Let me ******* explain something to you!
Stop with your sorrys because they don't mean anything!
And you all know they never have!
Let me explain that
Yeah
She was your
Sister
Best friend
Section member
Ex- lover
Band kid
Student
Friend
Team member
Classmate
But ******
She was my girlfriend.
She was the person I loved.
Who I still do love.
So
*******
STOP

Acting like I have no reason
To be upset
That she is gone.

Hellacious men roam these walls
Even once the barmaid gets them off

Reason with yourself a little, sweetheart.
At it again with your silly paranoia.
Pry open your eyes, darling.
Everything is always alright.
Don't find me guilty until proven so.

"Make me happy," she screamed and
Eventually the glass shattered.

Tell me that you don't want me
Tell me that you think
I'm not worth all the pain
And the ******* fear
Tell me that you can do better
Than who I've always been
Tell me I'm not worth your time
Tell me I was another mistake
Tell me I was just another game
Tell me anything
To make this pain go away.

Tell yourself that you will be okay
Tell yourself that I'm a horrible person
Tell yourself that I'm just
A notch in a bedpost
Tell yourself that you won this round
Tell yourself that you won the war
That I don't want to fight anymore
Tell yourself that I don't want
Any of what you give me
Tell yourself lies until it disappears.

Tell lies to your parents
Tell lies to your friends
Tell lies to me
Tell lies to yourself
Tell lies like you were
Born to **** me off
Tell lies like you do.

It seems to work well.
I just don't want to feel
This anymore.

None of you have guessed that
No one has ever told me that
I will grow up to be an alcoholic.
I have told myself that because
I just want some kind of something
That is mine and no one
Will be able to steal it from me.
And addictions seem like a good way
To go about that.

Lately I found myself criticizing (criticizing )
Been dreaming about you a lot (a lot)
And up in my head I'm your significant other (significant other)
But that's one thing you've already got.

You're insecure,
Don't know what for,
You're turning heads when you attack trees with baseball bats,
Don't need make-up,
To cover up,
Being the way that you are is enough.

Girlie, you light up my world like nobody else,
The way that you watch law and order and be paranoid gets me overwhelmed,
But when you sing old Disney Channel theme songs in my shower it ain't hard to tell,
You don't know,
Oh, oh,
You don't know you're insecure,
If only you saw what I can see,
You'd understand why I want you so desperately,
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe,
You don't know,
Oh, oh,
You don't know you're insecure,
Oh, oh,
That's what makes you insecure.

I've tried playing it cool,
But when I'm looking at you,
I can't ever be grotesque ,
'Cause you make my heart gulp.

One way or another I'm gonna sing old Disney Channel theme songs in my shower,
I'm gonna get you, get you, get you, get you.
One way or another I'm gonna attack trees with baseball bats,
I'm gonna get you, get you, get you, get you.

It feels like I'm constantly criticizing ,
'Cause I can't compete with your significant other,
She's got forty two peacocks .

Her heart was in my palm
And if I wanted to, I could break it
Because it was my new project
To repair and stitch back together
But I'm out of needles and thread
Plus, my mother never taught me to sow
But my teachers taught me to write
And maybe I can fix her heart with
Blue and black ink and some paper

I'm not exactly sure how well
It will plaster the parts back into place
But she has beautiful eyes and a kind smile
And she kisses like my devil
And I've been told my writing saves lives
Even though my own soul is shattered
So maybe I can save her heart
WIth my glue-based pen and sticky paper
But when she wants it back
I'm sure she would hand it off
To someone who can stitch with a passion
Instead of me with nothing but
Ink stained skin and a paper thin heart

While quite intoxicated on another Saturday night
I saw something here never seen before
Each of us falling upon this preset line
Each of us conforming into a monotonous bore
Our minds left with nothing to explore
Personal thoughts, not one more.

As I detached myself from this wretched clique
"Wait," shouted a man, "Just one more."
I turned to see a sheep, not a thing unique
My attention he failed to keep, freedom galore
My duplicated mask fell to the floor.
A follower I was no more.

Upon breaking free, all their hatred turned to me
At first a fearful sight like a rifle's bore
Non-conformity shields me best, the mental violence never rests
The rebels you cannot best, the outcasts hold something more
We have something worth fighting for
Infinite expression our minds may pour.

you see, there is this girl, you see
she isn't like a girl in a painting of new york city
where her face is blurred in because
the painter didn't know who she really was
and her hands aren't shaking every time
she puts metal up to her lips
out of fear of rejection
you see this girl
with so much passion and lust
but never love
and you wonder where you have seen her before
because you just know that you have
she is just too familiar to you

and you just have to wonder
why exactly
her green eyes show you
this other girl who you know you've
seen somewhere before
and she just happens to be you
and all you are seeing in this
girl is you and
all you are seeing in this moment
is you and
all you are ever seeing is
you and
all you'll ever know is you
and
you are the reason her eyes
only show reflections.

There is an imprint of a frog on my back
From a poem by Mary Oliver.
It is sticky sweat oozing down my spine,
Leaking into the small of my back
Screaming, "You do not have to be good."
My own skin whispers back,
"But don't I?" and sears the grime.
I don't know what to do with my own badness.
Punishment for my "sins" seems necessary,
But so does radical acceptance.
All I can do is close my eyes,
Hoping for a better tomorrow where
My brain requires less dopamine
And more compassion.
Slowly I will rise from the grave I dig once a night.
I will claw my way out by my fingers
And into the light.
Shame that no one will be near
To see the resurrection.

What is stopping you?







Her.

I cannot write poetry
Unless half the words are
Draped in doubt,
Splattered with guilt,
Shredded into grains,
Introduced to love
(Do be so bold
To think I can write
Poetry without once
Knowing love. Words
Need to at least have
MET the concept),
And murdered until  
SOMEONE
Will come along and
Weep at the sight of
Their corpse.
The other half?

Pronouns.

I've never seen a clock in that room
The only way I keep time is the
Clomping of the foot steps
Of a woman-
No, wait, those are a man's-
That passes overhead
Every quarter hour for some reason.
I think those are the steps
Of some kind of politician.
All I know is that it is a man.

I feel the words droll out of my
Mouth and between my teeth.
Hasn't anyone ever heard
What I have to say?
No? Well that's unhealthy.
So I hear my own life
Fill the space between
My corpse and this
Stranger and somehow
I feel a little bit better.

A breath fills me and
My heart is of a normal beat
And it feels like I can walk
Without falling down.
Who knows, maybe I will try
The next time I get off
Of this couch.
I've been killing my feet
By touching the floor
Without the ability to
Really walk and now
I can feel the world open up.

I have had this feeling before
And it would come as fast as
It took my hand to glide
A blade over my skin and
For that same skin to split open.
But it would leave after a second.
Maybe it would last as long
As it took me to clean up the blood.
But it never lasted.
I had to go deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper.
Just to get the same feeling
Twice or three times.
It was never enough.

Walking out of this room is different.
I hear the man's foot steps
For the third, or fourth, time,
Depending on my stability
That day and
My feet hit the floor.
I am walking.
I feel awkward about grabbing
The door handle before the stranger.
But I decide that's okay.
I walk out.
I go home.
And I'm still okay.

My past is etched into me
With a needle and thread too thin
To escape the gaps between
My bones and skins.
She still has a grip on my throat
With a laugh and bruise
Hidden behind
Makeup and purple sheets.
She's in my sleep.
She's my ghost
Weeping inside my soul
But what am I to do?

What would you do if I told you that I couldn't look you in the eyes today, not because of your hand on my leg or my tendency to be awkward, but for the fact that I saw your arm and I can't stand the idea that you hate your own skin that much to tear it open and it makes me a hypocrite, I know, but you deserve better than that and you need to get better and you told me that you did it once and you can do it again, but it doesn't seem like there is an effort, and if there is, it means you are worse, and I don't like your arm looking anything like mine and I wish I could take this pain away and I would do anything to convince you to try to stop, and I would be willing to lose everything I have just so you would stop causing yourself harm, or better yet, not feel the need to because if it is still an option, you are just resisting and not living and you need to do that and, no, we are not just put on this world for others because otherwise we wouldn't tear apart our flesh to feel something, anything, because we have trained ourselves not to feel, and I don't want to wait until August or January, because you will have moved on, or I will have, or one of us will be dead or so cut up that we cannot look at each other without weeping and it's funny if you think I can't cry because I have sobbed far too many times over you and the idea that the sickness that lives on me is still inside of you somewhere, and I just want us to be okay, and for us to not lie, and for you to smile and for me to smile back, no matter what, and for me to kiss you without it being insane?

I have this overwhelming desire to call someone and talk to them until I have no more lies. And then maybe someone will understand what is going on inside my head.

There is a box of blades in the drawer above the trash cans. I know where they are. I could steal one in the middle of the night. And no one would know. I could do it. I love those blades. They make me feel powerful. Like no one can stop me. Like this is my life and I can destroy it if I want to.

The taste of tic tacs on your tongue will always be too over powering. But I'd be okay with it if I still got to kiss you.

That was the first time I have been able to really breathe in weeks.

I wish I had kept that jacket when I had the chance back in January.

You once told me that I was more
Sunrise than sunset
And I'm starting to see where you
Were coming from

I saw a sunset for the first time since
They took you away
And I saw purples and oranges
Clinging to the clouds

I've seen many sunsets these past
Few weeks without you
They had a tendency to be your
Forte, not mine

Sunsets are red with fire and dying
Days and loves
Sunrises were always bright and
Glorious but alas

Most sunrises I've seen recently have
Been too ******
Maybe it is because I'm without you
Or not so much

I miss my beautiful sunrises
My short hair corrisponds with
Your sunsets
So for now they will do.

I've had this bruise on my hand
For about 4 days
I have thought for
Hours
Upon
Hours
About where it came from.
But I will admit that I have no clue.

I noticed it Monday night
Oh, you must remember that afternoon
It was nothing compared to others
But you held my hands up against the wall
And over my head as we kissed
The black mark on my skin
Looks to be the shape of your thumb
You've never been able to hold a hand
Without your thumb over their own

We never get to hold hands anymore
That would be too complicated
Maybe we held them a little too
Tightly when given the chance.

And maybe, just maybe,
There is a bruise on the back
Of your left hand.

I never liked the ocean
And I wish
They could
Understand that
But it's hard to convince
Them when I let
Myself drown
In this mess.

When did what I feel stop mattering.
It isn't a question if it cannot be answered.
Or if no one cares enough to.

People always tell me that the tiredness will go away with a lot of sleep and the right date
Eight hour nights have become imaginary bliss when my eyelids are clouded by your image
I told myself that I wouldn't date because you put your hands up my shirt in a bathroom one afternoon
That didn't let me sleep
Who is to say a boy would allow that type of peace
The closest I've come to sleep was when you tried to teach me to dance
I couldn't help but laugh when you taught me to turn during a waltz
Dancing is never a dying girl's forte
This tiredness has yet to go away and I'm running out of options
Old methods of waking are failing me in a way you never have
Tiredness comes from my lack of loving you the way I want to
Your hand on my leg would always bring a nice about of rest
Sitting outside for lunch is easier for you when the circumstances call for ignoring it all

AND ACCORDING TO THEM, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH ME ANYMORE SO WE HAVE TO HIDE IT AWAY AND THIS IS STARTING TO FEEL LIKE I'M JUST A PASSING PHASE AND I WANT TO BE MORE THAN JUST A NOTCH IN YOUR BEST POST BECAUSE YOU ARE MUCH MORE THAN A LINE IN A SONG AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT FOR A WRITER LIKE ME.

Apologizing is becoming a strong suit of mine
"Sorry"s keep spilling from my mouth because I want you
I'm sorry I let the tiredness eat me away a year ago
I'm sorry I want it to consume me now
I'm sorry for loving you the way I do
I'm sorry for being so tired.

But, darling.
I'm.
Just.
Tired.

Oh girlie, girlie!
Oh Meghan, Meghan!
I must confess,
I still believe (still believe),
That I can crash to the ground!
Give me a sign,
To give me the clap Meghan one more time!

Oh girlie, girlie!
Oh Rebecca, Rebecca!
I'm addicted to you.
Don't you know that you're flamboyant!
And I love what you do.
Don't you know that you're flamboyant!

Oh girlie, girlie!
Oh Daniel, Daniel!
I think I did it again,
I made you believe that I can fly,
Oh Daniel!
To pet a cat like that is just so typically me.
Oh girlie, girlie!

****!.. I did it again!
I tried to pet a kitty cat!

Oh girlie, girlie!
Oh Anna, Anna!
I think I made you believe that I can touch the sky.
****!.. You think that I can touch the sky.

Oh girlie, girlie!
I'm not that cynical !
You see my problem is this,
band people,
Wishing I had a rainbow mouth .

Oh girlie, girlie!
Oh Meghan, Meghan!
Oh Rebecca, Rebecca!
Oh Daniel, Daniel!
Oh Anna, Anna!
I must confess,
I still believe (still believe),
That I can crash to the ground!
Give me a sign,
To give me the clap Meghan one more time!

There are just too many poems
and thoughts
and longings
and conversations
and breaths
and heart beats
and whispers
and lonely nights
and breaking moments
and wonderful laughs
devoted to you

No, I've never touched you in the ways of lovers
Or in the ways that awe stricken girls might
Yearn to be pressed against your hands
But if it makes them let you next to me
I will say that your fingers dug into my rib cage
And rolled around my aortas until I was screaming
Softly as if someone had tested the noises
I could make in that moment when my adrenaline
Pulses through my veins and you pinch
My blood until it would clot under your nails.
I will happily say that my legs wrapped
Around your waist and my lips held yours
I will tell them about your hands behind your head
And mine gripping at your wrists.
If it would mean I could have you again,
I would lie and say that my fingers
Grasped at your core until you smiled like
I imagine you would and your eyes would
Close under my soul that you would have
Tugged out by threads found in my folds
Regarding my mind, I mean,
But if they would be okay with that lie
I would not mean the folds of my mind,
Rather the folds of my being.
They said I was lying to someone and that
They hoped it was you, but the lies I say would
Happily be for them if you got to touch me
In a lovers way years from now when
It wouldn't even matter, because you have
Touched my soul in a way a lover never could
And my heart is waiting to be warmed by
Your soft and inviting hands.

J. C.

You badbadbadgirl
I know how wrong you have done
And you won't stop
stop
stop




stop.
You think you are right
Badbadbadgirl
When all you cause is hell.
Hell on wheels
With your hurricane at your side.
Wrongbadstupiduglybitch
badbadbadbadbad
You have done too wrong.
And there is nothing I can say
To get you to

I told you that
I could live to just be
A pair of hands
So I could feel
The curves and contours
Of your body
And trace how your
lips move when you say
My name
And to be able to
Hold you to me
And to have your skin
Connecting with mine
To have my fingertips
Touch the edges of
Your being
And to feel the way
Your entire nature
Seems to be able
To be touch
Somehow
Especially
If I lived
To be only
A pair of hands

It feels right to not belong
Next to my name
Because it never feels
Like you are talking to me
When you call it out.

So my makeup did look pretty today
Who knew that I could curl my own hair
And that I don't do a horrible
Job at making myself up?
I shouldn't be allowed at weddings.

I've never been one
For making first moves
Or for being competent
When I was expect to be.

I've never been one
For giving my all
Or for opening up my heart
When that's all they want.

I've never been one
For showing my thoughts
Or for giving up my writing
Which makes up my entire being.

I've never been one
For angry fits and cussing
Or for staying around
When things get too rough.

I've never been one
For moving too fast
Or for letting anyone
Truly understand why.

I've never been one
For hand holding
Or kissing in public
When we aren't together.

I've never been one
For love and romance
Or for lust and passion
When the time called for it.

I've never been one
For a lot of things
But you have me
Wishing I could be.

I have this tendency
To, when asked
How I am,
Say something along
The lines of
I'm fine.
Daniel
Or Meghan
Or Anna
Or Hayden Grace
Or Will
Or my mother
Or my father
Or anyone
Did something.
Said something.
Felt something...
I never answer the question.

I've made myself
Not matter
Inside my own skin.

All I ask
Is for a text message
Once or twice
Every two weeks
Telling me how she is
And if she is okay.
Because I love her
And I miss her.
So just answer me
With a yes and
A promise.
And I'll be okay.

I
Can't
See
How
I
Am
Going
To
Accept
That
You
Won't
Show
Up
Again
One
Day.

She bit it back. Whatever she had to say
It was pounding against her teeth
In the manor of an innocent man
Clutching the bars, screaming at his
Keeper for his immediate release
But, alas, no one ever came
And so her words were flowing
Over my skin but she still had
Locks in the line of her jaw
And it scares me to think her
Prisoner is screaming something
Other than "I love you."

HONESTLY
ALL
I
WANT
TO
DO
IS
CUT
MYSELF
TO
SHREDS
RIGHT
NOW
AND
I
DON'T
WANT
TO
BE
STRONG
ANYMORE!