the sight of a one year old baby
attempting to eat a sandy shell
on the shore of north carolina
makes me wonder
if i ever did something like that
when i was that young


















plot twist

i remember, of course not
because i was born at 56

i look at myself in that long, ***** mirror --
the lighting is bad and i look ghost-like
in the shadows of the room

i lift up my oversized t-shirt
and my eyes fall to the blunt cuts
that grace my soft skin

i try not to do this too often
but lately it has become much too hard
to ignore for long

the blade that rests in my sweaty palm
feels like a million pounds
as i bring it to my stomach

Our love only exists in a picture frame.

Yes, it's sad.
I often think of all our good times;
all the laughter.

Then I remember why we are no more;
because of me.

I keep it on my desk.
It sits there, collecting dust.
Sometimes I have to put it away.

"How can I love someone who doesn't love themselves?"
I remember your words.
They cut into my heart.

I'm why our love only exists in a picture frame.
Yes, it's sad.

No more kissed cheeks or warm blush,
no more holding hands or open smiles.

Did you think this would make me happier?
Well
you were wrong.

All my happiness
exists in you.

Dust off that old diary,
with scribbles and pictures
of dreamy days stuck inside,
its pages filled with unspoken words.

Open its frayed brown cover.
Pieces of paper with secrets inscribed on them
fall gracefully to the floor,
freed from their trap.

Pick up the yellowish notes and read them,
memories of forgotten times you remember.
Flip through the breaking pages of the book,
the one you once called your best friend.

Read through the past, relive it;
the golden, precious words fill your mind.
Cry silently and softy as you think of how far you've come,
how very different you are now.

Close the diary and watch the dust billow.
Set it down and smile,
the sunlight caressing your face,
its golden glow a reassurance of today.

i cry myself to sleep because
i'm constantly scared you'll come back
(don't ever consider it)

i feel numb and empty because
you told me i was nothing
(and a worthless piece of trash)

i need therapy and take medicine because
you used to beat me
(it gave me ptsd)

i can't eat anymore because
you told me i didn't deserve to
(and i should **** myself)

i have no more friends because
you made me believe you were all i needed
(***** you)

She covers the bags under her eyes with a face mask
and her split ends with conditioner,
her bitten ****** nails with pure white polish,
and calls her binge eating "treating herself"

She tells herself it's self care --
pretends she's doing herself a favor
by covering up her pain
so she doesn't have to look it in the face.

But face masks peel off
and conditioner washes away,
those perfect white nails will chip and wear off,
and eating disorders were never a treat
in the first place.

Behind that laughter (it's a facade)
and my clean
unbroken arms,

I hide my deepest secret
from the world.

No one feels the blade
as it tears across my belly,
besides me.

(I can't help but smile)
I know that no one knows
and that's how it should be,
because to them,
it doesn't exist.

And it shouldn't.




But it does.

There's this little thing who was born in the sewer
Her name, they all say, is Society
Pretends she's all that, but she's really nothing newer
They say she never once spoke the truth.

Society likes to pick in the brains of young girls
Likes to meanly whisper in their ears,
"You're fat, you're worthless, you're the ugliest there is!"
What good does that do? It brings them to tears.

Society likes to mess with the minds of young boys
Likes to torment them by teasing,
"You're skinny, you cry, you aren't manly enough!"
Society makes sure it sure isn't pleasing.

Society likes to mess with the minds of in-betweens or not-at-alls
Likes to belittle, judge, and taunt
"Why can't you be normal? No one likes you!"
It goes on and on. Society likes to daunt.

Society herself doesn't have a care in the world
She never thought once about anyone's feelings
All day she picks at everyone she can find
All night she waits for them to wake, on their ceilings.

You watch the sunrise through the stained glass windows
of the church you called your home
You see the colors dance across the quiet, dusty room
and fill the empty pews
On the streets, it’s not so bright. The cars drive,
their windshields full of sunlight
At night the lamps turn on, people sell themselves away,
drinking *****

It used to be a place full of happy people with good intentions
and bright minds,
until bullets shattered stained glass,
drops of blood stained the hymnals,
and screams filled the sanctuary
The sun has risen and you step back and turn around.
Safety is an empty word of false promises.
Nowhere is safe.

and listen
to the sound
of your breath

one day,
you won't hear it
anymore

i never know
what to say
i try my best
but i fade away

i'm so lonely
i want to talk
i have no friends
so instead i stalk

come over here
i think in my head
no one hears
so i lie in bed

the music starts
shhhhh...
the dancers silently
slowly
sway to the melody
their breaths even and
silent
the piano is soft
no one speaks
or whispers
as the dancers move,
not a step out of place

A burgundy heart
thumps loudly under slick skin;
Droplets of gray rain come running down
a bare chest.

Cold, ****** hands grasp
whatever they can seek,
Lungs gasping for air that gives them nothing;
throat stinging as it screams

Colorless eyes squeeze shut in exhaustion
as sharp crimson pain
floods through;
Screaming in agony

Time halts in its tracks --
Fear floods the mind
as wet, throbbing fingers
lose their grip.

I find it curious the mystery of birds
cawing deep within a morning forest
somewhere in the distance through the mist;
they soar from tree to towering tree
through the faded green and brown
as the entire wood dances to the song
of the soft, lingering breeze.

The silver tide sloshed to the shore
But soon shivered back to the black
It was leisurely lured once more

Soft sunlight penetrates the dark blue ocean
where it silently illuminates the waters
beams of light fall from the sky
to touch the quiet coral.

The sunset in your eyes
gives me the light I need
to keep on trekking
through the mystery
of your broken heart

sometimes we feel trapped--
isolated from the world,
like the air inside a bright red balloon
or the unseen ocean inside a conch shell--
like the idea stuck inside my head
before i write it down.

we feel forgotten, like the world
cannot see us anymore--
we are the picture in the frame
behind the one that touches the glass,
the water before it flows from the tap,
the sunrise before it reaches the horizon.

we feel like we're almost there,
but not yet--
we've woken up in the morning,
but we haven't opened our eyes--
we've opened the window,
but the breeze still hasn't come--
we're almost there,
but we're still so far away.

I see a magazine at the checkout
A half naked woman is on the cover
and rude words are splayed across the paper
I wonder who writes such crap

I see a little girl staring at the woman
whose body is obviously altered
Please don't listen to those lies,
I silently plead with her in my head

I see another girl looking at the magazine
This one is older, a teenager
She picks up the tabloid and flips through
"WEIGHT LOSS TIPS" is where she stops

I want to tell them both that they are not fat
I want to tell them that they don't need to listen
they don't need to look
they don't need to change

But I already know it's too late
when they both buy a copy
and leave
I sigh and try not to think about it too much

why
do you bother with me?

what am I
but another torn
plastic bag stuck
to a tree branch?

what do I
have to offer
this beautiful,
broken world?

I make too
many mistakes.
I fall down
much too often.

so why
why
do you bother with me?

Wish me luck on the stars above
Their silver seams gleam in your eyes
I stare for just a moment too long
Soon I am mesmerized by you

Wish me luck on the cold blue rivers
That race through my heart like ice
I look to yours for warmth and comfort
Afraid that I will scare you away

Wish me luck on the peaceful music
The sounds blend together with grace
I share with you what I cannot say
Hopeful that you will sing with me

With you, I find peace.
I find peace through the night and
Through the thunderstorms.

Clad in yellow low-tops
and second-hand jeans,
she walks through his heart --
with a curious mind, she explores.