She just wanted to get away, she just wanted to be whole. She just wanted to find home. A place she could rest,  finally find a nest.  She just wanted a life with more peace and less strife.  Banging her head on the bathroom door,  screaming, crying,  and yelling "no more".  She could be anything she wants and more but instead she lays there...weeping...on the cold bathroom floor.

Many of my poems are as short as the words deviously written on the bathroom walls
But my thoughts are longer than any yard stick you can buy at a department store.
Facts are stranger than fiction
So is the expensive tuition.
Thirteen years of free education
Then a sudden fee.
I wonder?

Pink converse,
white tights,
And she's just hanging there.

I don't dare disturb her,
because somehow I knew
She wasn't real.

(My Mind Questions It)

So I peek...
Peek under the stall door,
to see nothing in it's place.

A tile floor.
Something thick,
it's covering every inch.
But, it is naked to my eyes.

The air is heavy.
Breathing in dense fog
and nothing comes out.

Who was she,
and why would my Hallucination be her death?
In suicide.

"Tomorrow you will be alright"
I comforted myself a near midnight.
Dragging the towel, moist from the sink
under my lower lids, I did never blink.

Makeup and water or makeup and tears
some may never now, as I
that lonesome, quite autumn night*
Though I lastly found with my poorly sight
that under my lids there were, well how to describe?
- I lowered the towel and looked even twice
Nothing as makeup were pouring down my eyes
but a still, matte
constant.


Sorrow

Now what about tomorrow?
I blinked and I shrank as I lowered my head in the sink.
Oh but never were I capable of washing off ink.

I have sticky skin
it's too humid outside and
looking through the bathroom mirror
into myself I think my
veins are sticky too
and maybe the blood in them
is too
I'm not sure
does moving blood make
your heart rate faster

all you people
u r losing it mummies frick the mummies
spinning in circles in Beatles boots
     C     I
S            R
E      L    C
of throbbing pulses
brand new birthmarks on
necks of people
why so empty
vacillating back and forth like miniature
seconds seconds of time
time like
breath marks in a piece of music
BREATHE beFore YoU dIe and it is over
the 'it' has yet to find a definition
this is a rhetorical question
why did you leave?

for lacy clothes under cotton
pants bought somewhere on the beach
in MuMbAi covering
a gentle sloping navel
u ppl
feeling nothing
like a rubber band snapped
on a leg covered in jeans
snapping a rubber band against my wrist
until it is red

feeling things
lips are stained with coffee
and my teeth taste sour
of caffeine
this is the song of the
Lost oNe

my arteries burn less now and
breathing without
laying backwards on the carpet
comes easily
lOsT OnE hasn't changed
but I
have

there is serenity on the bathroom floor
among the cold tiles
sending the sense of euphoria all throughout your struggling body
the pain
it feels so good
to just sit in the silence
with nothing
but the brisk air
and the cold tiles
sending chills down the spine
that you didn't think you had
because it was so hard to stand
just collapsing on that bathroom floor
with nothing but the readiness and acknowledgment of knowing it's okay to feel the end
because it is inevitable
it comes for all of us
and you may not be scared
but you must be petrified
for when the moment comes
it will feel the same as your body on the cold tiles
and the brisk air will take you away
with the serenity still there
as you enter the gates of wherever the air sweeps you to

I broke a mirror today
Clearing the smell of
Someone else's **** from
My downstairs bathroom;
It's wise to have
Future plans.