the buzzards have found my gut.
hello again, and welcome back.

let's stretch this day out, me & you, together.
I'll ignore that ****** up sensation,
that all my feelings are being eaten away,
if we can grab some coffee,
if I don't run out of cigarettes.

the buzzards have found my gut,
hello again, and welcome back.

we know I spent this weekend hiding,
living on a borrowed pack that's running low,
packing bowls I knew would soon be empty for awhile.
but they couldn't find me, not in that bed.
yet they pace the staircase outside my door, and guard me.

the buzzards have found my gut,
hello again, and welcome back.

so we have lunch, and I smile across my last meal,
pretty sure that I would've preferred the cash,
to spend on something that could spoil my lungs.
but it's the thought that counts, it isn't the end quite yet.
and they wait for the scraps I toss beneath the table.

I wonder how no one ever notices me feeding my demons.
I wonder what each emotion tastes like,
I wonder which ones I'm giving away, 'cause I can't look.
I wonder what's left in my body.

the buzzards have found me hiding.
the buzzards have begun to swarm.
they are coming to give me back my emotion.
they are coming to let me know I'm wrong.

hello again, and welcome back.

the lovesick little ******
wears a bandaid on her trigger finger
and bites her split lip
while aiming.

she is trying to go higher
past the tree line
and figure out just where to aim.
she points, & shoots.

no more.
no more coming of age indie movies.
no more love stories, love songs.
no more wanting what I can't have.

there used to be a time,
when my doubts would come bursting into my life, loud and unmistakeable.

and now when I crawl into bed at night,
I sometimes notice them there;
sleeping soundly, because I'm not.
lying peaceful, dormant.
accepted and tucked in.
because I'm not.

I could embrace them.
and still be alone.
or I could kick them to the curb;
and disappear.

no more.
no more summer nights without a care.
no more night walks without a jacket.
no more comfort, no more rest.

my doubts will stay sleeping,
so long as I don't.

I'm doing just fine. 
even if it does seem a little forced and faked sometimes.
it's just the same as when we were young and alive.
you can keep on walking, and remember,
the sidewalk squares have never lied.

so when the start of the new year arrives,
with souls kept too close over telephone lines,
I will still know you just as well as the knotted scars that lay across my spine.

I swam in the mediterranean
and you mattered more.

my favorite movie
clueless
my favorite song
nocturne
and you would never see them through
and so you would never know me.

tonight I asked you
when you last saw me sober
and you couldn't give me an answer.

tonight, I told you
just how many bottles
of *** I go through
in a week.

that night that I cried
over you
is a continent and a month away
but it existed.

I listen to nocturne
and blues.
and I could've spent this night
alone on your sofa.
but instead I spend it alone
on my floor
because here
I play Chopin
for myself
and not for you.

I deleted your number for the last time
on the sand at Barceloneta beach.
there is something in the word
Catalunya
that makes me want to wear colors
and forget you.

good, you're starting to get disgusted
and the double life only takes away
from the beauty of the lie.
I think tonight we are dissolving.

I wouldn't want your innocence
I only wanted to share your pain
but where is it anymore?
with nothing left to comfort
I'm filling voids in vain.

who was supposed to end up bitter here?  
because I swear it wasn't me.

you've betrayed me for the first and last time
I guess I had never thought that
there'd be somebody innocent
enough to tell me all the things that would
hurt me as if they were nothing; unfiltered.
but there is, and he has.

you were my first friend in a new place
and I have trusted you more that I should.

it was never you that I came to bother
when I was lost or lonely
or too drunk to make it home.
it was never you that I came to bother
when I was despondent or depressed
or too in love to take care of myself.

I heard you scoffed.
I heard you made a fuss.
at the very idea of the one thing that
made me happy at least for a little bit
at least for awhile.

and there is no revenge I can take
on someone who wouldn't care
if they never saw me again.
so I suppose I'll just have to wait until
this life turns around enough until
the point where I truly forget you.

but you were my first friend in a new place.
I have always been unquestionably thankful
for you, and for all that you have
accidentally done to help me.
I never thought that you'd
think of me this way.

I will ***** at you in a few days,
and then that will be
goodbye.

this is a distress signal.
I'm going under.

I looked across lake ontario,
I couldn't find the edge.
I couldn't see across that flat grey abyss.
I wanted to dive in; to drown trying to find you.
I wanted to float on the the other side,
where I might find you; see you one last time.

that was two weeks ago.
that was october 12th, a saturday.
I survived it then.
but I'm drowning now, on dry land.
in my bed.
on my bed.

I don't know where to find you.
I haven't got a clue.
I don't remember the sound of your voice.
I don't remember the curves of your face.
or the color of your eyes.

this is a distress signal.
this is a desperate plea.
this is my lake ontario.
this is my grey abyss.
my message in a bottle,
floating across the frigid waters.

I am the titanic.
you are the carpathia.

I will sink before you reach me.

the wind is taking more drags off my cigarette than I am. that's buffalo;
wind&concrete;&cold.;
I won't let you crawl into the gutters,
and die in the snow.
in the alleys of these long lost streets,
we keep trying to revive.

and I ask myself
if you'd let me fall asleep out in the cold,
six shots down & I don't want to know.
I'm still walking on my own,
against the cold, and keeping warm.

I'm taking good care of myself,
now that I know you won't do it for me.

I hate menthol cigarettes with a passion. I swore I'd never eat seafood but I guess I'm going to in a few moments. I was cold until they gave me a blanket. I'm going to sit here and write a bible like jesus christ. are we going to dip into the jack daniels soon? because this wall is cold and it's my birthday tomorrow. this hat isn't mine but I keep it so I stay warm and undiscovered. I have a nagging suspicion you don't exist.  I'll never like metallica, I don't wanna try the salmon. I haven't eaten much today,  I wanna pack the bowl. I've never wanted to have this many people text me daily,  I can't believe I had *** during adventure time. this is the day before I turn 18, my inner lip tastes like ramen salt. here comes the salmon.  it's january now so we'll all freeze to death. except for you. you probably won't freeze to death unless I see you.

for Brendan,
because you asked me to,
I wrote a love poem for the machinery.
an ode to the efficiency,
of well scheduled maintenance.

they only hummed in response,
but I imagined it was in appreciation
so I continued,

I wrote sonnets concerning,
proper wiring configurations,
and stand alone power grids. 
things that seemed important,
to things that could never feel.

they only hummed in response, 
but I imagined it was in appreciation
so I continued,

I looked them over, and over again.
neat little rows of grey metal boxes
computers from the days of old.

I wanted to tell them about Sherman Alexie.
I wanted to tell them about Flannery O'Connor.
I wanted to tell them about Ray Bradbury.
Instead I cried, & tried to cut the building's power.

they only hummed in response.

10/11/12

the sun has died,  and yet the planets still orbit.
the fish swim in a char black ocean,  dead current.
the bull charges blindly into the ruins of the arena.

if god looks down,
then he's tired of my being cared for.
he sent a truck and a tumor to get me to care more.
and having failed at that,
he saw fit to pull my heart out.

the flaw in god is that,
he pulls too ******* the puppet strings.

you can bring a camel to water,
but you can never make it drink.

he can send two plagues to reform me,
and in the end I still think.

this is clear punishment for living life without god.
this is the reformation of nothing, and nobody.
this is the admission that I'll happily keep rotting.

shot into my very own world, right here
an all enclosing space, save for the exit wound.
& today I'm deciding that you can't come through.

this is mine, this is what I've built.
I'm neither leaving nor letting you in this time
I earned my place, and I'm not giving it up for any one.
but especially you.

new emblems and no overdoses,
walking the sidewalk squares in a strange osmosis.
I don't need your "clarity".
****  you.

when I am dead
you will read all my poems
and hate me
only a little bit less
than I hated myself.

there are late nights
and early mornings
when I can taste the toxic chemicals
that lace my cigarettes
and this is one of them.

and if you ever come across these words
I hope you can forget
the voice that could never speak them aloud.

[sleep never comes anymore,
  and I am afraid that I'm losing my mind.]

the characters come rhythmic and steady,
left to right I start my morning.
key after key after key after key,
why am I still searching for you?

are you awake?   are you well?
if I go back, will you be able to tell?

tell me that you've missed me,
that you thought you saw me again,
and after all of this time and distance,
you still could call me a friend.

there is nothing you've left behind this morning,
for me to pick up and pick apart,
four tabs into a three hour shift,
and this is what it's come to.

are you awake?   are you well?
I haven't come back, but I have a story to tell.

there are songs
that belong to jack
like tiny vessels

and they will always be his
because
you've never left a mark on my neck.

but could you?
will you?
I'll make you.
before this is all over.

I'll make you stain my neck.

before this is all over
before this weekend is done
I'll make you stain my neck.

the songs that belong
to people you've never met
are theirs.

but my neck is clean
"my lungs are fresh and yours to keep."
stain me baby;
I think you maybe want to.

we wrote ourselves an epilogue
in florescent lights and a corner of a moment. 
you were a hallucination
walking through the automatic doors, 
I wasn't ready for you to be real. 

I never wanted to see this to the end.
we could've forever been seniors
and in and out of love
every other day. 

I wanted to dream up a better ending
or cast us in a lifetime movie,
where I'd apologize
and you might accept it.

I saw you from across the aisle
my hair hadn't been washed in days
and I was tired.
I don't remember what I said.
it doesn't matter.

it was awkward, and worthless
I hope you found what you wanted
because I did.
this is how love dies.
in a ******* target.

10/29/12

drank my robitussin like a commercial,
made my gums sickly sweet and red.
coughing up discomfort and nicotine,
wishing my body could decide to be dead.

I wonder if Poe had to wait until he was sick,
to squeeze a meaningful thought out onto paper,
'cause lately I do.

no more june songs
it's november now and
I celebrated daylight savings
with two days in bed
thinking of you
and reading poems
I would've been better off
never writing.

no more june songs
it's november now
it gets dark at five
and one of these nights
I'll delete every poem
that you inspired.

no more june songs
it's november now and
they'll never be able to prove
that I loved you.

the snow sticks to the one last pair of jeans you own,
stayed up to watch the sun come up again.

green tea isn't going to save you from the day's advances,
the hours pass like soldiers marching on in sickening waves.
every minute ticking off and disposing another wasted emotion,
I wore my sleeves down to drown me for the first time this year.

and the coffee is to blame,
for the sweat that gathers on the small of my back
sitting here and waiting just a little while longer.

and looking at my smile,
do you see how bad I am at faking it?
we had better make the coffee stronger.

4/1/13

3/3/13

the light fades at the end of the day
it always has.
I sat and thought of you
on the sidewalk.

I can blame you, 
for just as many things 
as I thank you for.
our own little bit of ****** up zen.

last summer was classic
last summer will never die

I forget that you weren't around
you didn't have to be, for once.
I'll see you again, 
I'm almost certain

but even if I don't 
I don't think I'll cry.

gimme that elmwood walk where we don't acknowledge each other;
my lips feel on fire and I
count the steps
for every sidewalk square;
1,2
3,4.

it never rained, but it poured.

poured out some alcohol into my cup,
it wasn't red, wasn't that cliche.

I'm taking a vacation from every single bad thought I've ever had about myself.

I'm taking the day to drink and act the way I know I can when I don't think anybody is watching.

so here,
here you go.

here are the raindrops,
that fell on the car while we finished off the last of the thirty pack.

it's been days and it's been a year.

here is the last of the doubts I used to hold so close.

they have left me, and I have found myself.

that burning behind my eyes
and the sound of your laugh
that just rubs me the wrong way
I don't need to tell you anymore
I don't want to see your face

honey, you can slam the door any way you want, 
as long as you turn the lights off behind you,
and keep quiet.
we just have to get through this

so I send the smell of tobacco smoke across the room as an offensive weapon, you retaliate in kind. 
 
our alarms go off in the morning, and we both try to out sleep each other,  but I have work, I have cigarette cravings, I have nightmares.

I have three weeks until I am rid of you.

I handed you an angry orchard
to where you sat in the backseat
welcome to our great car driving tradition
we were all sad to see her go
even me.

I don't mind if
she curls up to you in the backseat.

she's sitting on a bus back to New York
missing you.
and you're sitting in the backseat
with us, while we drive you home.
two of your best girls here.

I didn't mind that
she curled up to you in the backseat.

no, I didn't mind at all.

just offhand.
and I have a couple ways to spend the hour that would be far more useful than this.
sleep isn't coming, but in a few weekends,
I'm coming home, and coming to visit.
it takes an occasion to write with conviction,
but I can convince myself occasionally.

just offhand. 
and this is the verse you get because the first half is mine alone. 
and the second part is all you need to know.
you'll be okay.
it's been a long time since I've been away,
and I lost interest.  
I'm sorry for misunderstanding. 
I'm sorry that I fell in love.
just telling you now,  that I'm done. 
I have been for awhile. 
that doesn't mean that I don't
miss your smile. 
I just don't need it everyday. 

2/12/13

10/22/12
that's the day you died
the day you became dead to me

sitting in the driveway at my dad's house
cigarette in hand
cottonwood tree standing tall and alive
concrete feeling cool and strong

both cottonwood and concrete
have seen me cry over many a boy like you
the wind howled a familiar howl
and suddenly I remembered

there've been so many just like you
and here I am,  returning home,
changed, and bitter, and with tears in my eyes
I returned home whole

I realized today that I don't need you
I realized that I could let you go.

prefaced by the only glimpse of glamour that I could ever give.

you found me walking downtown streets alone.
I found myself wishing I hadn't gone down that road.

we can hold our guilt above our heads just until the dawn begins to break.
we can hold our guilt above our heads until the spell is broken.

and now my  eyes won't focus.
and now I'm losing my appetite.

you've seen me walking down the empty aisles, 
you've caught me wishing I could sweep the day into the night.

replacement friends are real
and I'm the villain here.
I'm sitting in the corner,
watching as green bottles litter the room.

this was exactly what I was expecting.

this is either earned or spent
wrong or right
but I maybe I don't care anymore

and there's many years to come
for consequence to follow karma.

I'm enjoying. 
what might be pain ignored
and lines crossed
morals damaged.

and if it isn't right
I know to lie to myself

the night is never over.

and life just hasn't begun yet.

at the point of every morning
where I'm too tired to think of anything else
you swim into the part of my heart
that doesn't want you to be there anymore.

I have cried during too many sunrises,
to justify ever crying for you again,
so I must regretfully quit this business,
and try my luck somewhere else.

when I think, or thought, of us together
I think of june the way I thought of june in july
it was and always will be something that
brought me a happiness I didn't deserve.

I can almost understand the way how
we will slowly drift apart forever and always
'like empires and old loves'
but rome wasn't rebuilt in a day.

thinking about giving away your secrets,
because you haven't for awhile.

and for each and every one you smoke a cigarette.

a drag of confidence gone.

it's four days in and I'm the girl at the mailbox.
5 a.m and already earning stares from the neighborhood joggers.

"hello mr. tomani"

another value tarnished.

call in the dogs,  shut the door,
in the end, you go back to your bed,
call off the experiment,
declare that side of you dead.

you would like to know what it is that you want.

late at night
when the dextromethorphan
turns on me
I can't get your name out of my head

too hot to sleep so I
stayed awake for three straight days
stole this poem
from Sherman Alexie
and he was right;
I opened my bedroom
window tonight.

I forget
who to love
until you are right in front of me
and I always make sure
that you are right in front of me.

cheap old seneca reds
half an hour before noon, above freezing.
sun is shining on campus.

this is my little doorstep of paradise
come sit down if you like,
and we can talk about it.

an epic poem that I can't convince my pen to write
'cause I've been far too busy riding city buses
and drinking beer,  and staying in bed.

a theme of budding alcoholism,
                                              and seasonal depression.

classes and meals skipped,
                                                  comas and car crashes.
it's all real, and it's all happening.

it's going home and then leaving it again,
boxes both packed and unpacked,
facebook messages I wish I could take back.

pages I leave blank,
                    when I want to write all the way down.
puking in your driveway,
                              the last night that I skipped town.
phone calls to celia,
                                 until I get to go see her again.
running into your houses,
                                 smoking cigarettes with friends.

I hope that Portland swallows you up.
and that Seattle drowns you.

Dearest Carol,
the weather's been cold.
The snow falls from the sky,
and flies up my nose.

Dearest Carol,
the liquor was cheap,
and the beer came free.
Now I know Mr. Winter,
and Mr. Winter  knows me.

Dearest Carol,
I'm coughing again.
I'll see you next Sunday,
if I don't turn up dead.

3/5/13

I lied to you.
I said "who knows what the future holds."
before I walked out and had my cigarette.

I know.

I know I won't be coming back anymore.

I know I looked into your eyes, and didn't tremble.

I'm satisfied.
I want no more of these tense confessions
and temporary forgiveness.

let's bury the hatchet.
let's never have to talk again.

because I really didn't like it.