"Airing our ***** laundry."

"No one likes you anyway"

"Attention *****"

"Selfish little *****"

"Stupidest thing I've ever been a part of"

"All my friends say you're crazy"

"You just love confrontation"

You asked me not to air our ***** laundry
So here it is
As clean as it was
The first time we met

When you live below someone
and you both live in a building
built in the 1920s
you become friends
even when you've never met

I once watched people walk into a hole filled with water in the ground.

Someone told me they were washing away their sins, but when they came out, they looked the same.

I didn't bathe in a hole
but today I look different.

Sometimes, one of us calls the other,
throws a small stone and listens to hear the reply of ancient echoes.

Last night was longer,
about Ginsberg, alcoholic tendencies, the history of us.

He was drunk to the point of almost-constant repetition and forgetfulness, which it seems he always is, I think.

But still, we talked,
because I don't mind.

The bottle makes the truth come swimming out his lips.

"You're so handsome now," I said. Because it was true, he was.

And always was, even back on Myspace,
on back decks.

Maybe I was born with something in me and its only goal was to implode. Maybe it's expanded so much it's bigger than my heart or any other ***** in here, and maybe now it's so large it controls my brain or it's causing me to collapse inward with it.
It's like a tumor but one that keeps you alive and speaks of bad ideas, *****, tormented secretive, painful, backward, muddly, inflicting kinds of ideas.

It's a lot more work than you think you know it is
Living like this
Being her
******* crazy **** who's drunk 362 days of the year
******* dumb sack of **** living in a box
******* bad friend, lonely girl, *******
Gotta pull her while she kicks, objecting to society
"I'm going to **** myself"
Can't. Won't.
"I hate myself."
Not enough.
"I'm a good person."
Try harder.
"I'm beautiful."
Only for a minute.

My ugly came
when the struggles leaked out
and turned white skin
to a canvas of punished pink lines
It came with the baby, too soon too abruptly
but when baby came out
it only went deeper
My ugly came
when the city showed us that not all who walk near
have pretty intentions
It came in a bottle, labeled and dated
in each tiny pill I pushed down my throat
My ugly came
after all the love left, as if it were the only one
to come back
After my ugly came
with the world and its harshness
it showed me
such beautiful sights