There’s a reason I don’t smoke
or get high
or get low
or drink.

Don’t I seem ****** up enough to you?

i stopped doing drugs because you were the only thing that made me high
now we're just fiction
your mouth is stained on my cheeks, still echoed with a sad goodbye
we're out with the garbage you so angrily tossed
and you're drinking wine
and i'm still lost

some boy once told me
when we were 16
"the way i see it, it's either you or the drugs— and i know which one i've chosen"
when i remembered that,
i laughed—
because it's funny
how three years
can change you.
it's funny, too
because when i laughed
i blew
the line away.

I want to scrape off my skin
Just to tear the words
That your tongue had left for me.

I want to scrape my skin
Just to forget the parts of my body
Where your lips had once lingered.

Paint my body in scarlet
And color me with purple bruise
I want to drown in you.

I say “tomato”
You say “toe-mah-toe”
I say “I want to pierce my nose”
You say “don’t you dare scare that ivory skin”
I say “ I want to be a poet”
You say “but that doesn’t make much income”
I say “I am never having a baby”
You say “you’ll meet a nice man, settle down, and change your mind”
I wear this silver pentacle
Around my throat like a noose
String me up and hang me
Like my sisters from Salem
Condemn me because I don’t fit
In the box labeled “Christian” on your questionnaire
Call me a ****** for finding the beauty in another woman’s curve
Brand me a ***** just for existing
Pull at my heartstrings
Like a puppeteer
Guide my every movement
Cut out my vocal cords and replace them with yours
After all, you know best right
If I dye my hair a color that isn’t
Blonde, black, or brunette
I’ll never land a job
If I don’t quit with this feminist ****
No man will ever want me
You’re only looking out for me right
If you know so much about me
Tell me who I am
Tell me how I felt when I was thirteen
And stealing my brother’s straightedge
To carve Jack-O-Lantern faces into my upper thighs
Tell me how I felt when my mother
Grabbed my cheeks and told me
To pop my pimples
When she asked me if I ever wanted to be beautiful
As if I wasn’t already
Tell me how I felt when I sat across my sister
In a mental hospital
After she gorged herself on unknown pills
And she said
“Don’t ever die. Dying isn’t fun”
Tell me how I felt when my parents
Showered me in gifts
After I finally told them I was depressed
Like they were trying to buy back my happiness
Tell me how I felt when the boy
With the beautiful smile and cigarette stained breath
Stuck his hand into my *******
And whispered
“You know you want it”
Tell me how I felt when my body froze with fear
When early onset rigor mortis snaked through my muscles
When I clamped my knees together
And denied him access to my body
Tell me how I felt when
He pushed his blushing appendage into my mouth
After I said no
And how I felt when I kept my lips sealed
How I let him get away with it
If you are such an expert on my landscape
Pinpoint all my scars and beauty marks and moles
Locate all the intimate areas my fingertips explored
Tell me how often I shave my legs
Tell me how much pride I feel when I remember to put on deodorant in the morning
Draw a map of all my
Forests, canyons, and lakes
Prove to me you really know me
Prove that you’re really looking out for me
Prove your advice
And remember
No good deed goes unpunished
And if you still maintain that you know what's best
Look me in the eyes
And tell me who I am

Little boy Cain finds daddy’s old straightedge
Cracked leather band, wipes the blade on his thigh
Little boy stalks ‘round, slingshot in the sedge
Soft stinging cheeks, striped where bloodlines dry

Little boy breaks ice, cold winter this year
Big brother chops ash with numb hands out back
Little cat hunts mice while the dogs chase deer
One last hammer lash, then leave duties slack

Little boys grow up too soon, mother knows
Brother lain face down by the cutting wedge
Little white-furred pup, matted crimson nose
On the icy ground left in need of sledge

Little too late now for the morning chores
Cries upon his knee, curled by reddened bed
Little boy, head bowed, listens from the floor
Brother, bury me where the raven treads

Brother, forgive me, curse the wanton gods
Now, I walk alone through this land of Nod

we lay together,
surrounded in silence,
an uncomfortable gloom.

i lose the battle,
"flesh on flesh...
wounds bleed fresh."

alone with you beside me,
"every inch of my tar black soul,"
a fake bled into a dry life.

A purr awakens me,
urges me to write,
words haunt me and
i can't get them out.

i'm stuck in this limbo
wishing i had something
a little stronger than
a bit of sweet iced tea.

"he loves me with every beat,"
of a straightedge heart
and i thought
we could be happy.

a slice of life,
a pit of sorrow,
a hell in my mind.

sleeping and worrying.
hoping that the world will just spill out?
that might be awhile.

i love you.



xoxo

8 months ago,

it did not seem like we needed drugs

and alcohol

to have fun.


And suddenly,

there was everything

we had heard about from

everyone else.


But instead of in the whispered gossip

and the disjointed stumblings of drunken dreams

it was right in front of us.


And so the straightedge in us

was bent

with every shot glass

with every smoking joint

that we brought to our anxious lips.


Slowly, hesitantly, at first,

our arms creaked upwards towards our open mouths,

as if we were training muscles,

we didn’t even know we had.

But then it became familiar,

and our elbows flowed smoothly with the oil

of routine.


And at sometime during those long and blurred nights,

I lost track of what was right

and what was wrong.


With every sip I drowned my values

and with every inhale, I cremated my former self

and the white smoke of the fire

wisped up into the air of a dimly lit garage.


Until all I was left with was the present,

wondering where the future would take me.

i got this crazy kind of head case where i swear on my life, my head is spinning round and round the room like some kind of never ending rollercoaster. i’ve been straightedge since august and i’ve been taking my pills regularly since july but it feels like i took a hand full of oxy and downed the ***** that my mom left in cupboard, left over from the cottage (jello shooters, appletini, orange juice), enough to get me and my friends drunk and i know for anyone else this would be a tease to get lively and drink with friends but for me this is a tease to end my life once and for all and it’s been pondering around my mind since we got back but darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t because of you and i, no, it’s just about you and the way you felt the need to rub your near ninety in math or your eighty five in french and how your worst grade was a low seventy eight and i start to wonder if you realize how some people would **** for those grades. it took me almost six years to realize that the reasons my grades were so low weren’t because i was stupid because no one’s really stupid. it wasn’t about missing cells in my brains or bad memories, it was about scars on my wrists and never ending thoughts about the afterlife, pondering about whether there was a heaven and a hell and if i would make it or not. wondering if anyone would stop me if i cut up the razor my mom bought me for christmas and used it to tear through veins (frail and lonely) wondering if i were ever going to make it past your low low seventy eight in any given class or maybe i was just stupid (can’t count the scars from feeling dumb on one hand any longer) and maybe the reason i don’t like you anymore is because you did this to me and you don’t even know it but darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t because of you and i, no, it’s about the way you make me feel like i should hang my head in shame for being me because you acted like you were embarrassed to hang out with me that one day in the cafeteria and the image of you covering your face and walking away as ifyou didn’t know me will forever be etched into my eyelids, i got quiet for six weeks and started becoming another person because i said i needed change. but change won’t pay my way to university or give me the confidence i need, it’s much more than that. chane will let me fake a smile for a while but on the inside, i’ll still be the same (loud and bright) even if on the outside i’ve become a copy of everything i’ve never wanted to be (lonely and shy), claiming, “it’s all right, social situations just make me feel uncomfortable.” even thought they don’t and i know you can feel it, the way i want to walk up onto that stage and let everyone see who i am (different, me, not you) but i know you won’t let me and darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t because of you and i, no, it’s about the way you make me feel like i should be alone and i don’t deserve to have anyone like the way you left me to hang out with someone else and i slumped against the wall next to the main office and stared at my hands and wished i had someone else to have lunch with but i didn’t so i sighed to myself and put my earphones in (no i don’t have a gun) and stared at the clock on my phone until lunch ended (from 80% to 30%) and afterwards i ignored you for letting me suffer for an hour (my heart raced every time any one walked by in fear that they would know i was alone and laugh at me) but you never knew why and i never told you because i feared you would be upset if i did and you would end the friendship and i would truly have no one but truth be told i never had anyone to begin with — you were never really my friend you were never really anything (well, you were) but i was never really anything to you which makes is that much easier for this to happen and darling don’t be narcissistic this isn’t about you and i, no, it’s about me and the way i let you crawl under my skinand take me over like some kindof parasite that makes doctors scratch their heads and run unnecessary tests (eeg, cat scan, x-ray) while i lay on the hospital bed letting myself die but not allowing myself to tell them why in fear of being locked up for being insane (please, in this society?) they can see my pain is real but they can’t see why so they send me back home and i’m never alone, not with you whispering how worthless i am in my ear (i wish i were as crazy as i felt) your whispers turns into screams as soon as i take my seat in math class andi’m so focused on your screams that i’m staring blankly at the test on my desk like i have no idea it’s there and i’m so confused (why doesn’t anyone else hear you) (how are people writing so furiously) but darling don’t be narcissistic, this isn’t your voice, it’s mine and they take me out before math class is over and drop me off at the hospital and this time it really isn’t about you because they’re diagnosing me with schizophrenia and keeping me in the hospital (so i don’t hurt myself or anyone around me) and when you come to visit me you drop of flowers and i start screaming and they kick you out (they tell you not to return) and for the first time in my life i feel okay