Body asks for breath and you give it
and you tell yourself again about how you are worth more than crying, cowering in the bathroom stall of your high school, its the last period class of the day
Body asks for breath and you give it
take a sip and another and another until you are gorged on sweet smelling drinks surrounded by people you knew once upon a time in a dream you had as a little girl
Body asks for breath and you give it
run from every word that has etched itself into your paper thin oxygen skin, or has eaten at the pit of your stomach- worthless, ****, horrible, inferior, inferior, inferior
Body asks for breath and you give it
you've been in the dark for so long but tonight you stick your head out of the passenger window and gaze at the stars, and that song comes on - you know the one- smile erratically because you've survived for now, get lost in the song
Body asks for breath and you give it, give it, give it.

and so they searched for me under their fingernails, in the gutter, but most importantly in his arms

bloodied hands rub walls of confessionals like a cheap imitation of the most beautiful stained glass

theres beauty in the way you whisper my name followed by the words not good enough

your body is colored in someone else's fingerprints and i've been burning my hands to shape mine in just that way

kiss my lips until they crack like the sidewalks of the city that we used to dance in

bare feet on dashboards, cigarettes in your mouth, and hands around my neck: a list of things that make the most sense

a sunset reflecting off a mirrored building, eyes watered down until dark blue is nothing but the color of blue jeans

thunderstorm veins and lighting in my skin as my jaw becomes a platform for your kiss

your eyes are pools of holy water, but my lungs are full and I've been drowning for quite a long time now

in distant memories, i can almost see you.
thoughts as put together as a cracked mirror,
a playground of stone
but still!
hands clasp hands, reminding my brain of times when fingers lace together, a shoelace of skin and bones and veins.
Breeze blows hair an ocean lapping between toes or
crumbs spilled from mouths, spread like sand over the sidewalk-
a city of castles and sky
Let my chest speak for me, opened, splayed, and displayed like an exhibit
use your fingers and trace from rib to rib and read the story i push so far back into the grain of my bones
a frightened girl, so distant  and unknown
*much like the sea she was born from

My mouth is a confessional
a forgive me father for i have sinned
lips locked tight, secret keeper.
Words split, splatter the inside of my cheeks
and they slide, jagged down my throat

and lips don't meet collarbones,
and skin doesn't meet skin,
and my body is drenched in my own fingerprints
because my arms are covered in goosebumps
and i'm screaming THIS IS NOT ME
inside my head

i will never be bold, *****, beautiful enough for you
your experiences will far surpass mine,
I dig my fingernails in between my lips,
they creak open like the door to a dusty room...
I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH

i am stuck in my own skin

I know a girl who,
with a paper chest and a flimsy shield,
who would climb a hundred mountain tops,
and slay a thousand dragons,
if it meant saving you from a single tower.
Copper hair that attracts all the lightning in a thunderstorm
the sky melts like an ice cream cone in july,
and that blue is the exact color of her eyes.
She is rain when its sunny and the beach when its snowing
she contradicts herself more often then not,
and she will never back down.
Her beliefs are her bones, the structure behind the person she is.
Big dipper freckles and smoke in her eyes
Always craving adventure and just a little bit more
fingers lengthy and arms shaped like paint strokes,
in the face of every person who has tried to push her around, she spits
and again and again
as malleable as the breeze
yet as strong as an army
and guns may be pressed to her head, and she may be told to surrender,
but all she does is smile
This girl, this girl, this girl
a blistered promise at legendary
a banged up head and feet bespattered with tears
forest fire thoughts that tear her up and burn her down
A displayed chest so open, so unbelievably free
rule breaker, heart stealer, ***** with a cause.
I know a girl who taught me, despite being faced with endless reasons to close up,
all you have to do is put a crack in the wall before it all comes tumbling down
and with rapture you can break every rule you set for yourself because life is more then
playing it safe
this girl taught me a thing or three on the beauty of feeling, and no matter how secure it is to be guarded
up and closed off, there is radiance in
just
letting
*go

It was the fierceness in the way she snatched her heart from his hands
and whispered to it, soft lullabies "never again, never again"
he looked broken and malicious in the exact way she craved and her hands got tighter and tighter until what was between them before was not so anymore
She unclenched her fists and dust slipped between those slim little piano fingers
when she looked up he was already walking away

my eyes are full of girls dumbing themselves down and begging to be mistreated by boys who will break their fragile little hearts

14. The boys would gladly break those fragile hearts for 10 minutes of skin on skin in the backseat of a car

13. Im not one of those girls

12. Im not one of those boys either

11. I value a beautiful mind over a beautiful body and thats just not how things work around here

10. i like to write poems, drink tea, watch movies, and listen to rock

9. the problem with that is thinking differently gets you shunned and mocked

8. and the amount of skin you show directly correlates to how much you are worth

7. i like to wear jeans

6. So what am I?

5.  Im more than a thousand compliments, false promises, skin, and hands

4. I like my thoughts and the outfits I wear and the half understood jokes that I make

3. I don't want to beg for someone who is intimidated by a smart girl

2. and I definitely don't want to be just "hot"

1. so I won't

a snake of tail lights blind my eyes
and my hands are blistered from crawling across glass
to get back to you
You are a God figure standing above me
a righteous saint
You're saying and doing everything you can to send me to eternal damnation
a purgatory of "maybes" and "thank you's" and politeness
I am not a push downer
an opinion-less extra
an empty brain drone
im a walled up mistress
no feeling having, numb as can be, teenage head case
I am 3am barefoot in the sand,
streetlight wearer,
shoulder in my mouth and tangled hair.
Im a "Breath doesn't mean anything if it isn't coming from your lungs" shunner
But what good am I?
I'm nothing but a mutation in a city of clones, new thoughts are gibberish if they weren't placed there by a higher power.
Can you even blink without it being set out before you?
eyelash plucked from a passing eye so you can make your wish
authenticity in a barbie house
a repeated phrase
"it all belongs to you,the world, it all belongs to you"

Grief is a misty-eyed mistress, her face soft with sadness
Its one thousand fingers and palms meeting each other
creating a thunder so loud in my being that i can't think straight.
Grief is a five letter word, one of them an "i" none of them "u"
a night full of stars in my brain working out the equation of the exact point when a person with a brain and a favorite song, food, and movie becomes nothing more then broken biased memories and a pile of bones.
Sleep crusted eyes and a bottle of jim bean,
cracked plates and an infinity of kitchen tables.
what an empty chest, hard exhale feeling
when the ghosts of your charcoal smudged fingers trace my eyelids and forehead like a canvas of your own creation
but then sometimes,
i can close my eyes and feel myself waist-deep in the calmest ocean,
my fingertips skimming the warm water, eyes closed, the sun setting on my bare back
a smile spreads ear to ear and cracks my salty lips
peace
im confused on what to do with the collection of rain drops and lightning gathering in my open palms
so i take my hands, tip them over, and let them
*drop

Insecurity is wool blanket drenched in water
laying across my nose and mouth,
every breath i take in is a wicked reminder of everything i am not.
its sharp needle points prodding my pores
ripping apart the skin of my throat with every word i'm unable to speak.
Insecurity is facing a firing squad,
every bullet comes from the mouth, every tongue a trigger, every tooth ammunition
Your feet are nailed to the ground, an iron staple of your own making lacing through your toes.
The worst thing about it is that your hands are bulletproof shields,
and if you had the strength to raise your thousand pound arms,
you could use them to block your bruised up brain.
But you can't.
So you don't.
its being uncomfortable in your own skin, a bone shattering, helpless feeling that you
cannot change this.
no amount of compliments or beautiful words whispered in the darkness can fix it
insecurity is the building blocks of my personality,
I'm constantly tailoring everyone in my life to fit it, like a worn dress
I can't walk down the hallway, down the street, through a store
without the feeling of a thousand weighty words cutting into my skin
In every war my mind wages against my body
i stand there like marble, letting the bullets eat me alive.

I see you.
I see myself in you.
I see not the facade that you set like a mask upon your pale face
or the strings tied at your wrists, pulling your arms every which way
or your pain trailing behind you like a black cloud, thunder cracking, as a smile stays
your present is my past
i know you.
Our veins are corded rubber bands that stretch from our arms,
around our backs through every checkpoint joint in our bodies,
they slingshot feelings throughout
so that not only will our brain feel the hurt but everything else too.
We are every single broken person thats searching through the rubble of their own mistakes, hands bleeding, praying for shards of their splintered heart to appear
i am therefore you are and vice versa
im aware of the struggle you go through
that unbelievability that you can swing your legs from your bed and make it through the day
i am conscious of the crippling insecurity,
the four walled prison that you built yourself
the bars, stronger than anything even superman could bend, that are made of the insults that have been muttered
I identify with the confusion with which you feel lost
you don't know who you are
when you lean your head back and subconsciously search the starry night sky for your meaning
I'm there
I am you, and you are me
in a simple merge we are one  
it has always been this way
and it always will be

On this day
15,17,20,37,62 Years ago
a person was born
(many persons actually)
And these people were created
To live a life set out like a placemat before them
So as the years go by
and birthday after birthday passes
These people endure heartache, tragedy, loss, happiness, jubilation, and everything in between
But all they have to show for this is another year.
Another candle in the cake
Another punch on the arm
Another "happy birthday" card
But not everyone can share this day with the important people
So tonight when I'm staring down at a cake
And the light from the flame flickers across my face,
They'll lean in close and whisper "make a wish".
And I'll close my blue eyes as memories of birthdays are shuffled through my head
Then, only then,
I'll wish.

*I wish that I'll make it through another year

So she spoke to me
with elaborate hand gestures,
she spoke to me with passion on her breath and pain between her teeth,
her eyes wild, lighting up, animated, the color of chocolate.
In that moment they looked so cavernous i felt like i could reach my hand deep into those hershey kisses, inside her torn up, beautiful brain.
If I did, i wonder what i'd find?
Maybe a jumble of words, syllables, and lines, the words she searches for.
Amongst the mess i'd see polaroids and music notes
and maybe id know what she thought when she looked at me.
She spoke to me like a person without a broken past or a ******* up mind
and to think
she spoke to me about her triumphs and mine, about how she thought I was beautiful, and strong, and inspiring
those words slipped through my ears and poked at my brain, making me forget about all the things i hate about myself.

as she spoke to me i could almost feel the vines wrapping around my sternum and the flowers blooming between my ribs

as she spoke to me i could almost see myself as she did, almost

as she spoke to me, i almost told her how inspiring she is to me, how beautiful and strong but i couldn't find the perfect words, and thats what she deserved, perfect words.

as
she
spoke
to
me

"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper"
As i sat here, on this bench, in the absolute freezing cold reading "The Hollow Men"
I realized, i really wished it would have ended with a bang.
I wish we would have confronted each other face to face, and said all the things we were thinking
I wish you would have reached into your brain
and pulled out the gun I know is in there
every truth, a shotgun shell tearing me up from the inside out.

I wish you would have been there with your bullet syllables
and your tongue that was as sharp as a knife, cutting words into my skin,
making my ******* up past, visible to the naked eye.
i wish you would have told me how enervating it was to be my friend
and how exhausting it was to be the one i told everything to
i would have replied i thought thats what drew you to me, that i was serious, honest ,and definitely ****** up, so different from you
i know you would have said maybe you're too ****** up, even for me
and i'd watch you walk away, a retreating form in the distance, something i was used to seeing
and even though it hurt me supremely, at least i'd hear the closure coming from your lips.

But none of this wishing got me anything.
no, of course not.
what i got was frozen messages, a summer spent ignored, a distant call, and a petty, stupid decision that you made, to make me feel like the worthless human being i am.
you faded out, once my constant, now my nothing.
They say with grief our support may falter, and you faltered. You fell, no, jumped right through the cracks,
deciding i was too much weight, too much baggage for you.
So now i sit reading T.S Elliot alone on my friday night and you,
oh you,
you're probably telling everyone about the real broken family i come from.

"This is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper"
i couldn't have said it better myself.

In a shattered, boneless sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
for if I should stay another day
I may just take my life away

not a sky of grey or blue
or really any other hue
or frozen, crystalline, pouring rain
will fix my deeply, troubled brain

not the darkness, thats so sublime
or memories of stolen times
or the endless beautiful waves
will clear my eyes of all those graves

so when you take a look at me
I genuinely ask you what you see?
do you recognize the clockwork of my mind
or the confining restraints with which you bind

so I wake from my shattered, boneless sleep
with a sigh I begin to weep
my lungs can't expand and I can't breathe
so I shut my eyes and dive in deep

i pray the lord my soul to keep

Parents, teachers, guardians, all authority figures
have put this importance
this upmost importance
on the loss of innocence
but they have not stood in the shoes of the teenagers of this age
the teenagers who have lost their innocence
(or if you are apart of the lucky group you are on the cusp of losing it)
its not just the physical aspect
in fact it has nothing to do with having *** at all
losing your innocence is much much more.
Its the first time you see your mom popping pills through the crack in the door
its the first time your own sister steals from you so she can fund her ****** habit
its the first time you get slapped
its the first time you slap someone
its the first time you turn to music, or books, or drugs, or drinking just to get out of your own head
its the first time you'll do anything to be numb for a little while
but its not just the bad stuff
no its beautiful too
its that night you got drunk and sat on your back in the grass and had a conversation with the stars
its looking at that lopsided smile, that dimple, and that chipped tooth and feeling something
its making the wrong decision on purpose because you just need the distraction
so basically what i'm saying is the loss of innocence isn't all bad and it isn't all good
but its something that happens to all of us
theres no defining moment
theres no epiphany where you feel the loss like something physical
its not real or tangible
and its not the same for everybody
for her its standing over her moms casket
for him its when he shot up that first time
for me its all the good and the bad that i wrote down and spit out in this poem
And for you... well thats what you have to figure out.

"I knew this girl once,
she had long hair, so long it whispered tiny kisses along her hips and waist
she had the oddest bluest eyes i'd ever seen, the color of the sky right before it gets completely dark
her thick, long eyelashes framed those eyes, and freckles formed constellations across her cheeks
i could almost draw the big dipper and Orion's belt on her milky white face.
She didn't know i existed but i admired her from afar. I could tell she was educated- She always had some form of poetry in her hand. But of all the things i could have noticed about her i noticed her bookmarks. She would lose them all the time, i would see her chasing after the scraps of paper as they flew through the wind down the street. She'd stick anything in between those pages, wrappers of all sorts, leaves, pennies, shoelaces, once i even saw a page ripped from a different book. It became my favorite game to guess what the next bookmark would be.  After awhile she stopped chasing the various bookmarks across the city and she cut all that long hair off, then awhile after that she started using unoriginal, uninspired plain old bookmarks.Then even awhile that she stopped bringing books altogether, until one day she didn't show up. Nobody knew that beautiful, mysterious, bookmark making girl was locked up inside her own mind. Nobody knew she hated her long hair and her freckles and even those baby blues. Nobody knew that she couldn't stand to live in her skin anymore so much that she swallowed a couple pills one night to ease away the pain. Even worse was she didn't know i watched her for so long and thought she was the most interesting human being i'd ever encountered. That girl committed suicide because she hated herself learn from her mistake, my mistake, everyone who ever noticed her bookmarks mistake, and don't do this, don't off yourself with a .45 before you've even had a chance to live" he's desperate now  
"please please you don't have to do this" he sputters

I answer simply " I never was much of a bookmark girl, i always dog-eared my pages"

*bang

She looks at me
Eyes narrowed
Head tipped sideways
Lip curled
And snarls at me in a way
that manages to sound so condescending
that  If I was a fool
(a different one then I already am)
I could mistake it for concern
"I really don't like the person you're becoming"
I nod my head so fast it practically rolls off its base of my neck
so sarcastic
I smile so wide That my lips crack
and my teeth bulge from my mouth
so mean
and flip her off in the best way I know how
With words and a ******* to match
she doesn't even care anymore
And the worst thing is I don't.




"I really  don't like the person  you're becoming"



"me either"

An empty room answers me.

In between your ribs grow a garden of flora
Flowers bloom an sunlight filters through the bone
Every happy thought centers itself in your chest
And vines cage your heart
They cradle it and nurture it
Raising it up
So let's break that nasty habit, shall we?
Let's kick it to the curb
Pour poison all over those blooming flowers
Let the buds shrivel up and die
Nightmares swim through your marrow
Ingrained in your soul
And the sun sets in a rip roaring fire across your beautiful bony sternum
Darkness settles upon your heart
Cold air seeps through the skin
Your heart is frozen now
It's cracked in two
Your habit is gone along with the past and any emotion you've ever had
I wouldn't be worried or ashamed because
Because numb is better then feeling anything.

It was 3 in the morning.
When i turned over i saw that picture of us,
the one of you in that sweater and the tiny chip in your tooth from when you fell up my steps
the one of me in a hoodie not looking in the camera but past it at the ocean beside us.
it filled me to the brim with anger
my veins occupied with that emotion
my eyes and brain and thoughts clouded with red
before i knew what i was doing that picture wasn't there anymore
instead it was face down, the frame shattered across the floor
Bits of glass glittered in the slant of moonlight coming through my window,
the one that allowed me to see the picture in the first place.
It was then i realized that your memory littered every surface of my room
in a fit of rage i ripped the pictures from my wall and tore them into pieces,
in a fit of rage i snapped the mix of my favorite music that you made me when i had a cold last march
in a fit of rage i slammed my hand into the window
because it was the only thing that made me feel something
i wasn't surprised when no one came to check what had happened
in a fit of complete sorrow i sunk to the floor on my back,fist cradled to my chest, and slowly opened my eyes
I began to laugh uncontrollably when i recognized the glow- in- the-dark stars on my ceiling
I really couldn't do anything right.

Five  simple words
uttered so carelessly out of your  perfect mouth
just syllables and letters strewn together
You had no idea that those
simple, careless, beautiful words
were my saving grace

I can still recall
the way the air felt that evening
as the sun tried its hardest to stay in the sky
purples, oranges, pinks, blues, and reds
it looked like the bruise on my face.

I can still hear the ** and the ceremonies playing loud in my ears
as the car raced down the stretch of street, the marsh on either side
all the windows down, my feet on the dashboard
my hand out the window, splintered by the last fragments of light in the sky

I can still recall you smiling so sweetly at me as you handed me that thing
that not-quite-a-cigarette thing, and me taking a long pull
how I got this bruise was long forgotten
so was my broken home and heart
i smiled right back at you as those perfect lyrics filled my head
they were the only things i could focus on

after that.

Your voice is embedded in brain 
Like lyrics to a song 
And every time you look at me 
My body fills with electricity 
Like a thousand watts 
live in your eyes 
I coyly smile 
It's my disguise 
Cause I'm not a flawless magazine model
Or pretty picture in a frame 
I'm just a girl 
Average and normal 
With so so much to gain 
So maybe it's my odessey, my journey, or my trek 
To make my way towards you 
Without the past breathing down my neck 
In the end, either way 
You light me up like a star 
My own personal outlet 
Whether I'm near or far

I can't remember a time
That I didn't hear it or feel it calling out to me
Pulling me toward it.
Whatever it is it feels so natural
Like breathing.
I feel it in the autumn air
A sunset
A rip roaring fire across the sky
On a fall night
Where I stand
arms out
Hands Open
Head back
Barefoot in the sand
An ocean of time spread out in front of me
On the ***** of my feet
Savoring the feel of the wind in my hair
Laughing as I run down the beach
And I feel it
When the sky turns cobalt
And the stars show their face
Shining like jewels in the black abyss
And I feel it when Its raining
And I run outside
The thunder cracks across the sky
I feel it as the freezing water
empties across my body
In my eyelashes
Under my nails
Behind my knees
Down my hair and across my spine
The lightning flashes
For a moment
Time
Stops
And people don't see the broken girl I am
They don't see my empty heart
Or my empty hands
Or the nothingness I can offer to the world
What they do see Is a girl
with crazy hair like a halo of curls around my face
They see wild eyes and stretched out arms
An open mouth filling up with rainwater
Bare feet and pale skin
And they see the thing practically alive inside of me.
Its freedom
And its everything I long for as I become locked back up inside myself again.

In the dream I'm running
The beach is fogged
and every breath
Feels like I'm inhaling water,
I'm suffocating.
And I'm trying to save you.
I see your head just barley
bobbing up and down in the water
And I try to jump into the waves that have been home to me for as long as I can remember
But I'm glued to the spot.
Your head doesn't come up
And I collapse to my knees, sobbing
Because I know, that I know, that I know
I'm too late.
I wake up sweating, screaming
3:24
I roll over on instinct and open my voicemails,
It's a muscle memory now,
I've kept those voicemails since you died.
And I listen to your words
And I wonder why you did what you did
And I can almost always tell what your feeling
Your voice tells it all
The memories are there
And I cry for a little girl who thought
every family was like this
I dont know if I can forgive you
For leaving me mom-less by choice.
So as your talking lulls me to sleep
I dream again

The art of hating yourself
Is not easily achieved.
It takes motavation,
Words whispered across lunch rooms,
"Ugly, fat, stupid, freak"
It takes observation,
Hours staring at the pretty faces in the magazine,
Hours of trying hard to be something else
Hours feeling more lost then when you started.
It takes practice,
Feeling insecure as you walk down the hallway
Refusing food during the day,
doing crunches by night.
And of course it takes a certain type of person
For it to really take over the mind
A perfectionist
A person with a bad past or a uncertain future
A girl who blames herself
A girl who knows its her fault
If you are truly serious
about embarking on this journey,
This journey of unsatisfaction and secrecy,
Pushing people away and always, always
Craving,
Striving,
Searching,
Starving,
Needing,
That promise of perfection,
Take a class from the master
Or two
Or three
She's right here in town
The most dedicated and driven
The best of the best
She has cultivated
The Art of Hating herself
And she's the person I see in the mirror
Staring right back at me

To think
I thought of you
For hours on end
To think
I trusted you
Put my heart in your hands
To think
I opened up to you
My dark thoughts filtering in
To think
I missed you
There's no way you missed me too
And I knew I'd be alone
I just didn't think like this
And I knew you'd leave me
But who would've thought?
Who would've known?
I'd end up looking at your gravestone

I've lived my life 
In an eternity 
Of the inbetween 
Almost great 
But not good enough, 
Almost thin 
But not skinny enough 
Almost popular 
But not liked enough 
There, in my reach, 
In my sight, close enough to touch,taste, feel 
Is perfection 
The simplicity of the easy 
Of the perfect, 
of the complete 
So Here's to the in-betweens
Who have lived there lives
Being normal
But not good enough to be accepted.
I reach in front of me,
And I see a reflection of myself.
All I see is one million years of work,
Someone who will never be loved.
We are all made of love
And yet I cannot seem to love myself.
Others love me,
Some do not.
I am not the shy girl who hides in the corner
Or the loud funny one.
I am the calm,
Right before the storm;
The swaying of the trees
On an August morning;
I the clouds,
Covering the beautiful sunset.

Inhale.
With every breath my lungs quake
a crack resounds in my diaphragm
A darkness like a blanket
Covering my cobalt eyes
I breathe in the city
A life building brick by brick
In this ice cold
Hard as bone prison
Hiding behind my jail cell ribs
They are casing me in
Closed
Closed
Closed
Trapped
A fight rages on between
This heart and this brain
My veins filled to the brim with warriors
Swords causing unknown slits
The red
Red
Red
Rushing around inside
My legs urge motivation
My soul pleads a stop
My throat doesn’t utter a syllable
My hands shake around but
My lungs just build this home
This beautiful life
this beautiful city
this beautiful darkness like air
My sternum knocks at my chest
My scapula peeks around to see
My ears dying to see who’s there
My eyes dying to hear the voice
Of my conscience speaking to me
Exhale
All these thought whirl through my mind
My city is beginning to decay
The war has paused and everyone is looking up
Soldiers have stopped churning through my blood
No one is begging anymore
The pleas are gone
my ears are filled
The cloth has been removed my eyes can see this light
My beauty has been condemned
Everyone is smiling
Like clowns at a circus
All painted and sad
With a hint of hopeless
With a sudden yearning to stop this at once the cycle begins again
Inhale.