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there are days when my poems feel less like bruises
and more like crop circles waiting to spread their soft bones across
the earth of my page- these stories need to be told .
my voice used to be just a side effect of having a body ,
until it found paper and learned how to scream ,
the kind of scream that evaporates in all the noise .
i’d rather write about people who got lost in the cracks of my sidewalk -
so i can write about them clawing their way out -
than write about people who were born with every limb already above ground .
because sometimes every word is an act of therapy ,
and there’s no better listener than the reader who finds relief
in every oil spill of ink . because sad poetry is the truth ,
and i’m tired of biting my lip .
because the people i write for have been going through hell
and sometimes , if i spellcheck my words carefully enough ,
a line or two will flame brighter in that person’s heart
than the flames they’re so used to being burned alive in .
when i was a kid , i used to try mending the broken wings
of all the moths and butterflies that crossed my yard ,
until some of them gave up on flying with stitches ,
and i learned that sometimes people quit on life like that too .
so now i write all these poems to teach people
to start giving to themselves
instead of giving up or giving in .
 Dec 2013 annmarie
marina
like habit
 Dec 2013 annmarie
marina
it's not that
i still love you,
it's just that
i don't yet know
how to be
around you without
reaching out
for your
hand
i check my facebook page 36 times a day for the sole purpose of making sure i have not accidentally posted a **** photo of myself

i reread an email 13 times before pressing send to ensure i have not written something in the email that could convict me of a crime

if i ever end up taking a stage , when asked if i allow flash photography i always want to say “ no ” because i’m terrified flash photography will give me epilepsy
i know it doesn’t work like that , still

i never eat nuts on an airplane out of fear of that i will suddenly develop a nut allergy and if i have to asphyxiate
i don’t want it to happen at 30,000 feet

twice in the last two years i’ve been aborted from an airplane for running screaming down the aisles as the plane was taking off

i can’t walk through san francisco without worrying my indigestion is the beginning of an earthquake

i brace for tsunamis besides lakes in colorado
i’m not joking
the last time i saw niagara falls i couldn’t take it
it was too much much
i had to plug my ears to look at it and close my eyes to listen

generally i can’t do all my senses at the same time they are too much much

like if you touch me without warning , whoever you are , it will take everything i have to not hate you

imagine your hands are electrical sockets and i am constantly aware that i am 70% water
it’s not that i’ve not tried to build a dam


ask my therapist who pays her mortgage

my cost of living went up
at five years old when i told my mother i have to stop going to birthday parties because every time i hear a balloon pop i feel like i’m gonna get murdered in the heart


last year a balloon popped on the stage at a concert and i started crying in front of the whole crowd
plugged my ears and kept repeating the word “ LOUD LOUD LOUD LOUD ”
it was super ****

that’s what i have to do
super ****

like when i asked the super cute barista 11 times ‘ are you sure this is decaffeinated ? are you sure this is decaffeinated ? are you sure this ’ - YES
i drink decaffeinated and still jitter like a bug running from the
bright bright bright

i have spent years of my life wearing a tight rubber band hidden beneath my hair so my brain could have a hug


i only ever wear a tie so that when i convince myself
i’m choking my senses have something they are certain they can blame

as a kid i was so certain i would die the way of  meteor falling on my head
i would go whole weeks without looking at the sky
because i didn’t want to witness the coming of my own death

i started tapping the kitchen sink seven times to build a shield

my mother started making lists of everything i thought would **** me in hopes that if i saw my fears
they would disappear

bless her heart ,
but the first time i saw that list i started filling a salad bowl with bleach and soaking my shoe laces overnight
so in the morning when i ironed them they would be so bright i would be
certain i had control over how much dark could break into my light
how much jack hammer could break into my heart
my spine it has always been a lasso that could never catch my breath

i honestly can’t imagine how it would feel to walk into a room full of people and not feel the roof collapsing on my
‘ NO NO NO '

i am not fine

fine is the suckiest word
it never tells the truth

and more than anything i have ever been afraid of i am terrified of lies
how they war the world
how they sound by our tongues
how they bone dry the marrow

how did we get through high school without being taught dr. king spent two decades having panic attacks ?
avoided windows
jumped at thunder

i think we are all part flight the fight
part run for your life
part ‘ please please please like me ’
part can’t breathe
part scared to say you’re scared
part say it anyway

you panic button collector
you clock of beautiful ticks
you run out the door if you need to
you flock to the front row of your own class
you feather everything until you know you can always ,
always shake like a leaf on my family tree and know you belong here

you belong here and everything you feel is okay
**everything you feel is okay
this poem is for hkr .. and for anyone with anxiety
 Dec 2013 annmarie
robin
i saw you last night in my dream.
we held tattoo guns.
we wrote the definition of friendship on each others' back.
when i finished,
your back read 'a refuge from the world.
somewhere you don't have to think about painful things.'
when i looked in the mirror, my back read
'a version of intimacy with less lying.
a way to share bruises.
a shared blood bank.'
sometimes the way you speak
makes me think you're composing letters to someone else in your head.
sometimes i think you only approached me because
you like small birds -
robins and sparrows
and wrens.
i like attack dogs.
i try not to project that onto people.
you said your name was the product of shame.
you said every syllable was a lie.
when time changes every letter of your name to different variations of
"bare legs and
brick pyramids and
ball and socket joints"
you will tell me to pronounce each syllable anew -
someone should have told you
not to build your body from bricks
when you're standing on a fault line.
don't you know california's known for its earthquakes.
don't you know subduction zones aren't just metaphors for you
and your latest lover.
stand up.
get off the floor,
stop crying.
it's not my fault you chose to love somebody.
your knees are raw and the bruises sink deep.
you laid persian rugs over all your linoleum floors
and the rugburn on your lips pays testament to your dedication.
while i am with you
you fall to the floor and whisper.
you replay every word you said to them
and fashion better lines, -here,-
-i'll show you that i love you, my tongue's between your teeth, i trust you not to bite-
you say -listen to me, listen:-
-there's a hell. i know it.-
-let's go find it.-
i keep replying but you just kiss the carpet.
when i started smoking you said you were worried about my health.
funny how you only notice something's wrong when something starts to burn.
funny how you didn't notice my white knuckles when you spoke.
funny how you didn't notice when i stopped replying.
i stripped all the color from my hair last night
i meant to dye it the color of your eyes
to remind myself of your
good points,
remind myself why i once wanted to speak to you,
but you know,
i think achromatism suits me.
hair the color of mist and smog.
i never learned the difference between smoke and fog,
i keep trying to smother clouds.
on cold mornings i close my mouth,
cover my nose,
try to starve whatever it is burning inside of me .
i suppose you'd appreciate that,
in your mind,
fire is a synonym for death.
you ***** all the candles that i light.
when i put an ember in my mouth you say -what's wrong.-
-tell me,-
-it's not healthy-
-to keep all that smoke in your mouth.-
-you can tell me about anything.-
i wonder,
who told you that spreading a forest fire
helped it to die?
i wonder who told you sharing sadness was the only way to be intimate.
well here, let's share misery. let's spread it like an infection, like an std.
1. when i am alone in crowds,
i find myself searching for faces of people i despise
that i haven't seen in years.
somehow i want them there more than the people i love.
2. i am a background character.
my only line is, 'let's get out of here.'
3.  i wonder a lot how happy i could be
if i wasn't here to drag me down.
i wonder a lot how i would have grown up in a cleaner town.
would i still be terrified of safety?
4. the only constellation i recognize is orion.
the only constellation i recognize is a hunter,
a human killed by gods,
a man slaughtered for the jealousy of the brightest god.
i tried to learn others,
but they never stuck.
never seemed quite real.
5. in a catholic classroom they taught me that G. O. D.
loved the smell of burnt flesh.
on interstate 580 my father told me never trust
a smiling god.
6. epinephrine and endorphins. epinephrine and endorphins. epinephrine. epinephrine. epinephri
7. my mother told me i was sugar and stardust and i
bled for five years
to prove her wrong:
copper and hemoglobin
and chloride.
8.  every boy looks like family i've never met.
every girl looks like a better version of myself.
9. i collect memories of girls
waiting at bus stops at night,
alone.
heads between their knees,
hollow but not empty,
trying to stay steady.
bleach sloshing in excavated ribs.  
10. sometime in the last half-year,
i have learned to despise you.
i am an american firearm and you give me another bullet every time you make your presence known.
i am a hammerhead  shark.
you poured wax into my gills
and tried to leave your seal on me.
congratulations! congratulations. you left a mark on me. you made yourself more than a friend,
you made me hate you.
do you feel significant now? do you feel special.
you can see the ugly parts now, when i spit in your face i won't make it pretty.
-you don't have to hide from me.-
-i want to see what you don't show-
merry ******* christmas! time to make good on your claims,
hope you were truthful because here.
i brought you my gangrene. i unwrapped all the bandages just for you.
sorry it's not quite as pretty
as those carpets you laid over your cheap floors.
i'll be standing by your fireplace,
lighting every candle i can find,
illuminating my body from every angle.
hope intimacy is everything you imagined it'd be.
 Dec 2013 annmarie
hkr
you could say the problem was
race; half white half japanese
you could say the problem was
passion; which never aligned
you could say the problem was
distance; a desert too vast to cross
but i say the problem was
love; because i loved you more
than i loved myself.
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