pull back the thin veneer
of pretense that obfuscates
this holiday season
profuse excuses of joy and peace
are hollow and brittle and leave
bitter proof of our lackluster compassion

expose the specter
of greed
dormant in capitalism
vestiges of a dying culture
the refuse of an apathetic
American people numb
to the trauma inflicted
by megalomaniacal leaders
consent given implicitly
in the complacency of obedient conformity

will we refuse to acknowledge
the stains on our hands this Christmas
red liquid misting our faces
bloodlust and endless war
there’s no
rhyme or reason
to these
sycophantic intonations
deafening these words of treason
in vain attempts to assuage guilt
with endless iterations
of false hopes and puny gods in
brainless trying to defy reality

we belie our true intentions
our self-serving obsessions
and inane consumption
hazes of the mundane  
in suburban graves

if the greatest gift is giving itself
we won’t find solace in the holy temples
of strip malls shopping centers
and corporate retail palaces
a Friday as black as our fractured hearts
witness the death of humanity
choking out all we were
grateful for the day before

Today I have to crawl back in,
To indulge again in skin, slimy, loose,
Wrinkled saggy skin.
I could lift it in great handfuls,
Feel the muscles, the blood, the everything,
The clammy coldness beneath my fingers.
It makes me sick to the mind;
I want to crawl back out again and run
But there is nothing left to run on, to run to,
Only something uglier than this.
I want to claw it off, the itching in my arms. Scratching,
Scratching at raw flesh, raw muscle,
Exposed veins, all stuck beneath my fingernails.
It is disgusting.
It is inconsequential.
It’s skin.

I know it may seem odd
But sometimes
I can be in a crowd
And still feel alone

come & find me
i've left my phone plugged
into the wall because i can't feel
you breathe through your fingertips
and i can't read your lips through emoji
your belly-button doesn't look right shrouded
in 8 mega-pixel dust and i want to touch you instead
of a keyboard on a screen and tell you about my day because
even though it's written doesn't mean it's real meet me offline because
i don't want a five second snapchat victory snapshot of your *****-line
i don't want my silly romantic poetry to be re-grammed on your insta
framed against a picturesque city skyline or a stoic mountain lion
with hashtags and sexting doesn't turn me on like the sound of
your voice i can write you letters until my fingers bleed but
they always arrive seven days late and you never cry
when you cut them open with a knife and i'm not
looking for a pen pal anyway or a friend
instead i seek a mirror with glowing
teeth or an outlet to plug
into and charge
me up

my favorite time of day
is when the day turns into night
when the sky starts to pull
lavender hues into shades of darkness
and i can just exist
in beautiful light

can i close my eyes and sleep now
dreaming in wisps of smoke
like blowing out a candle
and kissing someone you love
in the dark
soft shallow waves come in
clocks turn as feelings
pool up in the corner of the room
there is a light coming in from outside of your window
my mind is leaking
can i close my eyes and sleep now

curtain call for the moon
who really needs stars
when i'm holding mine,
smoking at the end of my fingers

I was awakened by
Her wailing cries dripping
From the ceiling fan.

Gnarled fingernails unearthing
Every defect shadowed by
Cheaply colored cloth.

Her desolate eyes of malice
Bitterly waltzing across
My 'ever bone-weary limbs.

Maniacal grin gleefully thriving
On the heinous mutilation
Of my once unblemished soul.

Her exuberant howls mangling
My already asphyxiated mind
As my heart yearned for extrication.

Deafening silence devoured
The withdrawn girl until her lips
Forever cradled Anorexia's kiss.

-ARI