A shout out to my history teacher who makes the time to teach
for I’ve picked up on the subtext she can’t speak:

if you teach to the test no one’s really being taught
all we learn is to chase empty numbers
and you wonder
why we’re all burnt out
when the end goal isn’t our happiness now

when the very organizations meant to support education
profit off those who have no choice but to turn to them

when the ones who can pay to prep
the ones who work until they can't see straight,
the so called “high achievers”
are the only ones who matter
and we ourselves kick everyone else off the ladder

if standardization is supposed to make education equal
then at the very least it should teach
that we all have a spot,
that in society, we can all be contributing members,
but it’s not.

like my history teacher’s given me,
we need lessons to life rather than to test

it’s time we set a better example for our students
Teach us that even when the blocks have fallen down, we can rebuild the tower

slowly with my headphones on
disappear without a trace
nothing matters when I'm gone
drifting in this outer space

with my heart that's open wide
nothing here will go to waste
stupid rules I won't abide
beating through the steady pace

with my head inside your arms
warmest place is that embrace
lost inside your sweetest charms
breathing slowly for a taste

with you, I found the greatest gift
the willingness to take the fall
this way I'll never feel adrift
it seems as though I've got it all

call me Pluto--
for I am tucked
Away into the
darkest corner of
the universe where
forgotten stardust collects,
hidden behind gaping
shadows--
never with the  
the privilege of
being sun-kissed
and obliterated by
the warmest star.

a hand held across the table
a paper bag of alaskan candy
a pair of tickets in a red envelope
a daffodil rescued from the street

"can't I just look at you?" you asked me when I tried to get you to focus on your food, the most mischievous little smile on your face

(if you asked me again what you asked me in february -
I don't know I don't know I don't know)

it goes without saying that I'm afraid of the depth of my own capacity to hurt people
I am a sailboat made of paper, I am a terrible idea
I am everything everyone I have ever loved has left behind,
the pieces that don't fit, the muddy debris

I'm afraid of my own fear, I'm afraid that I will deny you
and that it will leave wounds in you deeper than any you've ever had
I'm afraid about feeling guilty about being with you
and I am afraid because I can't see how my parents could ever know

(despite it all, there's still my body, like an animal, looking at your lips and hips and eyes and hands, whispering
I want, I want, I want)

They say missing someone is
a lot like pins and needles into your heart
but I don't remember missing you
when you were gone,
I missed you when we were together
I feel nothing but emptiness I filled in the spot where you once were in my heart

and that's comfort to put my pale skin to the mattress from now until the rest of time

Sometimes I forget that I want to get better
It's harder to scream when you don't remember what happened to you
When your thoughts are only pictures
Not the chair, the couch, the carpet, the walls
It's everywhere, even with the best intentions

Like ****** Assault Awareness Month posters plastered all over my college
Even though we read epic poems by Derek Walcott
The man convicted of sexually harassing multiple women
And still teaches at Harvard
But my professor didn't feel it was pertinent information
Until my friend asked about it in class
Both he and Google claim it was a smear campaign
Even though he most likely touched every woman who testified.
They say we burn our own houses down
But we're left behind in the rubble

Senior year of high school
I get into an argument with my lunch table
They tell me how some women like to accuse high profile people of ****
When they are on top
See: Bill Cosby
My face is hot by this point in the conversation
I try to spit words out, but they sizzle up in midair
My friend asks
"If this happened, why are they all coming forward now?"
They say we burn our own houses down
But we're left behind in the rubble

A year earlier
When a boy with rogue hands and boiling breath
Caused my body and my words to freeze into my skin
I tried to scrub the dirt from myself
More times than I care to remember
I tell a friend
He tells me I should have reported it
No proof, next in line please
I tell another friend
She says I probably just regret it
I will get over it soon enough
They say we burn our own houses down
But we're left behind in the rubble

This world has built the home of my attacker up around me
I know that recovery is the price I pay for living in this body
When seeing his face is no longer wanting to **** myself
When purging will not control the places my shriveled up corpse was dragged to
But how can I want to get better
When I see how we are blamed for our own imprisonment?
When songs about **** are in every commercial
Every grocery store aisle
Every radio station that comes on repeat?

Recovery is the price I pay for living in this body
But sometimes it would be easier
To stop paying rent.