I am leftovers
disappointing takeout
you spent too much money on
(you're supposed to be saving)
sitting in the back of the fridge
guilt keeping me there long past expiration
though I'm inedible

I like to hope that my stomach aches
and sluggish breath, heavy head
are symptoms of childhood dramatics
turned teenage angst
when I'm evicted from my teens
I'll probably call it a quarter life crisis
even so, I've accepted its permanence

I wish on dandelion fluff
variations of the same thing
that one morning I'll wake
from a night of giggles with people I love
swallow down papaya tablets
and the sickening feeling will actually dissolve

My happy is like hot glue
dripped on fingers - accidental
quick to stick
when it cools it molts
takes my fingerprints with it
leaving my finger tips raw

I can't keep secrets, especially my own
they like to creep up my throat
slither out unannounced
while I'm on car rides; restless
they can't hold still for the four hours
that get me everywhere I know now

I used to be incapable of shutting my eyes
when the cosmetologist rinsed my hair
it felt like a trick
like shed crack my neck on the sink
as soon as I relaxed
instead I'd count ceiling tiles to avoid eye contact

Now I feel proud
when I fall asleep on the train
or with someone else in my bed
I count how long I can squeeze
my eyes shut in the cereal aisle
forcing trust to prove something to myself

I'm not obsessed with bones anymore
how they sound hollow
when tapped and prodded

I don't think about it anymore
hooking my fingers beneath, ripping
to crack open a wish

I barely imagine anymore
prying open all twenty four
to expose lungs, heart, liver

I almost never fantasize anymore
about pushing them back in tighter
the satisfying ache of missing pieces

I guess I still think about it

I have a fever
sweat through my shirt
50° heat
cool air, warm seats  

The road, the ocean
pulling,
it would be so easy

Dream like, half gone
lobotomized state
391 miles till I dead end
maybe i never dead end

Shocked awake
acid climbing stomach ache
I know what I’m doing

Reevaluate
hot cold lung ache
icy breathing
fever break

Whisper, I’m ok, ok, ok, ok
headlight stains
red draining brain

Rub and run, loosen
peel, reveal
sinew beneath
breathe, breathe, breathe

I can’t choke it back
the feeling
lascivious.
Hissing
the word is fitting

Malevolence
rock solid.
How do I know
what this feels like?
Can’t I choke it back?
Touch anyways?

Wake, drenched in sweat.
Angels take my dreams
take them, take them please.  
Peel back the heavy
floral scratching duvet.

There’s a boy and a girl
a girl and a boy
in a bed
a bed big and wide
and full of girl girl girl boy.
I don’t like that side.

Come with me won’t you?
Personal barrier reef, exempt I suppose
and you didn’t want to
scared
you were scared
and I was scared.

I can’t choke it back.
Blue panels, outside
the dirt hill we played on
ants on their mound
you can see it from the window.
It’s always cold in this room
full of ghosts and fog
thick grey suffocating.

Radiator bangs startle.
The mattress against the wall
slam against it full speed.
Dizzy.
Why was there a mattress
against the wall?

I tense. There’s something there
two inches too far back
I can’t quite grasp.
A feeling,
the way my stomach goes acidic
and my knees draw together.

Buzzing in my head. Flies.
They bombard my orifices
nose mouth ears
I can’t breath
can’t hear

Delicate vulnerability plays out
grab, tighter now, laugh.
I go numb
arms limp, useless.
Veins stop pumping
my cold blood
and eyes take it upon themselves
to warm the face.

It’s getting better.
Grab me hard,
I barely cry now
just shake, numb
and separate
body and mind.
Oil and water.

I placate the serpent in my belly
Comfort food and pills
And fetal regression.
I try to swallow it down
With lavender tea and warm milk
But it slithers up my throat
Not quite strong enough
To fully extricate itself.
The scales tickle my throat
Forcing reticent groans.
If it works it's way out
it will swallow me whole.

The leaves crackle
beneath boots heavy
with our tension.

The thread winds
and it winds
and it winds,
stretched taut

with every word
yelled quietly.
A game of telephone

family gossip factory
pumping out misspoken
and misheard
words. Peacemaker

sticking their nose in the
cerulean fire.
On forced walks

we pick pinecones
and get pricked
by their sharp
edges hard enough

to cause pain,
not quite to bleed.
Outside the pine walls

where my windpipe
can fall open
hearth smoke drifts and congests
and it smells like autumn.

Today I saw Van Gogh
and he looked right through me
with his cold painted eyes
and the words he wrote in French

His stiff arm detached from his side
and slowly he reached out of the canvas -

(They really meant it when they named
this exhibition) so I had to ask him -

How did you know how
I would feel today, back then?

When I saw you today, I understood
that sunflowers lived in your heart
the way oranges live in mine

And I felt less small among the stars
because you paint stars with so much yellow
and yellow is such a joyful colour

because the existence of stars
makes my life small,
makes my life fleeting
and endable,
and so,
precious

I thought you were tragedy
but oh -
the hope and the wonder
you saw!