The doorknob to the closet
full of my skeletons is made of
funny-bone

But there are days
when honesty tugs a little too roughly and
I realize this isn't all that funny now
Is it?

As a writer
You learn presentation is key
In the bend of language
I create this man
I want you to believe me to be

And so I tell you these stories
like they are jokes
Like they are no big deal

Like the first time I got drunk
was with my friend's mom
who was a known child molester
She tried to order us ****
But couldn't work the cable

Or my friends and I used to travel our city
via the water drainage system
Near the mall
We got lost once
and while standing
in ankle high water
we saw at least 20 homeless people
sleeping on pallets
We called that place *** City
We had to get directions back out

There's a possibilty I have been an accessory to ******
Around the time in my life when I learned
How not to dwell

My body was a wishbone
My father meant to break
But every beating
left me the better half

I find so much of it funny

My brother's most recent suicide attempt
My mother's
My father's Alzheimer's

He once chased after our mailman
naked
Asking him about some letter
from some woman
I have never met before

I find laughter
and beauty
in the bend of language

When this chest becomes a broken radiator
and my heart grows cold
The metaphor mutates Campfire

Come here
I am lonely
and I have a story to tell you

Was it worth it when you shed a tear and pushed me from my own
Straight into the unknown abyss of the who-am-I’s
And where-do-I-go-from-here’s?

Was it worth it to give your heart but so swiftly tear it away
At the unexpected moment when “I love you”
Was “I still do” but “what you had to do”?

Was it worth it when you made it all one-sided and alone,
That you weren’t ready and didn’t want it
When you began it all?

Was it worth it when you changed the past to make me someone different,
A crazy, clingy girl revolved around
The perfectly realistic guy?

Was it worth it when you lied to me and everyone around,
When you spied on personal accounts
And manipulated them so?

Was it worth it when you lied about her, making me a cheater
When I didn’t even know,
Caught up in my tears and tequila?

Was it worth it when you tried to tell me that it never happened,
And I never told my secrets,
A delirious, drunken girl?

Was it worth it when you manipulated my messages but claimed of no such thing,
That you don’t care at all, never will,
And haven’t all along?

Was it worth it when you called me a mistake, a ****, and failure
When I once was a “guardian angel,”
Loved, your “home,” and family?

Would it be worth it if I left forever and murdered every possibilty of returning?
Would you once again let a cold, salty line be drawn straight down your face?
Would you regret any of it?

Was it worth it when I believed in it? And that I had it for you?
You bet your *** it was.
I miss you, you lying ****.
But you deserve every ounce of happiness and success this world can offer.
And if you’re getting there, I could ask for nothing more.
And through my cold demeanor, I'd be nothing but ecstatic for you.

the sun streams
through the curtains
in a cat sized patch

and there we find him
this connoisseur of apricity
stretched and flat
drinking of the winter day's
meager glory

tail flicking on ocassion
and one eye open..
to the possibilty
of bacon on the run.

he is now of the age,
where he needs warm
his bones ,
before he thinks of...
completing his  yoga
and cleaning down there.

so the little blucat
has become a master
at fitting his body
into any sliver or ****
of winter sun ....

and is often found dozing.
..or as elliot claims,
contemplating the depth,
and meaning of his name....

a little bit of sparkle
a little dab of something
a scent to match your every mood

unable to remain motionless
fiddling with a sense of helplessness

to correct past past mistakes would be like re-writing a book
but theres no regret, only moving forward

nights full of possibilty
full of adventure
intrigue at every corner
i know that look, i get it

there is a need for me to move forward with you
but my feet keep dragging
and secretly,
ever so secretly
your heart rips the more you move forward
almost in half

it shall be lost soon
then you will be truly stuck.

envy on both sides
respect comes with comfort
this secret understanding
not so secret since we are both in it

some secrets are meant to remain secrets
some supressed memories are meant to be shared
but only between us
only us.

we're hidden
we hide and confide in our own mirror image
our own pride spies on lies that sorrow has woven
or is that also forbidden?
we can't feel or we'll be felt for
and feelings only feel fine when you don't cross the line
drawn with two left hands, because one left and one right is a sign
that you are alone in a room with everyone there
then time stops
and you feel
then it resumes
and you don't
it's quite simple really
the reality is when we really feel real reality, a feeling of love and tranquility, we feel it was only felt by
deep narrow slits in our brains love capacity, and it has the tenacity to wrap us in dreams that see
what we WISH we could see even if we see it right in front of us
it doesn't exist really
because reality only exists badly right?
"then reality struck" a saying stating tragedy struck
"it was like a dream" meaning memories were made and you relive them every night before sailing away
and never coming back to dock
but you wake up anyways
well I've dreamt tradgedy, and really had reality in my arms while sailing away
dreams are just reality with an emphasis on possibilty
and reality is just a dream that you never have to wish would actually happen
so i hope reality strikes tomorrow, and it isn't like a dream even though it seems that way

If you want to walk,
Run.
If you want to swim,
Dive.
If you want to breath,
Gasp.
If you like,
Love.
If you hate,
Revile.
If you want to leave,
Walk out the door.
If you want to,
Do.

This life is full of chances,
and unless you grab them by the collar,
you gain nothing.
Focus on the possible, not the impossible.
Take a life lesson from physics,
even the improbable,
have a possibilty.

Do not allow yourself to be stifled,
London said, “The function of man is to live, not exist”.
Everything gives an opportunity to learn,
so take it all in.

Look for the moments,
cherish them when they arrive,
and cling to them with such ferocity,
you are worried you left grooves in the stone.
Hopefully, you did.

Leave your mark,
others will leave theirs.

No one ever succeeded without first trying.
So don’t say no,
or accept no,
because it and its followers,
aren’t worth your time.

Unlike the pickers in the orchards,
forsaking the twisted apples,
take every opportunity given to you.
You will be one of the privileged few,
to know the sweetness of the twisted apples.

Do not become complacent,
and do not seek sedation,
lest you be tranquilized,
into a grand mediocre existence.

We don’t have much time,
Why waste a single fleeting moment of it?

When you become contented,
Run away.
Get as far away as you can,
And embrace the discomfort.

Life is now,
not then,
not later,
but now.
Live it.

Here I am crying - having thoughts about how you could have just been an alcoholic & I was just yet another bottle .
How I know you're ******* me over yet I stay & love you unconditionally .
I just guess I'm in denial of the fact that you've hurt me once & still know you could be hurting me - cheating & lying.
Everyday you tell me 'you love me' but never is there a day you'll show your love & affection by doing the sweetest and simplest things such as calling me on the phone or even telling the world I'm yours . I guess I’m just a question that would hurt for you to answer.
I deserve your apologies for a lifetime but you don't definitely don't deserve me , my forgiveness nor  my love .  My heart made an excuse for why I should stay .
I can't keep crying for a love I deserve. I promised I'd never let somebody break me like you did but ironically I've been breaking myself by staying throughout this journey .
Here I know I can write you love letters you don't deserve because I'm no longer addicted to the possibilty of us 'forever' At least I got some heart-wrenching stories out of it.
You formed yourself into my habit, like daily tea cups , your absence made my heart grow its own flowering garden.  

But one thing I always remember ; Your heart isn’t meant to beat for anyone but yourself.

She still lay hunched over,
It had all happened in a blur,
She tried not to recall,
But it was all she could do about,
What happened was;
A nightmare, devastation.
Her innocence corrupted, like the gum on the road
Under her nose.
It was happening
She had just become another victim,
A possibilty she had never phantomed,
She listened to her heart's rythum,
She wished for it to stop,
She tried and tried,
To wipe her tears,
To muffle her sobs,
To get up and run,
But all she could do was,
To think what he had done.

I look back at those words and wonder if they meant anything, and convince myself they weren't ever written for me anyway.
It's not very hard to do that anyway because of the words later spoken that overshadow and contradict the previous ones.
I have always been in denial, despite the opinions of others, that they were ever there for me.
But after accepting that it's a possibilty, I wonder even more so how you could say such lovely things, then turn around and **** me.

I hope you can write that sweetly again one day and mean it.