it’ll be shaved legs and summer dresses
without cardigans
sunkissed hair, skin, eyes even
though you’ll never know, I wonder,
would your eyes burst out of their sockets
like rockets
if you saw that much of my skin
under healthy light?
instead of naked in your bed
I’m untouchable,
a fantasy, barefoot in a meadow
skin so wanted
- though she’ll be wearing hers
blatantly and ready
for you to have,
smoking a cigarette she says is her
last
because
‘she’s only smoked three
this week’
she’s proud, sure she is
though you’re not even sure you care at all
and the sun makes the day longer
the moon makes the night as romantic
as Paris
and you’ll get along
even though you don’t smoke
and she doesn’t know what it means
to not need you
and she doesn’t know what it means
when you’re with and crave the skin
of another woman
- like me for instance -
but you’ll get along
like sea turtles or baby pandas playing
under sheets or
spontaneously in your kitchen
weaving breaths
weaving beats
an effortless ******
then heavy sleep
because you two know what it’s like
to know each other that well
yeah,
you’ll get along  
for months to come

there are vanilla scented candles
and plaid scarves,
acrylic paints of every ******* colour
and wool socks,
a closet full of pretty dresses
and a bookshelf full of good reads
but I’m not happy

there is laughing
there is smiling
there is feeling good
sometimes
but I’m so unsatisfied
with what I’ve got
though I seem to have just about
everything

I have a good mother
I have friends that care
I have blankets
I have good teeth
I have rubber boots
some people say I have nice legs
I have compassion
I have the drive to create
I have trees
I have long hair
some people say I have kindness
I have a bus pass
I have a new job
I have flexibility
I have enough money
some people say I have talent
but I’m unappreciative
and ******* myself  
still

there are booked gigs
and improv shows,
interesting conversations
and instruments,
trees and leaves and twigs
and pinecones,
the sky,
the zoo,
the cafes
but I get insecure most of the time

there are long hot baths
and biting nails,
then painting nails,
then repainting nails
and biding time,
then hating time,
then being okay with time,
there are long stares in the mirror
sometimes glares
sometimes there are puffy eyes
there is frustration
in my fingers
in my head
in my voice
at the piano
on stage
being vulnerable in a crowd of cool actors and musicians
fear of being seen
fear of being unseen
fear of doing it WRONG
fear of looking stupid
looking ugly
looking pathetic
sounding stupid
sounding ugly
sounding pathetic

there are dreams of leaving
this city
this head
these people I have known
for what seems like forever
there are dreams of healing
and loving my skin
and the natural amount of fat
that is underneath it
there are dreams out there
there are so many of them
that I’m afraid to wish
that I’m afraid to think of
from caution of them not happening
from caution of disappointment
and loneliness
and neediness,
then purposelessness

there is wanting
and wanting
and wanting
something better
I don’t know what
just something better
but waiting
and waiting
and waiting
for it to come to me
instead of
trying
and going
and getting
it myself

I am one of the lucky ones that has a high sensitivity to malignancy
I still wear it myself like a cape in the cold
but I can detect a sick person almost right away
some say that’s not very nice to say
though I’d rather know who’s a waste of my time than find out later when I’ve invested my heart & soul into the person
that’s part of what makes me a sick person,
investing myself too much in other people
and isn’t it funny
how we forget about these people that meant so much to us
once
obsession has its terminus
there are cusps a person trips off of that leave them falling,
spiralling into a new obsession or phase or life
or numbness
that’s why memory is so beautiful
even if it hurts a lot
it reminds us we are never going to be the same as we used to be
there’s something peaceful about that
though the sick find it tormenting

coffee drizzles
it’s tasty
& comforting
there’s too much snow
it won’t stop snowing
the window is getting boring
all I can think about
is the muffin I just ate
& what it will be like to be
home again
where all I think about
are the things I’ve just eaten
& sometimes why I haven’t
really left
my hometown yet
& not just for another getaway trip
but for good
I’ve always thought
a grey day
is the perfect metaphor
for how I feel most of the time
but so does everyone else
so I am just like
all of those other boring people
with boring lives
like this window
& the mother with the four
very plain looking kids
three tables down
& the muffins lined up
on the counter top
for boring people like me to buy
as they wait
for a plane to come to
carry them to a whole
new world
where routine doesn’t exist
only margaritas & surf’s up
or else,
to carry them back home
back to reality
back to functioning like
a complete robot
in the safety of
fear
there is a plane waiting to take off
just sitting on the runway
I wonder when it’ll get going
I wonder where everyone inside of it
is going
& where I am going
& what I am doing
here
instead of living
I watch snow fall out of a window
when it could soak me up
& give me a reason to sit
by the fireplace
with blankets, tea & a book
whether I am alone
or with a lover, friend, cat or dog
I can see
how that sounds more boring
than sitting in an airport
eating muffins
but it is exciting
to me
because it is happiness
to me

I miss using words
like acrylic paint
I miss the strokes
my mind would create
but nothing feels
as good as peace
there isn’t one word
that can give that kind of release

there, your bed is rocking
as it cradles another woman
beneath your chest
lips beneath your lips
I’m not sure if I care or not
I do a little bit
but I signed up for this without hesitation
a part of me wonders if there was hesitation
in your head
when you heard the front door squeak open
and my bedroom light turn on,
then quickly go out as I shut the door behind me
you’re not loud at all
but it’s 12:47
and I knew you were seeing her tonight
I knew you don’t usually fall asleep this early
I knew I would be coming home to this
I knew I’d have to face what I thought I’d be fine facing
but the ativan is kicking in
boy am I glad I brought it with me
and I’m not sure if I can hear her moaning
or if that’s just a car vrooming past my window outside
a lot of people call this kind of situation
****** up
or extremely strange
I don’t feel ****** up
maybe I feel a little strange
I’m just starting to question
so much,
everything
it’s healthy but it’s hurting
not as sharp as betrayal hurts,
because I’m not being betrayed in any way
it’s just the fogginess of confusion  
that makes you not know where you’re going
and it’s that familiar stagnancy and going-in-circles routine
that has begun to wring my head around
and my heart too, ever so slightly
but I’ll sigh instead of cry this time
not because I’m forcing back tears
but because I really don’t need them right now
and I’m okay
as long as I’m still wanting to live
and truth be told,
I am still wanting to live
because I need nothing but myself, really
that’s the truest truth there is
I’m fine, though a bit torn
but I’m fine and that’s basically all that matters

glass castle,
somebody save me
I feel like
everybody always
n e e d s  m e
when will I
b r e a t h e?
come inside & keep warm
in my glass castle,
somebody save me
it looks
s t a b le
lotsa food on the table
but of course
you know
glass is
f r a g i l e
it breaks when my heart
a c h e s
glass castle,
somebody save us
I’ve let you all down