Aching bones shallow
breath combine with quivering
fingers as I type
(not to mention) weighted
eyelids squirming stomach and this
sense of an accelerated heart
beating
against my chest fighting
to escape but
it would not survive the
extraction

If control is given to
me, I don't have
it (just the fact of
a gift) but
if I want it I need to
take
to take control
how I get it
matters! I
must take my
life my work my
sleep my hair my friends
my time to fight
for control I must
take

or give, when I've tired of
taking

I stared out the window
And saw nothing but a light,
Though it tried to show me things
that were mere fancy's flight:
The imaginary asphalt covering
the nonexistent street;
The set of snow-lined sidewalks
where passersby might meet;
The steely spine of a stop-sign;
The spindly barren trees;
All these visions I thought I saw
were light-driven fantasies

I'm good, not
bad not in
need of a thing no
thank you no really I am
good look at my smile with
the teeth showing dimples in
attendance so what if my eyes are
absent see me
be good because I am absolutely
angelic happy to be
alone
so leave
you can go now

I'm good, not
bad not in
need of a thing no
thank you no really I am
good look at my smile with
the teeth showing dimples in
attendance so what if my eyes are
absent see me
be good because I am absolutely
angelic happy to be
alone
so leave
you can go now

pictures of pictures of pictures are my
past, every year adds another frame another
layer of rose-coloured glass between Now and
Then

Then...now...what? my future is un-
framed, unhinged, unexistant
and so far unbroken

It Off
Rock & Roll
All over from a bullet shooting just
past your ear so
close you can smell the
powder the fire the
lack
of lifeblood in the open
air

when there is no peace is
war a given when war rages is
peace all that's left or
is the conflict between the two more
conflicted than
that
absolute all and no

My throat feels
endless, my stomach
hollow and
dry food will remedy the
situation

if not,
I hunger to
discover what will

Goosebumps march down my
arms make the hairs stand
at attention my
knee bounce bounce
bounces as my foot goes
Tense -
Relax
Tense -
Relax
Tense tensetensetense

Breathe
I am warm

How long
does a new year last? only until it
grows older, grows up and out crawls
first in spring, then
walks on to winter but when
exactly
precisely
does the year turn from New to
Old why are Old years never
happy?

This is the poeticization machine:
(Say that five times fast)
Raw materials: what I feel and see
The product: powerful imagery --

full of exaggerated angst swathed in
metaphors and rhythm and emotion too
strong to feel
real

Example A: I need a shower so I take it.
Post-Machine:
The burning water scalds my
flesh and I see red rush to the
surface even as the skin on my fingertips
depresses with each passing minute wrinkling
before its time

I'd like to be under
      BANG BANG
Maxwell's silver hammer in a
yellow submarine in
the land where I
was born in
my life

I know
what it's like to be
dead

If my life were a number
line—for example—

My life starts: 0
I laugh for the first time: +2
I yell at my mom: -3
I win in school: +10
I lose a job: -11

Am I really the sum of these
parts
the absent space of
my negative numbers
in opposition to the positives

Or

Am I more of an absolute value kind of girl?

I think I'm turning paranoid,
Or at least a little mean;
I question all the motives
Of those who liked my meme.

The second I get Followed,
I ****-- turn around around to see
If he just wants a "Follow-back"
Or truly likes my feed.

Don't even get me started
On social reciprocation.
IRL I don't do so well;
In virtual, I'm an island nation.

Do I just Like what I like?
Or only what really hits home?
What if it's a horrible post
By someone who loves my poem?

...do you like me? Do you really


like me?
Does it
matter?

I
don't
know

I make mistakes.
you understand this
flaw of mine my
only one, I guess if
you think about it...
you explain it with
your perfect phrases:
"Little Imperfections"
"Nobody's Perfect"
"I Love You"

until I mess up

Then,
you don't miss me
you no longer take
me

being perfect, you stop
mistaking me for
someone who you
love

“I was just
joking,” You Say but
I don’t feel any laughter
coming - something funny is
there though it’s the
Just, the
Just makes What You
Say both less and
somehow
more

the funny (not
haha) part is: What
You Say is not can
never be
Just

How much gradation in a
graduation?  is it a final line
declining to be either here
or
there? I'd like more
gray
in my ceremonies

You're a lazy selfish self-
pitying lump of skin and bone and
too much fat You can't do anything for
anyone (not even
yourself) What is your
problem you Stupid Uninspired
Unmotivated *** What are
you? I would tell you to
get out of my
life, if I
could

There is something
satisfying pairing 'nothing' with 'numbing' they
sound so similar are used in the same
context I want my mind
numbed
nothinged
see it works there too, just the dictionary doesn't
know it yet

My abs are tense waiting for
attack and
my breath is not as
deep as usual my shoulder blades attract
each other as my neck
stiffens
above them my
eyes go dryer the more I
don't blink but
the rest of me is wet
with sweat

driving for the
first time is a lot
harder than I thought, not
even including the
car

Take my pride
(there was never much
anyway) take my sorrow take my
anger frustration can’t-do attitude

and I’ll be good
again, well-meaning and
innocent in a
bland
sort of way

Rain: a good excuse to
stay indoors
I hear it dripping
on the roof, the street, the
sidewalk
but I will never feel it

I contain multitudes I will
it so
multitudes more than I maybe
can contain comfortably I
seek comfort in
discomfort

cold hot ugly
evil good expired
excellent  poor rich
who says extremes must come
in twos?

Walt Whitman says:
I contain multitudes
Well.
How should HE know what I contain?
I mean,
I don't.
How presumptuous is
he, to sing MY song to me?  Whatever
Walt, you're pushing
daisies now so
whatever

I know
what it's like to win
at life
at family at
money at SMARTS and
it didn't feel
I didn't feel--

better to fail and
feel the same and
know there's a
chance
I couldwouldshould be happier in
a better
scenario

I used to think that I was Social
And then Media came to play.
I've only ever consumed the stuff;
At creating, I'm middling - just okay.

I can't Mediate people;
Will never be a journalist;
I like talking sometimes,
But the internet? Not the greatest.

So it's time to divorce these words:
The Social from the Media.
For all the info I could want,
There's always wikipedia.

Black keys leave me
wondering the night in
shrinking armour a
leg will do I do
do you?

Who owns grief?
The one who cries the loudest?
The one who acts the most disturbed?
     Or *******-ish?
     Or eerily withdrawn and quiet?
The one who had The Best Relationship with the dead?
     The most unresolved?
The one who feels the most guilt?
     Who feels out of place at the funeral?
     Who resents the world?
     Who is named in the will?

How many people can have a share?
Who is allowed a say on the Board of Grief?
     Are children underage?

How powerful are the grieving?
Enough to command a neighbor’s chicken soup?
     Casserole?
     Cake?
     Family heirloom?
     House?
     Family entire?
     Telephone call?

that you aren't The One (but
you knew that already, didn't
you?) Just
didn't think I'd caught
on too

But I  see you with the Other one a
perfect duet of
Ones
I should tell you I
know I'm
not

I just ate a loaf of bread
It was toasted and delicious
The only problem now?
My stomach can be vicious.

To pull my
self up

To fight gravity and
win for a
moment would be
astronomically awesome

Too bad my arms aren’t armed to
battle even weak
forces

It's a long way to fall (the season, I
mean) just spring has
come just
now
but when can it be
fall
again?

Eyes tired of bearing the
Brunt of my notyet game
Plan regarding sleep and I
Don’t blame them

My jeans are
stiff straight
off the drying rack as I
pull them on
button them walk
around to loosen them
up

I pull a
shirt on -- it's so soft I
catch myself petting my own arm way too
often -- and put on
my glasses

My feet slide into fuzzy slippers

I do well on an IQ test which
Measures precisely how
Smart I am precisely
Now and
In the years to come

I did well
I feel exhilarated enlightened free happy
Special
Better than average
(Has been numerically proven after all)

But years later my elation
Dims because those
Emotions were genuine but
The specialness test is honest
As a used car salesman
One who claims all his cars meet
The (very rigorous) inspection standards he
Sets

A used car salesman of a test made
Me feel special which
Creeps me out looking back but
I should be grateful it
Didn’t make me feel like special
Trash instead

Alas poor yoric
here you lie
alongside
friends, enemies -- strangers you
have (had) no opinion on

what side is alongside in
a deadened place? whose side is
where when after is no longer
before?

the limit does not exist when
a body count counts
even after the soul leaves

but it should

how can corpses count in a math problem of a Choose
Your Side when
they're all on one side now and it's not
yours nor
mine it's the
veil
that none of us with minds and souls and points to prove will ever
cross (in our lifetime)