You write so beautifully**
                *Your mind must be a twisted place

The silence is sickening,
As I watch your expression change
Just after my confession, your heart flew into a rage,
You balled your fists in anger, holding with all your might,
I watched nervously as you did, then I closed my eyes tight
The pain struck me like a bullet, but was not what I thought
As I opened my eyes, you will still standing there, distraught,
I wanted to ask him why, but I did not let those words slip
As watch a hot tear fall down down his face, and he parted his lips,
"You know you have broken me"
He said with a crooked smile
And that was when I felt the real meaning of pain
The pain of a painted smile

desecrating the bathroom floor of a home that’s barely my home with blood or *****, what’s the difference? it’s not even my bathroom. my bathroom is one flight up. a boy I barely remember is talking to me & somehow I’m talking to him back, or am I? feeling dizzy like a sunburn with plenty of ***** left to go around still in my throat, plenty of food still in my stomach. 15 liters of food in somebody’s stomach could make that person’s stomach explode. sometimes I have dreams about stomachs exploding the way the sky does just before nightfall, like it has a virus or something. a girl walks into the bathroom & I’m still sitting cross-legged on the floor of this stall wanting to throw up but trying not to, a plastic bag next to me, and an open wallet, purple water bottle. every bit of me wanting to tighten up like a small dog. I picture bruises opening up across the backs of my legs. I picture grandmother commenting on the size of my stomach when I see her tomorrow. my grandmother has wrinkles deep as the belly of a pregnant cow. something about the way I interact with my grandmother reminds me of the skeleton of a dead bird. like the dead robin I saw walking to the bus stop from my house, on broadway, next to the old synagogue; dead robin reminded me of a ****** up crying infant & I wanted to bury it like one. (a girl walks in on me in the bathroom & I squeeze up, hush up, she sees you, it’s too late, swallow your skin.) everything these days reminds me of a ****** I saw once on T.V. with some boy I can no longer remember the name of.

I'm damaged goods.
the mail-in rebate you'll never quite get around to sending.
rather you neatly sit it atop your chestnut coffee table, politely acknowledge it's existence, and try to remember to buy postage stamps for an envelope you believe you will mail.
you won't.
you will ignore it.
just as you have ignored me.
legs crossed, sitting atop the coffee table we never bothered to buy, scraped knees and insecurities that you have tried your best to deny.
the mail in rebate will one day expire.
I pray that I will not.

Sara not so plain and not so tall
Daydreaming in the shopping mall
As blond as a summer day
Speaking of herself in a peculiar way:

"I'm pretty, yes, but I wish to be better;
To be the admiration of a love letter."

But her beauty is the kind that lasts
And makes your heart beat especially fast.
Finland born but London found,
Lovely, sure, but greatness bound.

And the nights grow more tiresome,
as her chest beats a tattered drum.
Her mood too dreary for speckled eyes
that will dim if night blurs into sunrise.

"Sleep why do you run from me,
as my memories grow.
Eyelids, be a blanket,
And melatonin, a pillow."

Victoria Lucas in her head,
as the bell does ring until fed
by the words that sound soft to us
but are actually strong and thus
she is misunderstood-lips are red-
Like Greenwood inspired, kissed dread:
She can save herself before jarred,
Before feathered, before tarred.

And it is my faith that lets me know,
That her happiness will one day grow
Because Sara not so plain and not so tall
Is the strongest of them all

I hide my dreams in the space between
the cover of a book and the spine of it

I pace underneath beds with a pulse
and I can tell you, my blanket is
clean of dust from the bookshelf

I lie back to try change the anchor
of two on the edges of my lips
into balloons that float

I am not really good at promises:
as I hold up the roofs for you
as I said I would
Earth shifted and I let it fall
and for me to get a grip just so
I won't fall

I slip in between gates of your houses
Seated between beds and bathroom
Spinning around on the couch in front of TVs