you know
just as soon
as i'm settled
here you come
crashing in
like a trucker
asleep at the
wheel while
driving back
and forth from
coast to coast

my god do i
welcome these
collisions full
of rainy phone
conversations
and hopeful
hints of something
beautiful to
come my way

i'll come see
you in a dog
pile and we'll
find ways to
figure out
how to make
the unworkable
work because
we can and i
want you more
than i want
anyone and,
jesus, that's
what counts,
isn't it?

so what if
we're chock
full of fights,
fears, and
fantasies?
we're both
just children
looking for
a hand to hold
and yours
feels better
in mine
than most

i am in love with you
in the worst way

creeping thoughts that
tell me it's over loom in
crevices and corners no
matter how bright
the sun shines

every moment i'd like a
hand in mine, it's yours
i picture and then it's gone,
one ****** digit at a time,
til i'm left with nothing
but a dripping stump

i write you with depth
and decisiveness, but you
want none of it and
for some reason, i am
not deterred

i will hang from spanish
moss and bide my time
amongst cicadas as leaves
fall and seasons crawl on,
i will wait until these bugs
breathe life into this earth
again and again and again

this cannot be it,
because i love you,
even if it's in the worst way,
i just wish that you could
see how big this love is
without my wearisome words

we have a peace plant in our living room
when it's thirsty it's leaves drag on our dust
filled floors and it's blooms look like the
eyelids of the old ******* that walks
around on grant street when she's looking
for change to buy her next forty- brown,
bruised, and sagging, as if they've seen
enough to last them a lifetime

i oblige the ***** often, giving her
quarters and whatever else i can find
in my backpack, i oblige the plant too,
giving it water and opening the blinds,
but neither seem to be reaching a better
quality of life, despite my best efforts

i find myself in inconceivably unforgiving
situations often, because of my best
efforts, and i'm beginning to wonder
when i lost sight of what it means
to really, truly, wholeheartedly give

someone please let
me in
on when life loosens its
tightening, frightening grasp
on my reality

this is my white flag
this is my deafening thud

as skull meets asphalt in deadly heat
blood pours out and boils beside my face
scents of pavement, iron, and salt swarm my nostrils

and if i'm not pathetic, then i'm prophetic
ahead of my time,
or better yet, eons behind

don't wanna slow down, don't wanna catch up

rather be ****** up,
yeah,
i'd rather be ****** up

how do I love a family that failed to protect me?

a mother who refuses to advocate and stand up for me because she’s so entrenched in patriarchy that she can’t imagine holding her son accountable

a father who taught us every day that violence, manipulation, and fear were useful tools against the ones you love

a brother who I emulated and admired, who took a piece of me that I’ll never get back, who attacked me and almost killed me, and now asks for my forgiveness and friendship

a sister who I have failed, despite my only intention being the ability to show up for her

I find myself bound to this, the repression wearing off with age as anchors disregard gravity and float to the surface, bringing with them darkness dredged from the depths

I keep wondering when I will transform into the me that isn’t defined by this, but the internet keeps repeating that the only transition I’ll ever make is from victim to survivor

I wish there was a slate to wipe clean, instead I am left human with humans, people with stories like the one written above, flawed and unsure of how to go on

to sink slowly i write word after word to you -
wondering, but only sometimes

i don't worry but a little, and i'm sure to do it
in spanish because i feel more romantic that way

i wait every once in awhile, but even then i'm still
moving - you see i am free now and to me that means
never sitting still, even when i do rest my bones

i see something within you even though my eyes
aren't looking at you, i see it in the ether and in the
in between and in the night sky and in the lake bottoms

i see it when i wake and when i drift and when i am not
sure if i'm here nor there

i see it in the cards i read and the breath that moves me and
the stretch that soothes and the stars that speak

i wish to scoop you up into my mountains and hide you
in the craters of the crescent moon that kisses their peaks

i wish to build tracks next to yours and roam this earth
parallel with one another, until we've nowhere else to roll

i wish to know you, and for once, i think,
i'd like to let someone know me

everything is temporary
everything is temporary
everything is temporary
until it's permanent

the muscles in my right arm
break and rebuild
as i sloppily throw the mop
into the grey water
accented with glitter and swirling with paint
tiny finger and shoe prints
litter the linoleum
and i can't help but smile

fourteen hours later
i sleepily climb into my car
and i watch the sky as i drive, not the road
and the sun begins to lift it's eyelids
and it looks as if the sky is bleeding out
slowly, but surely

and as i drive on autopilot
i think to myself,

i can do this
i can do this
i can do this
until i can't

necessary means to an end

sloppy seconds turn into somber slumber
and i'm still spinning in a universe that's unsure
unrest becomes irreversible, irreplacable, irrevokable
slipping through cynical sunrises and statistically normal sunsets

grab hold to the ground, hug gravity tight as everything
tries to fling me from functionality and into so called "freedom"
find focus, find focus, find focus

hocus pocus hums under hymns spoken hesitantly
and i hesistate again and again, i hesitate
finding the magic within the madness is my specialty
sometimes so much so that i subject self to sinking slowly
into the muck that ***** my skin off of my bones

flapping floppy lips leak loosly limp ideals and i look
to my black widow for conviction, confirmation, and consistency
meditative mornings and deep dark evenings become the norm
housing imaginary friends and hoping to inspire intellectual integrity

family finds new meaning in full ****** up webs that spin
us all up and spit us out on the same ground, but we are safe
here in our humble, happy home, we are safe and we are
happy in the simplest sense of the word

when i get ****** up
it starts in my teeth
i can always tell
by the way my chompers feel

candy flipping,
rolling,
tripping ***** ,
smoking blunts

my teeth get this feeling
like they're not quite right
it's hard to explain
just how they feel
but i know that something
is quite unreal

they feel sort of fuzzy,
strange to the touch
i rub my tongue on them
and i can't feel much

then the rest of me starts
to fall into place
wave after wave
crashes over me
i begin to feel it physically
the next thing i know
my mind is wandering far
to lands that i haven't seen in awhile

i know that many
will look at me harshly
for this confession
but i'll be honest,
i love to be ****** up

you know the first time
that you go home after
you've finally cut
the 20-something year old
cord, and you
sit at the dinner table like
always, in the same seat
you've sat in since you
left your high chair, and
dad's made turkey enchiladas,
and you're reaching for
the hot sauce, and then
just as he grabs it to hand
it to you, you notice it first
in the age spots, and then
you follow it to the white
in his beard, and then it's
all written in his deep set eyes,
and his crows feet, and his
cheek bones that seem to
stick out more than ever
and you can't seem to
peel your eyes away
from the man you've known
since birth, even though
you could paint his
face with your eyes closed,
or at least his face the
way you still see it when
you have your
eyes closed

dad, when did you get old?

resist every urge
the urge to fight back
the urge to be complacent
the urge to get ****** up
the urge to be sober
the urge to stop sniffing,
stop smoking, stop slipping,
the urge to be better
the urge to be awful
the urge to **** everyone
the urge to **** no one

find balance, find balance, find balance
tell me one more time, tell me once more, go ahead, tell me

i'm not blind and i haven't forgotten
what it means to listen,
to listen
and actually hear,
to hear
and actually process,
to process
and actually understand

you can be as brilliant as you
are beautiful, as beautiful as you
are bold, as bold as you
are benevolent,
it doesn't mean anything if you
haven't got the means to mean
what you say and say what you mean

somewhere along this long road
i missed the lesson of self control
and jesus christ, if it isn't true
what they say about teaching an
old dog new tricks

tonight was the last time
i'd walk into my yard
without shoes on
and not lose my toes
to the frost that breathes on the back
of our necks
even though the shine from the sun
still freckles our faces

i stood there and held steady
as bailey ran figure eights around me
weaving in and out of the rhododendrons
knowing just how long his leash would reach
before his collar snagged on his windpipe

i looked over the fence,
saw that your light was on,
but i knew you were gone
being pumped full of formaldehyde
and by now they had cut you open
and taken out my favorite part of you

i thought of the time when i was just four
and you rolled over on that ride on mower
wearing that old hat you'd gotten
back when they called you the anaconda
your skin was like chocolate and i thought to myself,
now that man looks delicious

my daddy handed me to you over the fence
and i sat on your lap, we mowed your two acres together
you singing stevie wonder, me singing the beatles
back and forth we went until every last blade was clipped

i rolled down the sledding hill and you smoked your cigar
and laughed when i got up and couldn't figure out
if i was looking up at the sky or down at the earth

and when your big hands
held my tiny shoulders
the world stopped spinning
i looked down and there was
the tiny gold locket that i still have today

my momma called me for dinner
and you picked me up,
put me on my side of the fence
and winked at me like you always did
but that day was different, that day you said,
erin ann, you're the daughter i never had

i know that the blood
that runs from my heart to my brain
to my finger tips as they write this
is not the blood that no longer
races through your veins,
but lord knows,
that won't make
watching them throw the dirt
on top of you
any easier

reality sinks in
like thousands of pins
piercing my skin

this is home
in the sense
that i've lived endless days here,
but i've never felt
more lost in my life

down the rabbit hole
   i go
only this time i'm
falling
         alone

things were much
simpler
when your hand
was always in mine

when i land
with a thud
at the bottom
of this long
tunnel
things are too dark
and my eyes
have trouble
adjusting

this time there's
no one to lead me

i crawl on all fours
through the dirt and grime
mud caked onto my fingers and toes
creepy crawlies
scuttle across my appendages
but i don't mind,
i welcome the company

does anyone even know i'm still here?
covered in every holiday imaginable -
easter, christmas, halloween, even the last owner's menorah.

i'm full of dust
and i'm not sure of
the last time i saw light
from under the collection
of all things forgotten.

these curtains
that hang over my edge
have got psychedelic swirls
of orange and brown.
i can't tell
if it's *****
or a design.

eyes peer up
over my ledge
periodically, but
no one seems to see me
buried beneath
the mountainous
memories that i've collected.

loan gloves call out
for their partners
and their voices go hoarse
over the years,
but they never quit.
my ears grow tired of
their low pleading groans.

prized possessions
that once put human's
eyes aglow now sit
in sorrow and stew in the
realization that they have
truly been forgotten,
much like myself.

i remember the hands
that cut me
from an old oak
in mississippi.
i wonder if those hands
remember me.

heart beat hammers as i
appear to study holy
horoscopes over green tea
and grand gestures

i'm sure you've come to
tell me where your
hack sawed heart still
lies, barely beating,
instead i learn of your
new found freedom as
we take our buckets
full of *****, bad habits,
abusive fathers, brazen
moms and bare it all
on the table between
sabre's shots in the
laundromat as i fold
every ******* item of
clothing that i own

i begin to dread the
departure and the
growing space that looms
between us so i ****
you in with the promise
of a six pack and vinyls

satiated for only so long
you find my fresh buzz
and the blank lines between
us vanish, hands on my
head and lips on my neck,
i'm holding on tight, but
it's only a matter of time
until reality escapes me

quick trip down the
slopes and i'm over flowing
with what defines me,
our tempos are timed by
the too fast kits that
hammer in sync in our chests

sun's coming up and
luna's got more than just
moons in her eyes, she
sees me and then looks
beyond me into past lives

i'm reminded what it is
to actually feel something
and the passion is exhilerating
and terrifying as my
numbness is washed away,
wave after wave, in
comfortable silence
******* cigarettes and
slipping through
song after song

******* you pisces,
with your gaping emotional wounds
that rot slowly from the inside out
and your innate genuine self that makes
it impossible for you to pretend the
darkness of the world won't eat you alive
like the rest of us

**** your artistry and self expression,
the only thing you leave behind for
the rest of us to stare longingly at
and wish wistfully that there would be
one more poem, song, story, dance

most of all i **** on your sweetness,
the way you flowed through this world
filling one soul after the next and
never remembering that you can't
fill a cup once yours is empty

i wish i had known,
i would've filled you up

i'd like to rip out a chunk of each of you
tantalizingly slow, i'll dig my dirt crusted finger tips into your flesh
never breaking eye contact as one after the other
you squirm and beg for mercy

i'll take needles, thick and crusted with rust,
and piece together a patchwork of my broken hearts
watch as all of the things i miss most become one

i'll stare at my conglomerate of lovers and will
find myself swooning the way i often do over all of you,
only this time i won't fear the cavernous plunge to come

how could the most beautiful pieces of all the
men i've ever loved scorn me?
i'll just have to put up with the stench of decomposition

aldous huxley told me twice,
'that men do not learn very much
from the lessons of history is the
most important of all the lessons of history,'
both times i put my pen to the page
and re-read what he had said
until i thought i understood

today i watched big fish and
thought of spectre longer than
i probably should have,
where is it that i arrived before
the road was paved to bring me there?
when will i return?

i know i don't need to figure out
timing because that's what fate's for,
but with a wild wandering mind
it's difficult to detract senseless what-if's
from buzzing about in my brain

tonight i delete excess and make plans
to live a life that doesn't declare ignorance
of what preludes each step taken,
tonight i find sollace in full moons and
figure if there's anything i've learned
thus far, it's just as aldous said,
live life as if you've learned something

fast fingers send off
flashes of unfinished
fragments to friends
when i can't find
the light

feeling the weight
of each raindrop
that slides down
my window pane
glossed over
with grime,
corrosion and
dry rot have
me uneasy and
i'm sick of
a mouth that
drowns in
it's words

entrapped in my
fortress, i can't
leave these blankets,
but sleep won't
come easy and
once it arrives,
i will dream of
lost keys and
lone gloves, of
ceilings with
no floors, of
sneakers on
wires and children
with bare feet
desperately trying
to reach what
they cannot

i'll wake with a
gasp and wonder
where i've been
hiding and hear
the same sounds
that sent me
this way

of raindrops
on glass pains, of
deep breaths
and whispers, but
i'll never know
what they're
trying to say

i've met you before,
watched you mutate,
witnessed the moment you crumble
and usually i lend a hand
in putting you back together

i've seen who you are,
a self prescribed new birth,
but still the same sad sack that felt like
you had to leave it all behind
to really start over

i've laughed at you in secret,
knowing that will never do the trick,
no amount of outward reimagining could
ever undo the fact that you
will never love who lives within

i've learned from you, finally,
watching my own potential destiny,
as it unfurls slowly and surely in the
same steady footfalls that
only ever lead to self destruction

i've longed to let go of you,
but without my own permission,
i always came back to the place where
you stand still in time stuck
battling between ego and self

i've met you before,
seen where this takes us,
and this time i've decided to forget
my innate empathic impulses
and to run like hell

don't think for a second that ******* upside down doesn't count, because it ******* does. rough cheeks in mean hands, sneering lips that linger on a sickly smooth neck that's been trying to hang itself for an eternity. you are my guiltiest pleasure, i scream so loudly that i'm sure the entire west side is eating up the dirt from beneath my toenails. ****, we both wear it well. beauty means less and less everyday, and i miss it from the bottom of my ******* to the neurons that **** around in my ****** up skull. i count freckles because it's the only thing i can do and you ask me to rip you open and i can't remember where i left off so i decide we'd better just ****. when did i get off the bus? i'm sure this isn't my stop, but i've been sitting on my hands so long that i'm not entirely sure if they're there, or just numb. you make them move, to cut off the oxygen and blood flow so that you sigh deep and long with me beneath you. foolish of you to throw away your last remaining breath, so foolish that i smile wide. i am nothing if not evil, ripped from eve's flesh and bones. you tell me i can't have him because i'll ruin him, but the truth is, i'm already in ruins. millions of years ago, i was something to behold, but now people walk within me and feel a strange heaviness because they desperately want to see what they've missed. there is no rewind button on the remote, just fast forward and forward and forward and forward and forward. don't ******* look back.

the tree's roots reaching down to hell and branches soaring up to the heavens reminds of us of the duality that dwells within.

lest we forget our immortality, the fallen giants of the forest reminds us that immortality forgets no one - we all return to feed the earth.

funny how it ends so quickly
when the beginning seems
to last an eterinity and then some

all it takes is one missed foot step
or perhaps a mispoken word
or maybe just one text read out of
context to send the inevitable spiral
down the ******* drain

i wish that i cared more, that i cried
more than just three stupid, simple,
stunned tears, not because i have lost you
but because you have lost me and i
can't quite understand what makes you
think that i am deserving of being lost

i will stay awake and stare at the spot
where you told me you wanted to spend
a life time staring at the universe with me,
i will stay awake and wish that my phone
would vibrate with your name on the screen,
i will stay awake and i will do absolutely nothing
because the ball has been in your court
for so long that it's deflated and brittle and
all it does is land with a thud on the ground

i will stare at stamp ridden hands and remember
how you stared at me and saw nothing worth
saving or having and i will cut the strings between us
and wait for the wind to whisk me away

what better
secret is there
than that of lust? lovers using
their lips to share sacred stories
without speaking a single word.

skin slips off of bone,
the slow dripping of
the very essence of life
leaving me, an endless
moment after moments
that sped by quicker
than my vision could capture

i want to know why
everything is painful now,
why i've forgotten
how to care for my bones
that ache like they have
had enough moving
for sixty lifetimes

it may be spring, and i
may be a chicken, but
connecting the two seems
impossible  

staring in the mirror i
dive into dark circular
pools and vow to leave
my vices on the crayon-
colored table in our
living room

i am so used to being
saved, but now i wear
the thorny crown befitting
the savior, and the
blood that trickles down
my lips tastes like warm,
sad failure

these moments always stick out,
like the branches that would get caught
in the creek where i'm sure i smoked a joint with you,
but the truth is you remember more of me

i'm sure that this sensation is falling, but i can't recall
what it feels like to have it happen because
your soul reflects someone else's -
maybe i've never known that kind of love

you whispered to me about a party at joe's,
how it was your first time coming round and
i introduced myself, about a kiss i stole in a
dive bar, about sleeping with me in my tiny bed

i wish i could remember, but whiskey stole
those memories away when i was just a little
girl with no real understanding of what it meant
to hold a man and know i might hold him forever

when i lay my insecurities in the mossy beds of
the forests that make up our existence here, i find
you looking at me in a way that leaves me without
fear, and instead a peace that's bigger than all of this

the universe whispers to me while i sleep - sweet
sounds of a greater good, a love that lives within and
without us, an interconnected force that feeds the soul -
i find you amidst it all, your only wish, to hold me

today i hold
the hand of existence,
of self, of muddled
understanding, and
sight through scratched
and hot-breath-fogged
lenses caught between
sun and tsunami

i will be still through
torrential downpours
of doubt, desire, and
detriment, because i
must learn to be still
and to be soaked to
the bone with what
each storm i've born
washes over me

while skin may prune
and hold moisture, mind
and soul will hold nothing
but the breath which
never ceases to come
and go, whether in
this life or the next

to be alive is not to be
conscious, but to be
conscious is to be
truly alive

i wish to be alive
i will be alive

and all will
begin and end
with a breath

misplaced keys end up
in the space between
dusty floorboards
under forgotten childhood beds
squeezed into far away nooks
in attics filled with
hundreds of burnt out lightbulbs
in houses with endless doors
and not one single doorknob

i find myself within them
when i drift off under the universe
i wake with aching legs for
i can't stop hunting, though
i fear i'll never find the
secret passageway i'm sure
lurks beneath a stairway or
perhaps beyond a fireplace

there is a certain key that i
seek and although i can't recall
it's shape, or color, or size,
once it is in the palm of my hand
i will know it because it will fit
within my fist, which just so happens
to be the size of my beating vessel

i'll take that old, rusting key
and ever so delicately
stick it in the depths of my chest
i'll hear the creaking and cracking
and feel the sensation of a
sleeping beast awakened
and i will rise knowing
that i no longer have to wander
this wild world alone

girls with twisted souls
stand together
and marvel at
the beauty of life

they feel the lowest lows
and take blow after blow -
head, body, head, body,
but they always pick
each other back up
and shove each other
in the right direction
for their souls
are twisted together

we're dancing in a bar
i'm wasted
you're pretending to be wasted
the band's alright
but let's be honest
i want the drummer
i always did have a thing for percussionists
i don't even know you
but you're acting like i do
i roll with it
hand on my back
i can roll with it
you're a good dancer
i'll give it to you
now things are going fast
i'm spinning round and round and round
you lean in and say
"you can't lead yourself"
god, if i could have stopped right there
and told the whole bar
what you said to me
who the **** are you?
you are no one
no one no one no one
clearly you have no idea
who i am
i lean back in and say
"i don't need anyone to lead me"
smile my prettiest smile
and spin away
spin away spin away spin away
i'm gonna spend the rest of my days
spinnin away

i will weave you into
the borders of my existence
strong hands, smooth lips, moments
where eyes met pavement when
they should have met my own

i will remember it all,
the way that you stood there
and grew roots instead of
keeping up, don't feel bad,
almost no one can

i thought you were different,
but even brilliance can be
poisoned by doubt

beauty doesn't get you
anything of value,
just things, things that are
fleeting and unimportant,
beauty gets you objects that
grow stale and stupid,
objects that rot and wither,
objects that disappear

i'd rather lose this face forever

i spend my sundays waiting for the sun to reach the edge of my sagging roof porch and
in the sprawling moments in which i wait i flip through pages which tell me of my destiny
and i try to figure out why the **** i care about a future that i may never know,
but good god do i care.

these words swim in front of me like creatures in an effervescent pool, glowing green,
because of some strange algae **** that sticks to them and their surroundings,
forever catching my eye and interest, though they will never leave the pool, or in this case,
the pages on which they lie.

i analyze each past moment in contingency with each morsel of advice this book has to offer
and i wonder how many times i've already ****** up on my karmic path,
but somehow i find comfort in the small intricacies that weave within my own existence,
time passed in the way the book spells it out.

i start to wonder if this is any different than witch craft, or religion,
and i find myself faced with another question, what exactly do i believe in?
suddenly i realize that the purpose of this book isn't to give me answers, it's to make me ask questions,
and that's when i slam it shut.

i'm sick of answering questions and wondering who i am, like i'm some ******* hero from an epic,
plus the sun's starting to warm the dark roof that scrapes my bare feet when i pace back and forth,
and the only thing that makes sense right now is going outside and
lighting my last ******* cigarette.

how do you draw a line
in metamorphic rock?
between self growth
and selfishness
all of the lines
become so blurry,
it's like sobriety
means absolutely
nothing.

I wish that I could
put my brain in your
skull so that you
could understand
just what kind of
mountains I have climbed
and how close I feel
to the summit.

these blurred lines and
rock giants are better
left unsaid, but that
does not mean I don't
wish that you'd ask
what I'm thinking.

study finger prints,
raw meats, strange sounds,
humans on the sidewalk,
cracks in the faces that
we're given, slow moving
birds saying their goodbyes

take all of these particles
of life, of love, of whatever
it is we're put here to do

take them and put them
somewhere safe
because one day either
we'll be gone, or they will,
and the missing will go on
infinitely, it will go on

it will resonate off of
old walls that used to
house our twin sized beds
on dusty wood floors,
then deep into canyons
out west that look like sand
castles shoveled by tiny hands
at race point beach on the
fourth of july,
then through metros
that rush all day but never
really end up anywhere

they will brush by those
who feel the sudden change
in the air around them,
like a hand touching their shoulder,
or the wind spewing
from their lungs a little
too quickly

they will sit and wonder,
and they will begin to study
the sand in their shoes,
moonlight through branches,
children's books, the way
bricks are laid, how a face
can crumple or illuminate
at a moments notice

they will take these pieces
and tuck them away, just
as the impending infinite
missing closes in

i wish i could tell you why i am this way,
why i see you and love you and still want to rip you to shreds

i look inward and backwards and beyond
and i see a young woman, a little girl, a grandma -
all of them intertwining fear and love,
sewing the edges together with stitches as they
sit by a fire and watch the quilts of their lives converge

each one beautiful, each one tragic, each one alone -
always wondering whether any outside eyes will ever
look past all of the complexities to see the simple truth -
we're all just looking for love without toxicity,
for love without contingency, for love without jealousy

i want you to look me in the eyes and see my faults
and love me regardless of the blood that drips from
my fingertips from pricking myself time and time again
with the quilting needle that's pieced together my sad story

i want you to know that my insides have been stolen
from me since before i can remember, and i may be
nothing if not afraid but i've learned that bravery is the
best mask out there, and that sometimes people are
worth trusting, and that maybe if i don't rip you to shreds
i might look into your eyes for awhile and find home

i have always been slightly overweight,
watching the numbers fall and rise,
5 to 50, i've seen it all-
but as long as i'm healthy and happy
with my whole heart i can say,
i don't mind

i don't mind having thighs
that go bump in the night,
i don't mind giving my lover
something to bite,
i don't mind having a body
with valleys and hills,
i don't mind having an ***
that gives men chills,
i don't mind that i'm curvy
and fill out my clothes,
i am woman, i am wonderful,
and i don't care who knows

with stigmas and diets
attacking our sight,
i'll give you a body that's
not under society's plight,
maya taught me well
when she told us all
that women are their own
and women are phenomenal

i'm in love with myself
and i don't care who knows,
i am woman, i am wonderful,
and i don't mind

love is my burden, my curse, my devil
the voice that whispers dark ***** spells
into my ear that's been bitten by many
who's compliments have started to sound like drones

and i ensnare them with enchantment, and wonder, and excitement
and they see me in a way that just isn't real
because i'm a creature of persuasion born
to float like a gas, sure, you can see me
but you can't hold me or feel
what's below the surface, so lovely,
a demon that burns from the inside out

a siren, i sing a song of beauty and bounty
as they steer for the rocks, i wear a smile
and i almost sink with them, but i'm still laughing
because i know they're the only ones
that are going to drown

you are the madonna among us,
the shining ray of light that stabs
us in the chest and rips our hearts
out only to make them better, less
crusted in the black mess that's
always being left behind when
our beating vessels are smashed
to bits, you hold our very fiber of
self in your tiny hands and throw us
up into the universe until we've
gained enough perspective to float
back to earth and live as the humans
we were meant to be upon birth

what i mean to say, is that i don't
know you, but i love you, because
you give me more than the people
that leak words into my skull day
after day, i find myself inside of
what you create and then i throw
up on the page, or snap my shutter,
or doodle a dream from deep within
the impulses that barge around bumping
into my eyelids within the darkest depths

tonight, i will rip resin and spin off
into a place where nothing can touch me,
i will stare at the universe upon my ceiling
and imagine the dazed look upon your
face as you do the same, tonight, i will not
lose myself inside of the thoughts that may
or may not belong to someone else, instead,
tonight, you and i, will set me free

feelings
that i thought
were my own
sloppily spill out
out of the ****
in my face
that you carelessly
made with the dullest of blades

i can't stop them from escaping
and my cheeks
burn crimson
as i watch my
most intimate thoughts, feelings, moments
drift away
down stream
the entire world standing
on either side
drinking in
my misery

you stand there
smiling
and try to strike up
friendly conversation
fully knowing
that i can't possibly speak
because of the
endless flow of emotional *****
that escapes me now

my earth eyes burn
you to the core
but you feel nothing

you never did feel anything
did you?

i don't want to immortalize you,
i want to keep you in a tiny box
with a handsome photo of you
next to each and every thing
you write when you feel whatever
it is that you feel when you write

i don't want to work hard at this,
because i know what that yields
and i'm pretty sure neither of us
has the capacity to grow much
of anything other than ourselves
into what we're destined to become

i don't know who she is,
this woman who talks to you
without fear of rejection or
retribution despite the fact
that i'm saying things i never
thought would roll off of
my disciplined tongue

i don't want much from you,
other than words and long looks
and touches and carnal attraction
and time when you can spare it
despite the truth of how little
excess either of us seem to possess

sometimes it feels as if
i fold myself up into
origami, each limb
littered with tiny creases
so that i can fit inside
of the box created for me
by society, my family,
and at times, myself

i become so small,
so easily lost and forgotten,
but i am always beautiful,
and perhaps, that is
the saddest part

knowing that you
will stand in my place
next to him
wearing the dress
that should have
given me wings
hurts

my ice face
is melting, much
to my dismay
and my stone heart
is crumbling
despite being forged
from granite

i've sworn myself
to a life of secrecy
stuffing my self
in a jar much too small
to contain me
i put a boulder on top
but the strength of that rock
is nothing compared
to the desire i've got
to let it all pour out of me

in a world
where we
all crave to be
understood,
but different
and complex,
all at once
i was left
feeling as if
i were in
a cat's cradle -
undeniably
wrapped and tangled
around myself

for many moons
i tried to
believe
that it was me
and my lack
of an explanation
that could not
be translated
to the language
you had begun
to speak
that was quite
different
from my
native tongue,
but i began
to realize
that speech
had nothing to
do with it,
and it was
your refusal
to open your eyes
fully and drink in
all that i had
laid out
before you

i contemplated
myself often
and the idea
of change
flitted around
inside of my skull
like birds trapped
in a cage -
i knew i had to
set them free

it's been said to me
and i've said it
to myself,
i will find the one
who wears no
blinders,
who speaks my
language,
who wants me
fully

i will find that one
in due time,
when the timing
seems wrong
and i haven't
the time,
he will show up
and drink me
in and fill
himself completely,
and snip away
the strings
that have rendered
me useless
when it comes to love

why do i bother?
knowing that lifting you up
only makes me sink further
into the dirt

soon enough i'll be six feet under
scratching at the soles of your feet
but you'll smile and laugh and say,
"oh how that tickles!"

that's just like you
to forget who you climbed over
to get to the top
the only thing that matters
is where you are now
and i'm ashamed
that i've let this go on

will i always wear my wishbone
where my backbone belongs?

now i sit here among the bugs and rocks
watching myself decay
from my feet up
and as my bones begin to protrude through my skin
jutting out at odd angles
and ever so slowly breaking down
to become one with the earth
i realize, too late
that you weren't worth it

the night that the earth stood still
i backed up into a parked car
and ran away drenched in cowardice
with guilt dripping off of me in long greasy streaks
like oil leaking out, painting the pavement
a color that none of us quite understand

i played games and ****** ruthlessly
and gobbled up a luna that came from a place
where the sun was still shining
and people were going to drop off their minds

i wore boots and stomped loudly
up old creaky stairways
with lace curtains whispering
of past indiscretions,
but i didn't listen,
just breezed on by

and when morning came and i laid there in silence,
except for the jangling of my bracelets
as i searched for the words that would sail me back to you,
i knew all at once that i was a liar and fraud

the earth was now moving
and i loved you, god, i loved you,
but i have never been on time

i avoid pen and paper
i can't stand the sight of it
when i'm not able to get
the words out right

lately i'm an oldsmobile,
sputtering smoke and
coughing cogs as i
attempt to make my
way up a hill that seems
to have no end

i'm desperate for horizon,
but all i can focus on
are the next four inches

my life, mired by tragedy,
defined by triumph, lived
as best as i can muster,
which is pretty good lately

i feel myself unfolding into
who i want to be, but still
there are points where the
transformation is nearly
unbearable, the height of
the discomfort that comes
hand-in-hand with change

i find myself proud, exhausted,
lost, sure, alone, but the
point is that i find myself,
a gentle reminder that i'm
doing alright simply by being

i hate the smell
of freezing knuckles
wrapped in tobacco
and garlic

the weight of snow
filled porches and
conversations about
when i will get out
of this spiral

i will get out of this

you're nothing,
i'm everything,
you're nothing,
i'm everything

i will repeat this
as stars sing me to
sleep and sun wakes
me up, i will repeat
this, until i finally
believe