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?

When they call me 'prolific' I hear '****'.
churning out product like it costs me
nothing but a little time and a wince of
entrance pain that fades away.
doing it all for the quick gratification
of seeing yet another something by me me me.
I'm so full of poems I propagate like
my fertile little weeping pine, she's
probably a *****, too, but
that's her job and I'm doing this for free.
I've got less self-worth than a tree.

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.

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

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.

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?

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

I watch them perform
their perfect storm of words
heard by the snappiest
of listeners, greeting
this odd cadence with reverence
there is a right way to do this
and in spite of my knowing that
I choose rhyme, sowing my
failure into each line, fine
with the results because
I'm not sure I love
what I'm hearing but
searing in my mind is
not the need for spiting
this form, but a seed of
love for what I'm writing.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

"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?

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