my brain is a slow clap
thunder easy bold slaps
for when you feel nothing
for when you feel it all

say please this begging

sexts to self:

-stroke me-
the ******* of your words
the day you realized this felt good
the different things that could make you feel it
the night you realized this could fix food
you said you would rather feel that pain in bed
the courage to slouch on your chair and not be worried of what was there

and when i say i love my thighs the most he looks at the scars.
does he know i love them because they’ve got the most?

Don't you dare touch yourself.
That's my job.
I'm going to touch you in public
to make you want me in private.

But I'm going to make you wait.
Make you want it.
Feel my arousal.

Nails trailing down my spine.
Sandwiching your bottom lip between my teeth.

*I'm counting the minutes until I can taste you.

there were a few (fairly) successful techniques i used

to erase you.

one day

she may leave,

so

let me share a few.



unfortunately,

the whole ordeal wasn't as easy as sending you to my recycle bin

or backspacing your name out of my chest.

i couldn't paint over the dark alleys in my heart that you had

graffitied with your naked body,

nor could i sell any of the useless crap you left inside me on ebay.

what idiot wants to buy someone else's used compliments or broken promises??

whatever,

online shopping is overrated anyways.



so,

back to heart break...

let's begin with the

obvious.

i deleted you on

facebook,

how could we be "friends"

when seeing your name

was like force-feeding myself

a fresh slice of pain?

i erased your number.

i refuse to be the pathetic drunk

who sexts at three am,

reminiscing on all the good times

i thought we had.

"babeee, rememb er thast one

timse, when we madske love

underf the stasrs..."

so not my style,

must always remain classy,

even when the tornado

seems to heading straight for

your heart,

and the flying **** never seems to stop.

yes, the world may be falling apart,

but you always have the power to

smile.

remember that after the storm,

everything will be rebuilt

stronger.



i burned all of the 1,000 letters you never wrote

and all of the "I love yous" i never read (but in my head)

until

the ash of yesterday

became flames that could

guide me into tomorrow

unscathed.

in less poetic terms,

i stopped thinking about every *******

sweet thing you had ever said to me

and started focusing on other people's

words, namely my own.

6 months later, I am able to

hear the sound of your voice

without cringing.

180 days of un-remembering you,

and i finally am free to be me,

the girl/woman who is sitting here

realizing that you are going to learn

from me learning from you.

it's a crazy, beautiful, weird, ****** up process,

right?

this circle of life...





and finally,

i forced myself to

see you.

similar to the

way in which a diabetic child

gazes longingly through the

window of the neighborhood bakery,

all transparency and overly indulgent imagination,

i looked through you enough times

to convince myself you were the perfect

creation,

sweet but not sickeningly so,

**** but not too sour,

a hint of spiciness to aliven the equation and

a little bitterness to sharpen the sensation.

only problem is,

i forgot i was the chef.

seeing you now through clean eyes,

testing your flavor with a mouth sobered by truth,

your taste is still sweet

but a little fake,

Splenda instead of brown sugar.

I detect the artificiality,

is that why she is leaving you?



no matter the cause,

no matter the outcome of this

most painful breakup,

know that one day, you will love again.

you will meet that one person who will

wake you up from the dream

you didn't realize you were living,

that one who will bring breath

to parts of your body you didn't

know existed.

on the blackest of nights, you will walk around

a corner on some random street

in the middle of no where,

and there she will

be,

standing under a street lamp,

smiling up at the midnight sun.

her body will beckon you,

invite you to dance,

and

you must accept the call.

even if you are  scared,

even if your heart is still broken,

even if you think you still belong to the one who

left you,

you must answer to love,

and in return life

will answer to you.

once you allow yourself to fall again,

the hurt will mend,

and your wings will spread,

wider and more ready than ever.



always remember,

you are the only one

holding yourself prisoner.

Poem 1
A LESSON THAT I TAUGHT

I Teach!!
I taught...
Here's a lesson that I taught...
I had this lesson. It were ace in my mind!
The planning was tight, concise, well timed

Going into the room - my stage
Put on the teacher face, the act
(My phone is buzzing but I don't react)

Lights, camera, action! You're on!

"Hi guys! Come in, unpack your things!"
But I'm just thinking about why it rings

"Hi guys! Come in, take off your coats!"
For some reason now I'm thinking about goats

(Why ******* goats?
Why now?!)
I thought
(I need to teach a lesson on...
Oh crap! The whiteboards not working!) "****!!"

Right, try again...

"Excuse me Chelsea, that skirts too tight,
And too short and you aren't wearing tights.
Go down to student point and get yourself a note"

And now I'll get back to the lesson that I taught

"I ******' 'ATE SIR! HE'S ALWAYS TIGHT!!"

Class - "Totes! Hahahahaha!!!"

I think ... Look you little tots, all you're thinking about is **** ... and your tots and your shots and your tokes in her tote!
You think you're ******* clever but you're not!!

I say... "This is an amazing lesson that I've got!
Does anyone remember the last lesson that I taught?"

"No sir, we do not"
"You're boring sir"
"Are you gay sir?"

On a parallel universe, where I don't care about my career and my home and my children...

I think in my head for a bit, then I say...

"Look you little spaz, you think I'm tight?!? I've been sleeping in a mates spare room at night
because me and the mother of my kids had a fight
and everything in my life is turning *****
Because all I do is stay up all night to plan a ******* lesson for a bunch of little scrotes! Who can't even take off their coats, And sit and ******* listen to the lesson that I taught! I'm marking so much that my body's not taut and my mind spins round and round in thought (a word which you spell ******* tawt!)
Progress and differentiation!
The future of your education!
And I just hope that in some way, I might actually TEACH you something today!
But all you think about is **** and tats and texts and sexts and COD and Christiano Ronaldo and Justin '*******' Beiber AND YOU CALL ME GAY?!?
You spell thought ... T.A.W.T!! You're 18 for gods sake!!
How you gonna make a living eh?!
Totesport?!

A couple of them titter

And the rest go silent...

And I think I've won!

'Til one of them says "sir... I'm gonna get you done!"

"And you're gay"

"And you're a **** teacher"

The end

Thank you for existing.
Thank you for all the
kissing and hugging.
The morning texts and
the late night sexts.
Life without you is nothing.
The world is dark when we
part and go to our homes.
My body becomes numb
the minute you leave me
alone.
The shadows and thoughts
creep in my mind and crawl
out to play.
The tears begin to gather
and fall the way heavy rain
does when it pours from
depressed skies.
The noise in my head
becomes loud.
Everything that never made
me happy and proud goes
on replay.
And I start to remember the
times that i've been used
and abused.
Those nights where I slept in
my bed with bruises and cuts.
The secrets I buried deep
down in my thin veins.
It all just gives me the chills
and it feels awful and
strange.
You changed my story and
the words I had written in
every page.
Without you I wouldn't have
known the meaning of a
real love story.
I wouldn't have seen the light
or glory. I would have probably
faded out into the black
and grey.
And so today I thank you for
saving me from the
depression that took
over me.
Those eating disorders and
bad habits. All the self hate
I had towards this body of
mine.
Thank you for loving me
with your heart and not
allowing any of my flaws
get in your way.
Thank you for everything
you've done .
And thank you for all the
things that you're willing
to do in advance as you
clutch onto my little
fragile hands* ~

this morning,
before we hung out,
i read back
over the sexts
we sent
when i caught the bus
home from Atlanta
this time last year.

i'd never thought to
count how often
i made you shriek
that night
(nine times.)
every time i'd read over
that catalogue of texts
i just seemed to get distracted,
recollecting how your
fingers slipped
between your legs
with nothing
save my poems
and silver tongue
to guide their rhythm.

when we stumbled
across Michael Faudet's
***** Pretty Things
mere hours later
in our favorite coffee shop,
i laughed at the irony.
somehow, i knew 1:00am
would find me writing
about that all-night drive again.

when you wake to see
this poem illuminated
on your screen, i hope
you'll grin at my audacity
before plunging your hand
once more between.
i hope you think of me
when you reach the brink
and whisper my name
between rattled breaths
when you *** beneath the sheets.

No really, it's okay babe I adore you too, you can keep breaking my heart and expecting me to pick up all the pieces. It's okay, because I like being told that I'm second best, and I like being reserved for sloppy nights. So let me dive between your legs babe, no, really it's okay, you can tell me you don't like me then call me at 2 in the morning to come ****. No, really it's okay, it's okay because I liked you but you only liked my skin, but only when it was bare, and really, it's okay, because I like being ignored and I like second guessing myself, and my life, and I enjoy being punished. So babe let me please you, that's all I want to do because dear god, I just want to keep you. God knows I want to keep you, and how ******* cruel of him to keep raking me over the same coals over, and over, and ******* over until my skin doesn't know the difference between fire and your touch on my thighs begging for more. (maybe it is my fault) But when they began to close, you began to retreat. And *******, you'll never know how much I wanted you, and you'll never know how badly you hurt me, and you'll never know how badly I wanted you to want me. But you didn't want me, I was too real for you. I was too much of a human being, and you couldn't ******* handle it. I did things not because I enjoyed it, but because that's the only way I could get your attention. So really babe, it's okay. Keep talking to me until 4 in the morning when I have to be up at 5, keep changing normal conversations into sexts you won't remember in a week. And please, babe, keep ignoring me because if that's what you have to do to tolerate me every couple of months, then for gods sake, ******* do it. Keep vaguely answering my pleas with "yep," "yeah," and "haha." Please keep hurting me. Because I ******* need it, babe. Really, it's okay, I'm fine, I'm not filled with anxiety and on the night you talked to me, I didn't spend it in the bathroom getting sick. No babe, it's okay, I like sleeping in the bathtub and waking up in a cold sweat, and I like lingering on the good feelings because it makes it that much easier to forget about the bad ones. I deserve you. I deserve to be with someone who is so capable of dropping me like a penny in a wishing well, only to forget what your original intentions were. No. Babe, really. It's okay. I'll keep skipping over the same songs, and driving past the same spots, and running away from what's chasing me, because really, we all knew I was going to do that anyway. All my friends say that I looked so happy when I knew that you liked me but I don't think you ever did. And I'm afraid to ask you. Because the variable is already known, and I don't feel like accepting it. So I'll keep looking for 'x' even though it's right the **** in front of me. ******* Vanessa, get your **** together. Stop drinking every Wednesday night and waking up every Thursday morning wishing you were somewhere else. The people are right, Vanessa, you feel way too ******* much and maybe you should stop letting your existence as a human get in the way of you ******* the people you want to ****, because we both know he's not going to wait for your ***. So really, babe, it's okay. I'll keep searching while secretly holding space for you in my bed. You said yours was bigger, but trust me, it's not. It never was. So really babe, it's okay. it's okay. I told you that the thing I hated the most was lying, but really. It's okay.

I've fallen in love with Self-Deprecation.
I found her teetering the edge
of Self-Destruction

Testing Her limits with every acquaintance.

She lets Her life hang in the doorframe
either land on her feet
or the knot takes Her name

Teasing bad decisions with Svedka soaked sexts.

I've fallen in love with inception.
I left Self in an echo of a room
against cement bricks of incarceration.

the sun has vanished
and the world has run cold.

and i can't

remember a time i've run to you
for warmth, intimate or otherwise.

but in the darkness?
you're all there is.
or rather,
you're all i'd like to see.

so i sprint to the monitor,
blue ribbon in hand—
hoping for a moment,
you sense the urgency in my

[hello! :)]

and the ice is creeping up my spine
as i wait
for three dots that promise a reply

you shoot back

[oh hi.]

and the milk that once
enriched my bones
curdles
and i fall to dust;
nervous.

you hold a power that frightens me
your warmth, your chill, like heights

(i like the view, but cannot breathe.)

and would you, as well, compare the light
to an embrace?
the switch of grey to red to green,
like the caress of the abyss?

i want to be known by you.

(but cannot bare to be perceived.)

message those who deserve a good bye.
like i'm leaving oz tomorrow;
like i can live in my dreams
of february.

i want to be known by you,

but as messages pile up
i'm buried.

80, 190, 270.
texts, sexts, mirrors, enemies.
(wishes to be seen.)

one more message then back to
the problem at hand, so
shuffle the deck until you know
whats wrong with me.

i can't keep pretending my
notifications are off when i'm
waiting for your reply,
( & i'm flooded by noise. )

but i, among the hurricane
in the eye of the storm

ask to be known by you.

if i don't reach out
will you?

I'm from the side of the tracks where you won't come back
Sometimes fade to white, sometimes to black
Secreting the pus of another failed lust
My intentions only bending on a whim or a ****
So break the glass over my face and watch me go hard
If I got no other outlet you better hope you'll go far
Because sickles and hammers aren't only symbolic
They can be used to intrude on your systems metabolic

Contortionists form a fist and slick the road for communists
A bottomless populace heavy handed and cacophonous
Desolate like postulates from existentialists, mop your ****
And follow it with sawed-off ****, shotguns for columnists
So open up these ******* veins, I got no reason to try and change
Scatter-brained, like blood insane in dark fantasies untamed
Unchained and ******* and horse-laced with your taste
My way is the highway so don't **** with my **** deranged

I'm sick like
***, it's exciting
To know you're dying
From the first breath
You're primed for death
And there's nothing left
Like 21 grams
And ***** sexts
It's a blank slate
And my blood's paint
For the walls of
The Satanic Saints
To **** my brain
And **** myself
Because it's easier
Than killing everyone else

No ******* effort, no giving a ****
Surely I am broken like a Muslim's ****
So you're right to be scared
Sure you're checking my history
To make sure that no one
Is trying to **** me
I'm ugly, my soul is black
And I'm happily taking nothing back

I told you I needed an outlet
But don't assume I'm finished yet