Her eyes, Belie,
The darkness deep inside.
Her smile, Defiles,
Laws of nature running wild.
Her hair, It don't care,
If it's right or fair.
She'll take you by your soul,
Eat your heart in just one go.

Her tongue, it runs,
This city of the sun.
In her mind, you'll find,
A piece of the divine
Lost within her thighs.
Don't fight the coming tide,
Embrace the genocide.
Sand proscribed, a bandaid tried
And weary from repeat.
Lost to the waves, sweat and sleet.
Ocean licks brine from
Timeless, restless feet.

When I was young my mother would comb out my hair

She would gather up the loose tangled strands and scatter them to the wind

She said that the birds would use them to make nests for the winter

I wonder if any strands of my hair actually made their way into birds nests

It would be reassuring to know some part of me was a piece of such a beautiful thing

It would be nice to know that someplace somewhere, I was apart of a home

I have wanted to run away ever since I learned how to jump off a soaring swing and land on my two front feet.
I have
wanted to run away ever since I learned how to seize the night under giant trees.
I have
wanted to run away ever since I learned how to heal heartbreak.
Impossible.
oh please,
I pack my bags underestimating how far my lungs can breathe.

I'm supposed to be an artist.
I'm supposed to be a writer.
Everything that has happened to
me I have taken
and made it kiss my *******
***.
But this I can not make into
art.

I can not take this memory
and deface it with my hate
and pain.
I did this to myself.
This was a decision I made,
sat in the shower,
and cried for so many
hours thinking about.
This was not forced upon me.
But with her expected
delivery date arriving,
I want to make this some
beautiful piece I can
look back on.

Not cold hands and instruments
put inside my body
pushing and pulling.
I can not make this art.
Staring at the clock and
watching the seconds tick
by to distract myself from
the pain.

I can not count seconds
to forget her now.
I can not count hours
To forget the suction sound.
I just...
I can not.
Make this art.

The reality of my abortion
it too cold and hard
and real
to make this into metaphors,
into some abstract
piece about how life
was taken out of me.

I didn't cry that day.
I didn't cry that week.
But when out of habit I went
to rub my stomach
I flinched. Pluto was gone.

I could feel her sweetness
and strength. I could feel
that I was not ready for
such a strong love,
I was not ready to look
my child in the eyes
and know that I could not
take care of her.

I want to honor her memory
for the strength that she has
passed on to me.
I named her Pluto for she was
such a small planet to me.
A sweet companion to guide
me through the pain that I was
enduring.

I don't think I was supposed
to have her.
I like to think that her
purpose was to make me
stronger. To make me a better
person.

I haven't dropped out of high
school yet because I want a good
life for any child I decide
to care for. I haven't ended my
life yet because
then her's would be a waste.

She grew inside of me for 3 months.
Caused me some intense nausea
and cramps.
She was strong, and bowed down for
no one, stretching my body apart.

I cry for her often.
And I don't believe in much.
But I know in whatever after life
or reincarnation that I may have,
I will see her again.
I will hold her someday.

But for now, getting a tattoo
of my little planet
in the palm of my hand will
have to do.
She had a beautiful soul,
a beautiful burning will.

Maybe I can make this art.
Maybe I can make her smile
knowing that I will always love her.

Sometimes it’s best to keep the things we hold dear to us to ourselves.
Just so the shadows don’t try to take them away.

The shadows are things we call friends because they’ve always been there.
They’re also called foes because of what they do.  It’s a secret though.
They told me not to tell.

One’s name is Janis. She wants to leave but never can. Another’s name is John. He always screams as if he’s forced to never stop.

They told me not to tell.

“Always keep it to yourself because we’ll take it away.”

“Why do you scream?  Why can’t you ever just sleep?!”

They told me not to tell my secrets because they’ll be used against me.

My name is Callie. I’m only age 6.
My name is ___. I have — who are you again?
My n-name is A- Al- Alexa. I have a s- stu- st- stutter
My name is Kelly.  I’m a mystery never solved.

They told me not to tell the-… no!  I won’t… they told me not to tell.

The shadows are my friends and the words will not hurt.

They told me they would —

The voices are my friends.  The voices are my friends.  The panic is my comfort.  The panic is my comfort.  The story is perfect.  Your story is perfect.  Our story is perfect.  
They’ll never know who I killed.
They’ll never know how it feels.
They’ll never know the voices were always there.

They told me not to tell my secrets because they’ll be used against me…

… but they also told me they’d never let me go even though they promised.  I guess the voices were right - I should have never told…