you took the finger you accuse with
you took it and accused my insides of the most punishable sin
adultery
because baby, i want you. i want you.
and while this took place, i left my body
and moved into my shadow filled ***
and grasped your neck
and threw my head back
because i am loud
and i am not controlled
like a broken electrical line
snapping and shooting at the ground in a mass of sparks
like the fourth of july in shorts that daddy would not be too proud of
and scabs on your thighs from that mysterious boy who lives down the street.
secret, secret. mom i'm a *******.
mom i like it when he hurts me.
mom he pulls my hair and bites my chest and i tnrill.
it isn't the same when i bite myself
because lord knows that's because i want to feel close to death
and maybe because he does throw
and kick and cut
when he loses it all
maybe i will come close to death.
maybe he'll just tilt that steering wheel
scream at me for everything i can't do
and then i'll be gone.
and you won't have a ******* for a daughter any longer;
what a heavy burden to carry.

the rush of orange and purple
backwards seats
leaving you behind
leaving the deep skyline behind
leaving my breath and the way you filled my fingernails with flesh
second love
proving every inch of mind to the depths of the ocean
and i hope and wish and pray
that you will sit in my opposite seat
and we will look up from our newspaper puzzles
and laugh on how
we have no capability to do anything we wish
because we skipped every opportunity we do not regret
and skipped every rock we will never regret
over the pond of swans
that look elegant, but bit my cousin Jack
that look elegant, but broke my aunt’s heart
that look elegant
but violently
purge
up
every
meal.

I just hugged Zoe and I saw her hickies and wanted
to kiss her lips over and over just like the day
we got high and danced underneath moving lights
and she was in my tutu and her blonde hair
felt right tickling my face and the boy
who is supposed to love her didn't notice
and it made us laugh and laugh because
if we didn’t laugh; we would have cried.

Why do we love to leave behind bruises
on lips and necks and arms and eyes
and teeth? It hurts but no matter what, no
matter how much I crush my teeth together to
hide my yelps, it always turns into this
beautiful, beautiful mark that doesn't want
pressure and looks like a sunset borrowed
it it’s colors because no one, not even
a bruise, wants to be ugly.

I laid on a blanket, lit a candle, stretched my limbs like a sea star
... before i knew it, the moon came to visit
excited to see me and without abandon
laid from the tips my fingers, extending across my entire body
and as i exhaled and inhaled
i was able to balance them on my *******
rising up and down
i never pushed them too high
we practiced our equilibrium until i was healed
and when they left
i knew it was for the best of me

why is it that i can only form words

about idiotic people making the most sense of their lives

and me hating mirrors

and me hating me.

why can’t i speak about

the way the clouds graze over my ankles when i’m laying in a field

or the way you TOUCHED my hand

and my heart fluttered like an angel

if only my innocence were that strong

and my skin that pure

i have rashes and wounds and heals and brokens

and i am not happy with any of it

but there i go again

ignoring how soft my blanket feels or the way the dust on my fan sits

even though it goes every night

to drown out my thoughts

so i have hope in falling asleep

because you know i can never sleep in silence

or with the television on

because i’m afraid of quiet and i’m afraid of loud

and i am a contradiction in every sense of the **** word

and i love it.

“every time i feel my stomach convulse it’s a new wave of tears
take vitamins, she says
you should just eat, she says
you got skinnier, another says
“eat! eat! haven’t you been eating!? and this bandaid! quit cutting yourself, kalena”
and for a moment i think it’s truth
i think it’s honest
i shout “i do eat! they’re just cat scratches”
and if she would have lifted up that bandaid
she would have learned it was honest
it was truth
but it was melted away flesh that she would have found, not torn
but melted
and in the highlight of this moment i see all of my dreams come true
finally, someone notices!
finally, someone cares!
but yet she’s willing to stop eating. to make sure that i do.
my little thing. an entire 98 pounds, not by choice.
so unhealthy, so sick. all the time. so **** tired.
she would stop eating for me.
and though it doesn’t help, the thought is comforting. it should be disturbing.
it is. in the way that if she stopped eating…
she would lose weight.
and then i would fight harder and harder until my rib bones were sticking out so far they were larger than my chest.
emaciated.
bony fingers that boys don’t want to hold and girls don’t want to kiss.
hair that slides out with the slightest tug.
no one wants that.
except me, of course.
i want that.
i want to weigh 85 pounds.
i want to die.
i want to be so high on the emptiness that i die.
i faint. and they cannot wake me up.
eternal sleep. forever peace. and the best part of all?
I would be horrifically tiny in even the smallest coffin. “