Yupo paper
Shredded and
Tangled into
A mess

I tried
To make
It look
Pretty but

It is
Only what
I have
Made it
To be

I carved
Intricate patterns
I folded
And crimped
Protruding pieces

I wanted
To see
Beauty in
What I
Had done

But I
Only saw
The mess
I have
Become

Love you! With an exclamation mark; like it’s far away.
Distant with the things I do and the things I say.
Squandering my time; gone with the wind. A decay.
Every day is the same thing on replay.

I’m awake and I’m caked in
a place where I’ve grown.
Where fights became earthquakes,
the same place I call home.

Molehills became mountains,
and the trees became gallows.
My personality weakened,
and all that was left there was shallow.

A proper diagnosis,
That says I’ll be addicted or dead.
It only took a lifetime of neurosis,
And a psychiatric ward bed.

To be molded by your worst traits,
To be malleable by the bad.
To shatter under the worst.
To be battered and sad.

I feel like a Polaroid picture of myself
I feel like I’m a fading still image of a person from the past

I feel like there’s pieces missing to my puzzle
I feel like wholeness will never be an option

I feel like the Blues Clues dinner plate that was broken
In the midst of a fight between my parents
I feel like I’m still crying at the kitchen table
Quietly, so they won’t notice

I feel like I’m standing outside a circle
And I feel like even if I were let it
I would push my way out

I feel like I’m reading the same sentence
Over and over without it registering
I feel like I’m reading a whole book
Just to start it time and time again

I feel like these books don’t make sense anyway
I feel like there’s pages ripped out
I feel like there’s chapters pasted in where they don’t belong
I feel like some of them are written in dead languages
I feel like I’m not meant to understand

I feel like an active volcano under the sea
I feel so much fire inside of my body
It spews out into ocean waters
And remains unseen
I am the only one
Who will feel my heat

I can’t hear anymore
Tilted head
Question mark eyes
Looking at lips
Meeting and parting
Looking at teeth
Waxing and waning
Peaking in and out
Behind pink curtains
Wondering why
I can see the words
With my eyes
Bubble letters
You spat out
Unceremonious
They fell on the ground
Alphabet soup
You’ve spewed from your mouth
Scrambled egg syllables
Writhing around
Garbled rhetoric shaken through air
Rattled right past me as though I’m not there
Catapulting through my ears
Sound waves echo but I do not hear
I see through empty words
I see you and choose to leave you unheard
I see actions that speak so loud
That the ******* spewing from your mouth
Is completely drowned out
By the righteous sound
Of a page flipped
Of a chapter ripped
Straight from binding
Of the book you were writing
Of the knots you were tying
Or the roots you were growing
My home is not with you
Sanctuary is knowing
The distance between me and you
Will forever stay as true
As the core values
I hold myself to
We all have lapses
In our virtue
But our character is
The way we react to
Each mistake we make
And you choosing to feign
Ignorance and deflect blame
Shows me your resistance to change
Is something that I will not take
Along with me as I make
A life for myself I do not hate
I am not perfect but I never said I was
I’ve been accountable for when I’ve ****** up
As for you, you have chosen to run
It’s been so long since you’ve looked back
I wonder if you still remember what it’s from

Mothers are supposed to love their children unconditionally.
So why doesn’t mine?

Am I really so empty?
Dried corn husk
Brittle leaves curved
Around negative space

The fruits of the earth
Long plucked away
Leaving nothing
But open air

But where did it all go?
Rows of pearly yellow
Crowded parts
Bursting and vibrant life

Gone is not the right word
Consumed is not either
Departed comes to mind
But it doesn’t fit right

Maybe the change is not a death
Maybe it is a birth instead

A husk is not the same
Without it’s core
But it is
It is

Born again I am new
This skin walks hollow
This skin walks full
I am not empty
I am the sum of my parts
Wholeness is perceived
And pieced together
Intentionally

I am the sum of my parts
Past and present
Intertwined so tight
The seams meld into one

Clay raked from wet ground
With my clawed hands
The weight feels the same
Balanced in my palms

Interlocking fingers
Press one heap of clay
To the other
Ooze leaks from gaps

Husk or whole
Both are parts
When clay palms collide
It’s impossible to just see
One or the other

A story is not the same
When you remove history
I cannot be a husk
Unless there was
Life