I sat in the back of the bus,
And I knew every day he would come
With some new joke for us
Some quip about how dumb we were
I can still hear the laughter

And if I raised my hand
It would be twisted and turned
Until my eyes burned and
The pain was returned
Two fold, and my heart was scorching hot and freezing cold.

Too hot to be silent too cold to move
And one day I proved
Enough was enough
And beat him until he cried
Until my rage was satisfied
And his was forced to subside to fear

Now he sits in the back of the bus
And he knows every day I will come
With some new joke
To poke the wounds I made
That he gave me
Of which neither of us will ever be free

If only I'd said sorry.

Today Grandma sinks in the seat, and smiles

at the fake trees, while the black
and brown crosses that hang over
her  shoulders as cancer calls her name underneath.

Holding the heartbeat monitor with her eyes,
the priest says "she's been cleansed, she's been cleansed,
it'll be alright, it'll be alright,

She's God's favorite."

Today in the mirror,
her
reflection removed from
her
beauty she once written with
her
lipstick, yes,

beside her
coffin, I mean bed.

the doctors notes declare
her
hope as thin as a paper cut,
the smell of fake smiles and dreamy prayers
stain the white walls, but with the families
tears run like razor-blades against the
skin, this may get better,

She still sits serenaded by silence,
baptized into a cloud of gloom.

Today it feels like a black Christmas, but with
a green moon, and red stars, and weak blue angels,

Gee, thanks, oh young Mary, for all of today.

i want to drink myself into a place no one can reach me
i want the room to spin so i can sit still and feel the world moving and cracking and tectonic plates shifting beneath my feet
i want to dance to music i don't like when i'm sober
i want to feel as beautiful as i feel when i'm drunk every day
i want to drink until all i am left with is empty cups and happy hiccups and i want to call my exes and tell them how lucky they were to have me and how bad timing was never a good excuse
i want to wrap a telephone cord around my fingers and then my body and i want to feel electricity in my hands and i want the world to spin because i tell it to

Bug spray smells better
Once you start to think of it
As camper's perfume

On nights like this
Nighmares are fierce
Memories of yours clear
When i am twisted in sheets
Its hard to breath, So
On nights like this
I want someone to hold on
So scream out for
My first ray of hope
with all I can
And baby
Its your name that come
All along my twisted tongue
The night after you left
I woke up so broken
The only place to put the pieces
Were the bags under my eyes
And within these hurt
I still love you
No matter what it does
I will never repent you