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over
spilled milk;

DO cry
over spilled
**drank.
(All poems original Copyright of Eva Denali Will © 2015, 2016)
"aw,
why don't you
smile!"
the man says,
looking at me.

"c'mon,
you old thing,
fly!"
the child says,
kicking the dead bird.

I'm not going to smile
to look pretty for you
a sight to see
a sight for sore eyes
I am not
a dog.

in my
abusive
relationship
my ex would tell me
every day
to clean his room
clean the basement
do the laundry
if i didn't
I was treated
like a bad
dog.
made to look at the mess
but
it was not mine.
many times,
when I did
my
job
it wasn't sufficient
"I *******
HATE
CLUTTER"

clean it yourself,
then.
but no,
I did.
even when
I didn't like you.
even when
I hated you.

when I was 19
at the bookstore
a man
told me to get him
a card,
could have reached it
himself
could have done it
himself
guess I misheard him
and got him the wrong one
"are you stupid?!"
in his thick
accent
"stupid girl
get me
a napkin.
throw it out
here,
throw it out
I said"

you can't be any
good at video games,
you're a girl.

you can't be
bisexual
you're just doing it
for attention.

you can't
wear that
and expect people to respect you
expect people
not to harass you
expect people
to think you're smart
expect people
to not think you're a
****.

IF
I am a ****
for being confident with my body
for being comfortable
with
my sexuality
for being open
about
my orientation
for enjoying
***
then yeah, I am
I am not ashamed
of any of those things
and they do not make me
less of a
human.

don't
tell me
to smile.
don't
tell me
what to do
or
when to do it
I will do
what I want
whenever the ****
I want


I won't
smile.
I will wear
tank tops
and makeup
and beat your ***
in every video game
make you feel
worthless
I will
speak my mind
have opinions
morals
I will
read literature
learn
educate myself
educate others
I will
have ***
with whomever I want
safely, but
without any shame

I will
be
human
im trying to write a poem every day and oops its 12am and i didn't write one oops oops oops (this counts)
the star
obliviously
makes her
rotations
of life
around
the black hole
glowing
shining
fiery
pits of hell
if you get close,
but providing
warmth
and life
to her planets
that stay
far enough
away

naive
creature
born maybe
closer to the black
hole
than others
doesn't
notice it
as
out of the ordinary
anything
other
than her life

each
movement she makes
she will
be closer
to her destination
closer
to her destiny

took me
twenty years
of life
until I realized
the full force
of my depression

only when
she got close enough
did she realize
she was falling
into
the black
hole
that this
was what
wanted
her energy
her mass
herself
*******
pulling
with more force
than anything
she had ever
experienced

the realization
that her
entire life
was spent
waiting
to be devoured
by this
hell
oblivion
all she knew
was a
fabrication
never even
thought to wonder
what
she was circling
just
ignored
the glaring questions
ignored
the evidence
ignored
all of the signs
until
it was too late
to escape

event horizon

help me

i am trying
to gather
the momentum
strength
power
to get myself
outside
this point
of no
return
seems
impossible
seems
wasted
I won't stop
until I am devoured alive

I am the star
at an
event horizon

black hole
let me
free
half decent, half ****
In a society, image is everything. You are judged from the people you hang out with, the things you do, the clothes you wear.  People shout out that the boy sitting in the corner of gym class is too fat or whisper about how that girl down the hall is far too skinny.  The head of the dance team is told she has one too many curves and should not be “poppin’ and lockin’” with so much confidence, yet the cheerleader is criticized for her petite stature and flat chest.  The boy with the glasses?  He gets bullied daily for his lack of social activity, meanwhile the football **** is faking his confidence and putting on a persona simply to hold up his high school reputation.

Children grow up with the assurance that beauty is on the inside, and that what is on the outside doesn’t matter, yet this statement has proven itself to be false time and time again.  These children were lied to.  You were lied to.  I was lied to. The world is cruel.  It is judgmental and ignorant.  People are turned down their dream jobs over the most miniscule stupidities, such as the fact that they have a tattoo on their arm or because their hair is purple.  You are judged at every corner of your journey, and your world will always revolve around the physicality of how you look.  

No matter how many people believe that appearance is of little importance, there is always a whole world behind them willing to prove them wrong.  But that doesn’t mean we cannot dream.  Dream.  That’s all it is.  That promise that who you are on the inside is enough? It’s all a dreamful desire to look past the image your body presents.  And if dreaming is the only hope we have at being seen as our true self, than you better believe I’m going to keep on dreaming.

Because of the picture society has set out for me, I’ve constantly looked in the mirror seeing nothing but a disappointment.  Every day I find a new flaw, and every day, I realize I am even further from perfection.  But if I can dream that who I am on the inside is enough, than maybe I can become one of the first perfect imperfections out there.

You see, I have never wanted to be perfect, nor do I want to now.  Quite honestly, I don’t believe that perfection exists.  It is a myth.  And yet, everyone seems to be reaching to the stars, going out of their way to attain even the smallest ounce of this so called perfectionism.  Whatever you are reaching for, stop.  Stop and hear me out.  

Beauty is neither from within nor without.  Right is neither in this way nor in that way.  And perfection is neither in your world or mine.  Because we are one in the same.  And the only way to be what our society is calling perfect is to be as imperfect as possible.  Be yourself, because no matter what you do, I can promise you that you will be judged. With every step you take, expect a shadow to crawl up behind you and tell you are doing it wrong.  Expect to be an outcast and to not fit in “perfectly.” Expect to be criticized and ridiculed, because it will happen anyways.  Why are you going to strive to be perfect and risk losing yourself, when you can simply embrace each and every flaw to create the most beautiful imperfection possible?  Don’t live to please others.  Don’t strive to be perfect when perfection is nonexistent.  Embrace what your mamma gave you and rock each imperfection like it is no one else’s business. Because in the end, this is your dream, and being the captain of your own voyage is the only way to make it worth it.  It is the only way to become perfectly imperfect.
 Feb 2016 Pushkar Mishra
R
2/18
 Feb 2016 Pushkar Mishra
R
a gun and a violin;
a chain and a clasp;
a heart and it's beat;
what will break
first?
the rose still thrives even though it's a year old (as of 4 days ago)
Watch as it grows
Spout my beautiful rose
I watch as it blackens
I Watch as death beckons
Tears in eyes
why must all beautiful things die
When spring is calling
Life comes once agin
But when it's death reaches we gather
Say a prayer
As the beauty goes six feet under
All wonderful things must come to an end
So I watch
my beautiful black rose
I watch as it grows
About death
I am talking to you,
snake.
remember how
you hid your fangs
at first?
but it was not long
until
you sunk into
my flesh
trying to
****
away my positivity
away my compassion
away my warmth
use it for your
sustenance

you leech,
parasite,
passing as something human

not
any
more

when I think back on recent years
I am almost
thankful
to have met you.
don't for a second
think it's because I loved you
or we had good times
never
in a million years.
I am thankful
to have experienced
an abusive relationship
manipulation
codependency
the second I became
an adult.

I was not
an adult.
unaware
people like you existed
I did not stop being a child
until
the first night
you backhanded me
across the face
and with
the first slap
you smacked
my innocence
out of the window
never to be found
again.

you never let me
leave your sight
but,
after I lay
in a panic attack
traumatized
scared
of humanity
you told me to stay at "my" friends.
she was your
friend
not mine.

never trust
a friend
of the snake.

I came home early
you were in bed
with another woman
somehow
whenever I brought this up
it was never addressed,
never discussed,
instead
changed
and twisted
into something
that was
my
fault.

that didn't stop you
from accusing me
of infidelity
harassing me
about being a ****
when I was never
even
allowed to leave
the house
my hell.

I never for one second
loved you
nor was I ever
attracted to you
you
smelled my vulnerability
and went in
for the ****.

it took me months
but I left you.
you bawled
and shook
as you told me
you can't live without me.
******* die, then.
I had (have)
no sympathy
my eyes
were dead
cold
as I looked at you
weeping
like the pathetic
weak
waste of life
that you are.

I am thankful
because I taught myself
to be independent
to get a job
since then I have been
I will never
rely
on another
for my basic
necessities.
never
rely on a man
to give me
a place to rest
food
a shower
now,
I know where to look
in others
for the fangs
that you hid
from me,
from every woman
that has had
the displeasure
of meeting you.

I dont know why
I bothered opening
the first letter
you sent me
from jail.
told me
you know you shouldn't
have solicited
a fifteen year old girl
but you missed me.
she
reminded you of me.
now
I throw them out
without opening them.
that fifteen year old girl
is stronger
than you will ever be
for speaking up
and getting you
incarcinated.
she is
the reason
I support all other women -
specifically
younger girls.
I do not know her name
but
I know she will
be happier
than your miserable self
could ever
be.
ever.

I dont hate you.
I pity you
and your worthless
serpentine
body
slithering
covered in dirt
looking
for your next
vulnerable victim
to strike at.
when my dad found a snake
while mowing the lawn
he would chop off
it's head
with our largest knife
those animals
didn't deserve it.
but you do.
****.
if you are struggling with domestic abuse or anything I am here I have been through it you are strong and worthy of love I promise. message me.
a forgotten cardboard box in the garage
filled with your childhood toys
after the basement flooded
my edges are soaked and moldy
and when you pick me up
I will break
and my stuffing will fall out.

the unfinished scarf I started to knit
when I was eight
and quickly disposed of
for something more entertaining

the dry, crusted ****
from my sister's dog that
consistently, and unfaillingly
is on one of my favorite shirts
whenever I come home.

the moldy cup of orange juice
that sat on the top of my dresser
at my dad's for maybe two months
when I was 12
that I was too disgusted
to clean and wash down the drain
so it just sat
until finally I just opened my window
and threw it as far as I could
letting
nature make something of my trash.

my best friend when I was 14
told me she didn't want to be friends with me
because her mom thought I was a ****
and because
I ate her french fries
without asking.
earlier that year she wet the bed
when she was sleeping over my house.
I didn't make fun of her for it.

the sheets with her ***** stain on them that I threw into the wash.

the paper towels I used to soak up her ****.
my continuation/reply to one of my favorite poems by Sam Pink.
titled
"A PARTIAL LIST OF THINGS I FEEL LIKE RIGHT NOW"
from his book of poetry
I Want to Clone Myself then **** the Clone and Eat It

I really like when he does these list things. They are my favorite. tried to encorperate my own writing style to it.

Also for real buy his stuff or at least check out more of his work. He is my favorite poet and is really cool. Yeah. Long note but props go to him.
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