When I was born I asked the doctor, how he thought he did?
He recalled,
"Exquisite, it was a perfect delivery."
I rebutted,
"Then why am I still attached to the umbilical chord?"
He snipped me away from the tangling sheathe preventing me from exploration.
I leapt off the crinkling hospital bed paper and onto the goose-bump extracting tile floor.
Playfully bobbing my head as I walked into the world whilst giving the blonde doe-eyed nurse a crumpled note arranging what time I would pick her up for
dinner that night.
--Nurses enjoy being taken care of too.

When I was in preschool my teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up.
I told her, "I want to feel the love of a woman who makes me happy everyday and loves me for being me."
She under cut my desired fate, "That's not a something you can work for."
I whispered in her ear, "I know you have never felt love from another person."
She began to cry.
I told her, "That tears are just water for her soul to grow."
She got married later that spring after the rain had stopped,
--Her soul grew enough to show.

When I was seven years old a neighborhood bully stole my bicycle.
I cried for four minutes.
I was angry for about an hour.
Instead of telling him that my dad could beat up his dad
I began to wear my helmet everywhere I went.
I shouted to the other boys in my class,
"I had an invisible superb-deathly speedy-extraordinary-intergalactic- bike."
Two weeks later that same bully gave me my bike back.
As he relentlessly rubbed his knuckles into the top part of my scalp I thought nothing, but that this is the reason why my Grandpa went bald.
Then he muttered through his wheezing breaths of anger,
"My invisible bicycle was much faster than anything your ***** daddy could have bought you."
--Dad's, they love hypothetical fighting.

When I was eleven years old two airplanes hit two buildings in New York City.
I did not understand.
I asked my teacher, "Why would God make evil people?"
Through her tears she explained to me, "Some people are just born evil."
I shouted under my breath, "People are not born evil...
implementing ideas in the sponge of a youth's mind is what is morally corrupt and evil!"
--Corruption is the first cause of terrorism.

When I was fifteen years old I had my first real serious girlfriend.
I did not understand, again.
I exasperated to my father over drinking our first father-son beer,
"How do I know when I love a woman?"
He nostalgically took a drag of his menthol cigarette and as the smoke made it's way through his nose like fog in a canyon he said to me,
"Whenever you look into her eyes and know that there is nothing you wouldn't do for her, that is love."
Before he could reach down and crack another pilsner I told him,
"Dad I look a little lower than her eyes and that is where... everything I would do to her."
--Hormones are a *****.

When I was twenty-one years old my mom told me I couldn't come back home after I graduated college.
I begged her to give me time. I will make it, I promise.
I shouted in the driveway with all my belongings she had neatly placed for me to pack into my car, "How do I know when I am ready to be on my own?"
She didn't have to say anything for there was a brown envelope on top of my neatly folded clothes; that mysterious folding method all mom's know but I
could never seem to figure out,
"Son, you won't know. You won't know until you are poor, hungry, cold and exhausted everyday from trying to make something of your life. The character
you will build will help you later in life when you have a family of your own. I promise. I am not a tyrant, I care too much to see you widdle away here with me
in obscurity and waste all the dreams I know you have. I love you my baby."
--Mom's, even though they don't cut the umbilical chord...they cut the umbilical chord.

Let me start with a cliche: I love to write.
Let me edit it: I love writing
Lying on the floor
Truths in my head
Think
Of me
Baggy Pajama Pants

Growing up I discovered that it is innate
In human nature
To find, seek, or beg for affection.
I stayed silent in order to watch those around me:
Some were good at capturing attention
Like on a warm summer night
And children and running around with glass jars
Procuring fireflies that shine like precious gems.
These children had the talent of keeping the fireflies
Dazzling for days.
Some sought after the coveted attention,
With their baited fishing poles in hand,
They patiently waited in the middle of the lake
And held onto their prize when caught
Until it died when they would go and fish for a new one.
Perhaps a longer, bigger, heavier, more valuable catch.
Some are light, ethereal,
Like a subtle perfume you can only smell
When you are mere inches away from the wearer.
They are sweet and not too persistent in their ways.
I continued to watch
And place people in these categories.
What they all in common, though,
Was selling their precious:
The fireflies, the fish, the perfume.
I looked to myself,
What did I have to sell? To offer?
Anything at all?
Surely I wasn’t as skilled as the lightning bug trapper
Or as patient as the fisherman
Or as fragrant as the perfume-wearer.
Instead, I was the girl
Who would admire the stars for all they are,
But not try to keep one;
Who would live in the now
Rather than feebly attempting to move my watch
Back a few years.
It was then I realized,
My love is not for sale.

It burns. So deathly excruciating.

It's like a never-ending, heart wrenching feeling, that separates all other emotions, all other pains, and all other scars apart.

That feeling of regret and fallen memories, colliding with each other and dragging you down so low that Hell appears to be Heaven.

Why? Why after so many years?

After so many others have managed to steal my heart, even if it was just for a moment.

Why? Even though I know those days are over, that they could never begin again, that there will always be a broken link and I will always shatter, fall, and crumble once more.

Why are these emotions still here? Why do they linger like a black cloud, suffocating me and chaining me down like a wild animal?

I know that you are only a memory, so then why are you still here?

Why do I think about you, dream about you?

Why even though I know all of your flaws and your undeniably inexcusable actions do I grip at my heart and say "I still love you"?

Even though time after time I have told myself the very opposite.

Time and time again I have banished you from my life and yet hoped there was still a chapter left of this dark story.

Why after so many countless times where I have been defeated by you, where I have fallen once more for the ****** games you play,
twisting your black fingers around my spine and seeing how far you can go until it breaks?

Why do my forsaken eyes mistake you as an angel, when you are the devil himself?

Must I continue to have hope, wishing that I could try again, even though I know you're going to once more watch as I lose all sight of the truth?

Sinister and vile as you are, relish in my delusional state, knowing you have me in your claws which scrape at my back and leave scars that not even God could heal.

Do you even know how disgusting, how sickening and maddening it feels to know that you can't even see the pain you have inflicted on me? Sure you can see the bandages, but are you really that blind to the truth of their nature?

How deep these scars truly run? How badly and desperately I screamed and begged for help inside as you dug your claws into my flesh and carved them out yourself?

Can you not see the depression, the hopeless battered soul seeping through my eyes?

I pretend I am strong. I live every day breaking at the cracks and somehow manage not to collapse into a pile of broken pieces.

Tears are dried out and the ache of a heart that has been stomped on so severely that it bleeds gray is only a small burden compared to all of the rest.

I walk on a path where there is a light just in reach, but the path vanishes once you have come close enough to that hopeful light that you can brush it with the tips of your fingers.

Do you have any idea what it feels like to look in the mirror and have to remind yourself every single day that you were never good enough?

That you are a wasted canvas, painted beautifully at first but then crumpled and thrown out because you never had a chance at being satisfactory.

You will never understand that my own emotions are poisoning me.

You have grabbed at my throat and shaken me so violently that I am unable to move, paralyzed in shame. Paralyzed in sorrow.

And yet, as I look into your eyes, I am mesmerized by your face, I fall into a trace, trapped in your spell. Trapped in this deadly cycle.

You have dragged me down into this pitiful thing. This choking, lifeless relationship where I struggle to stay alive while you climb higher on your pedestal.

And despite my previous errors, I willingly fall into your hands. Blinded by the false light you shine above your head.

just addicted to lovelessness,
i guess,
addicted to the feeling of something that could be
a distant cousin of loss,
but can’t be loss when it wasn’t there to begin with.
a cousin of loss and brother of bereavement,
a lexiconical gap
in the english maw,
a space where the definition slipped out
but the word never grew in.
a gap where a word should be,
a word meaning missing something you never had,
losing something that was never yours,
grieving for something that never looked your way
or graced you with its pain.
insomnia of the soul,
unable or unwilling to droop into the catatonic stupor
of love,
until my eyes ache with open,
and my heart aches with empty
and just beautiful aches and pains,
like stiff joints filled with sterling silver
or arthritic necklace clasps.
my tongue is tin because the argentine
is in my hands,
silver in the space between the carpals,
oozing precious metals
onto the page.
writing in second-best so that it’ll stay.
writing second-rate love letters
and pretending they’re real,
like the words i moan mean something other than
hello
i’m lonely
who are you?
like i’m not the girl who cried love
because the village had already learned
that wolves are lies,
and vice versa.
because faking it has always been my favorite pastime.
i’ll write love poems forever,
keep feeding my addiction for as long as it stays,
let my loveless track marks bloom cantankerous sores
on my ribs.
while i’m young
i’ll write poems of arthritis and weakness
and death,
because oh now i am immortal
invulnerable and omnipotent,
but when my bones are brittle and my flesh is loose
and my spine makes me bow to the earth,
my poems will be of life and strength
and god
because darkness is only beautiful when it isn’t
an imminent looming
future.
when i know i may die tomorrow,
i will write of bluejays
and of a love that never found me,
though it knocked on all the doors and called all the numbers,
waited on my porch while i hid in the closet,
nursing my ache
trying to fill a lexiconical gap
with bukowski
and insomnia.
supersaturated with emptiness
because all the words in the dictionary
can’t make up for the one that’s missing.
it changed the locks when it came,
shutting me out of my skull,
taking residence in my chest
and growing larger with each slow breath.
every huff of oxygen fed my
resident,
every injection of
late nights spent just writing,
every pill popped -
the lies that went down better
if i said them with a gulp of gin.
so my lovelessness cracked my ribs as it grew,
replaced my marrow with sterling silver
and i watched it happen like
a glacier devouring a desert
because i knew i would never survive loving something.
deserts were never made to run bounteous
with water.
just addicted to lovelessness,
i guess.
addicted to silver joints
and words that don’t exist.

She lives a quiet life,
she tiptoes around,
she whispers when she speaks,
she hardly ever makes a sound.

Although her words are quiet,
her mind is very loud.
She has so much to say,
but no one listens for soft sounds.

She's an invisible girl,
who doesn't want to stand out,
she just wants to be heard,
without having to shout.

Sometimes the loudest people,
aren't saying much at all.
Empty words and promises,
just leave their mouths and fall.

But whispered words fly high,
and catch peoples attention,
they're intriguing, so amazing,
but only when they listen.

So look outside the spotlight,
because often the real star,
isn't anyone on stage,
but the mind behind it all.

burn the light of fire
and wax the ears of injustice.

chide the moon
and bid ado to the reckless sun.

count the blessings of misfortunes
and wave verbs in the air--
breathing the hopeful breaths of married sandals

Label the pains of a billion rain drops and fawn the feathers
of a nightingale over the glory of failed
triumphs known as yesterday.

break the hands of a wristwatch and make a ******* of time--
for through the God in Satan was how Earth was won.

Ropes and chains
Twine and twigs
Every ounce of burden
Straining, straining
Step again, drag my feet
Too heavy, it's too heavy

Crumple like paper
Knees in the mud
Weight on my shoulders
Sinking, sinking

Shouts and screams
Fall deaf on my ear
All I've ever heard
Now as silence

Spit while I'm down
Useless, I'm useless
Selfish for want of freedom
I owe you this
You insist I owe you this

Slaves do not dream
Do not think on things
Other than the master's approval
This is what you've done
This is why I am

To serve, to serve
Faithful, without question
To validate your own life
That, you say is my purpose

I'm crawling
But you add more weight
Sinking, sinking
You tell me to stay
Trap me with your ropes and chains

I slip, you threaten
To cast me out
To wolves and beasts
And vicious criminals

To cast me out of these walls
You scream
To leave me to fend for myself
In an existence of terror

"No!" I beg, I try harder
"Please, strike again!"
I beg for the pain
The pain is love

The whip is love
The shouting is love
These walls, these chains,
Love and protection,
Protection

Tie me down
To a place of expectations
That are self serving
To a world of rules
Of certainty

I trusted you
I believed in you
Believed I was doing the right thing
Blinded by your ignorance
As you taught it to me

Trapped, trapped
I can't move
You taught me
To not want to

Those wolves,
I can hear them
Laughing behind you
Laughing is wicked
You taught me that

Laughter is delusion
Is cruel
This is real,
This is certain,
This is safe
That is what you said

I look to that laughter
In disgust
What is that garish brightness?
It must be one of their tricks,
One of their deceptions

"It is light,"
Someone calls from
Behind your wall of safety
What is light?
It must be bad

There is none here,
And things not here are not good
It must mean lies
Light must be
Deception

You hit again
For looking
I should not look
It will lead me astray
Please, let me stay I beg

But it haunts me
That curious light
I do not know what it is
You do not know what it is
I want to see

What is that light?
That star behind you
Do stars exist?
In what is that, air?

My eyes sneak past you
Past the door
You yell at me for looking
But you always yell
I don't hear
But I see
For the first time, I see

Is that green stuff on the ground?
Not mud, not unyielding stone
Something soft, something gentle
Do such things exist?

"Grass," the distant voice names
Grass… it is something
Can something so different be?
What does it do?
What is its purpose?
To serve?

"No, not to serve,"
Then what?
Why does it exist, if not to serve?
To serve…

You add more weight,
To remind me
Remind me,
Of my place

There is familiarity,
Familiarity in rock and stone
And pain
I could ask you to strike me

One more time
So I could feel the love
You taught me
That is what pain means

Grass is scary
Flowers are scary
Sun, wind, sea,
These pleasantries that are
Evil in your eyes

But they beckon to me

I shift in the mud
Of this home
Restless
Restlessness is new
Restlessness is dangerous

HALT! You do not want me
Looking that way
Halt, stay,
Obey, obey,
Head down
More weight

I don't think to question
But I look
I look to see
Something different

Something so soft,
Something so sweet
How does it taste?
How does it feel?

Like evil, you say
Like the destruction of certainty
And society
And all that makes us strong

I almost believe
You sound so sure
You taught me never to question
And for so long I knew it was right

But… that light…

I take step forward
You scream and snap your whips
Dishonor, dishonor

They are like hugs
As you have taught
Out of love
I open my mouth to ask
"Disrespect, Disrespect!"

Anger, fury
I am disobeying
I dare question,
This world you have built
Out of rules and ignorance

Another step,
The burden is slipping
Disappointment,
Disappointment

That light ahead
Feels good
Feels warm
Feels right

So strange that
There be happiness
Outside of certainty
Outside of law

"Stop stop!
I will cast you out
I will disown you
And you will never return!"

You shame me
With claims of hate
Of betrayal
I betrayed, I betrayed

Your orders
Are the orders
Of nature, you say
And I disobey them

"Betrayal, Betrayal"
But the 'wolves' say "Courage"
What is courage?
Courage is good? Or bad?

What do those smiles mean?
Can a face truly be that way?
How can this exist, if it is
Against nature

No,
It is against
Your nature
Something, something
Outside of your world
Exists

I am in awe
Fascination, imagination
There is color, there is life
All of these things I never knew

It draws me forward
This world outside of my own
Things I cannot name
Warmth and faith

"Betrayal, betrayal,"
But you
You dare not follow
You lock the gate behind me

"Never return,
Never return"
You growl,
You threaten
You turn your back on me
On one you claimed to love
Through slaps and whips

I am scared
Of not knowing
These soft colored
Blossoms

But you…
I realize,
I think,
For myself

You… you instead are afraid of knowing of them.
Your walls, I see now
I can see
Built with rules
Built with eyes closed
So you can feel safe

You protect yourself
You shut me out
I am contaminated
I am evil

I am not you,
Betrayal, Betrayal
I disappointed you
I am not welcome

There are fingers through my hand
There is softness in this touch
If pain means love, does this mean hate?
I don't understand

An embrace
This is soft
This is good
This light is the world

And to look back on yours
Yours is small, is closed, narrow
Cold and dense as stone
Unyielding, Unyielding

So small, so dark
"So safe"
You would argue
But I pity you

You feel strong
You command those beneath you
As little as they are
You feel safe

But I walk away
And see sky
See possibility
I feel fear, I feel uncertainty

But I feel freedom
I feel grass,
I feel light,
I feel love,

I feel life, I feel life.