read some bukowksi today.
he's an amazing poet.
He really is.
but he's a ****** up old man.

and i'm so terrified of turning into him.

i'm so scared of turning into a mean old pervert
that never falls in love.
instead,

just ******* people until their soul falls out

because they think that they've fallen for someone talented and deep


but bukowski

his poems used to make me chuckle.


not anymore.
now,
i read his poems of
******* to little girls
and killing the people across the street
and being alone in a room full of people
and wanting to get so ****** up that the walls become the floor


and i can relate

yesterday i took a long drive
and i drove
looking for a place

that i had never been.

because all of my favorite places are now tainted,
tainted.

with memories.

i needed a new place
where i could create new memories
of peacefulness
and content happy feelings.


because the beach down the road from my house reminds me of the day i went skinny dipping
and the coffee shop down the street reminds me of just a few days ago
where i called you on the phone,
and tears made my tea salty.

and i didn't want to go to a store or something
because you can't sit peacefully and relax in a store.

it took a while


but i followed my heart.
i took a left on rice street.
i passed the beach.

drove all the way into St. Paul

I passed the Cathedral.
i thought about going in, but my soul just wasn't feeling it.
So i kept driving.

and all of a sudden, i decided to pull over

and i sat in my car.
and i cried
and i wrote you a sad song (that you will probably never hear)

and then i got out.

embracing the cold.
and i walked into a place

that didn't remind me of anyone.

i sat there
and i drew on my arms.
and i wrote poetry.
and when it was closing time, i helped a girl there move the furniture so she could vacuum.

and i felt alive.
creating a new memory

that hasn't been and will never be

tainted

i watch as steam rises from my cup of coffee.


drifts
disappears

like it wasn't even there to begin with

like wisps of smoke
spiraling toward the ceiling



but this coffee tastes burnt
and i'm drinking it out of the coffee cup you gave me for my birthday



i just want to throw it across the room and
watch it splatter across these ******* ugly yellow walls

i'm terrified of seeing you again.

and it's very different because it only ever brought me joy

because i would see the happiness and joy in your eyes


and i'm terrified that i'll just see hatred
towards me


for hurting you
but i would deserve it.


and you deserve to be happy. i wish i could
erase all the pain that you are feeling

and hold you again


but i can't

because i chose to let you go.

this loneliness is so difficult


and i miss you.



but being strong for yourself is better than being weak for someone else.

some mornings are worse than others.

some days, i wake up
my lips chapped, nose running
my eyes bloodshot and red,
i stare at the blue paint on the walls
and the blue sheets on my bed

and it's impossible
to pick my tired head off the pillow

it's weighed down from dreams about you
and nightmares
where you're so angry that you grab me by my hair and throw me out of the moving car

my head is too heavy
to get out of bed


pull the covers over me
and cry
cry


cry


         cry until it goes away


sleeping next to you used to bring me comfort; now the blankets can't even keep me warm.

i warned you.

i told you i would hurt you.

i told you i was ****** up.

i told you that my soul has always been in pieces
and that any attempt to put the shards back together
will only end in bloodied fingers.

i said, "i'm the girl that will break your heart".


and you were stupid for not believing me

but
i didn't want to believe it either.

i used you to numb the pain of reality
to cushion the blow of the outside world
to muffle the loud sounds of gunshots outside the window


and now i'm sober

cold

scared as ****

**hand shaking for the bottle

the therapist said
that i have to
"strip away my earth suit
and find my true essence"

find my true essence.
who the **** am i without a boy by my side
and a hand in my hand?

who am i when i'm alone in my room, listening to silence?

who am i
without you?

It's hard.
it's gonna be hard to figure it out.
it's gonna be a journey

a journey that i need to take.

but at the same time, it's like
the Matrix.

taking the red pill?
or the blue pill.

you make a choice.
you can either hibernate
in another person's reality

or you can live your own.


but it's so much easier to fill this gaping hole in my chest with people that don't fit

than to try to let it heal by itself.'

how do you tell someone
"i miss you"



when your heart aches
when you just think
the words.

i could never bear to say them out loud

i'm worried about even putting them here.


but I do,

I miss you.


and I think about you all the time.


The more I learn about myself,
the more I realize

that I just want to see you again.





now i guess i'll just wait and see.

I can feel my body sighing and heaving
and my spine sticks through my skin
and leaves an indent

in this rock hard bed

i want to sandpaper it down until it doesn't feel like it's killing me
(i want it to just **** me)

what on earth
happened to sleeping peacefully



I guess

when you left,
you took sleeping peacefully with you




like you took everything else.

my eyelashes keep sticking together
this dress is too short
this dress doesn't go with my shoes
this dress isn't comfortable enough to dance in

my hair looks stupid down.
my hair looks stupid up.
i should have just straightened it.
i should have done laundry
i should just throw away all of my clothes.
or burn them.

this tank top makes me look fat
**** it, i am fat

i should have gone on a diet.
i shouldn't have eaten that cookie dough

i should buy one of those bras that will make my ***** look smaller

i should buy sexier *******
that will make me feel better.

should i put on more make up?
now i look like a *****.

just **** it.

this is what i look like. face it.

I enjoy sitting in coffee shops watching business men be busy
Drinking burnt coffee
Watching my leg hair grow
noticing that my pits stink
Watching people fight over booths that have an electric outlet to plug in their laptops
Which is funny because I'm writing this on my cell phone while everyone assumes I'm texting.
Well, at least I know that I'm not.

i aint got no money
but we can shove each other into the pool fully clothed.
or we can kiss each other with smoke tasting breath
and we can watch those bugs devour that tree
we can play truth or dare until four am, when you fall asleep wearing my *******
or we can walk around town for a while and i can listen to you remember things.
i can put some music on and you can swing me around
when it gets more chilly, i can pinch your ******* through your shirt
we could count my freckles.
that would keep us occupied for hours.
i could write you poems
and you could listen to me read them to you
you could read me lord of the rings.

i could cook you tofu
and you could show me some of your favorite songs
even if they make me want to throw up, kind of.
we could get sunburned together
i could tell you jokes about dinosaurs.
(what do you get when dinosaurs crash their cars?
tyranosaurus wrecks)
i could tell you about my favorite christmases.
or can we please just pack a picnic to eat on the carpet of my room
pretending that it's not actually raining outside.
I'd like to learn how to say i love you in different languages.
we could lay in that patch of wildflowers next to the grocery store on Rice Street.
i've always wanted to do that.

pit in my stomach like a punch to the ****** the room fades away and things become blurry my eyes lose all focus and my feet lose all balance i gracefully sink into the floor

tiny asian girl toddler with dark bouncy pigtails
holding hands with her mother

trips, falls.

face hits floor.

blood drips from nose

little red circle drips on the tiles of Costco
in the middle of a monday afternoon

the
      smoke
         fills his lungs
           like a smokestack.
                   the butts litter
                             ashtrays like
                    little potholes of ash
           throughout
                        his room.
              stacks upon stacks
          of the disgusting things,
brownish yellow- just like
           the **** on his
                            teeth.
                              
                                 his
                            breath
                                smells
                               and tastes
                                      as if you were
                                 lying facedown
                            on the hot
                              pavement, tongue
                            to the ground
                      gravel, dirt and gasoline
         on your tastebuds.
                  he burns
                             he yearns
                          for the fix.
                   when he works on his car
                       in the hot sun,
                             his fingers shake
                   unless he's
        holding a smoke.


                                           And every day when she comes home
                                            she kisses him full on the mouth and
                     breathes
                            
                          it
                              
                           in.

coping mechanisms

like sleeping far too much

and distracting myself with anything i can get my little hands on




I wait for you
to pick me up
into you

into your warmth and your body

and hold me like a child



because this sweater doesn't smell like you anymore
and this house seems so empty


i only have the cat
and a melting snowman to keep me company

she's the girl that drinks too much coffee


the girl with the long skirts

she's the girl that looks through you, blankly
(when she's looking into the thing you don't want her to see)


she is the girl with sticky fingers.


the girl with honey love colored eyes



she's the girl that wonders who wrote all that mean stuff on the bathroom wall
who is becky?
why is she a gootch?

...what is a gootch?


she's the girl that has hair like
silk
halfway down her back

it covers up her spine
which pokes through her sweaters

and sometimes her overalls.


she's the girl that gets up early and stays up late
because she thinks sleeping is a waste of life



she's the girl

that begs you

with a single look

to love her



for as long as you can

and when you don't anymore,

let go


she's the girl
that will

understand.

you're like a little checkbook

i pull out blanks
and write
"three, four, five kisses"


signed
*michelle

my head is filled to the brim

with other **** i have to do

like job applications
going to class
reading ******* textbooks
dress rehearsals laundry
writing papers that won't make any sense
drinking too much coffee




when all i want to do
is lay shirtless on your floor with you

and write poetry about the palms of your hands

the sweet angry words
of a soul so far away
awake me to breathe

when life is suddenly too busy for poetry


i drown
without it



i simply drown

**in everything else

with hands and heart


he is thoughtful
compassionate

and wonderful

sometimes

when the lights are low



I can feel our breath

turn into steam

you wear the thick glasses



and the plaid shirt


and i see you at the library all the time

with your plastic coffee cup



your stomach overflowing

with art



we could be sisters
if you weren't such a stuck up *****

ha ha ha

there has been a lack of poetry in my life


so i concur,

i am exploding

with it now.

tell me about your girl

tell me about how her hair
was red as a sunset
blazing through a meadow for miles



tell me how her lips were stained with blood
from the fist of her pa'


tell me how you kissed her deep
as she collapsed into your
heart



tell me how she cried
into the nape of your sweet sweet soft neck


and how you patted her on the back
wishing she would shut the **** up

one day
i felt so connected to something i thought i had lost


i lost myself
in your hair


in your lips ******* away at my skin
until it fell off in your mouth

and i crumbled

to the floor

as all my innards fell out
of my skull


that was broken
down

by your soft
words

and hips

and kiss


and i could exhale


but i chose to breathe
you in

instead

when i think about


love


it is a lost concept

breakfast is no longer

my favorite meal of the day.

i found a letter that i wrote to you
stuck in the case of my favorite cd.

signed

i love you,
          -michelle

when i saw those words
i thought about
                 standing in your driveway
shaking as you held me
               we were fixing the mistakes we'd made
And I thought about you pushing me
                                    in that shopping cart
hair in my face and laughter in my mouth

And I keep going back to the
time we slept on the floor
the snow falling heavy like blankets outside
                       your neck was a magnet for my lips
                       my fingers were glued in between yours
                       my eyes could not blink for looking at you



When i found the letter i wrote to you
signed

i love you,
          -michelle

at the bottom

I tore it into a thousand minuscule pieces

my tears inking my own ****** words
                into my fingertips

cleaning out the refrigerator

the hot kitchen
             the underside of my *******
               collect moisture

and everything smells like salsa.
                                  and pickles.
and raspberry scented dishsoap.

crusty yellow nasty **** caked on

                         the glass shelves

it won't come off,
                                even after a long soak

     I scrape it off with a razor blade

I took out all the eggs, the garlic,
containers of cooked wild rice,
store bought broccoli cheese soup

the butter or margarine or rat poison
or whatever it is
I'd never touch it.

The jar of homemade canned sweet pears
                    from when my mom's brother
                    had an excellent harvest
                                                        two years ago.

there's a small circle of browning black mold floating on top.

four cans of Thirster brand orange
juice, only 80 calories
per serving!





puddles of nasty gray hardened sticky gunk
i don't know what it is.
or what it used to be.

Then the drawers of vegetables

the browning lettuce
the dirt covered mold covered unopened
bag of broccoli and cauliflower

5 red peppers
                        squishy in some places

The             shelves                         all    come   out.

wash with warm soapy water
                                             i wipe the sweat off
                                          my face with the dry
                                       part of my arm


                  I put everything back in its place.    

                    All clean.

                                               Now my refrigerator

                                    has lost all its

                                                     character

blood drips drips drips into the sink

flows between my fingers


my forehead
throbbing

dripping sweat

hair plastered to my cheeks
and eyelids



then, in a streak of insanity

i settle deep into the floor
and pull the shower curtains off the rod,
over my head



falling deep
into the floor
past the tiles

past the pipes
past the old couple living in the apartment below mine

and they hold each other
and i watch


as he tries to put it in her

he can't.

they're both too squishy
and wrinkly

and tired

(he collapses on top,
rolls off of her

her ****
sagging towards her arms
******* with a diameter of my balled up fists
she sighs at him and gives a yellow toothed smile)




i want to feel something hard
and slippery
against my skin

i want to get ****** up

                                           i'll never forget
                                 that blood stained towel
                                      we placed under my hips

                                           to stop the blood
                                                           ­                    from staining the bedsheets.


                                              just like the one

balled up under my head
on the bathroom floor



eyes closed

you didn't have to try so hard

to convince me
that you loved me.



your poems were enough



your eyes were enough.

I tried

to smile today and
my bottom lip split

i wanted you to know
that the other day,

i went ice skating           in St. Paul.                      

in the middle of the city.

                                             (there was an old man that looked like Santa doing beautiful graceful twirls,
                                                         two teenage girls holding hands, one was blushing
                                                                         lots of little kids falling down, and laughing as they got back up)

and i thought "you would have loved this."

you would hold my hand
like all the other couples
and i wouldn't be cold

                                                           ­     at all



you would have looked right through me
with your jaded eyes
and smiled beautifully




(i would know that it was me making you happy)

your hair growing back
and your lips all mine to kiss


and i wouldn't miss you so much.

with my heart

        and my ukulele
on my sleeve

            i beg of you
just finish me off.

                  just fill my
lungs with black tar
                  and muck

cancer i welcome you


i'm sick of these scars
         i draw on my skin
                          with safety pins
and swords

                     i may as well
        just cut off my limbs

        hang myself from the chandelier
bury myself in the snow in my yard


                                                                    Don't come
                                                                               looking
                                                                    for me

Four weeks later
I'm still sad about it.

     listening to songs
                                   I wish you had
                            played for me



remembering
                           the day we walked through
                           a snow fallen    
                                           forest

beautiful, more than anything.
                    I couldn't believe it

and we walked for a long time,
                     just in silence

and we were scared to hold each
                                             other's hands

(maybe it was just me that was afraid)

                    When we walked back to my
                                      room

                  an­d you fell asleep in my arms

                                     I kissed your forehead
                               and felt a world of



                                              everything
­                                                         in my heart


Just like you said I would
when you dared me to fall in
love with you.
                         And then
                                    I did


When you awoke,
                                  we
undressed each other
                                    slowly

while deep lip kisses

               burned into my brain



I fell for you.  That's the
              hardest thing in the world
to admit
                   because everyone said I
would fall for you


but I wanted to prove them
                                          *wrong

you can't sleep without me
you can't breathe without me
you smoke a pack a day without me
you have nightmares without me
you can't feel anything without me
you can't eat without me
you can't focus on anything without me

But as soon as you have me

you realize

you're better off




without me.

love always ends with someone getting ****** over-

you said.

well, i guess i want to know-
-need to know-

was it worth it?





     before you go
allow me

to slap that cigarette out of your hipster mouth


and whisper

"when you grow up,

i hope you're better than you are now"

i hope you choke on your pride

and your cigarettes

i can't write poems unless something happens to me.
something big and profound
******* up my life

or making it heavenly.


so until i **** up my life
or yours
or his

this is the only poem
i can write tonight

i've been cranky
as hell.


i have not been laid
in three weeks


i'm looking for an easy fix
so tease me
tease me
squeeze


lick
slip fingers on my hips
nibble on my lips

                     draw lines on my stomach
                      and underneath my *******
                                                         ­            with your tongue.

full lip kisses on my freckles
smell my hair
-----just how it is

slice me open with your fingertips


moan into my love button
make me cry


someone



excite me

then hers*
                   are windows made of
                                                        ice,
              glistening with wetness melting in the
                                                             ­         sun


opening her eyes for the first time in the morning,


her soft brown lashes brush against her
                                                             ­        lids
with the softness of
              a *fresh fallen snow canopy bed
                             made just for her

When she looks at you              (remember to breathe)


(it's like she can see all of your mistakes, everything you hate about yourself)



you feel the world
grow hazy around her
the ground falls away
from under your feet

But her eyes are windows
that let all the weather in (leaving her cold&wet;)

if you stare into them long enough,

                                        you'll see the storm

                                                          ­                inside

your summers
of happiness and ***

remind me of mine.

long drives with boys i loved
cigarettes and sweat
and ***
literally every day, sometimes for hours.
Usually for hours.
Sometimes four hours.



;reminds me of my boy with greyblueblack eyes
and my boy with the hairy toes (two years of lovelovelove
and the boy that played me guitar, always letting me sing
to him

and
the boy that ****** me
and ****** me over
and kissed me
to keep from freezing
inside his cold life



and then of course
there's the boy



with those beautiful hands

that haunt me
now


trying to fall asleep
i imagine his arms around me

his hands
his glorious slender hands
in my hair
that he thinks is so pretty

(breathing into my neck)

that thought is enough to get me to sleep every night
now that sleeping has become difficult to do.


i love your little stories
of her back
-skin dancing in the sun
of windows
softly
creeping through the curtains




Man, the way you must have loved her

this year,
i will not kiss anyone
that i don't want to kiss.

i will not let people grind up on my ***
in clubs
if i am not interested.

when my heart races and falls, dead
into the sea of stomach acid
I will scream no
at the top of my lungs

so that you will hear me, for once

I will value
myself
and what i want.


I will actually learn
what i want
and chase it

like horses in
a meadow
running

because they have the most beautiful freedom to do so.


**i will stop being afraid
of hurting you

because, ******

you hurt me too.

your heartache
your heartbreak
your -getting ****** over by some girl that thought she loved you
is so familiar
it's dangerous.




your stories
of hurting people
and calling the cops
and punching idiots waving their ***** around
make me scared of you
in the best way.


you get me

because we feel the world
through the same
(sc)a/rr\e/d skin.

so when the broken glass
gets too much to handle

and the fluorescent lights
are buzzing like ******* bees
crawling all over me
keeping me from sleep


i'll take your advice
and punch holes in the walls

of this ******* life

*I won't take it anymore.

These poems are all about girls like me
the type of girl
that makes you think you're the one, the absolute one
covering your weathered face with kisses
telling you
-you can stay as long as you like.

girls like me


we ******* over
in the end.

we begin by letting you fall for us
when we're not interested.

then we become a little bit attached
to you
enough that we feel guilty
when we leave you

and we're weak
without you
so we beg for forgiveness

and we keep you hanging around

until we find someone
good enough
to replace you.


if that isn't the most ****** up thing i've ever heard

you never deserved any of this


i can't take it back
i can't take it back



regrets

fill me
freeze my insides
like a minnesota lake

i have no excuses

                              i traded them for
                                                  a million "i'm sorrys"


stabbing me in the heart

prodding at my limp wrists

asking me


"are you dead yet, you stupid girl?"




I want to hurt myself
for hurting you



so here's a shovel
here's some rope
tie me to the back of your car
drag me
back to mankato

standing outside
bitter cold
eats at my ears
and fingers



when i hurt myself
the way i hurt you

when your pain
becomes my pain
                                                             this is the only way i know how to fix it




                 frostbite
                          tastes like forgiveness