I have five sweaters of him in my room.
Because he never says no to me.
He lit my cigarette once,
when I was bathing and my hands were wet.
He taught me how to cook, how to climb,
how to like peanutbutter.
When I feel like ****, he calls me.
Because he feels there's something wrong.
He tells everybody I'm his daughter.
Even when my sister is around.
He tells my mother to man up.
And my friends to try acid.
He likes every single boyfriend I have.
Never thinks I'm making bad decisions.
He takes me with him to France.

I love him more than anybody in this world.
I don't need a father. I have him.

Nothing ****** me off more
Than when people call me
Pretty

I get it, okay?
We live in a society that upholds beauty
As the most important quality
A girl can possess
So girls who aren't pretty
Feel like less

And guys, knowing this,
Call girls who were not gifted
With a symmetrical face
Proportional features
Or a "rockin'" body

Girls who rank on the lower end
Of that wretched scale
From one to ten
Pretty
Beautiful, attractive
****, exquisite
Gorgeous, lovely
Stunning, hot

And those girls
Those amazing, ugly girls
Infused with insecurities
Self-loathing
And sadness
Give in to those words
Give in to those guys

Believing, if only for a brief,
Tenderless moment
That those pretty words
Do apply

But I am not interested
In false accolades
If you don't find me pretty
Then don't say so
I have plenty of fine qualities
For you to compliment me on

Praise my wit, my charm
My intelligence, my confidence
Things I cultivate
Things I strive to be

Qualities
That complement me

we reach for the cuboards,
we  pull on the fridge,
we twist a cap or two... pop a pill or three.
we're all in need of an escape.
she reached for the cuboards,
she pulled on the fridge,
she popped that pill.
there is no escape.
she turned to a mirror...
does she like what she sees?
so bleak.
she rubs her mascara into her cheeks
as a desperate attempt to hide her tears.
her fears swell.
her dreams shrink.
she thinks,
will i ever be liberated?

you quickly quipped cunning comments
in the skinniest jeans west of the mississippi
sighing softly then,
glancing to the left to keep an eye on the spider
scurrying on the wall.

you emerged triumphantly
luminously translucent
like a goddess of the noon sun

your eyes skipped mine in a beat
seconds behind my own
and with the final say from your fist
the walls began to fall

and outside, the small southwestern suburb
watches with fascination as the spider skids away.

Bright hand touched the door
Easing it slowly around
With the tenderness of a prepubescent girl
Lingering gently about.
Wondering, loudly i might add,
That you really hate these Venetian blinds.

You sit in the fat leather chair,
Which must have belonged to your dad a million years ago.
You sip diet coke like your lost friend brandy,
And you cross your legs in the most ****** way
That my seminal vesicle shifts into overdrive.

Through the tainted windows
I see you raise your winter scarf to your throat
Ceremoniously, or possibly vehemently.
After which you clean your glasses with laser precision
And raise them back into place.
Your crystal gaze lands on the heavy door a few steps away,
They wait in concentrated intensity
As each heavy step’s staccato note is heard form the other side.

I. The moment you rolled out of bed
felt like an eternity
Your stretching arms reached outer space
And you fell into convulsions on the daisy print bed sheets

II. The humming pendulum clock
ticks past midnight
and the only sound you can hear
is the screeching of your neighbors 1999 porsche convertible

III. Your sunday morning television,
News at it’s finest with Kare 11

IV. Whatever time you usually wake up
you probably slept through
but you’re staring at the fan again
and this time I don’t think Rachel is coming.