Words swathe me in calm,
Sentences, paragraphs that soothe.

Viridian verbs burst through the grey,
Taunting me into action-
Seducing me into a delicious dance-
Gypsy girl, swing your sentences my way!

Turquoise adjectives wrap around my wounds,
Embracing my flaws and perfections.
Rough olive skin; somber caesious eyes-
Gypsy girl, with amaranthine scars.

I drape myself over sienna nouns,
Steadfast, supporting me proper, improper, always.
Paper, songs, tree, sky, love, Jami Lee-
Gypsy girl, use your words correctly!

Each turn of a page lures me deeper-
Each spoken rhyme embraces me close-

Jami Lee, sweet little girl, get your head out of the clouds,
And your nose out of a book!

Our roots twist and twine...
His leaves are soft and plush.
Trunks pressed flush, spine to spine,
Whispering acceptance with each gentle touch.

Light against dark, sun-dappled silk and bark;
Here, in his cooling shade, I long to stay-
Differences insignificant, similarities stark;
Love, a simple word, to which we waste away our day.

He brightens the shadows
With such a caring smile...
Even you would lurk in his meadows,
And hope to stay a little while.

my sheets are a noose
every night i swing
swing my life away

my pillow is an ocean
every night i drown
in my own tears and hopes

the pills
the people
the harsh sunlight

during the day
i am protected
i can smile without worry

the Monster is asleep

pretty pills protect princesses

but my terror grows
as the sun sinks low
the sky bright red
like the blood the Monster sheds

i wait until morning
before my eyes close

in my tears i drown
in my dreams i die

screams wake me
oh, those are mine
i'm sorry
didn't mean to wake you
no, i'm fine
just a nightmare

just a nightmare

*The Monster eats pretty princesses when they close their eyes.

knuckles rubbed raw by
teeth so sharp and blunt
a tongue rough and silent

violent retching
self-harm for a throat
already held by a noose

she promises
just

one more cookie
one last bite
one last calorie
one last breath
one

the toilet bowl is her best friend
and she hugs it close
when no one can hear

she walked

foot on each crack in the sidewalk
the heel of her boot
sinking

and then her skin peels away
turpentine wiping away
the painting that is her mask

and she walked

she crumbled
her bones dust

come back
you've gone too far, little girl

the wind blows her away
the sun cremates her memory

and she is born again in the rain
sprouting from between
the cracks in the sidewalk

and she walked

Your eyes peel off my Polo,
Shimmy off my conservative slacks-
I am not a walking show.

I do not consent.

Your words strip me of my smile,
Your whistles devour my dignity-
I am not a dog, to be called to attention.

I do not consent.

I do not consent to this ritual humiliation,
I do not consent to this violation,
I do not consent to this dehumanization.

I do not consent.

no one knows pain
like
the ones
who
curse their beloveds
and
bleed their heart
dry


like
the ones
who
watch blood bubble up
from wounds
self-made

the ones
who
fill themselves up
just
to empty it all
in a bathroom stall

the ones
who
refuse their meals
and
live for the scale
because
numbers
don't leave

the crying poet
the bleeding cutter
the vomiting bulimic
the starving anorexic
the lost
the empty
the lonely
the unloved

the ones
who
love too much
and
not enough

no one knows pain
like
humans know pain

You Reap What You Sow

A sentiment that never quite stuck.

I did what I would-
Consequences were a punishment
for villains more obvious
than the sweet girl I played.

But the real world is not so biased,
peeling away the masks I wore

You Lay in the Bed You Make*

But my pillow is filled with thorns,
and my blanket is thread-bare.
The mattress is layered with spiders' webs
and the chill never abates.

I long for the One to warm my soul...
But it's been years since another has lain so close

For I sow seeds of deceit
and when they bloom
the fruit is bittersweet
and the stems cannot bear weight.

i'll tattoo these emotions across my wrists
because they're choking me all the way through my skin
wrapping around my veins
tainting my soul like a sick liquor

and no one will understand this suffocation
this slow sort of cancer spreading along my neurons

the numb stage is over
my smile now appears
but it's warped and it's deranged
just like the scars i create

i've been crying for hours
and there's no end in sight

and my nerves are exposed
innocent words
cut to the bone

i climb higher and higher




i topple over the edge

Step on the scale
fidget
fidget
"Three Digits!"
f a t

Shuffle back to Your Room
p r i s o n  c e l l

8:00AM
Drag yourself to the main desk
The Morning Medication line is long today
m i n d l e s s

Pretty pills fill your palm
They have changed colors today
They are all shapes, large and colorful
c y a n i d e

PLUNK PLUNK PLUNK

They dive into your empty stomach
Swim in acid and glide through your veins

Emotional Morphine-
You await the glorious numbness
s a n i t y

and still you crave the blade.

*b l o o d

it starts out
so innocently

a nagging thought in the back of your mind
a stray Post-It Note in the files of your memory

it flutters
caught in the breeze
of a wandering mind

another flutters
and then it rips free

you grab them
not knowing
their poison

fatuglystupidfatclingyhatefulfatselfishfatdirtytoxicfatf­atfat

you ****** them away
but they've already stuck
their glue coating your dendrites

you ignore them
the best you can

but their bright colours
and sharp words
flutter so very loudly
grabbing you the way
black-and-white normalcy cannot

months later
you sit at your desk
writing and smiling
and eating and giggling

when suddenly

you hear their flutter
and see that they have woven
into a gorgeous ribbon
of self-hate and pain

it wraps around your throat
freezing the words at the tip of your tongue

coaxing the food from your stomach
the breath from your lungs

and soon
the blood from your veins

you curl into a ball
and cover your ears
but there is no escaping

the ribbons are now ropes
tied tightly around your veins
around your throat
a noose
awaiting your next careless step

finally
you step off the edge of a loving home
or
trace your veins with a razor
or
find solace in a bullet

*suicidalworthlesscrazysuicidalsuicidalsuicidal

Words are not weapons,
And this is not a war.

The jingle-jangle of pills,
in a bottle, now in the trash.
The honey-sweet scent
of liquor in a glass.

The eye-searing shine
of an untouched blade.
The Cheshire cat grin
of a boy who doesn't know my name.

Life,
Should come with a CAUTION sign.

scarred skin
beckons so sweetly
razors gleam
and sing a siren's song

liquid fire
smells so sweet
bottles clink
and promise a forgetful haze

cabinets so full
cookies freshly baked
wrappers lure
and promise to fill the void

i close my eyes

grab my journal
leather so soft in my hands

and write

I Am Not Sad
I Am Not Alone
I Am Being Irrational

i cry for hours
because it feels like a lie

living in a recovering body
when my pain
aches for an escape
or a band-aid
however temporary

my tears could fill
the Atlantic

I've always dreamt of being a hero,
like all sufferers do.
Saving myself and yourself and all of their selves,
and maybe even the villain too.

Shining silver armor and a sword like gold,
a moral compass to never be lead astray.
Living in the name of a cause and the good of all-
Except those at the tip of the blade.

But what of the villain?
Their hopes, their loves, their moral grey.
Cut down at the finish line
by the self-righteous who cannot be stayed.

Your morals are absurd
and your means just as well,
It's not the angels that punish and save,
but those that trod in hell.

What angel knows of love,
or the suffering of a mortal soul?
The ache of a spurned affection
or the terror of growing old?

I didn't fall from heaven,
I happily stepped down.
No god or hero of any land,
could force my heart or hand bound.

My morals are nonexistant
and my armor riddled with dents.
And when they try me as a villain ******,
I'll say none of my misdeeds were well-meant.

I've been a million things in my life,
And worn a million faces like masks in an eighteenth century opera house where they tell you to scream like you mean it and whispers are never heard because the crowd is already on their feet and the roses smell too sweet.

But today I wear nothing but my ego,
My ego,
So Jungian, Freudian, the sought-after prize of a million men who won't ever compete with my constellation scars or the sharp sound of my teeth clicking together in a cruel grin.

You hate girls that strut like they're concrete because you broke them all before,
Because they're lies and false gods and you swear that youth today are all spat words and flying ***** not given.

I'm not youth today,
I'm an age-old god of war and pride and I'll cut you down like a whisper in the wind if you try my patience...

Because what is death if not being forgotten?
I'll forget you, if you try my patience.
I've forgotten a million fragile egos and I'll crumble your concrete into pixelated dust like a million tiny claps in an eighteenth century opera house that can't tell if the blood on my hands is real.

I've been a million things in my life,
But I'm finally the one that matters: unforgettable.

You always say my heart is probably shoved up my ***, exactly where I've planted my head.
But I'd rather be kissing a cracked mirror than finding my lips against the zipper of your jeans.

my seams are ripping

but the needle is too heavy
and i am out of thread

my seams are ripping

i am far too tired
to sew myself back together again

my seams are ripping

*saveme

I pour my sorrow into words
My pain into paragraphs

My blood bubbles
between layers of skin

My tears
cascading down
bright red cheeks

But, just a glance at the screen
And
I feel boulders
lift from
these tired,
slumping shoulders

Her words are so sweet
Innocent and pure
She wishes faeries
and flowers
and sunshine
galore

My cynicism softens

My hard shell bypassed

Tears stop
Blood clots

I remember
that there is still
brightness
love
positivity
and faerietales.

And life, I can suddenly bear.

No one has ever opened the door
after it creaked closed.

No one has ever grabbed my hand
when it waved good bye.

No one has ever taken a moment to stay,
when I told them to go.

And so goes the temporary life
of a temporary person
who slips like sand
between fingers that do not clasp tightly.

You praise me like you’re preaching gospel and I’m terrified that someday you’ll convert to another religion.

a l o n e
again

i cry salty clear tears

and

bleed my sadness
like a medieval disease

until

i'm numb
*again

Words normally flow like water
past parted lips with a steady voice-
But forever I lacked conviction,
no pastor at a pulpit.

But now,
But now,
But now,

I love you is my only poem-
it falls like an echo of your eloquence.
But with faith,
now a believer at the altar.

But now,
But now,
But now,

Where has my eloquence gone?
Where have steady hands fled?
Hands shake, waiting to thread with yours.
Words fail, lips waiting to be silenced by your tongue.

But now,
I wait
with faith and bated breath.

impatience shakes my hands-
once steady,
now trembling
with the suppressed desire to possess you.