In my veins,
there is a little girl
shut away in a bathroom.

Because
there is more sense
in porcelain bowls
than any which exists
in other people's
mouths.

In my cup,
there is a broken soul
who stutters her hands
and slits her wrists.

She smells like butterscotch
and a regret that
seeps from every inch
of her blistered body
because of the inch long
squirrel thing
buried in her center.

In my bed,
there is a boy
with nothing to lose.

He smiles too wide
and loves too hard and fast
for anyone else to handle and
for that,
he is sorry.

In my head,
they sing a chorus
of hope and
redemption,

Love us, they said.

Together, we could be a family.

Do you remember,
two years ago

I wrote you a story,
bound with the string I could find
beneath the burned acre carpet
of my first apartment.

I gave it to you
two weeks late, on
printed cheap paper.
Chemically melted with the telling
of what I saw,
two hundred miles away
on January fifth.

I wrote about the cargo train
that passes across the street
of my university every day
at nine pm.

I told you that it drove at least two times faster
than the Amtrak, because people are more precious than cargo.

I told you about how when I was stuck
at the street crossing,
from nine to nine fifteen.
How I saw salvation
in the screaming, shaking tracks.

Tonight I heard the same train,
from outside my third apartment,
set on the opposite side of the train tracks,
a couple meters across
from where I stood two years ago,
when the smell of acid pavement
inked my memories of you,
and your eighteenth birthday.

I think you want me to fall in love with you.

I think you want me to breathe you in,
suffocating to keep any of you from getting
out.

I think you want me to caress your name on my tongue
like a thick smoke that I take back in
through my nose,
the whitest parts going nowhere
else,

I think you want me to revel you,
pedestal you,
please never leave me, you.

I do not love like the morning.

I do not happen every day like clockwork,
and I do not love, as if
it was meant to be.

I love as an infection,
spreading over every single fiber and vein;

If I take you in completely.
Bubbling over in crystal froth,
spiking a fever of one hundred and two
you will either die by my hand, or
be left with some aching disease.

My only fear of
wanting to fall in love with you
is that you will forget that I was once a vaccine
and that you will
chicken soup Robitussin cold compress me
away.

I haven't prayed since you left us.
I remember the phone call like it
was yesterday, and I still get anxiety
whenever I hear that ringtone or
feel a buzz in my pocket.

"Their car what...? Oh my god.
Crushed? What about them?"

I was so naive.
I remember thinking that someone
had stolen your car, trying to
piece together fragments of a
conversation I relive everyday.

"She's gone. Her and her dad...
and her mom? They're gone."

I was so ******* naive.
My worst thought was that you
had been kidnapped. The fact that
you could be permanently gone
had never crossed my mind.

As I watched my mom cry sitting
in that front seat, I began to do the
same without knowing how truly
agonizing this would be.

"What happened mom?"
"They're gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"No, Annie. They're dead."

My dad's hands tightened on the
wheel, no doubt wishing it was
the neck of a bottle. My brother
gasped next to me then became
very occupied with the wrinkles
on the back of the passenger seat.
Mom turned back around as her
body was overcome by silent tears
at first, then very loud heaves of
grief. But I knew she was grieving
for herself, because the family that
had come to be my own was now
gone and she had to take care of
her own ****** up kid.

I remember one tear falling, from
which eye I don't remember, then
another, as I stared out the car
window. They silently fell until
we arrived at our destination,
which was our last "family" trip.  

I don't remember much except
for how I didn't sleep more than an
hour those couple of days, but instead
tried to find a song that could come close
to what I was feeling.

I haven't found one.

Then the funeral service came and
there were girls sobbing with lines
streaking down their faces who didn't
even know your favorite time of day
or how you winked in between silent
conversations or the way your laugh
rocked your entire body and I sat there
unable to form a single ******* tear.

An emotionless corpse.
Just like you.

Someone told me what the last words
were in the car. I didn't ask, but of course
I found out just the same.

"Hold on..hold on and pray...pray."

I don't pray anymore.

maybe you can feel me,               the clunk
in my chest                                    in yours

the drop                                    
                                                       in your
                                                        diaphragm

maybe you can see it,                   seeing
my eyes open as open                  your
                                      ­                 eyes
                                                

maybe you can hear it,                is
the hum inside my                       from your
                                                       mouth


maybe you can think me            as I
                                                       think
  ­                                                     you

Oh my dear friend molly,
How I love you so.
Always there for me,
Oh sweet molly
A your voice is a drug.
Makes me feel comfortable
Like my sweet friend maryjane
All you need is to spark her up
Shes on fire
Makes you feel worth living
I always hang out with maryjane with friends
Even alone
My mom likes her
My family doesn't
My mom hates molly
For a reason unknow
Maybe because she almost killed me
Molly killed my cousin
I miss her but molly is nicer
Makes you happy right?
My cousin never did
I met maryjane when i was 13
Best day of my life
Happy
The happiest i had been in months
At a party is where i met her
Maryjane is my bestfriend
She introduced me to molly
I blame her sometimes for that
But then i hang with molly and i love her
Molly is fake though
Always nice when shes with you
After she makes you feels bad
Like you need her all the time
As if you cant live without her
Oh sweet maryjane never does this to me
She knows ill always come back to her
But molly has a price too
Makes you happy but then harms you
Please leave molly i cant continue to live with you
Maryjane my savior is the one i look up to