for Susan O'Neill Roe

What a thrill ----
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge

Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.

Little pilgrim,
The Indian's axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls

Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz. A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.

Whose side are they one?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to ****

The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man ----

The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux ****
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence

How you jump ----
Trepanned veteran,
***** girl,
Thumb stump.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Are you sought after, my dear?
Are you one to catch the eye of all those around you?
You're mysterious, yet vulnerable.
You are intimate, yet appropriately distant.
You're the perfect mate,
A catch worth catching.

Enthralling as you may be,
I'm left wondering...

Just when will it be my time to be the catch,
instead of the lonesome fisherman.

How your name was the first on my chat list
The circumstances changed and you're on my block list

The times when we talked the whole day
And now it's awkward to even say "Hey"

What made our friendship turn so bitter
You were the one who turned into a quitter

You used to say I'll never leave you alone
And now you act like you've never known

The times you confided with me and made me feel so special
Now you make me think 'Was it ever real' ?

I still miss you and our friendship
But it's better to deal with the hardship

Cause i know if we ever get together
We can't be the same forever

I don't know who I am,
but I know the person I want to become.

I want to be rich,
like mother teresa's heart of gold,
like the iridiscent colours in sunshine-eyes.

I want to be poor,
like the beggar who appreciates any scrap of food,
like the bankrupt who eventually learns to count his blessings.

I want to be quiet.
Like the introvert who wishes she wasn't so,
like the girl who meets her boyfriend's parents for the first time.

I want to be loud,
like the drunkard who casually spits out truth,
like the pounding club music that makes my head hurt.

I want to be nothing,
like how the girl who doesn't belong anywhere is treated,
like how a guy who's afraid of commitment denies your relationship.

I want to be everything.
Like the atoms our entire physical world is constructed out of,
like the girl who's your first pill of the morning
and last of the night.

I want to be weak,
like professor xavier, who's too kind for his own good and can't walk.
like the flimsy piece of paper that caused your paper cut.

I want to be strong,
like professor xavier, who can control people with his mind,
like how it feels to be reminded that you're needed and loved.

I want to be a bundle of contradictions.
Rich yet poor,
quiet yet loud,
everything but nothing,
weak but strong.
Well, maybe I don't.

Or maybe I already am.

when I lived with Kyle, we had a shot glass on our bathroom counter we kept there. A small house spider made its home inside of it. Every night before I went to bed I would tell it; Good night Westley, Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely **** you in the morning.

I cried inside my car today.
I cried while I thought of the things I would say when the one that I love questions me about the one I made love to.
(I didn't want to do it. I'm crazy about you.)
"You make me feel like a little kid again."
"You make me feel like magic is real."
"It kills me that you have a boyfriend."
It kills me that this isn't real.
None of this is going to happen.
I cried inside my car today.