A tiny fist clings
Wrinkling the chest of my blouse
Fingers fat with milk and love and bananas
Draw lines in linen and decorate me as mother
Wet spots polka dot my clothing,
Residue of tears and drooling and more milk.

This uniform is at once costume, straightjacket, cape and mask, nakedness.

She has my eyes, but hers are green.
She has his smile, but he doesn't smile as much anymore.

She carries our confusion like a torch, leading an angry parade,
we carry her little body like a sacrificial lamb up the stairs.

I'm in a quiet moment;
I sit here and you're next to me
not paying me attention but
giving me suspension above
the glass shards I create
for myself with every mirror
I've ever wanted to break, because
I mistake myself for an idea
not the real thing, but you're
next to me now, bespectacled
and cozy, rosy lips mouth
wordlessly as your eyes
scan, panning across pages,
you're a burning sage to the
haunted house that is my mind,
find me hiding in a closet and
hold me close, unfold my
tangled limbs all reaching
to protect me from myself,
on the highest shelf of my
thoughts is a knotted book
broken up like puzzle pieces,
that when put together give
me directions to weather the
storm of my brain's hurricane,
it blows through my shores but
I can find shelter, sweltering in
the heat of your warm embrace,
a face that shines like the sun,
burning me, a brand, and I
can stand on my own two feet again,
finally feeling complete again.

I see her lower lip
Curve downwards
To form a circle with
Her scrunched chin,
A slight tremor
Turns to a quake,
A shake, and I feel
My heart break-
How dare I, so
Meanly, suggest she
May need a nap,
Take her from my
Lap to a little bed,
When I know the pain,
The dread, that may
Ensue instead of
Deep sleep and an
Hour's time to keep
A semblance of sanity?,
Oh the vanity
Of a mother! I
Apologize profusely
To her wet eyes,
Cries start to calm
As fat cheeks get
Pressed with sweet
Kisses, tears are
Wiped gently, I relent
My selfish aim and
Ask a now tame,
Tiny one, whose face
Could rule my world,
Hurled out of existence
And back by the mere
Crack of a voice,
What's wrong, little
One, what can I do?
Sun and Moon, it's
All for you and
Should you choose
To refuse your rest,
I offer my breast,
This chest is best when
Given to you,
As all the rest of me has been,
Again and again and
Again

A slap across the face,
my thoughts' palm imprinted
all over my battered body,
beating me with every
judgement, steamrolling past
any rational compassion,
lashing out at any
dangling fruit, mangling
my esteem on a minute level.
Disheveled, I can see
I'm a mess from my latest
abuse, and I gently put
bandaids on bruises,
take rest, attempting to
set broken bones with time,
unwilling to perform
the work that would truly heal
instead of a quick feel of relief,
because until this belief is gone,
that I'm worth less than
any and everyone else, come
forth all imaginable injury,
all infection and poison,
rejection of self-love,
in favor of sickness and
pain, please someone explain:
is happiness even real?

Joy has become a fairy tale
to me, and as a child I'm
starting to realize the stories
aren't true, they don't
apply to you, this
contentment remains a
concept, illusory, not adept
to application in my
reality, and I'm just
here waiting and reading
the tales of peace
while my mind beats
and breaks, pinches
and punches, brings me to
my knees with a gun
to my heart, always
cocked, safety off,
and at this point
I'm screaming to just
pull the trigger, I
figure being over is
more tolerable, after all,
I can't disappoint
if I'm not here, don't need
to fear falling short,
appalling the masses near
and far, if i've traveled
where I don't feel or know,
If I've gone where
my thoughts can't go.

it won't surprise anyone
who knows me to find out
I'm an aggressive player-
impulsive, I see my advantage quickly
and take it or make one from go-
show no mercy, I love beating men
at what they think is their game.
see the shame on faces as they
realize their assumptions,
she actually could be good, and
should I choose to, you will lose
to me so fast you'll be on your
knees and not know how you got there.
It won't surprise you to know
that I play with a ferocity of
fighting for my life, because, in
a way, I am. my heartbeat
is tied to winning. But they don't know
me, and it's with disgust
and indignation I remember,
yet again, they are shocked that
this girl is a force, could
give them a run for their money
and have no remorse.

I can always spare her a smile
through my tears and
contorted face of anguish,
a light can shine through
my eyes to hers and I will
tell her without words
you are safe and I love you--
she smiles back, and so
I may look away and
again return to sobbing.

he played for me,
"I don't do this".

he did.

I hear, not see,
the fingers dance
a familiar tune
so competent but
not quite confident.

there is a story here.

it's one I know only
in my own twisted
version, aspersions
received over again.

how dare they.

I want to slap away
every hand that
criticized yours. I want
to kiss each fingertip
and whisper
"you've done so well"

play me another.

I need help. I pick
at the dried, dark red
on my arm and I realize
it's from blueberries,
not blood, and I'm flooded
with realization, alarm, it
could easily have been
from self-harm not the
little pancakes I made
this morning, stakes
are high in this household
I might die but tenfold
more likely  I'll cry
as I make more
blueberry pancakes.
I need help.
My back aches on
the side that I grip her
tender body, my hip hiked,
my drink spiked, liken
me to moss on a tree I'm
pretty from a distance but
messy when touched and
probably just invasive,
pervasive is this thought that
I'm fraught with broken
pieces, spoken leases on my
affection, but I'm an infection
to be eradicated, erased,
replaced with a plastic
version of me that sees
only what needs to be done
and miraculously does so,
how though? I've never
learned the trick to
accomplishment, stick
around long enough and
my impoverished mindset
and slobbish nature will
bore you, too, tore down
among me are all the
trees I've rotted to the core,
but not more so than
myself. I need new seeds,
new roots, new leaves,
leave me now and imagine
me beautiful and strong,
wrongly assume I'll
heal and grow, show up
with the best intentions
and follow them through, too,
but I won't. I'm too
******* tired, I can't, I yelp.
Cast me into the fire,
reborn scant, I need help.

I'd like to ride again. I
wait patiently in line for
my ego rollercoaster, ready
to rise slowly, building
my anticipation, only to glimpse
the drop before falling down
down
down
into a spiral of nausea and
head jerks from left to right
looping back on myself and
ending at the bottom,
coming to a halt at
self-loathing, only to
start creating again so that
I can feel that tick tick tick of
my cart being pulled up the track again,
eager for the nosedive.
I'm addicted to the adrenaline
of feeling great and then remembering
I'm terrible and my art was the best,
no wait, the worst ever created.

According to men
original sin is a woman
tempted by knowledge.
Naked and ignorant and perfect
for a blissful life of child-rearing
And wifely duties
She gave up paradise to learn.
Her moral failing was
To fill her mind
Not her *****

We are taught the first sin
According to men
Was a woman who learned--
Learned there is more than what her veiled eyes see
A woman sought enlightenment
Truth corrupts powerfully enough
To bring a world crashing down

It always sounded so simple
As a child
I heard the rule, the man’s rule:
don’t eat the apple
And I thought
what a stupid woman
Doesn’t she appreciate what she has?
With only one no in a world of yes
Why did she do it, why couldn’t she resist?

Now I admire her.

She would rather
The real world, with it’s pain
and labor and fault
Than one constructed for her by a god
who wants her to know little enough
to accept it as perfect.

The crime was questioning the paradigm.
And whenever examination of a system
Is deemed unacceptable
Don’t we know there is a problem
Hiding?

easily found by a brave woman
With curiosity,
Willing to lose everything
To know what she doesn’t know

chin lifts and neck cranes,
eyes close to relish pain and
pleasure, measure me
in hand cups,
a little mouth opens up
revealing wet teeth, a
high gasp escapes, a rasp,
roughly shove me
down, a frown upon
your lips but eyes glimmer
with delight as my resistance
grows dimmer, the lights
go down along with you
and I scream, steam
could blow out my ears
but it's tears on my face
that you replace with
droplets of yourself,
top shelf slap marks
join my decorated skin,
only to glow red
before we fall into the bed,
ready to begin again.

I step into the elevator, wait
For the doors to shut, hate
Seeping out of my pores I
Raise my hand and take a breath,
Land a palm upon my face and
Replace my despair with pain,
I gain a redness to erase the
Shameful droplets I’m so
Tired of mopping up.
I strike again.

A fist closes and makes contact
With abdomen then thigh, my cries
muffled by a relieved sigh
That I may release the fury that
I could not curry favor with all
My labor I have done for you, you.
I strike again.

The two lights up, and I claw
Nails into the soft underbelly of
An arm, it’s mine but it’s not,
I’ve taught myself dismemberment
And I treat my limbs with a disdain
They don’t deserve but I can’t
Beat my brain so I trigger nerves
Within reach instead. I calm
This dread of imperfection with a
Swift direction of more blows.
I strike again.
And step out as the doors close.

I have a sore in the back of my mouth
Like a leech eating under my molar it’s always raw
My tongue searches it out
And I’m reminded of those blind eels
Feeling my way in the darkness
Detecting only by pain
And a feathered texture
As if someone took a cheese grater to my gums
“If this is your way of getting me to notice you--
It’s working”
I think to the leech, as my eel tongue tries again to feast

if I stop to think about it,
look at the words I've written
and sit outside of them, I see
that girl, in a moment of clarity,
and I pity her.

this part of me that picks
up the pen and puts down
her thoughts of insecurity
isn't talking to the rest of me
and I wish she would, she
could use the company.

so alone. on my own,
I wouldn't last long but
I'm not, so why prepare
for the impossibility of
solitude when before me
is a multitude of nodding
heads, accepting me in all
my dread and saying yes
to my existence without pretense.

I listen. I hear what sounds
like whispered kisses and
chuckles at my jokes,
bespoke love packaged
just for me, because
they see me in my full glory
while I only glimpse the
shadow of that creature
when I step outside myself
and observe impartially
the nerve and audacity
I have had to continue living,

and I realize
I'm a marvel.

let me out, please
stop, I want off this
ride, hop an exit early,

and hide, surely that's
not too uncommon for
a mom and her depression
no recess in the home
of a parent with stress

and no where to go, roam
free my mind but my
body must stay here and
fear absorbs my joy like

a sponge, rob me of
life's little moments I
hear about, ***** grout,
tears and shout and
clean while she sleeps
and veg out, deep

in the bowels of my
mind I find the desire
to be let off this ride
no one to confide in

that I am beside myself
with rage, no pride,
pages get stagnant
unturned, unread, unsaid

let me off, scoff
at my selfishness,
I know I do,
but here I am
and I'm begging you.

wrinkles. crease lines
that deepen then disappear
as I open and shut my
fists to fingers and back again,
ripped cuticles, hangnails,
dried blood, dirt lines
shove them in my mouth,
I taste the grime of my day
and remember that I did
a single ******* thing, and
if it weren't for this bitter taste
I'd forget I'm living, so
I beg the question-- can
I swallow both of my hands
and realize I'm worthy
of being alive? Will
the feel of my years of
survival and trials
be sweet on my tongue?
If I shove my whole arm
down my throat will
I ingest all the lifting and
lowering of my daughter
I've done, and see the
softness with which
I embrace her and all
other tender creatures
besides myself?

they'll miss you, but
how much, really,
and for how long? she
says this to me
almost daily, the part
that yearns so much
for rest she considers
death a vacation.

it's for them, always
for them, that my
hand stays shaking but
away from that bottle
of little white saviors,
and I sacrifice myself
every time I think
of those who might
miss me but not
very much, kiss me now
but kiss someone else
later, they'll benefit
in the long run.

when can I be done?

Can I be honest? I'm
not ok, not doing fine, a
single twine remains between
my land and sea, my sanity
and an unreality, is that
too much to say? Day
and night blur together,
but I pass for normal
if I shut my mouth and
paint my face, replace
the tears and grimace
with a smile and idle words
I can go unheard for so long,
my song is silent, my hymn
gone mute, dim light and
blurry picture, dispute
fact and fiction with
practiced diction and nothing
to lose, refuse the help,
no no no, I'm fine,
can I be honest?
I'm a ******* liar.
can I be honest? the
situation's dire.

when is it cute
and when is it not
to not give you exactly
what I know gets you hot

to reject the question behind
your eyes and deny,
push away with both hands
and step back spry

to see the care
you're asking for
and let it drop steadily
to smash on the floor

mind your own needs
and swallow your pills
i can't be your throat
you have your own free will

to walk so far
away from me flat,
you won't need to look
on this ugliness that

refuses you
just for the sake of it
slaps you in the face
just to see if you'll hit

and then when you do
i'll have reason to run,
would it still be my fault
when it's over and done?

push you to the brink
while i sink behind thoughts
of how unbearably cold
this love is, i've wrought

may I scratch my way under your skin

I want to be so close I'm in your blood,
flood me in your veins

vain attempts to reach beneath you,
feel the space between your breath
from inside your chest

death come quickly to me if I can't
be where I can see your mind from
behind your eyes, spying mine

despise my morbidity if you will
but I still at the thought of

scratching my way under your skin.

Please love me, find me likeable,
Capable as I am of gaining your
Disinterest, pain yourself with
Patience, as I try to age like
Wine, fine at first but better,
Letters escape my fingers down my
Pen when I fear I'll lose you
Again, so please love me, cradle
And steady my ready tears and
Quivering lips, smears of disgust
Rust away in the iron wool
Of your soul accepting mine,
Even when I'm just fine.
And nothing more,
Pour a little faith
In my cup
Before I run dry,
Try as I may
To water this
Cactus, she ******
Herself too much,
Flicks hands away
Like flies, stay
And see, the
Flailing will
Pass, trailing
Past is a
Gentleness unseen
By most but may
You last to toast my
Layers, boast of my good deeds,
Seeds that may
Grow more cacti
In this love desert
Where it may
Rain, as it feigns death

the shame of having--
a lighter load to bear than
discomfort of lack

"she's crying". "she's
crying, she's crying",
"she's" --yes, I KNOW
babies cry. Did you
think I switched
off my biology
for a moment?
that every sob doesn't
stab me, every wail
wailing on my heart,
her bleats for
me beat me raw
but she needs
a ******* NAP
and sometimes
adults cry, too.
and when that happens
where are you?

I curtain my lids open but my eyes only take in dust
so much crumbs my pupil hides among the iris

brush my eyes, sweep along my body
beat it clean like a rug and watch debris float into the air

I pollute the room with feeling
watch me sad my way into your heart

and dull my way out of it with equal pace
run, don’t walk toward new content

there’ nothing to see, here
see here
nothing but sea--
hear it crash

I'm barbed, my spines
poke unsuspecting victims
intertwined among softness
are poison spears that
***** with doubt
and about what? well
anything, sling and slug
punches, cut a rug with
this manipulation tango
I dance starting first glance
and ending inevitably
pending your 'goodbye, crazy',
my sigh at myself seals
this missed opportunity
in a wet exhale, the
envelope is shut, but
the letter contains the unsaid,
a love poem unread.

I'm reading novels into
your cool expressions that
I know, somewhere,
only say syllables but
I so badly want
the attention of
your words,

unheard

but understood,
sentences that say
in so many ways,      I
see you,       I love you,
         I see you again.

Faith in our connection
Acceptance, direction flexible
Thoroughly affectionate, enjoying
Heralding the strengths of others
Eliciting the best in yourself,
Rarity in curiosity and joy
Loyal, steadfast, logical
You bring a sense of hope and love.
…..
We share much in common
In humor, disposition, energy
Stay with me, I said over again
Dad, stay, come home, be here
Over again, I have desired your company and
Moreover again, you have been with me.
…..
Find me hiding behind curtains
Remind me of my strength
Intelligence and heart
Erupt into laughter and wipe my tears
Next to you, safe and warm
Delighted in, genuine
Loving eyes light up over clasped hands
Your signature sign of overwhelming joy.
…..
Before, now, and later
Layers of friendship bind, and
Into the light of futures unknown
Say you'll be with me,
Stay with me, I say over again.

Listen to them sing,
the braver few
who aren't denied
their voices by fear
but push past, rasp
as they may, or
belt, felt by the
whole room or
maybe just me,
doomed to notice
the part of me
stifled by stupid
nonsense when
I could spew
it from the rooftops,
anew in my loud
voice of violence
and idiocy
and elegancy.

it's pouring.
thoughts hammer down
raindrops of disdain
hair heavy with disgust,
yet to be wrung out
wiping criticisms
from eyes, makeup
runs with doubt;
brutal showers
of loathing lusting
for defeat, longing
for relief,
no belief left
in the better, bereft
untethered in
this weather, both
feather light
and paper thin,
disintegrate and float
into frigid winds
scattering this rain again
on more resilient shores;
harsh words can land
delicately on the sand,
absorbing and hiding
wave after wave
crashing and obliterating
but see this dust, trust it
is brighter with every blow
below its surface
you'll find more dust still,
with each undertow
there's a stronger will.

Did you like me? I thought
you did but there's no

response and life's taught me
I'm wrong so often, I soften

my brow in realization that
you won't message back,

I lack something, of course,
you found wounds that run

too deep, that seep too much
into the cloth of my words

and personality, finality is
heard by what goes unsaid,

inside your head is the
goodbye unspoken and my

trust in myself broken yet again
by thinking that you
could have liked me.

I smile at the bruises I've
given myself, knowing they
are evidence of a life lived
rashly and brutally, a full and
unapologetic purple speckles
my shins, my back, my behind,
and it's from dancing on the
floor of three different rooms,
a classroom, a club room, a
bedroom, and I do these
dances so well, the other
day I fell and recovered
and laughed and was
smothered with cries of
concern to which I learned
I'm so ******* resilient and
this body is brilliant at
taking a beating and
cheating death as it has from
my mind time and again

please forgive me, though
I don't know what I did, I'll
scour my brain and memories
for evidence of treacheries

I'll leave black and blue
marks, sifting through my
fingers at the words I've been
typing and withholding,

behold my repentance, I
will make a show of
what it is I do not know but
fully believe I did, please accept

my bid for attention again
as you once would, should
you go before my dance,
glance back as you leave,

at least, your beast wanted
to tangle with mine so
give it that little scrap
of meat, as we cannot

At a certain point                I stop picking up the phone
I can’t do it anymore                 no more pretending, I’m tired.
I sigh myself awake                     blink dry eyes that I wish would tear.
And I wonder what                     could I possibly feel deeply again?
This day could answer for but                   I realize it's a void. Yet
My slack face lifts at the thought               there’s still alcohol to help
I could oblivion myself                  pummel through till tomorrow
What a brutal relief                             this animal body needs rest
This overworked mind is best                   left entirely alone in the dark
Sparked with substance and nothing          more than emptiness itself.

Where will I go?
What will I do?--
These are questions
I don’t want answers to

I don’t want plans
And fantasies
I don’t want hidden stashes
Or fake smiles

I don’t want running shoes...
I want staying slippers.

Birdsong again
I think it has been years of winter
Sadness crunches under fingernails
I icicle my thoughts and drip-drop them
No ceremony
Just melt
And plunge

Birdsong again
A breath that doesn’t sting my lungs
Air no longer attacking a weakened will to live
I blink a thank you into the forgiving breeze
Shards to spiderwebs
They stick
And dissolve