I lie in bed
(the one you never got to see-
thank god)

i think to myself

I'll just write until it goes away.


and i think about how

you are probably asleep in
your bed at home

150% oblivious to
how i just

wept one billion
        tears
for absolutely no reason.

Maybe they were for you
maybe they were out of anger
Maybe I was putting on a
dramatic show
                            for my one and only spectator
:

the knife sitting in the kitchen.

stop liking me

stop enjoying my company

stop thinking that my hair is pretty

stop telling me that I'm special

stop it
                 right
                           there.

stop looking at my lips

stop laughing at my jokes

stop missing me

stop calling every night

stop being so **** nice.

        *I'm not worth

           the inevitable pain

               that i will cause you.

It's My Specialty.




get in line
i'll break your heart

i'll make you think you're the best thing to ever happen to me

and then i'll cut you open-
leave you colder

than you were before
you met me.

i'm so good at making mistakes


i'm so good at hurting people

so, get in line
for just two months of your time

i'll break you to pieces

you were alone.

you needed someone

i was available (maybe too available)

you thought you loved me.

and then you realized you didn't.

and you didn't want to hurt me.

so you carried on

pretending


because it was easier.




It's okay.






                  **I probably would have done the same thing

if i thought they were dumb before,


now (after the geologist broke my heart)


i think they're

lethargic,
obtuse,
pointless,
inane,
futile

(boring as ******* hell).



i will now stay away from men in climbing boots.


so, thank you.

that's how you convinced me to jump in the sack with you.



those three words.


"it's not just *******"

it's pure uncensored emotion


what emotion?


which one?


because it certainly wasn't love
- you never loved me, ever.


it definitely wasn't happiness
-you never made me happy


for sure wasn't excitement
-you never got excited about anything important




so what was it?


anger?
******* me to get revenge
who?

Your mother?

Your ex?




yourself?





maybe it was
heartbreak

******* me
to feel numb
so it doesn't hurt as bad








                                                                  maybe it was boredom.



                                  Yep,





                                                                i think that was it

This coffee (my second cup today)
gives me the shakes
and tastes like cold syrupy mud
I swallow it down
past my gag reflexes

out of nervousness

Sitting alone
in a coffee shop


with no one to talk to

trying to convince
myself
that



that's okay






so far, it's really not working.

isn't it silly


that i buy cigarettes

and smoke them
hoping to calm myself

(hoping to
forget about the
****
you put me through)



and realize that
I would rather
get hit


by a moving van

than to inhale

this

nasty

****.


I stomp it out

with
no regrets

why


does


it


still


hurt




*But on the other hand,



my heart is saying


thank you

to my voice

what a
hypocritical mess
I am.                                "forget about him
                                             he's no good for you"
                                                           -i tell her

But i am hung up
                and down

hanging by a thread
                         noose
                         string

by the strings with which you
                               strung me along

a long
way from home, I
                                    walk on

an adventure for
                               one

I reminisce of when
                              we walked

all over the compass rose
                                      rising up

rising sun,
raising me up



from the dirt.

I did that.

I am the strong woman

who screams from the bottom of her lungs
from the top of stadium road


i don't need anyone


what a crock of ****

this pit in my stomach





lets me know

that i am freaking
the ****
out.

it feels good.
insanity is running through the roots of my hair


when i remembered today
that you are probably
shaving your *****

in preparation


for Elisabeth



I'm rooting for you, you disgusting weasel.
i hope it's the best ******* will ever give anyone


and i hope it means

nothing to her

the biggest piece of *******
is that i can't move on
with my life, until this is settled.
I can't wait to
be over you.
I can't wait for
the point in time
when I
can see you
and not feel
as angry as
I do.


I am angry

at how you

Built a wall
around yourself, keeping me out

and I tore mine down,
          

                        brick; by brick

coaxing you into feeling something

when ALL of this ****


was your idea to begin with.


Well, next time you're lonely

find another girl to stick your **** into.

find another girl to make you feel special.





*find another girl to break

when we ******

it was never

reassuring.

(i guess i wanted
[i realize now, i never needed reassurance. i only ever ached for love, which
you could never find

time for] us to say goodbye)

it never made
me happy
(okay, one time)


every time (except one)
it felt as though

you were sweeping the floor
completing a chore


so that your mother would stop screaming in your tiny ***** face


Never stopping to ask me

"is this okay"


"it's fine"
would have been my cold, numb answer
; thinking about how you used to sing
to all those other girls
but you never wrote your own songs

and how i could never be yours
because
you
never wanted me(you would never admit it,
your pride will **** you before i do)

but when you pulled out of me
and laid beside me, (your cold slime oozing out, disgusting me)
staring at the ceiling


**i hated you

i don't know if I'm lonely
                     or hungry


either way, I have a hole in
my stomach


                  i want to grieve
I want to weep giant giraffe
     tears onto your toes
and then kiss them off.


He tried to shoot me through my shoulder
and missed


                                                             he hit me here instead.



can you see where I got blood on my
                                                scarf

I have a broken mirror
in my pocket
I carry it with me
wherever I go
(the shards cut through my jeans, stab my thigh
dyeing my pants red)

I have tried to take it
out, pick
the pieces
out of there                      

                      (it's easier to just leave it.)
I end up with only ******
fingertips, I smear   my
                    blood on the rugs
I sleep on,
                               the bed is too soft, too warm
                                                         to sleep in

I'm not used to kindness
or- - - - - even
        liking someone

                         so I become
scared, that things won't
                                              work out

and when you try to pick these
shards out of my leg,




(turning your beautiful
          fingers red&raw;)

when you try helplessly

to erase my pain

                                           I will lay on this blood-  
                                                                ­   stained



rug                              and think






Why are you doing
              

                      this
  


            for me

2:08 a.m
on a major freeway: completely empty except for
me

pulling off,
i see that only
the streetlights are still awake
red yellow green, red, yellow, green
I passed prostitutes
and pimps, too many drunks
too many homeless


to count.

thought of
How many people
at this moment
           are making love
How many

are getting *****

thought of
How many
are making choices
about what to wear
to work
tomorrow
today

i know i change my mind a lot

I like your hands
;slender beautiful/ fingers
.

(it's silly, probably
to think about hands so much) (  )

And your smile, unexplained, inescapable.

but i can trust you
to understand, take things slow, with me.

I wouldn't have it any other way, I swear

and i will never compare you
to all the people that came before you



and i won't sing about your hair

or write poems about your lips

( even though i will) want to


i just don't want you to think


that you're like everyone else
I'm not
worried
though
.

you know that you're different
( i am pretty sure... that)
we both know
that i think about you
a lot
and i'm going to miss you(r hands)

i'm taking this slow,
like a train ride into the horizon

we can take a few years getting there,
and i'll enjoy just taking the journey
*is this okay?

tall and soft,
strong and low
exciting and down to earth
quiet and thoughtful
kind and sweet

shy
but
so very

honest

and

smells like
lying in the grass

my first boyfriend, Jimmy Brennen
whose sweatshirt always smelled of cheetos
and Axe

or the man who sat on the waterrushed rocks
and kissed me,
tongue tasting of
lake water


or when i held a girl's (Debbie's)
breast
cupped in my hand for the first time,
pressed closely together in secret
how wonderfully soft and warm


but
this person

doesn't even have to

touch me

and i smile from

ear to ear
just looking at

his

hands
.

I'm done



with love.

with you
and
you

and you



and especially
you.


I don't need ***
i don't want
skin

i tear it all
away



and start over



but

please know

that i'm sorry
that i hurt you


but from the start,
i told you

that the boys fall in love with me

and i never love them back.

Now that we've decided to
Start Over

I want you to know
that i don't want
anything
to be how it was last time



please, please please

just let me breathe you in
and don't say anything
when i pull away from your kisses

don't make fun of the tears
that you (will) make fall from my cheeks

boy boy boy.
just teach me piano
and hold my hands
(yes, both of them)
please don't

hurt me
this
time


just boy
boy, good boy

try to hear me
I'm trying to explain

if I leave again
i won't expect you to chase after me

but boy,
silly boy
do it anyway.

just look in my eyes,
good boy good boy

you'll know
that the love i've got in my heart for you

never
left

there isnt a **** thing i can tell you
that i haven't said over and over

honey, go ahead.
ask me the same questions
why did it fail
where did it stop working
when did i stop loving you



but at this point, it's just masochistic

i used to slide razors across my skin
and watch the blood run
down my fingertips


i used to steal things from drug stores
and laugh at retards


I used to pull my cat by the tail
until she ran away
and i got so heartsick
i cried on the front stoop
calling her name, begging her to come back.



i used to hate children
and i made money babysitting.

set the kids in front of the TV
and raid the kitchen.
I'm serious. I used to do that.


I used to be proud
when i told people i was an atheist
and

i hated God

and I used to think


He hated me


too.

you smell the same way i always remembered you


like a sweet musk musty with sweat and heartache
every crinkle on your face
every single pore

was almost forgotten


but honey,
i will keep your lips from getting chapped ever again

just wait wait wait.
wait just a little longer

i know it's hard

but when we wrap ourselves in each other

and the skin of my hands
is your skin on your face
and the freckles on my knees
are your freckles on your shoulders

and the light that shines in my eyes is a greyblueblack

happiness
will evade us
we won't apologize to anyone

for the grains of sand under our fingernails

i will sigh every winter
deep, just like you

and we will breathe the same air

like we share the same lungs
same heart
same eyes
same face


same hands

Yeah sweetheart
         I say I trust you

You make sure that I feel safe

But you ugly heart
                 why do you do
               these things

You pant and squeeze and lick
                                selfishly


And you say you're satisfied with
                             just sitting in my presence

how many times have you told me
                     that you're a liar

        your words are sweet
           they comfort, make me smile
                                   and lean against you

but your actions

                           are telling me to run
       as fast as I can

                          in the other direction

because hurting me
                                        is in your agenda.

there was one night
i remember particularly


when the candles were lit

on the bedside table
and in my soul


i was on fire

for you


there were hours of
my lips against yours



hot warmth of your back
warming my palms

I couldn't believe that
your body
was inside
of my body.

we were one person.

the skin and the smell
of your sweat

a constant reminder of our nakedness
wow


breathtaking
wetness
of everything


peeking at
our *******
we both looked down
you pulled out
wet from me

wet like everything we knew

like the lake that we swam naked in
or the river
where i first thought

"love"

is what this is.


we looked down
and the hair
sticking to my legs
from the delicious sweet muskiness

shimmering

the sweat on my body was not yours
it was not mine

it was Ours

for hours

deli meats and cheeses
i look past them at soft crinkling smiling faces


and i drink my java
warms up my hands and ******* and i sweat
in my coat


walking up and down the isles

I see trail mix
and sunchips

and sweet sweet sweets
the yummies

that i adore

chocolates
especially

dark chocolate cocoa orange cherry strawberry berry red brown

it's the sweetness and saltiness
of summer time ice cream

It's the cold crispness
of carrots and snap peas

It's the warmth and comfort
of big muffins and a plate of hashbrowns
at Perkin's
after a stressful morning



spice smells
of pad tai noodles


sourdough bread, fresh baked
crunch crunch on the outside
soft hot squish
inside
(save that part for me, i eat them separate
-you laugh)

how many times did we
laugh
about how you ate that bug
and we were never picky



cherries
all those cherries.





we ate nutella
on bread,

washed it down with cold organic orange juice
from a cafe neither of us had ever heard of

and tofu
tofu tofu

always cooked perfectly (we wondered how they do it)
(i still don't know)

chocolate, melting slowly

"you missed some."

-------just an excuse to kiss me.
i giggle


peanut m&m;'s

turn my tongue colors.

Watermelon at a potluck
wedding cake
cheesy potatoes
and an extra helping of bread
(we laughed so hard at the white bread, squished into a cube)

ruby red
made you wince

I drink it straight from the bottle
and smile

remembering every kiss
that tasted of grapefruit
in that tent

every kiss that tasted of salt
from the eggs?
or from the sweat on your lips

the sweat on your lips.

we kiss more
i smile into your lips
i remember that, especially

we never got sick of each other
nutella on everything, now.
especially on s'mores


i smile with every memory




i put my hands in pockets, the cold rushes to meet my face
in the ice cream aisle

i cool down as i graze
through the tubs or corn syrup and double churned triple churned
cream with extra fudge

sherbet

i chuckle to myself


memories memories
of sitting up high
with you,

sand on our toes
chocolate caramel fudge coffee
on our tongues

love

in our hearts


you remember.

the taste of that summer

it's so stupid/dumb/ridiculous
that i persist
in the creation of

**** songs like this
but here i go again.

i have to scream and cry
because emotions
let me know i'm alive

but tell me boy
when i smile
do you know it's because

i'm thinking of times

when i was with you, boy

but now


things are different
things haven't been making sense
things aren't right
since you left

I've been standing outside
this ****** house


for a few weeks now.
Snow is killing the flowers
that you planted for me


The weather is cold

like needles on my fingers

The frostbite will soon arrive


and maybe
when my fingers turn black

maybe when the pain
breaks me
maybe then

I will appreciate being warm.

The perfect first kiss
we were nervous
         and I felt beautiful
and you had this look in your eyes
I had never seen in anyone
                                          else's.
You felt so warm, close to me
           And I felt beautiful

It was years of holding your hands
the air grew chilled
       around us.

The sky was a painting
               worth more than
a hundred diamond rings

And our hands were touching
            did you touch my face first?
Or did I touch your face?
            
we were both so nervous
drums beating, our breathing
was
soft and warm
                           The night wrapped
                              around us

You knew
                  everything about me
                                                 at that
    
                                                          moment

I saw a girl, 23 year old
wearing a white coat, white scarf
with a very white face and
                  white blonde hair

and her cheeks were wet

I know how that feels


I sometimes wish that I could
fade into the snow
         and disappear

                                   too.

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.

rewriting my life
                now that you're
not in it
  mostly my evenings are
        spent weeping quietly
So no one worries
           or asks questions
that I can't answer.

My days are spent replacing
your presence
              with the comfort
of other people and I find
myself
          weeping softly again
    to them all,
                at all times
When I see acorns
             When I drive alone
on certain roads (especially in Eagan, MN)

                  Whenever I hear
                      the word "home"

                                          -everytime.

Get out of here
take your sweet hair
                 deep voice
                 stupid eyes
get out of this bed
                 it's only mine now
I'm sickened by my thoughts
are racing much faster than
this poem
I'm mad
and I'm missing you
I'm crying
I'm wishing you would call
I'm daydreaming of self
                                        mutilation

just to distract myself

        I haven't felt this
good
        Since I was 13

I'm glad you're moving on
I hope you find someone perfect for you,
more perfect than I could have ever been
Maybe you'll marry her
and you'll have beautiful little
baby girls together and you'll
pick them up and carry
them on your shoulders to the
park and kiss their heads
and tuck them in and
kiss your wife good night
and fall asleep

      and you won't think of me
anymore.

I keep picturing her
leaning into your chest
the exact same way i used to,
and breathing you in

making you happy
loving you more than
           I have been
                    lately

And I can't.
          ...****
I can't ask you
             to wait for me

But I want you to.
       I can't be with you
tonight
            tomorrow
or next week
so tell me what your plan is.
        tell me, darling
so I don't have
to ask you

Tell me your plan

Make me miserable
sit on your hard
chairs and wish
I was there to
make you feel

          or fight me

for me

fight me to be
with me
           this time
I want to lose
because I can't lose
you
        
  
  

         again

Give me ultimatums
     shake me

until I think straight

or at least slap me
so I don't have

to cry about my heart
hurting

Just get mad at
me
        Tell me you're moving
on and we both
know how scared I
will get

  

        Give me Everything
You have Ever felt

                     at once

i think i'm healing.

I  hope that is okay with him.

I hope he doesn't think of me and

cry

at the threads of thought

whisper
"she's moving



on"




and I hope he knows


that i could never
have known


what i needed

if he hadn't explained it


through talks of change
and change and change

i was scared


but i'm moving



on


slowly, i am moving
away

from what i used to



Be.

I sit at this desk
silent room
                    12:25 a.m
the world; asleep-ing

And I stare and pray
that you call me
I need you to call me
call me call me call
me please
           As I write the
words, I hope you hear
them, the pen scratching
like an alarm that
wakes you from your
hot sweaty slumber

It's so *******
anger-making, frustrating
that I can't call you
it's like some sick
game we play

And right now we
are both losing
I could call

But then I would win

And I can't bear

to make you the

loser


        tonight

I have to stop this, now

too many poems

like in Stardust Memories

I am just a sad person
                    writing about sad


things

                and calling it art



and no one really feels
       what I'm feeling


because it is not.
art.


It's just my tears
blurring the words on
        the page

I worry about you,
boo.

I worry that you
are alone
                  in a dark
room
like a prison cell
rats running over the floor
disease
grits for every meal

dirt in every crevice
cold toes.


                        I worry about


you.

I worry that you
are alone

with no one beside you
to comfort you.

I want to pick up
the phone and call

             I worry too much


or perhaps never enough

My hands are grody
from touching my
aching face

there is dirt
underneath my fingernails

from digging my
own grave




this hole isn't

deep enough yet.







keep digging

When the equinox is
approaching
I will know it
because the tough
leather shell around my heart
shrinks and tightens

And I look at the
leaves on the ground
and think, "how ugly"

And the brown dry cracked
dirt from where too many
feet have kicked up
the green that
was once.

I see only brown.
even the yellow is
brown

Winter is not yet here
and already
I am dreading the spring

my heart will stop beating





i can't
i can't do this


i've been trying
but the grief is too hard


when the rain hits the pavement
and stings my eyes

i think only of how

you always wanted to hold me in a thunderstorm

anger
shaking my whole body


you're mine.

you could never be anyone else;s

it's too soon it's too soon it's too soon it's too soon


please
just a little longer




you could never be trash

you're my
you're my
you're my




light
at the end of this tunnel



the light
at the bottom of this pit

this grave

that i am digging for myself




i want you here
more than anything

don't give up on me don't give up on me don't give up on me




i weep daily

in public places

just for you