i seethe when i hear your name i hate it!

hate it! hate it! hate it!

why are you so far in my head why are you pulling all the strings why are you yanking my chain and letting me walk like a dog who's been in the yard all week and is tired of smelling his own **** and wants to go smell some other dog's ****

how did i let you in isn't there a rule against this you feel like a vampire you ****** up all my happiness and confidence don't you have to ask before crossing a doorway did you ask or did i invite you in

i've cried so many nights and i lie and say my medication needs to be upped and that i'm just in a bad place but if i'm being honest here, and i'm trying to be honest, as honest as you were not, you lit everything inside of me on fire and watched me burn and only when i asked if something was cooking did you call the fire department

i've cried enough tears to put out three of me three of what you lit inside of me and i want to cry now and the tears are at the brim of my eyes and peeking out and murmuring nervously they don't know if they're ready to stop yet they just started existing and now they're about to stop and die and there's no hotline for them to call what do they do they retreat back today they take deep breaths and use coping skills

tomorrow they will take breaths and using coping skills and tell a trusted adult in their life when they wanna fall over the brim and cease to be

all i can break,
is my metaphorical fingers
as they **** and fly and zing and upchuck my thoughts,
barely there somehow i do not know i do not feel i am far away
and pummel and spit on and crush and **** and bite and tear and torture until they are out of my head and i am a silk sheet fluttering on a soft cold bed
by a father who felt compassion once
and maybe still does far away get out of his head, come back to earth listen come back to us
then maybe silk sheets would flutter and there would be colors and light and movement and pictures and more than this cracked broken glass jar theres no ship in this bottle just air and ants and the aftermath of a parched throat

i’m submissive,
to my small light rectangle,
rectangle of hope,
beeping with admiration and love,
an opportunity to scorn myself and read deeply into everything and imagine constant hatred and captured screen images shared with disgust and ellipsis
i want that hope and light and soaring amongst blue sky and hand holding
then i don’t want the inevitable tears as i imagine all the ways you hate me,
all the little cracks inside you, filled with hate for me,
love yesterday melted away,
leaving empty holes for hatred
reserved for me,
more than anyone,
because who’s worse than me?
your love is pretend,
i’m sorry,
i just.
feel like.
it is.
not that it’s you. you don’t make me feel like that.
my brain just
tells me that
!
i’m not sure if its you.
you snap at me a lot, you’re hard to read, but you have a soft heart and softer eyes and a big smile and nice lips that leave pretty imprints on my cheeks

i
don’t
know
you’re so perfect.
where in you is there room for love for me? i am so flawed, so underdeveloped?
will this be nothing in a year?
will we not be friends?
i’m scared but i did something. i did something i wanted to do. we’re more than friends right now. we’re relationship partner cheek kissing hand holding giggling people which is fine with me.
i hope not too much changes.
don’t be weird.
i hope you like me.

wanna **** myself and never see anyone again
my stomach is balled up and i turned my sun on and i wish it was off
i wanna lay down in a desert at night under the prickly arms of a cactus and have tarantulas creep across my flesh, while coyotes watch my slyly, i want to feel hunted and hopeless,
maybe adrenalin,
thrown away far down in the sand.
i wanna shovel sand down my throat
dry
small
i want it to get stuck in my teeth and creepy between my vocal cords and rattle with each inhale and exhale
i wanna snore under the stars and rot away,
with drying lips and dryer eyes, coughing up sand and blood,
lipstick on my teeth,
matte now, whether or not it was before
i want vultures to watch me,
with beady eyes and bald heads,
the men at school.
i wanna cry and die and not be able to cry because i have no tears left
i wanna rot in heat and sand and amongst nothingness
for the boundaries between reality and Keith Haring sunset painting and therapist offices with rainbow hands.

i miss myself

****,
i was eloquent
****,
i was going places
****,
i was so young
****,
i'm still so young

****
is all i can muster, these days.
my poetic musings crammed into red-indigo-dark blue,
whereas i was pretentious
starry-eyed,
with a moonlight filled mouth always open

i was hopeful beauty and grace
and my mind was always spinning,
music was not compatible with me,
too much going on up there,
didn't need anything else.
all i do is music now.

man,
i'm just sad now,
sicker than before.
my feet always tapping,
complaining of a bad back,
weak stomach,
poor eyes,
short memory,
knotted stomach,
i'm writing pill bottles and music instead

where am i?
i don't know where i am now
i feel so trapped and lost
out of control
not healthy,
this isn't,
nope.
i ******* know it and i know that i'm so gone

i just can't remember
pulling up blanks
**** this i hate this
nothing comes as fast
its blurry
blurry as bushes in car windows
slang-packed
******

the end *******

you are still in the corner of vision
and you haunt my doorway
and i can see you in my lipstick and my computer and the reflection in every other girl’s face
i’ll swing around and my eyes will glow and your name will spring from my lips
only to not be you
it’s not fair,
but that’s just how it is
how it has to be
it’s not your fault that your shadow creeps around mine
or that i see you whenever i buy a stick of eyeliner
it’s not your fault that you were a hurricane and i was a house made of wood
your name hangs around still
and your eyes follow me through doors
i am ashamed of my infatuation
but i am relieved that you never knew
now i can keep you as a friend
no scars
clean
and
easy
break
i broke up
when i bit my tongue before speaking then kicked myself when i let my words spill
i broke up with the image i had built for you
the imaginary reality of you
you are a history book devoid of reality and only of pretty lies
but god lies have never been more beautiful