i forgot you
on the eve of my 24th celebration
of life on this earth
and it was as if i finally
buried the dead bird
that stopped fluttering in my chest
a year and a half ago

you fought your dirt
games with blinding manipulation
and all of the hand grenades,
switch blades, battle brigades
you could muster

i stood and watched
an old world crumble
but laughed aloud at your naivety
i had rebuilt this kingdom
from ground up
and the only master that mattered
was me

upon waking
i dance, pony, dance
and tell you what
the universe holds
in it's palms for you

my brain is still
trying to rewire
after a night of floating
that didn't amount
to much despite
the vice i placed it
within before the start

i wonder if you've
found the tiny flame
to brew your morning
coffee in that small
space you call home,
and then i realize, it
doesn't matter, even
if you're awake i still
have no business
crawling inside a place
that is explicitly yours

instead i sleep in leather
skirts and wake unable
to open my eyes because
i'm not ready to see a
world that deems me unfit
to love, despite knowing
that i'm the one doing the
reflecting and no one really
cares about my scarred
insides as much as i do

i find myself reluctant
to heal this time, working
slowly to touch every
inch of the broken and
beautiful pieces that make
me into the woman i am,
finding peace in the fact
that i am for the first time
truly and completely alone

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

remember the time
i lost my mind back
in college?

lauran had to drive
up and get me
because i couldn't
trust myself to be
behind the wheel

you didn't know me
yet, but you walked
me around campus
to look at the art

you were always
comforting

when i got home
i was put on meds
and back to school
i went, but something
inside of me was
empty, like someone
had been stealing
scoops of my soul
while i was passed
out after my nights of
drinking *****
from water bottles

i remember the terror
i felt while i called
my parent's cell phones
and the house again,
and again, and again,
but no one answered,
it was 2 in the morning,
and i was convinced
that i would cry myself
to death in that empty
common room

sometimes i still feel
as if i could cry myself
to death, even though
i won't allow it, and i
don't always want to
drive because i know
that i'm not to be
trusted behind the wheel,
and there are times when
i feel like i am calling,
and calling, and calling,
but there's nobody home
because home doesn't
exist anymore

isn't that a strange thought?
there is no such thing
as home

i'm screaming fix it at the top of my lungs
and i'm inches from your sweaty forehead
and your eyes are the color of a sky
that's too pale, like someone's been stealing
the pigment one drop at a time

when you're unsure or sad or disturbed
they look down at the worn concrete
littered with cigarette butts and footprints
of drunken idiots just like us, not into my own

and we're sitting outside of the place
we all call home, where the ***** is too
cheap and the faces are all familiar
so much so that they start to blur
no matter if you're on your fourth, seventh, or twelfth

you're telling me the blame is
not going to fall on my shoulders,
but i feel it rain down like tiny pebbles
all pooling between bone and skin to
create one giant boulder inside of my chest

and perhaps it's because i know the words
that snake their way from your lips to my ears
will soon be covered in slime
from the regurgitation they will undergo
as they are repeated, perhaps with more conviction
the second time around,
but to another set of ears

it's interesting that as a woman i have
never felt more like an object than right now,
and it's at your hands, the man who promised
to never let anything compromise
the bond that tethered us together
through early afternoon games of catch, bowl smoking
before class, and long talks that left us out of breath

it seems you've erased who i really am in your
mind and replaced her with a giant
cardboard cut out - thinner, taller, more beautiful,
and much more compelling to stake claim over

how tricky these traps are that i set stealthily in the deepest dark nights for myself

the desperate stench of desire wafts up and reminds me of every moment i chose a him over me, simultaneously

i look into your eyes and see the fear that looked out of my own and washed over my world for so many moons

for this reason i am hardened and softened all at once, my legs moving before the decision has even registered in my brain

i weep then, not because of loss, but because of the growing pains that have finally manifested tangible change

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

i picture my life
as a large coloring sheet
of peonies who've just
begun to bloom,
opened to their full potential,
and withered away as
they've seen enough
sunshine to last a lifetime

a rich tapestry of color
covers just a corner, but
so much is still left blank,
just waiting for the right
colors to fill the white spaces

******* 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 move quickly here
on cobblestones,
through skinny alleys,
in flat feet slapping the pavement
with echoes that reach
up to touch a sky
swirling with malevolence
in a way that makes me
feel like i'm home

the air sticks on me as
i stick on a bench and
watch a man draw a woman
into his heart and notebook
all at once while an angel
floats above the water and
weaves songs of paradise,
bursts of fire float around all
of us, whispering, "the magic
isn't dead, you've only forgotten"

clouds begin to crack open above
and the relief comes slow at
first with a steady roll of pattering
on sidewalks and bursts of light
menacing behind skyscrapers,
i begin to wonder how much
more i could levitate when you
come along and pull me up to
see that old cracked bell ring again

questioning why i'm doing this and
then it's all written in tiny print on
your too smooth skin and white
teeth despite all of the drunk cigarettes,
you're a hand painted shell begging
me to smash you open, and i can't
resist a good mess, especially if
i don't have to stick around to do
the cleaning up afterwards

i dance my way through giant
domino pieces and conversations
about human connection with eyes
as wide as they are shut, and god
****, do you want exactly that, but i'm
laughing in the bathroom, realizing
this city is romantic, but it isn't love

I spend my days
thinking in poetry-
perfection never penned,
perpetually falling upon
my own deaf ears
and disintegrating into
the great nothingness,
only to be recycled
into bits and pieces
of other poems
never to be read

with each night
the words vanish,
one by one,
as I repeat them
incessantly, hoping
that I just might
recite a stanza
upon waking

I wish that my
mouth would open
and out they would
come, perfectly pressed
upon cardstock, fresh
with that inky smell
I swear still lingers
on my finger tips and
pillowcases

instead, I lay still
and silent, and watch
hopelessly as
they drift into dreams

i live in a world
of sheets littered with
pen marks, used tissues and sweat

mind you, the pen marks are black
because i only write in
black ink, blue is too foolish,
if that makes sense,
although i'm quite certain
that it doesn't

i lay my head on torn
out pieces of poems, better
left unfinished
and i breathe deep
mostly because i love the
smell of worn paper
and a little because i
don't want these words
to feel unloved

i'm a writer who knows
her mediums better than
she knows her self

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

help me unpack this
i begged as you tried
to hide yourself behind
years of teachers who
were all miss honey with
none of the sweetness

lean any harder and
you'd fall out of your chair,
but i get it, we have a white
man at our table and he's
handsome and successful

i don't nod enough, or
mmm-hmmm, or snap (often),
and my calf-eyed stare
makes you ask, "are you
with me?" more times than is
comfortable for either of us

i'm too wide open, a
grapefruit that was run over
in the safeway parking lot
after it bounced out of your
trunk, juices oozing and
the scent of my insides
familiar, but too ****

i wait to be eaten alive,
but the bitter rot has hands
scraping worn rind off asphalt,
tossed into the garden,
among sweet peas awaiting rebirth

tonight i'll lay in bed
and as my mind drifts
my forehead will open
and through layers of
brain, skull, and skin
will emerge a lens

upon my ceiling
a memory will project
of you taking my hands
and making me dance
while smiles lifted
our lips and took
control of our
desperate hips

i'll watch from the
outside while others
wish they could have
what we don't even
know that we have

i'll watch you look
at me the way that
you do and how
i must stand on the
tips of my toes to taste
the lips that i long for

i'll drift off to dream
of those hands that
hold mine and find
moments within madness
to make me swing,
smile, and slip
back into a place
where i found love

i've made a lot of promises,
promises to dark beautiful faces
that float above me as i say my goodbyes
to the fleeting hours of light that never
seem to linger long enough for me to
reach you, despite how much i grow

promises that fly away on the wings
of beetles, wrapped in summer winds
and promises that dig deep into the dirt,
so deep that they become fossils,
undiscovered for centuries, or perhaps, forever

promises that become ugly beasts
that prowl the streets and set this world
on fire in the worst ways, promises that loom
in cracks under porches and as soon
as you're about to reach your doorstep
they grab you and drag you away

today i made a promise, a promise i've
been working up the courage to make for
a long, long while, a promise i didn't want
to make, but i really needed to make it, the
kind of promise that makes you stare at your
toes and shuffle your feet and wring your
hands out like they're full of ***** dish water

today i made a promise that will eat me
alive from the inside out like a million tiny
termites deep within a house, it will start
at my core, layer by layer, until i'm left with
an empty shell, and from the outside in, i'll collapse
upon myself, until i'm nothing but a foundation,
ready to be built back up again, all it takes
is just one, just one small, simple promise

i sit and wonder where life goes when i'm not looking it in the eye
and then i smell it wafting up, the stench from my feet after a day at work
chasing little people that need me more than they need their own mothers,
i taste it in the notes that land between light and languid singing out from
the wine glass that holds the only thing that can put me to bed these days,
i feel it on this old torn up couch that's been passed around in musical houses
since 1973, tattered and worn, but it's the only thing that feels like home,
and i hear it in the door slams that come from the tiny hands of the neighbor's
children as they screech in and out, like miniature race cars whizzing round the bend

this life surrounds me, eats me whole, ***** me out, and repeats the process
until there's not a breath left to consume, a moment left to experience,
a burst of light left to pry open my eyelids when all i want to do is lay in bed
this life is mine, but it's everyone else's too, and as much as i want to hold tight
to the fleeting moments that end too soon, i've got to let go in order to keep up with it

we switched the couch and the dining room table
and suddenly everything was different

spines became straighter, eyes locked with ease,
hands found old hobbies, and lost words lingered
until they were found

silence became a staple, but not in the way
that had made my palms itch before, no, this
way was like an overdue hug from an aunt who
painted your toes as a little girl, but stopped coming
to thanksgiving because she couldn't bear
the sight of everyone growing up

we sat on the couch only when eyelids couldn't
bear to blink and bodies bent in half, only then
did we sink into the oblivion that had claimed
the last three months of our lives

and when morning came, you lingered, but
i was back at the table, ready to dust off
another artifact lying somewhere within my soul

the stars shone brightly,
each pin ***** of light
illuminating a piece of me
fully, but still, i couldn't
recognize the beauty

how many eternities have
i stood here before?

i've spent my life channelling
my anger because the people
around me never accept
the words that i need to say

i am a selfish slob who knows
nothing, forever, i am a child
with a messy bedroom, a *****
who just doesn't know when
to stop, a crazed woman with
too many emotions, a drama
queen spinning out of control,
a brat with bad intentions

i know who i am - it has taken
strange and twisted roads to know
the face that stares back at me
in the mirror - but i do know her

i do not wish for anyone else
to know her if the knowing does
not come naturally, if it is forced
and unpleasant, then i would
rather be alone with her

for me, the knowing is all that
i have ever wanted or needed,
the most honest relationship
i have ever had is with myself

last night i laid in bed next to my sister
and recounted the ways we had both
tried to squeeze ourselves
into the sausage casing
society said we should fit into

how she spent 2 years waiting
until 2 pm to allow her body nourishment

how i had made it to 27 and suddenly
had the epiphany that i could
starve myself to the size i wanted be

how our father and grandfather
spent endless moments passing
judgments on our bodies and
smashing us into the ground
with each pound that graced our wide hips

how she told everyone she
was a runner, but couldn't
hide from her roommates worried
glances at her bones poking through
workout clothes that never got a
drip of sweat on them

how i taught young girls to love
themselves day after day,
while i shook and trembled from
the lack of love i had for myself

last night we laughed about how
skewed our views had become
from our grandma and mother
telling us their weight, analyzing
their curves in the mirror as we
laid in their beds watching and learning

i vowed to harbor a warrior in my
womb one day who i could speak
freely with about the horrors of
self hatred and hopefully instill
a strong foundation of faith in self

i hope one day i raise someone
who never looks in the mirror and
wishes pieces of herself away

i hope one day i raise someone
who sees herself fully, not just as a shell
of a human worth nothing more than
the label on her clothes and
the number on the scale

i hope one day i raise someone
who sees herself most worthy of love

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

"i am writing to hold onto you." - henrikka tavi

i realized the truth within this as i flipped through
the journal pages that screamed your name aloud
at me as i sat trying to forget, and whispered of our
endeavors as i lay trying to sweep everything under
the unconscious rug that lay beneath me as i dreamed

you were every where in these parts of my life, riding
up abel and turning onto fourth, i couldn't forget that you
had grown up, a decade before me, just a block over on south,
deli boy and bianchi's pizza, sundays spent at st.cecelia's,
me, a little girl, and you, trying to figure out how to be a man,
here we are fifteen years later, me, a little girl, and you,
still trying to figure out just what it takes to be a man

ink immortalizes what we are terrified to throw into the trenches,
and just because i have vowed to find victories elsewhere
doesn't mean i've prepared myself to forget you, but the truth remains,

i must learn to write to let go

all day
i've been thinking of tonight
that bitter taste in my mouth
lick and dip, baby,
that's all it takes

do you feel it?
i don't know
do you feel it?
i can't tell
how are my pupils?
huge!
how are my pupils?
sharked out!

ooohhhhh, we're feelin it

then the bass comes in
and crawls through the floorboards
slow and steady it makes it's way
through the tips of our toes
and sits heavy in our hearts

with each beat we fall
deeper and deeper
into the moment
and we feel the music wrap
itself around us
and we let go

each movement
is unplanned, but it's precise
because we've got something
in us
that makes us move in marvelous ways

we spent our days
locked away in room-
plywood levels of madness
with red lights lacing the top

i was always seeing double
through camera lens and
whiskey goggles

these were my friends,
the bearded boys that could
have passed for homeless men

butkisses and parades,
that's how we partied,
day in and day out,
sun up and sun down

when one left, he was
never replaced, but a cutout
of his face stood as a
reminder that we would
all eventually go

gloved hands held
cheap bears, and cassettes
filled up all of our fears-
did you? covered in
shaving cream, bras in
the oven, deep fried
monstrosities called
ice cream

we fell in and out of
beds, onto wood floors
filthy with forties, and
labels reminded us of
the difference between
windows and walls

hands printed memories
on flesh and fabric,
as organs were kept
alive in the attic by
a stroke of their keys

i could return to the
porch with no railings
and relive each moment,
each night that reeled
us in and spit us out,
sloppier than the saliva
that landed on the sidewalk

these were my friends-
wasted, wandering and free

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

feeling for feeling -
fingertips, foundations, friends,
they slip, they slip

i know not what i once knew,
but for always and forever,
there is more to know

growth is the answer that i get,
to whatever question i decidedly ask,
it's roots deepening and branches reaching

and the pain, it's brief, but deep,
haven't felt it in awhile,
but i know it's the good kind

loss is inevitable, but so is strength,
and the buckets never seem to empty,
no matter how much is poured

so, i will swim, paddle, and float
my way to a better existence
beyond the ether and into a new day

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

you walk in
i'm standing there
spritzing lingerie
to make it reek
like high class prostitutes
do after a night
when the cash flow
is non-stop

"Hi how are you today?"
"Grumble, grrrrr, grumble."
"Can I help you find anything?"
"Well, grrrr, I want the bra, arrrggghhh, I've got on. LOOK AT IT!"

i slowly approach,
postponing the inevitable
for as long as possible
as you lift your ancient
once black, now grey, turtleneck
and release an avalanche
of layer after layer of blubber
that jiggles ever so slightly
as it is disturbed by the movement

it is covered in a thick forest
of black hairs and
i swear i see a herd of lice
scurry off as i cautiously
lift my hands to inspect
the tag laying in the depths
of the jungle that lays thick on your back

the moment i make contact
with your skin
it takes all of my willpower
not to pull away in disgust
as my fingers go
for a ride on the slip n' slide that
is your back
it feels as if you have been
bathing in Crisco since
you were just a child

as i finally grasp the
worn and stretched material
and turn it over
i'm not surprised
to find that your bra
feels as if it just went for a swim
in Onondaga Lake
mmm, sweet, sweet radioactive sweat

i fumble around looking for
any indication of a tag
as you begin to tap your
foot with no rhythm at all
and suddenly you exclaim,
"OH, I cut the tag out of this ages ago!"
and storm away back into the mall
throwing bows and ***** looks
as you go

i'm left staring
as my sweat saturated hands
thinking,
"**** Victoria and her secrets."

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

i watch the clock
and count down the minutes
until you and i are together again.

i thought of you earlier as a perfect circle,
spinning round and round,
forward, onto the next thing

and there i am,
some oblong shape
that has no name.

i can't move more
than a few awkward rolls forward
and i lay there
watching you fade into the dust.

i wish i were concrete,
resolute reality,
little to no confusion,
sure, steady steps in
any direction
whether it be north,
south, east, west,
that's not the point,
i just wish i was steady,
a rushing river,
a tree through the seasons,
with no wondering,
or wandering,
roots in the ground,
knowing myself
without any thought
because i was born
to be exactly
who i am

i lay at night on wooden planks
and watch the universe move
across the skies above, which move me

i see myself floating among them,
them floating within me, bursting through
eyelids as passions are revealed

gentle hands reach and run their fingertips
through wild hair, triggering memories that say
i am everything i've ever dreamed i'd be

transience became a perpetual state in december
unpack one suitcase directly into another,
forget a brush and lose those perfect-fit jeans,
after all, organized chaos attracts disorganized chaos

in the name of love we wage on,
through flu ridden airports and
endless loops of the drive through gorst,
the highway is grooving ridges just for these tires

whispers of being tired, but this feeling is sadness,
the clinical kind, despite no appointments for therapy,
just not that kind of girl, that kind of blue, that kind of real
wishing for wings, shrinking and growing simultaneously

this is it! this is what you asked for,
change upon change upon change,
no sense of permanence, wild adventures -
grounding will become it's own kind of freedom

broken baby girl
screams of want
for the new world
just beyond the horizon

but she's been
sailing a sinking ship
with holes in the
sails and
an anchor that
drags through the depths

crew jumped
overboard
a thousand
leagues ago
and she stands
at the helm
compass in hand
perfectly unwilling
to live this one down

100 yards from land
she holds the hand of the
figurehead tight enough
that slivers work their way
throughout her palm

and as she breathes in
the salty liquid and watches
the sun streaked sky
littered with screaming gulls
fade away

she knows that she's finally
found a way
into the great unknown

sometimes i witness tragedy
on the silver screen
and it punctures a hole
right in my heart
and it makes it's way in
smooth and silent
without my knowledge
and the next thing i know
my heart hangs low,
low and heavy and full
and i've got strange thoughts
in my mind

odd how strangers
can impact us more
than those who
surround us day by day
and when i think
of the man
who loved liza
i want to weep forever

grappling with the idea of life
who i am, who i'm meant to be, who i've been, who i will be

the answer is always there,
playing like a psa
through the loud speakers in my mind -
you are in control,
you are a part of it all,
but without constant and
conscious effort,
true self cannot be realized

freedom is such a simple concept,
but a reality that is lived by few

i miss the feeling
of cigarettes making
me want to throw up

i guess that's the
trade off i get
for whiskey making
my eyes water,
******* burning my
sinuses so bad, i swear,
i'll never snort again,
two glasses of wine making
the next morning feel
like elephants have
invaded the walls of
my skull

i guess i'll take this vice,
for now

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

each of you reminds me
that strength manifests
magic and majesty at it's
own rate and pace
within each of us

i hear the roar of the lion,
see the silent slow build
of muscles below the surface,
smell the sweet satisfaction
of forging familial ties,
touch the tangible results
of big brains and hard work,
see the bravery it takes to
let love in after horrific loss,
and taste the treats only
an open mind can unleash

each of us wholly woman,
with wombs that grow
babies, change, and inspiration-
all creators in our unique
capacities, with hearts
as full as the moon that
moves the waves within

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

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 have consumed myself with heartless adventuring
Forgotten from where I come
Dumbfounded and shocked my family stands
As they see their daughter, sister, friend on the run
There’s something that eats me from the inside out
My soul becomes a shrinking stone
Soon I will skip it across the great water
A keepsake for those back home

today i drove 3.72 miles
to buy a single 44 cent stamp
and a woman with hair
the color of a cement foundation
forgot my name,
so i pretended not to know
hers either

i stood in a line
of people with holiday
parcels under their arms
and i looked at my phone
to check the date
because i live in a world
where the days of the week
rarely flit through my mind,
much less numbers
from a grid written
on paper

(note to self:
don't worry,
you didn't miss thanksgiving)

i meandered slowly
through the zigzags,
all of us corralled
like cows gone to pasture,
or perhaps being led
to slaughter
by flimsy pieces of
polyester we don't
dare touch

the woman
behind the desk
broke my morose thoughts
with a joke about
the government robbing us
all blind

i imagined a swat team
breaking through the glass
wall behind me
and grabbing her
before we could even
blink twice

then a man
three times my age
looked me in the eye
and told me i looked much
too tired for a 20-something
and i told him, well,
that's because i am

we stood in the parking lot
for nearly an hour
and i told him of the dreams
that pull my energy away
just as i'm regaining it,
in the fitful in-between
of true rest and eyes wide open

i spoke of leaping broken stairwells,
chasing thieves on motorcycles,
finding true love only to watch
it be trampled by a crowd moshing
to the music that defines my days

i told him of my mother's theory:
that i was working out
the issues that plagued
me by day throughout
the night

and he scoffed and told me,
girl, your mother may be right,
but that brain of yours is a
gift and these dreams are
what's wrapped up within it;
if you know what's good for you
you'll figure out a way to use them

the voices in my head
become undead
the voices in my head
become undead
the voices in my head
become undead

and i am nothing
but a memory

twist around my pinky
round and round you go
like a little slug
you take your sweet time
you slurp and ****
holding so tight
i've been sprinkling salt
for years now
but not enough to make you die
i think i secretly like
always having you stuck
i torment you and myself

music becomes mucus, leftover remnants
of bacterial infections that refuse to vacate
my brain no matter how many decongestants
i consume, those sound waves reverberate back
and forth and back and forth within my thick
*** skull and i am driven mad by memories

how to cut tender wires intricately woven into
the most simple mass of a mess you will ever see

i find myself muttering solutions in my sleep and
when i reach conclusions i'm already half awake
pen in hand, paper on chest, but ahh, it's gone, it's gone

my dream world holds more clarity than my walking
daze and i can only find the words for poetry, my
tongue and throat are revolting, refusing to take part
in walks down memory lane, fingers soon to follow suit

the spring that started in March
ended in April
and people stood shocked in their door jams
necks craning up to the heavens
watching the flakes we had missed all winter
float slowly into gravity's grasp

laments were lofty in the frigid air
and somber masks packed away with moth ***** reemerged

this was the mark of a Mother Nature takeover
but who the hell were we
to tell her
how to do her job?

i find myself weary now,
worn thin by the desiring,
  washed up on the shore of my own island
   where i keep returning,
                                        alone

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