how many have met you
with their lips
or fingertips

or their pumping blood ***** attached to their hips


how many have seen your redness
how many have felt the blood you bestow
each month

it trickles
like water down cave side walls



my cave
how many have seen you

and not wanted to touch

why do they always want to touch


I curl inside my cunte
on days when my heart stops beating
anvils on my eyelids
keeping everything out of sight


so i don't look
i touch


I feel
the words
the whispers
upon my skin
the hair of my mons crawling like Medusa's crown

snakes, serpents
slithering


around
whatever is put inside

I will ****
if anyone touches me
again

I have to protect
myself

if you have ever lived in
a dark place
then you know
                                  that you can't trust anyone
even the feet holding you up are
shaky and unsure
Things are confusing

                and you feel as if

there is no way out
                                       maybe giving up is
                                        the best option

because so far, no one has
shined a light upon you

                      you're not worth it
                      
i'm not worth it

I've never been a weak girl

I've always stood tall, walked tall

No one can bring me down

except myself.
                             I throw myself into
raging rivers
dark graves
impossible relationships

                                            because I somehow
                                             think I can make it
                                                          out.



I've been living in a dark place

Show me the way out
If you are who you
say you are,

take me by the waist
wrap your arms around
                                           my
                              colla
                                             psi
                                                   ng
                                                                      bo
                                                                                dy

Pretty bird

Fly me out of this
hole I've dug




God, a girl needs help sometime


so please
                    help me

lift me lift me life me lift me

                 off of the ground

I know I'm a heavy burden

weighed down with baggage
from my past

but Pretty Bird

If you would be so kind

I realized today

That I can never live

in a house
that does not contain


a bathtub.

I like showers
they're lovely little self spaces
sure,


i like the feeling of
fingerblades
little
rain droppingingingings
singing

over my skin

but there
is definitely something


about being
wet
every inch of your


body
covered in water
and all of it is touching you

at the same time


it replenishes me

dipping my hair under the sweet salty
sweat mixed liquids

it gives me life

in a way
that no one but i could ever

understand

letters to boys
in boxes


i am done with you now.
your poems and pretty words were read many times


letters to boys
in boxes
shoe boxes

filled with sweet missing and coo coos and little lip kisses


i really like to read them
more than once
and picture faces
of boys

and smiles
smiles and kisses in little folded notes in boxes

i keep some in a drawer
in my big blue house

some under the floorboards
of the cream house with the mean neighbors

some under a dorm room bed

and some in a desk, yes.

i have boxes and boxes

one for each boy.

none of them
mean any more
to me
than the next.

but don't tell me "what a waste of paper"

because each word

soothes me
like a new hand
touching my spine
in the dead of night

each word is like a new soft whisper
from a something someone

that makes me feel
so warm


so

i'll burn them all.

and make a bonfire of lovepoems, sweet kisses, your sweet ******* earlobes

and create a sanctuary for
myself
in the fire

here's the thing
about self mutilation



it kills me
slowly softly

gives me what i need


and here's the thing about self mutilation


the red neediness
the cold pane from windows

raining outside
raining inside



i'm covered in it


i'm covered in red
red covering


my red
smeared


across my eyelids

dripping from the scar tissue
and scars to be made,
this year


and next year and next year


yes.

self mutilation
how I've missed you

I didn't try hard enough to
                                               love you
I couldn't give you
                                  me what we
                                                  needed, space
I held on too tightly until
                                         my hands went
    
                                                                 numb
I stopped breathing,
                                    you did it enough
                           for both of us.

But I promise, I will breathe
                                    
                                      bleed

                                    breathe
                                                  now.

But not for you

you didn't pull me close
           you only ever pulled away

I cried into your shirt one time

the first and the last, one time
the first and the last, one time.

your fault your fault your fault

and please,
                      don't ever come back

So what am I
             expected to do
I guess for now I'll
pumpout poems
          chockfull of cliches

and other ****

      Because honestly,

                It doesn't feel
           right to do anything

                           else.


          So call me cliche

          But know that I'm-

          feeling more
                   than you

                             have ever felt.