somebody told me, i said
that my laugh sounds like blues clues

your laugh? he said
i don't remember
what
that
sounds
like.

sometimes the heart breaks subtly.

i’m afraid of every place ultimately being the same,

different geographics, different politics, different blind religions

but the same

money

power

work

material-driven people

in boxes.

i don’t want to get married. i don’t want to reproduce. i don’t want a credit card. i don’t want a house. i don’t want a car. i don’t want cable t.v.

i don’t want to be in one place.

i was born in a house on 5th south
my mother nearly bled to death
                                                           ­ i guess it's only fair that i am anemic

i learned to write long before i learned how to talk,
probably because a thumb was always in my mouth
and we didn't have a tv
                                                            th­e librarians knew me by name

i was always scowling, couldn't find reasoning
for my parents being sad, for the eating of animals
for not having any friends
or a cat of my own
                                                            w­ords were my escape from the start
                                                           ­  a lonely girl's only constant.

comfort is pen to paper
                                   therapy is a journal so used the binding breaks
                                                          ­                                                    writing is home

sometimes you meet a person

briefly,

hardly more than hello.

and you get home

and you collapse on your bed

while your thoughts run rampant.

and you realize,

‘hey,

that person

might

mean

something

to me’