I USED TO HAVE YOU SOMETIMES AND NOW I HAVE YOU NONETIMES—
IT'S ALL GOING WRONG AND NOTHING IS GOING RIGHT AND IT WASN'T ENOUGH IN THE FIRST PLACE SO HOW COULD IT BE OKAY NOW?
YOU AVOID ME LIKE THE UNDERSIDE OF A DESK, AFRAID TO GET GUM ON YOUR HAND
I'M GONNA START AVOIDING ALL MY RESPONSIBILITIES AGAIN
BUT YOU STILL DESERVE ALL THE SLEEP THAT I'VE LOST
WITHOUT ALL THE SMUDGES ON MY PILLOWCASE FROM MAKEUP I WAS TOO SAD-LAZY TO TAKE OFF (SO I CRIED IT OFF)
Does it bother you, that I spend time with your upgrade?
Perhaps you shouldn't have traded me in for my best friend as a newer model
I remember the October brick wall against my back when you called and started all of this
But now I'm wishing I'd tied those bricks round my waist and jumped into the river before I got this deep
It's okay, it's okay, I'll never tell you about the times I beg my hands to make up for the you-shaped hole in my heart— WHY DID I EXPECT ANY DIFFERENTLY?
YOU WARNED ME FROM THE START
YOU WARNED ME FROM THE START

& how can you hurt someone so much when they never let their teeth graze you? how can you squeeze their heart in your calloused fist when they've swallowed down every ounce of passion you've poured out? how can you kiss their mouth ruddy and raw and not say goodbye? how can you look them in the eye with the stars as witnesses with a knife hidden behind your back? how can lead them with a beautiful rope (don't tell them it's a noose, not yet) and promises of more, more, and let them fall down the cliff while you **** their best friend? how can you look at your reflection and not shudder at the horrors you've committed standing behind you?

it's such a cliche, but my heart is so sore
i didn't know ice could feel pain but this freezer burn really burns
when it rains, it pours, because
this torrential downpour **** has
put holes in my umbrella
and my shirt is soaking wet but
you're only looking at my bra--
my fault for wearing white, i guess; you
opened me up but shut me off like a faucet when you finished
washing your hands
and flicker out like the streetlamp that watched our first kiss
i don't remember how to rhyme or
speak or stop my dams from breaking because your lips
your lips your lips--
i miss them. i hate them for the way they curl into a smile when
you look at her, next to me,
as if i'm not there (*******, little ghost, your eyes whisper hot on my neck)
she won't fall like i did, because i did and she won't hurt me like you did and she won't do what you did
to him because she's better than you (better than me, too) , doesn't hurt
to feel pleasure
but you're true to the stars you were
born under--
passionate (my purple neck speaks to that)
and proud
and holier than thou (your crucifix is
bigger than mine
when they tangle like we do)
past and present are so tense, so
interwoven and unsure and
absolutely careful
(although you aren't when you throw me on
your bed)
because we're not kissing now but it happened in the pst and even god doesn't know if it'll happen again
in the meantime, i'll lick my
wounds and let my glacial insides freeze over again
i've tossed in the towel, given up on
the umbrella and let the
rain soak me (like you did)
it's a perfect storm, really, because--
because-- because--
you look at her like you looked at me and he's
turned his head away from me (when i wanted him
to stop looking, i never
imagined it would hurt like this and)
I'm just watching it all fall down
ring around the rosie
ring for me when you want me again and i'll
come, of course, like your
salt on my tongue, because
your hands will be on me even if your mind is on her
open the drain like you opened me all
those months ago (icy and numb from the
last crack at my heart, baseball bat and
all) and watch me wash down the pipes

And here we are, on the threshold of spring,
My icy heart is thawing
Something is blossoming within me
I'm coming to life in the way you kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
Two January's ago I froze— Rapids white with frost
Your body heat is just so much prettier than a radiator
And just like anyone, I chose the most beautiful flower in the bouquet to win myself back from me

THIS ONE IS DIFFERENT
THIS ONE IS KIND
THIS ONE IS EXTRAORDINARY
THIS ONE IS MINE

In the summer, it was too hot to know you. I spent the nights with everyone but you, crowded on the trampoline in my backyard. In the fall, you bloomed (too early or too late for spring?) into my cerebrum, every thought that crossed my mind. You stayed that way in winter, when maybe the cold never bothered me but you sure did, or maybe it was how I was moonstruck and frostbitten in lust with you. We will thaw in the spring, I feel it in my roots and branches and the way my heart will freeze over again (too early or too late for winter?). I don't want that, the way the image of you kissing her—just like how you kissed me, except with a fire the cold weather didn't permit— will invade the spaces just you (just you) did months before. I'll see your lips on her sober or drunk, awake or asleep, eyes open or closed. You are my sin, my soul, and my salvation, even if you love her (or the ones that'll follow) in the way I see you and you never saw me back. 525,600 times you played and plagued my seasons and my breath.

New year, same me. Same aching in the pit of my stomach to get out get out get out

I can't push any harder, so I'll stop. I'm not defeated, because I'm still on my feet, right?

Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war. I don't know if this could be considered winning, but I'm pretty sure it's a step in the right direction.

Maybe this year, with its nice rounded and whole-looking numbers, will be the year I grow a pair (*****? Wings?) and get out get out get *out

i filled a notebook with "you"
-a six word story

"sober or drunk, it's always you" it's always you always you always you always you you you you you you you you you you "you're in my veins, you ****" you ******* ******* ******* ******* **** me over and over and over and every time i look at your face world war iv starts in my stomach, to punch or to kiss. iv lines in my arms, in my veins, just like you, you ******* ******* ******* absolute **** i cannot ******* believe i fell for your tricks, the 'it's always you" and the pretty words that created mt. vesuvius all over again in my shallow, sober heart. i was absolutely ******* drunk on your fake affection while you were ******* other girls for fake affection and my friends knew and while you were in my veins (you still are) they were under my skin with the patronizing "sympathy" as i cried after you left. you left and it felt like molten lava on my skin, like nothing could be right because you left because i'd put other things on my skin and if you were in my veins (you were. you are.) then i really truly did let you out with the other things i put on my skin that opened up my veins and it honest to god is my fault you're gone. honestly, god, i think it was a little unfair to make me fall in love with the boy who's smile left like fault lines and i was so terribly drunk in the beginning but you sobered me up when you left, isn't that right? isn't it right that it's my drunken fault that you left, but you see, my dear, it's always you, in my veins, you ******* ******* absolute ****

complacency is killing us; our blind acceptance of who and what and where God is will **** us. we are not fighting, not the way we should be. i have all the fires and brimstone of hell inside of me-- does that mean all of those sinners get sent to me? i am dissatisfied with this and i will fight, fire with fire, until one has been put out and the other consumes all. if i have options, i have one right to choose. we need to question, we need to strike, because we are the people and no one can silence this, no one can put this down. fight back and ponder the credibility of your God and walk into your church and stare at that cross and ask your God the questions you weren't taught to ask. o farmers: pick up the rifle and put down the plow-- the time to fight is now because it's now or never, blindly loving children of God, but do not give me your answers. keep them to yourselves and let them fester with an infection that no amount of praying can drive out. are you going to keep fighting God, or are you going to collapse into the arms of God? question everything He has taught you but do not be afraid, because He will still let you into His kingdom once you have found in this cookie cutter religion what it is you need and want. you have to get out of this terrifying ignorance and into the harsh truth you formulate. the blind dark may be appealing, beckoning you, but however painful, the reality is your paradise so get out of the palace of the pharoh and into the new world; God will open his arms to you still