Floor.
I wish you could see me now.
Slowly moving my body to his lyrics.
"Oh mother I can feel.."*

Breath in my mouth so I won't die.
If that lust is too mad.
Then bury my flesh and mind among the soaked leaves.
As long as your skin grab my limbs, I'm fine.

Nothing is wrong but,
Sadness demands to be felt.
I will sleep it off.

You live in memories
that dance along my ribs,
twist around my lungs and
swim in my veins.
I feel you like scars,
carved deep into my skin with
hurt and hope.


Sometimes I think you can hear me,
when it's 3:57am and the oceans between us are here
in my heart.
You have become my
blood
bones
breath -

I have to tear myself apart
to let you go.

Nobody puts a baby in a corner
Unless it's for a Human Development class
***** that, run!