the nights feel so much longer
and I haven’t seen the sun in days

my skin will soon shrivel up

raisinistic features, screaming bleeding chapped lips


and I think I’ll **** that groundhog if
he says
what I
think he’ll
say


my hair will fall out
clump by clump

my gums in my mouth will become metallic and large

this winter will never end

so
i heard that the play “the glass menagerie”
is really an autobiography of the author
Tennessee Williams.

and woah is that a mindtrap.
if this play is an autobiography
he would have had to have
this conversation
with his mom,
then write down exactly what was said

and then
THE PLAY
would be about
Tennessee Williams writing down **** that his mom says
and not his ****** up sister
and her stupid typewriter
and alcoholic teenagers.

Maybe I didn’t really get the symbolism

My black gloves, coat, boots
Make me thick and heavy and slow
I am trudging through this white brick wall
I am tired and dripping.
This snow is ungainly
As it piles on top of the dead
Black, are the silhouettes of branches on drooping trees

Car crash.
Car crash.
Car crash.
I had forgotten that snow makes death unforgotten.
I am a beacon of safety
Inside my warm hut
With my life and my body, attached still.

Snow, sky, same thing.
Both a shocking white,
The color of the white light
Of death, reflected in a black lake
Swallowing everything else whole.
An insulting shade of pale,
Unimaginable in the middle of November.

A white bleached ivory
Your knuckles are that color white,
Bloodless
As they grip the wheel
But your fingertips forget how to drive
Your mind loses all the knowledge
You have gathered over your twenty three years

Your secure little buggy
Is no longer secure
No longer out of harm’s way.
The permafrost inching its way under your wheels
You are a little child learning how to walk,
Slipping and falling,
Reaching for your mama

You really don’t want to go over there
REALLY don’t want to go over there.
Because over there is the ditch.
And you scream “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO”
But who are you yelling at? No one can hear you.
You’re all alone in your little buggy
And the snow muffles you anyway

And you are upside down
god is grabbing you by your ankles and shaking you
Hoping for money to fall out of your pocket
And then you’re right side up
And then upside down
And your brain is sloshing and slopping
All over the upholstery

And the red is all over the windows
Thick paint, splashed over the cracked panes
Your hands are covered in your own gore
Gushing from your thighs and stomach
And you are making so much noise
Why are you yelling?
No one can hear you.

And now you’re dead.
The air in your punctured lungs is frozen.
The blood on the window is turning rusty red crust
And the people in the little buggies next to you
Are watching you as they pass by
Some even fold their hands and pray
But they shouldn’t take their hands off the wheel.

In the beginning all I wanted to be was a dancer
An astronaut
A genius  
A teacher
After that an architect

I remember being young and wanting to be a firefighter
Then scientist
Then a football player
And after a while I wanted to be a novelist,
Later a musician
And for a bit I even thought I might want to be a senator
Then a vagabond
Wandering the ***** streets and paved highways
Then a poet
And here I am


Writing these words,
pretending that they mean something,
and of course, they don’t
and they won’t until I

become
beautiful
a model
a mom
a *******
and these words won’t mean anything until I have lived them

YOU
Know that these words don’t mean a **** thing
But I gotta write them anyway
Because otherwise my thoughts will drown in my head,
Kicking and screaming for their lives,
while this blue ocean falls and crashes over them
And I want to be a fighter pilot.
I wanted to be a star
That shines brightly in the bathed black night sky
I wanted to be a hero.
I wanted to save and be saved
From the ground that keeps falling on me
After my fair share of dreaming
I soon became an artist
I became silent for a while
Developing thoughts
And movements
Developing myself behind closed doors
Empty spaces
Screened windows
In the end all of us become what were supposed to be
Not matter how hard we try that’s the best we can do
In the end, that’s all we ask for

And in the end, I was a friend.
I was needed.
I was there.
I am here.
And I can’t keep wishing that I was something, because this is what I am.
And this is how my life is
Every day, brushing my teeth like it’s the most important task I have ever been given.
And I
AM
Nothing important.
that's alright with me

I remember when
ice was glass and the sky flew
That line makes no sense

Haikus are dific—

Haikus are quite hard.
This poem is total crap…. now.
….
refrigerator.

I ponder meaning
and the purpose of haikus.
A watermelon.

Seven syllables
what is the point of these things?
I am so bored now

just saying the words
omitting lines that make sense
‘cuz of syllables

I should just give up
But it’s finally easy
Okay, maybe not

I hear water singing,
the different musical symphonies of the rivers,
lakes and the vast ocean sea;

The sweet sorrowful song of the whale--the same song as when I first heard it,
off the edge of a boat in a yellow rain jacket when I was less than nine years old,

The children laughing as tadpoles swarm gaily around their tiny toes--the cream colored foam swallows their legs up to their knees in the orange midday sun,

The chirping of a dolphin, kissing the deep blue waves each time it leaps,

The seahorses galloping and neighing in the salt sea and the catfish purring and licking their paws in the lakes of Wisconsin and Minnesota,

The seagulls calling to the fish to leap out of the water to become breakfast,

The sobbing of the naked woman in her bathtub at home, the suds up to her pink neck--toes turning to raisins,

The deep bellowing of a cruise ship, filled with all of the people laughing inside its belly,

The ocean whispering against the sand as the moon is gazing into the largest mirror in the universe,

The sun singing loudly in the morning time, peeking above the horizon and pulling back the curtains of the night, greeting all of her lovely friends; bold, sweet, and strange.

Everything reminds you of him.

Everything.

I stepped out of my bed and looked at my bare feet, the nailpolish on my toes chipping away from prom night.

I get into the shower and I wash my hair, feeling its curliness and remembering his fingers running through it.

Fingers, and then

My hands, dangling them behind me in long hallway, wishing you would latch on.

My dad, and the times I biked to your house to drown out the hurtful words he screamed in my ears, and knowing that you would kiss the bruises on my thighs until they disappeared.

My ankles and the times you laughed at the patch of hair I missed while shaving

My backpack and the how you lent me three dollars and 48 cents so I could buy it.

And my cheeks, and all those ****** days when you refused to kiss them, but kissed my lips instead


Thinking about God, remembering thanking Him everyday that I’m alive every time I pass the part of 94 E where I got into my car accident, on the way home from your house on that icy night.

I can’t function in a normal way without pangs of hurt
Popping into my head like bee bee gun pellets.

I can’t think of bee bee guns without thinking about that night we hung out with your stupid friends and they shot a phone book with it, putting holes three inches deep.

I can’t think of that night without getting angry at your parents.

I can’t think of your parents without thinking about the day your mom caught me putting my shirt back on after an hour and a half of happiness
and how she sat us down

And said that you needed to think about your future, you future wife.
Was I really worth it?
Were you wasting your time?
I guess that was always up to you.

I can’t think of Christmas, because you gave me a ring that morning
And we fought a lot that winter.

I can’t think about Halloween because we used to go to Erin’s party every year
Except this year because she cancelled it
At least
I think she did.

I can’t think about valentine’s day because the day before it is our anniversary, the day you asked me to be yours
Over a text message.

And I said yes.
Over a text message.

I can’t think of easter because that was the day I kidnapped you
And took you far away from your mom
Where we couldn’t hear her tell us we were wrong about each other.

We went to a bridge
And you made me feel so beautiful even though my shoes were so ugly.

And we kissed on top of every sculpture
And we tried to kiss at the very top of the world, but it was closed
Because of easter.


And I can’t think about the day after easter
Because that was when I ended it.

And I’m not ever gonna get over this.