I know the good and the bad of it
Where the pendulum has swung
And where it intends to swing next

My body is filled with the knowledge of it

Poisoned marrow mixed in my bones
With a fresh prescription of penicillin
An invoice sitting on the coffee table waiting to be paid

My hand hovering over an overflowing astray
Holding a half smoked and forgotten about cigarette
A dust pan prompted against the stool it’s on

My growling liver eating the contents of my wallet
Leaving a receipt from the ABC store clinging to the condensation
Moistening the bottle of left out ***

This feeling of post apogee
The silent deafening moment
Of situational actualization

The view from the tipping point that lingers just long enough
To still see every vantage point, the good and the bad of it all.

I want this poem to be angry
I want it to be full of hate.
I want to wrap it up and hand it to you.
I want you to read it.
I want you to feel my anger.
My sadness.
A result of your actions.
I want this poem to be able to grab you by the throat and squeeze.
I want this poem to kick you, punch you, slap you, scratch you.
I want this poem to hurt you.
I want to make you cry as you have made me cry.
I want this poem to take all this anger and hurt because
I can't live like this anymore.

Cake and candles,
A year after year,
Comes once to mark you closer,
Closer to death I suppose,
Sprinkles and happiness,
That or some *****,
Coming of age I suppose,
To party all night long,
Or be with the ones you love,
Or be hammered after binge-drinking,
And lately I've been thinking,
Day by day is another's birthday,
Shouldnt we be celebrating life everyday?

We were told we were born sick
Though we never felt ill
We met in Sunday school
And over the coughs of other children
That hacked out either verses or mucus
It was never clear which
I asked you for a paint brush
And you stepped over the damp tissues
Thrown defeated on the ground
Like offerings at a precession
And you’d painted next to me.

We were told we’d always be sick
But we never looked ill
When I accidently bumped your elbow reaching for
More paper
Our blushing cheeks the color of alter wine
Bore healthy smiles and warm glows
And after countless more Sundays
When the men in funny neck ties
Came around to give us crackers
In the shapes of pills we couldn’t swallow
We decided to hide them in the sleeves of our robes
And we watched as all the other children
Grew sicker while we grew stronger
Even though they drank blood
And we’d sneak off to drink wine.

We became the heretics of hallelujahs
AWOL archangels
And we were never bed ridden from illness
In fact we yearned for the outside
Disregarding the warnings of germs
That ran rampant there
Figuring that was why they made the
Church’s steeple look like a needle
We wanted freedom nonetheless.

They told us that we would catch the flu
By holding hands
And when we were caught contaminated
They told us to wash our bodies off in the water
And you looked at me and I looked at you
And we agreed that we should-
But not this water, not here
So we grabbed hands again
And you with your free left and I with my free right
Pushed through the double doors
And as the light poured in the chapel
It scorched the priests but for us it baptized us whole
And now we tell ourselves swimming in the sea
That became our holy healing water
We’d only ever be as sick as others let us be.

I posted on my facebook wall
my favourite music and movies - so you could pretend to like those.

I posted all the books, places and people I've seen - maybe you can pretend you know about those too.

Recently I updated my status telling everyone how sad the death of my favourite poet is - maybe you could read a few of those and recite your favourite lines.

I uploaded a picture of a couple holding hands, my caption describing how I missed that feeling.
The feeling of safety.
Perhaps you can hold me,
and pretend its what you wanted to do all along.

You're so welcoming
You're here for anyone, with open arms
You love all of the people around you.
Yet, when you open your arms in your
Short sleeve knit
I see scars
Scars all up and down your arms
Some old
Some new
And it makes me see
Someone so beautiful
That makes everyone else
Feel so beautiful
And loved
Can feel so worthless and unloved
And I see now.
I see why you are the way you are,
           You're so welcoming
                 To everyone
  Because no one ever was to you.