-to be human is to sin

you tell me that good people are everywhere
but where are all these good people
when the facts are screaming
"emergency, emergency"
"alert, alert"
when the facts say
that almost every ******* this planet
has at least once in her life
been touched in a way she didn't consent to
the facts say that most ****** predators
are known to the children
fathers;
fathers have ***** their daughters
while mothers cry silently
because the world does not want to hear
the stories under the blanket
the guilt and the shame
the pain.
the pain.

you say there are good people
show me
show me
that boy who gives to charity
his hand rode up my skirt last week
that girl who prays five times a day
she watched as her boyfriend called me a *****

my five year old cousin knows what it's like to be penetrated

i lost my virginity before i got my period

my best friend doesn't want to be touched because she sees her ******'s face in every man

i was blackmailed by a boy who said he wanted to marry me

my mom;
my mom and i have bonded over
what it feels like
to have
a man inside you
who doesn't
doesn't
belong there

what kind of god wants an empty heaven?
because the kind of people on this earth
the filthy **** who carved their names between my thighs
there are too many
there are too many
men who have done
women who have watched
silent observers
silent thieves
murderers
no one says anything
then they pray to god
but their sins
their sins are on my skin
see me
see me as i burn
see me as i burn
because if these repenters
who have lived their lives
hurting others
who say their grace
then stuff their ***** in my face
if these repenters
are who i will find in heaven
then i do not want to go
i do not want to go
to a heaven with them
i do not want to go
to a paradise
that looks a whole lot like hell

but if god
chooses to not forgive these repenters
then heaven will be empty
because we are sinners
we are all sinners
we ask for forgiveness
then do it again

i have lied
i have cheated
i have wished ill upon another

tell me; am i good person?
was he a good person?
when he ***** me then apologized
when he ***** me then prayed
when he ***** me then cried
and said he made a mistake

when he ***** me
said sorry
and did it again.

if he makes it to heaven
i'll take the other train
if he does not
then none of us will
because our devils are too clean
and our angels too *****

i'm not quite sure if i'm looking for repentance or for revenge
i have done wrong and i have been wronged
is there a place for me in heaven?

what kind of god wants an empty heaven?
what kind of god wants a heaven full of sinners?

where is the god that will love me?

where is the god that will forgive me?

**** happy - klonopin.
We're drug addicts or gay.
Crisis where christ is.
Bullets fly and we laugh -
None of our business.

We sit shiva for strangers ,
And blood splatters the camera lens.
The uprising persists.
We exist in glitter.
Head trauma, and its bad (I think)
Somewhere, a baby is crying.

It's classical for the incomprehensible.

Last one to die, please turn out the light.

I know you think
I wear lipstick everyday
And my hands always
Smell like
Chai tea and raspberries

I know you think
My tongue always
Tastes like
Melted sugar
And peppermint

I know you think
I sleep in the same lace
Underwear
You find me in
On certain Sundays
In the spring
When the air is light
And my jeans
Don't stick
To my thighs

I know you think
I'm larger than life

Above chipped teeth
And bruises
And cigarette ash
And acne

I know you think
My eyes don't turn
Blood red
And poison
When I cry

I know you think
My finger nails
Are always
Freshly painted

And I always wear
A bra
That fits

I know you think
Yoga pants are
My comfy clothes,
Never gray sweat pants
With a faded red stain
Between my legs

I know you think
My calves are always
Soft, hairless, and toned

You think
I wait by the phone
With vanilla incense
Burning in a red robe

But you're wrong
And that's impossible

I won't let you in
Cause I won't be
The one
To shatter
Your whole
Pretty, little world

I'm disgusting
Sometimes

I sleep with
Way too many
Girls and guys

And sometimes I cry so much
My eyelids peel
Til I look like
Leather face
And I don't leave my house
For 8 days

And in those 8 days
I shower
Maybe twice

My skin gets rough
In the winter

Right now
I have a
Pimple on
My left shoulder
And every morning
It looks a little
Meaner

My ***** spill
Out over the top
And the sides
Of my favorite
Sport's bra

And I don't care

I smell like burnt oil
And cheap hair dye
Half of the time

I haven't washed
My sheets in a while
And they smell like
Salt water
And chlorine

You put me up on a pedestal
From which I refuse to fall

So I'll stay here,
Far,
Untouchable

You'll never love me
With sticky tampons
In my garbage can
And half drank beer bottles
On my bedroom floor

I'll stay here,
Far,
Untouchable,

Safe

Wall clock,
Tick-tock.
Slaves to all of time.
Fear,
Block.
Heart-drop;
Failure to comply.

Somewhere,
Written in the margins
Of the history of time
In this universe:
Us.

Your unsteady hand pouring milk.
My unsteady hand on your thigh.
Breath quivers
But it is full and deep.

Someday
Someone
Will write about this night.

A heart doesn't realise how much is missing
Until something makes it whole again.

Somewhere,
Written in the margins of the history of time
In this universe
And all others:
Love,
Whatever that may mean.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.