I think in terms of space dust
rocks and dirt and eyes of mud
rocks and stars and desire of sun
burns above my belly button
i could cough it up, i could just gag myself and throw it up
it's really hard for me, though, to do things i don’t want to do
so i make space inside my stomach for a love that’s hard to stomach
And I wanna roam around Mars with you.
And I wanna roll around Venus with you.
Later?
Did you mean: later? Or did you mean: never?
My empathetic receptors curse me with the knowledge of what you want before you even know
My abounding empathy whips, long and hard; I’m sweaty and she makes me not ask
So I just assume that I occupy your head space too.
And oh dear God, I hope I have real estate in your space too.

Did you forget all of me was inside you?
I only used your holes for my spare parts
At first-until each ounce I extracted
Now, looking in the mirror asking-who?
I think I lost myself inside of you
I can't retrieve now that you've retracted
You've broken me with your breach of contract
I used to see color, now only blue.
Love or life, I wonder which is the greater loss?
Is ownership a prerequisite of grief?
If so, my pain I am not entitled.
Although relieved I am of albatross
I'm now racked with curs'd thoughts of that thief
Alone, sans my resource for survival.

I write with a pink Bic now

My phone is white and out of storage and I’m not connected to the
   cloud because it freaks me out, so every time I delete a picture, she
   asks “are you sure?” And I “delete anyway”
My high school best friend’s cousin’s husband just died and I’m
   wondering why I’m weeping for a kin I never grew akin to, a mere
   stranger, a subtle blip in my matrix. But his poetry
   is beautiful, I know that. And his music is beautiful, I know that.
I drank a root beer float tonight and the night before, or did I eat it? It
   reminded me of buying 99 cent slushes at Convenient. Or the
   “healthy” slushes I bought to accompany my soft pretzel everyday
   in middle school.
On the terrace, everyone else ate hot dogs and I looked down,
   holding my soggy French fries and wondering what else there is out
   there besides ketchup and mustard: like in Princess Diaries when
   Julie Andrews puts mustard on her corndog. I always thought
   that was so cool.
Or when Mia Thermopolis sit sideways in her giant comfy chair after
   throwing darts at balloons filled with paint aka “stupid cupid stop
   picking on me” or is it… “hitting on me”
Remember when Ben Day asked for pictures and when you sent cute
   selfies in your sports bra, he responded, “okay, but can they not be
   of your face?”
Or when Ben Wilson taught you that “hurt people hurt people” and
   had “ultra conservative” on his Facebook page underneath political
   views and you had go ask what that meant. I Corinthians 1:13 or
   something like that was always my favorite bible verse because its
   the only one I ever learned by heart.
Hail Satan.
We all rot under late capitalism.
But I didn’t know that then. I know that now, but not then.
Now I wonder mostly about the ethics behind “procreating.” I wanna
   bear fruit, but I can’t even stand the thought of myself burning in a
   fiery pit, let alone my spawn.
But,
My stepsister is pregnant. She found out the “gender” today, “boy.”
   My nieces and nephews have had a very gendered upbringing, I
   guess I did too: barbies and bratz and Betty spaghetti.
I know everyone always says they just want a “healthy, happy baby”
But I have a crippling nicotine addiction and manic depression, I’m
   not healthy or happy.
Do you think I was the idea my parents pictured when my mom peed
   on that stick and got a plus sign?
Probably not.
I hate to disappoint.
They can live in the glory days when my cursive handwriting was
   better than anyone else’s in my second grade class. Olivia Layne
   Ulmer on that brown, dotted, lined paper.

With a yellow no.2 pencil.

dreadfully and drearily so she picked around her nose where her ring used to be

full of dead and destruction she ripped out pages of John 3.16, where her crown chakra used to feel free

wistfully wishing for her black jeans with a string instead of a zipper; she now wears a gown

wondering why, she contemplates in her midnight blue constellation journal: to down-
right mortify me,

to make a mockery, to….to, to…. to…. find me in case I pull the fire alarm and try to escape

she puts together puzzles with her mother’s name in cursive in the bottom right corner and puts them together with tape

begrudgingly so she ties up the used new balance sneakers she borrows and moans

she wants to move her body, for her form has been stagnant, oh how she wishes to roam

jogging, running, sprinting from the wolves to the butterflies and bunnies

painting a stain glassed window as a holy shrine to The Queen of The Goths, she’s so spunky

wondering where her soul’s mate could be in a blizzard this thick

but she knows she’s been a real witch, flying into her alter ego’s psyche on a broomstick

if she can infiltrate her reflection in the mirror she’ll catapult into outer space

although, around her neck, she’d much rather wrap a shoelace

In five days time, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, not only does the doggy door open,

so does the front door, who had the key? Will the door be closing?

Jogging, running, sprinting from the eyes of the doctor to the arms of the unbroken

My feet are swollen

My hands need lotion

My thoughts are golden

I am coping

He is coping

We are coping

They are unbroken

Over a basket of fish and chips, I realize I was chosen

Is that a ****** up notion?

I just don’t want to feel hopeless

Is this excess of energy a bad omen?

Back in the free world now, I’m so scared of my spirit being stolen

But my energy is as vast as the ocean and potent

I win, I win, I win !

But the imperialists are closing

In

I expected the spaces left to shrink
I thought my body'd forget your square shape
I hoped my holed heart wouldn't be left agape
Boldly naive, a baby dressed in pink
I hate you for leaving me stuck to think
You were the only one here not an ape
I don't want to patch my canyon with tape
But no choice I have, you left in a blink
Now, it's my duty to bat my lashes
First to mop the crystal geyser of tears
Secondly, coquettishly-over to him
Who he is matters not, only passion.
Hotel? Motel? I'm sick of these affairs.
Alone, I must remain-with him in Grimm.

silence surrounds
me
thoughts won't
flow
words stuck
inside
im stuck on this line
blank
blank
******
dummy
you used to be so smart
what
happened?
dad would say it's the ****
mom would say it's my attitude
or
lack of gratitude
blank
blank
I'm a ******
I'm a dummy
I used to be so smart
but
sadness
surrounds
I arm wrestle her to get out of bed in the morning
I'm out of energy for the rest of the day
depression
dampens
my sunny spirit
I'm not a ****** and I'm not a dummy
I'm just
blank blank
maybe it will all go away if I just...
blink

all I see are trees of green
and the shape of your mouth in the leaves
my heart still beats for you
beating less
still and so
I daydream about what you might have done today
I fall asleep at night and am treated with visions of when my whole body felt like a **** in your arms
accelerating rapidly through the galaxy, expanding and exploding inside each other's hearts
it's a terror to wake up

flicked down and dark
lightswitch
up
up
away
head in the clouds
straining to crane my neck
around
back to you
checking
to see if you're there

but when I see you
I'm a burning sun
although I'm only the moon
inconstant and dark and dull
but you light me up
you flick me on and up

I imagine you touching me
touching you, touching me
I know I'd only quiver
I'd shake
an earthquake
my thighs are vibrating
as I'm waiting
waiting
waiting

how can I miss something I've never had

somehow I already want more

more of you and more of me

but mostly more of you and me

A venn diagram or an x-axis or a y-axis or a bar graph or a pictograph
I wanna take a picture of your pain
And show it to a me that has yet to hurt you
And disrupt the space time continuum or whatever it’s called
My friend, Ra, like the sun she is
Used to punch herself in the head when she got anxious
I always thought it was ******* mental and scary as hell
Now I have to sit on my hands to refrain from hurting myself
I guess I just didn’t know extreme discomfort yet
I thought I did
Oh did I have another thing coming for me

If I could fold time and conflate experience
I’d arrest my own self
Hands trapped inside of cuffs
And not the **** pink fuzzy kind
I’d lock myself up in a prison
So that those around me would be safe from my wrecking ball
I’d save them from myself
By destroying myself
I’d put my soul in a paper shredder
And throw the remnants in a dull green dumpster

Perhaps I’m exacerbating the experience
We’ll call it “emotional cutting”
Listening to 100,000 Fireflies
Looking at that video of you saying “wake up, wake up, wake up”
Continuously going out of my way for you
Even though you say stop
I cant help it
I need to put a bandaid over this volcano
I need to win you over
I want you to come over to my side of the bed
Leaving so much space on the left side
As we are wrapped in each other

I promise I didn’t mean to ****** you when I massaged your back
I know my promises mean nothing
Like you said, a relationship is built in trust..
And there’s none there

But there’s love and light and life
And where there’s life there’s hope

I don’t want to meet you in the future
At the supermarket
With your wife

I want you to be my forever fling
Wearing an opal ring

I am your wife

Reaching still for you
The way you reach for me
In the morning
Your right arm wrapped around my belly
Butterflies
Fluttering inside

Crying for you still
The way you cried
At Hey Arnold
Your saltwater coursing through your cheeks
Tasting my tears
Like the salt rim around the margarita
I drink to forget you

But I will never forget you
Your soul in ingrained in my brain
I close my eyes (awake) and see your crooked front teeth
I close my eyes (asleep) and see us laughing, swinging

And you will remember me
The way I left you
Like a crackhead leaving their daughter behind
Only to be reconciled a decade later
Resentment isn’t the word, neither is forgiveness

“You won’t be happy with me
But give me one more chance
You won’t be happy anyway”

Maybe I’ll sing your favorite song at karaoke
And bring the house down with sadness
Like when you sang Skyway
Your cinnamon flavored voice booming

I always put an excess of it in my oatmeal
Although it makes my eyes
Water

I should drink some water
I should get some sleep
I should take my meds

I will dress in black
I will chain smoke my spirits
I will drink myself to a stupor
ZzzzZZZzzzzzz tired ZZzzzzzZZZZ
ZZZZzzzzZ sleeping ZZZzzzzzZ
ZzzZZZZZZzZ living ZzzzZZzzZz
ZZzZzZzzzZZ dead ZzZzZZzZz