stop talking about god.
you told me you dont believe,* he said.
whats the point of mourning something that was never there?
[its not that i don’t believe,] i said or apologized.
[it’s more that i can’t.]
i wanted to believe in a god that would sell my bones to an artist
to make something more beautiful.i volunteered myself
to every altar i could find,
laid at the feet of the sky till i learned that i am a ******* holocaust.
im a burnt offering  no god would claim.
im covering up my body and pretending it doesnt exist.
strangers grab my waist and i want to be sick.i want to spit acid
like a snake.my friends say im too kind for my own good.
i knew what he wanted but i talked to him anyway
cause he said please.
i always expect to be saved.
suffering doesnt feel real.
i know how you think of me but i talk to you anyway, and
i know who loves me and who
doesnt care,
but id like to know that someone hates me the way i do,
(maybe we could bond over
mutual enemies.)
last night i was sick. last night i puked in my father's garden.
you say you can tell when my smiles are fake so then
why do you just laugh along?
it is two am,
i am at a park by my home,
im waiting for a text from you but it doesnt come
i am a geode.split me open. all you'll find inside is salt.
im sleeping on hardwood floors because the word 'bed'
is still a synonym for 'crime scene,'
'earthquake zone,'
'tsunami warning'.
the world shook last week and i ran to the coast
watching for tidal waves.
i needed god.i screamed to the sky.i committed all the sins i could, but,
stubbornly,
god continued to not exist.
i needed god but god did not need me.i am using past tense to forget that today,
i stole a rosary and nailed it to my wall.
my voice cracks when i shout that i,
i am strong,
i am invulnerable.
there are fences i do not want to scale and doors i do not want to open.
did you break me?did you unmake me?
or did you just taxidermy me,
freeze me in that time,
and all i am now is the organs you threw out,
the heart and guts you didnt need.
i have not suffered; i do not suffer,
i am nerveless and numb.i am a scarecrow,
i do not care when you pick out my button eyes.
you're a papercut and i test knives for a living.
a bruise on the knuckles of a girl who keeps
punching the walls.
a splinter in my palm and i just broke my jaw.
you were just the starting gun and ive been running alone,
slow like through sand,
like a nightmare.
i dont dream anymore, i just
replay jumbled memories, i cant tell
if im asleep or awake.
im at a funeral and im
sketching your face on the back of a napkin;
a ****** composite.
all my family has to say is she'll be a heartbreaker, that one.
they're gonna be crying over her.
my mother tells me its a compliment.
its three a.m. and she asks me why im awake and i
mumble something into the blankets about impossibility.
we're interpreting the bible and he's on the other side of the room,
he's staring at his desk or his hands or nothing at all.
i'm on the roof of some building and im writing a poem and
every time i talk about you you're someone new.  
there was an earthquake while i slept but i pretended it was my heart, i
didnt clean up the broken glass
on the floor.  
i compare myself to natural disasters to absolve myself when really
im a pyromaniac in my own burning home,
i keep digging graves in my backyard and ive finally fallen in.
it’s a matter of fate, an act of god, i wont fix myself but
at least i have an excuse.
its like there are nettles in my arms caressing the nerves.
its like all the false confidence in the world cant change the way
every muscle in my body is clenched so hard
they’ve compressed to stone.
its like i am medusa and ive been alone with only mirrors
for far too long.
ive given up on being eloquent.
ive given up on making sense,
i am not articulate or intelligent or sensible and i was never meant to be an actress.
this poem is an emetic
and the bezoar you left in me will not remain.