Mother, mother, I kept your bracelet
Eat your food, won't you taste it?
As clear as mud, the bracelet reads, "****."
The word you mutter in your drowsyness to above
I will wear it, when I choose to perish
Perish, the same way you left me
I'm too far gone to heal the past
I think I caught your mental illness, spreading like a rash

Mother, mother, I kept your bracelet
It is locked up safe, unlike my heart, mend it, case it
I toss and turn in my haunted bed
Broken promises, no affection, some things better left unsaid
I stayed up all night, pressured to organize your scattered medication
Dad hurry home, she's having a seizure again
I tried to hold her down
She put her hand over my mouth when I screamed for help

I can't save you, until your turn around the blame

BENEATH MY SKIN
my eidetic memory skims through my
mental
encyclopedia
reminiscent old thoughts amassed in
my wikipedia
pops up like a champagne top
i vividly recollect being born black
if you referred to me as dark skin no
tear would drop
racism was not within the range of my
knowledge
egoism and rage were the only thing
that pushed me to edge
the only race i was aware of was
marathon
and the other i uttered was lace in
shoes
throughout my childhood i never
realized the realism
of its catechism
the only -ism subscribed in my recess
was alcoholism
rhythm was the closest i
mispronounced racism
black and white to me was a great wall
television
and human being was great of all
creation
i neither thought being colored would
lead to isolation
nor the hue of my skin was a ticket of
damnation
it was tardy when i got revelation
about the race thing
my ripe mind expeditiously
incorporated the race theme
which flowed across nations like a
mighty stream
the sensation so extreme no longer was
it a dream
my color ceased being my joy and
became pain
my skin grandeur is now a paint of
ignominy
as i quest to replace the slogan of
ignore many
a systematic annihilation that will
bear liberation
the ultimate solution is my fascination
of love for each and every human
being that will
carry no disdain
i seek to liberate my thoughts that
brings me
to my mantra that knows
am black and there is nothing i lack
i cherish the red color in my blood
it's my beauty and my strength
lying beneath my skin

to the self harmer holding the blade, wanting nothing more but for it to kiss flesh, know that you've been days clean and you don't deserve another scar.

to the self harmer digging your nails into your thigh after a fight with your parents, know that this storm will pass.

to the self harmer shaking as you bury countless blades in the dirt, know that you've never been as strong as you are now.

to the self harmer hiding deep under your skin, know that your scars are nothing more than a reminder that you're still alive.

to the self harmer rocking the realest smile you have had in weeks, you made it.

My great-grandmother lived in a time when if you sang too loudly in a public place
Such as on the bus
With no audible music anyone else could hear
You were thrown away
Reported by the sanest of citizens
Locked away in the mental ward of Bellevue Asylum
By your own family

She was an alcoholic
Well, she was Italian
As was that whole part of my family
And Italians like wine
And she liked her wine
Maybe a little bit too much
My grandfather said that by six o'clock
Everyone in the house was screaming
Throwing things
Alcohol-tinged, infant-like fits
The lot of them
Drunk
Every night of the year

But my great-grandmother
She was the only one who carried her drink
In a little metal flask
Tucked in her ragged coat
Took it with her on the bus
On the way to work at a hotel
Where people with enough money
To boost the world's economy
Slept, ate and yelled at her
For forgetting to put a mint on their pillow once
But she just hummed away
Took the flack with a smile
Sipped her poison
And rode the bus back to work
The next day
Drunk
Singing
La Donna e' Mobile

One day though
Her brothers caught up to her
As she was boarding that bus
She was singing again
And smiled
Asked them what they were doing there
And they looked at her
Smiled
And smacked her

They threw her in their car
And took her to Bellvue
In 1947
When the idea of mental health
Was shrouded in ignorance
And scrutiny
And the word "medicine"
Meant electric-shocks to the brain
Submerging in below freezing
Ice-tanks
And
Fiddling around
In people's brains
Through their eye-sockets
With screwdrivers
"Lobotomies"

My grandfather was born in 1945
He was only two when they took his mother away
And only three
When they told him she died
Rotting in the asylum
Experiments done to her
That my family will never know the nature of
Never know how much pain
She ****** up
Never know if the cause of death
Was actually "cirrhosis of the liver"
Or
An officially administered
Botched
Brain-****

1) help endures even the worst pumpernickel shortbread *****, but understanding outweighs that of the pessimistic drug lords squatting in **** ridden sandlots.
2) compassion is for the virtuistic harlequins.
3) underestimating the estimatable is the idea, even under a load of unsettling emotions. just hoard them in your fannypack.

4)the *** next door may make your head spin, and the typewriter might make your nails crack. but, beyond all of that, there lies an undisclosed truth. one that neither the walls nor the space bar underneath your thumb will ever know:
    
I am here, and this is now.

Don't love your food less because you want him to love you more. When he holds your hipbones in his hands, he is not holding your heart.

2. Delicate flowers can't survive on water alone. Don't drop yourself into a skinny vase until you wither. You deserve so much more.

3. Don't confine yourself to the scars on your thighs; you are more than that.

4. If you feel insignificant, sketch stars on your skin. Do not count them. You have created a universe on your body. As you live, planets are born. Stars implode. You are so powerful.

5. When your eyes scan your reflection for flaws, know that you will always find them. This does not make you terrible. The stripes on your hips are there because you are alive and your universe is expanding.

6. When your best friend is admitted to hospital, reassure her. Tell her she is beautiful. When she does not believe you, hold her quietly.

7. When you are admitted to hospital, let Mom cry. When she tells you you're beautiful, try to believe her. Let her hold you quietly.

8. Do not hand onto his words. You mean so much more than "******."

9. Do not count the calories you eat. Count the smiles and the tears and every time the sun lights your face. Do not count the calories you eat.

10. By the time you write this, you will have made a decision. Reading this, I know it seems like the road to hell never ends. But when you get to write this poem, you know that it does.

Because you turn around and walk away.

Knead your problems into dough
none of them can survive
at 375 degrees Fahrenheit

When you wake up late
add one chocolate chip
for every minute of morning you missed
take out one chocolate chip
for every time you are unkind

A teaspoon of sugar
for every crumb
that he left on your eggshell heart
a tablespoon of salt
for each time you’ve missed the way
his callused hands felt on your voice box

Drift away on clouds of flour
float down rivers of vanilla extract
a dozen cookies for every time you’ve flinched
at the sound of your own breath

On your knees
burn your throat
watch the cookies resurrect
flush to decompose.

Being thin
is not going
to fix you,
because no matter
the number
on the scale,
you will still
call me at 3am,
begging for a
reason to live.