i am a creature of shame
i sold my own name
for the sweet sweet price of comfort
in the arms of a mother
and a father and a brother
and only dust remains
i am a creature of shame

i am a creature of guilt
if you will not then i will
and then i will repent
the way i was intended to do
apologize to you
but the words fall still
i am a creature of guilt

i will just waste away
like puddle into bed frame
and with your arms around me
i am filling in my grave
here i lie united with the dirt
not quite six feet under
cause if it’s shallow i’ll return

but i am a creature of the earth now
i will nourish and rejoice now
for i am one with my creature of passion
rise from the ashes
until nothing remains
i am a creature all the same

i woke up on the underside of an avalanche
i always try to go to bed with an olive branch
but the morning brings a thorn in my side
every time
every time

when you want to be kind
be kind
but when you want to be mean
be kinder

i want to write about
something that didn’t happen
it is important that it did not happen
i swore, i promised
that it never happened
i’m just scared that one day
what if it does?

it begins like this:
i wake up, and i’m tired
not just the weight of my eyelids,
but the weight of everything i’ve ever been
and everything i’ve never been
i lie on the couch still,
cold beneath the blanket,
until i am begging myself to change my clothes
to eat anything to drink something
i eat ravioli i drink coffee

it continues like this:
i am easily annoyed, easily frustrated
and while this is not my usual state,
it is perfectly normal for my family;
the very moment that i am too compromised
to be the middle ground,
the ground itself is gone

continuing:
i say something that i mean
and it’s only an accident once i regret it
and because of that,
the car ride home is bumpy and uncomfortable
(when i left them for the bathroom,
i could feel them talking about me,
and in the rear view mirror, he’s watching me,
and i know that he thinks i’m a villain)

the engine of his car is so loud
that it feels like a bubble in my ears
and it makes me want to scream
and maybe punch something,
even though i’d never

i would like to go home
and go straight to sleep,
to go to sleep and wake up normal

and oh, did i mention?
tomorrow is christmas eve.
they always say
christmas doesn’t feel like christmas anymore
i tend to agree,
believing it doesn’t bother me,
but i always forget that the season not feeling like christmas
feels so much worse
when you know that it should.

it’s a kindred sadness
not a cousin,
but a friend

your smell is stuck in my head
i made it up but i know it’s true

i daydream of your hands on my cheeks
your lips on my lips
my fingers in your hair
and i can smell it

you sing strawberries and watermelons but
you smell like firewood and ink
its my most absurd fantasy
that you could find a piece of me to love
so i’ll keep your voice in my ears
and let you sing me to sleep
with that sugar and salt melody

if it burns my tongue
then so be it.

i couldn’t care less
that my feet are wet

my jeans with the holes
keep my knees cold

i don’t really mind
my fingers like ice

i’ll still take the long way home
good things happen when it snows

they’re waiting on me in there
i just sobbed harder than i have in years
in here on my bathroom floor
and they’re waiting on me in there
where we’ll talk about new signs on the highway
and why the dogs are howling
and we’ll watch an old tv show
and i’ll pretend i relate to them
they’re waiting on me in there

i’ll say i got soap in my eyes
and that’s why they’re so red
they’ll know i was crying
but it’s the charade that counts

they’re waiting on me in there
i said i’d be quick but it’s been a long time
i needed time to be so, so sad
to be so far gone in this emptiness
that i didn’t even care if i came back

i’m sitting on my bathroom floor
so alone
and i don’t want to be anywhere else at all
i think that’s really, really sad

i’ve come to realize
that everything i put out into the world
is an apology for being there
in the first place
so, here goes:

i am sorry.

rush hour interstate
and winding backroads
both have seen me sobbing
but neither has seen me
feel anything at all.

it's a bad bet,
a silly gamble,
a poor chance,
a sick game,
an unfortunate guess,
a misplaced trust,
yes, it's a bad bet,
betting on me.

swallow this feeling
so it becomes a pit in my stomach
instead of an ache in my heart
so much of my time
is spent feeling ashamed
so incredibly regretful
about just being who i am
i see no worth in me
i bring nothing forth
i don’t deserve what i’ve been given
i don’t even deserve what i’ve fought for
and the saddest part
is that i don’t even feel sad about it
it isn’t even ripping me to pieces
i don’t even want to die
i just want it to stop
being so true

everyone comes with a poison
my drink of choice
is three-too-many sips of wine
and a shot of *****
yours is the chaser
i am the difficult
and you are what makes it taste better
i am the occasional-unless-you’re-addicted
and you are the anytime, the absolutely
i miss you. i miss you.
the wine doesn’t taste the same without you
the ***** does, but then again,
it had always tasted like a bruise.

i’m entirely out of breathing room
i even miss your suffocation
beads of sweat are worth the wait
your warmth and inclination
to breathe a breeze on my neck
your memory record-scratches here
months and lives have passed
i’m still living in last year.

at midnight
my hair had been a tangled mess
pulled back in a bun

at one a.m.
it had been a wave atop my head
greasy but beautifully dramatic

at two a.m.
it had been a nuisance, oil at the roots
but i said i looked too pretty to take a shower
(that’s such a funny and sad reason)

at three a.m.
i got the idea to cut it
i said, “i need a change, talk me out of it”
and you tried; thank you for that
but even so

at four a.m.
i cut my hair

and i didn’t feel any different.

i think about him when i hear a love song
and it makes me smile
but then i think of you, too.
and i lose my breath at the thought.
i would love to settle for him,
but i know that song would come on,
and i would slither away from him
inch by inch
until i found my place beside you.

see, for you
i would change anything about me
but for him?
for him, i would never have to.

its a lifelong feeling of
thinking i woke up in the wrong bed
i don’t know how i got here
it’s soft and i’m so tired
and maybe i’ll just rest for a while
even though i know i don’t belong

i wrote a story about my life
popping like a balloon
and she didn’t want it;
i guess we all get stuck with things.

i said i am really sorry
and what i meant was
i love you more than my heart can handle
it had been all about me
and then you took the stand
and losing my breath never felt so romantic
do you know? do you know?
i can’t apologize for the way my attention
is always and only on you
you know you know
every day i thank the lord that you exist
i’m sure you hear the prayers
i can’t describe it
you are so much
you are everything
thank you for crying
and thank you for being mine
but in some secret kind of way
you’ll never know how much you mean to me
just know that you are the least replaceable person that i have ever met
and every time i say goodnight
i’m really begging you
to stay.

some nights you feel as if you have to be gentle with the air
if you **** at it too hard it will burst
like when you touch something
you aren’t actually touching it
and when you’re alone you’ve got someone right over your shoulder

ever notice how there are too many cars in the parking lot to be probable?
what are all of these empty machines doing just sitting here?

sometimes i switch faces
i always recognize the one i see but i don’t think it’s the one i’ve always had

i better turn the car on before something quiet gets me

i don’t miss you.
i’m busy.

she said,
the good ones never stay

well i must be terrible,
i replied,
cause i’m not going anywhere
.

sometimes i am granted the ability to see my parents as people
not just the person i know them as
but the person they are
for a brief spare moment
i am able to slip into their narrative
slide behind their eyes
and understand
finally understand their drama and their intrigue
their uniqueness and their plainness
their angels and their demons
and their late night separations
i see who they are without me
sometimes i am granted the ability to see a different version of reality
i think i am omniscient but really
what i am seeing
is me

“nobody else feels bad when they feel bad
so why should i?”

well honey that’s the difference
you’re not like them
you’re too sticky sweet and soft
no one wants to touch
and no one ever will again

is this not me?
the 2 a.m. questioning and
the brokenness of my body?
the loneliness and the doubt?
the wondering if i want this now
only because i think i will never
have it again?

is this version of me
any less true
than the version that is proud
and loud and brave?
is this not who i am?
is this not just as much me
as i was when i was
so different?

i wonder how i can swing like a pendulum
so violently from safe to scared
and then i remember
that i have never been steady
and i have never been brave enough
and i have never learned to be honest

this is me learning honesty

what do i want?
how do i ask that question
without fearing the answer?
how? how? who?

is this not me, too?

what do parking lots
and my heart
have in common?

they both feel so much bigger
at five a.m.

i’m seeing faces
in the fringes
i pray you burst right through the door
and break the hinges

and i’m
seeing stars
not in the sky or in your eyes
just in the dark

the front seat
is having a backseat conversation
and i rest in the vacuum
between the sunroof
and the pavement
we’ve liquified our laughter
so it sloshes in the trunk
earlier,
i brewed up a storm
tonight,
the storm is me.

when i say
“i want you to come home”
i’m talking to the woman
i was always expected to be

i don’t miss her and
i don’t love her
but she would make it
a little less messy.

someday
infinity will meet me in the middle
and on that day
i will be complete.

i kiss the edge of the wine glass
and fall tipsy into bed
the sheets are cold and i am not alone
i have myself for company

my lips may be lonely
but they mustn’t forget about
the blood-red temptation
i swallowed and buried deep

the devil has come down to meet me
and i think he is
beautiful

the sanguine red
sloshes around in the glass
and it tastes so much better
off your tongue
you’ve got merlot
hiding on the back of your teeth
i hope to decay
with that taste
in my mouth.

i didn’t feel anything.
not when the curves of the earth
dipped into valleys and we plummeted into each other
not when we draped silk between our mouths
and kissed each thread into dust
not when i felt the honey from your tongue
cascade and soothe my worried heart
i felt nothing even when i pretended to
and i do so wish i had any regrets
because tomorrow,
i will still feel nothing,
and i will still want to.

tonight’s air has the
perfume scent of acetone
and dewdrops
clumsy knees under tables
heads on shoulders

the little dipper in the sky
is scooping out some starlight
to soothe my worried throat

this morning i’ll dream
of angels and demons
and falling in love -
and with limbs heavy
but heart set alight,

i’ll reach out to an empty space
and wonder where
no one
has gone.

i fell in love next to you
but it wasn’t with you

it was with the idea
that lying next to someone
can be religious
and a sacrifice can be
so romantic

give me away to the prospect
of death and holy matrimony
tie me to the stake and set it ablaze
i would burn for you
but only in theory

you tasted like saltwater
and i had never been so far
from the sea.

you talked for a minute
and your arm around me was an anchor

you talked for an hour
and your arm around me was a noose

arriving home at daylight
a twelve-hour light-headed joyride
if you’re at home thinking you should’ve kissed me
you’re right.

i was born with the sun behind the trees
i was neither miracle nor mistake
just felicity
it’s sad that this sadness is mine
it carries me on through midnight
memories and years
i’ve has almost plenty
nobody at nineteen
now me at twenty.

my brain and it’s incompetencies
have a lot of fun
in my empty skull,
these days
they remind me that i’m always
missing the one card
that would make a full house
the rooms are empty
but i’m in all of them.

it’s not that i want to be alone
it’s that i don’t want to be around anyone
unless they’re you

you’re the only person i can talk to
as soon as i wake up

my lips get numb and i miss
your soprano laugh
and spinning around on a needle is fun
but it’s more fun when you’re
spinning, too

i get myself dizzy
and remember why i fell in love
with your steadiness.

you know that it’s you, right?
when we were joking that
we were test scores and
one of us was good and
one of us was the best?
when you said you didn’t want to think about it
when you said
“that’s an emotional vulnerability
for another day”
and i said
“okay but we know”
and you looked kind of
like you didn’t?
you know that you’re the best answer
the right answer
right?

look at this
this condensed structure of bone
and syrup
with its jaw slack
and it’s eyes so empty
gather round and take a glance
at this creature
stumbling about in a trance-like state
of corrupted effort and damnation
it is the spirit of exhaustion
and disappointment
it hides in your closet

it certainly hid
in mine

it is poetically fitting
that you’re the one to remind me
of a phrase i’ve been trying to think of
for two years

i could never get so much of you
that you start losing value

how could i possibly explain
that i love you because you nod your head
when you listen to music
or that you make a face
when you make a mistake?

it could take me years
scouring dictionaries and images
to recreate the feeling that i get
when i watch you concentrate

it would take too long
to tell someone the whole truth
about how your scribbles on paper
look like something written in the stars

i accidentally listened to a beautiful song
for the first time sitting across from you
and now it's yours

i accidentally became someone new
for the first time sitting across from you
and now i'm yours

everything is sticky sweet in the summer
blackberries in the backyard bushes
and honeysuckle lips soft as the breeze
nothing quite as tender as morning molasses
oh, the way it sticks
to me

i keep missing the point of everything
what am i doing here?
floating?
is it time to hold my breath
in naivety again?
i stopped growing yesterday
and today i’ve stopped wanting to.

at the very least
i was lost
at the most
i was fine
my body unbroken
healed all but the spine.

my state of mind is in liquid
drip onto the hardwood floor

i could find love in mushrooms
growing from my palms
before i’d find love in my
blood

voices outside the hall rattle this cage
like tree branches against a window

i’ve got a hole in my body today
losing all of my substance
but i can’t find it anywhere

i keep writing and all i want is to leave
and put light on a mannequin
so at least one of us
can feel warm.

at the very least
i am substance
and in trouble because of it
we are all together
and altogether solitary
i think it’s both hideous
and angelic,
the fact that we were all born
as shots in the dark
and we somehow manage to land
on the board.