dog leashed, tied onto a pitch-black pole
woven to the pillar, like you're woven to my soul

every thought about you pours acid in my heart
and i cough out the rest like blood
one day i'm scavenging for water, a paranoid dart
the next i'm drowning in a hot-pink flood

i saw you in the window of that small local store
after becoming a regular, the door wouldn't open anymore
but you looked so pretty when you were so far away
and for some reason i come back every day

but it was so good at first
you made me finally believe
that someone out there could love someone like me

and i told you what i did wrong
and you said you didn't care
but i must've mistaken that love was in the air

i try to talk to you
i try to understand
but every word i say to you
you repeat back, just bland

and you blame it on me?
you say i'm the confusing one
so i chase and chase, give and give
you never let me take some

it's my mistake i put love first
my mistake i wasn't rational
my mistake that when you said you liked me
i somehow didn't think it was casual

i'm a dog waiting at your door
saliva puddle on your wooden floor
i wait for you to come back
like i'm tied to a pole, pitch-black

my hunger has been satiated now
i open my eyes for the sixth time
this has gone much longer than i can allow
you're making me run out of rhyme
i guess it was my mistake that even then, even now
i somehow thought you would be mine.

i hate the way men look at me
jesus never had to deal with that

as a girl i was ignorant
of what men's eyes say of their intent -
the things said in silence
when two strangers hold a stare

but, as i've aged I've realized
the things that men say with their eyes  

some men will never betray their heart,
some men only play the part,
and some men don't even know
why some women pull their heart strings so

with the first, they'll only show
what's truly in his heart and soul;
they'll never lead you with a lie -
these are the eyes i'm taken by

with the next, they'll never show
what breaks his heart or mends his soul;
they'll pamper you with gifts and laughter -
those were the eyes i once chased after

with the latter, they won't take chances -
his desires are whispered through stolen glances;
if pressed, he couldn't tell you what the plan is -
the eyes that showed me what romance is

Though a man of competence
might master a non-stick pan
with only casual reading
of its manual, he WILL need
to read the instructions for
a chain saw. The aftermath
of careless use does differ.

the girl
gauzy dress
tattered and torn
burning
breathless through brambles
reaching a river
pursued
panting
she must cross it
take a step into
freezing water
numbing bones
shaking shivering
pale skin and blue lips
trip
and
fall
hands fall forwards
trying to catch
whatever is left of yourself
but pieces crumble and scatter
on mossy rocks
sharper than they
look
howling dogs and
snarling men
filthy
hunting
they will be here soon
so get up
because there is no more time
to lie here
and wish you are not
the girl
who was maybe once loved
face down
in frigid murky water
the only company in death
those who persecute her
as her pale body
begins to rot
even god
starts to
forget
about her
first
her hands
then
her face
then
her hair
until there is
nothing
left
so that when the dogs
frothing lips
raised fur
and the men
roaring voices
savage thoughts
arrive
the girl is gone
nothing left of her but a
whisper of wind
and the scent of sandalwood
and strawberries
and summer days
long forgotten
but now remembered by those
who never knew them
maybe god didnt forget her
maybe he saved her

Ordinary men.

When naked, it's striking: thin --


muscular bundles.

I remember the time in summer camp
when we could either go swimming or paint.
Despite how much I loved to paint,
I followed my crush to the pool,
thinking my bared skin might catch his attention.
I watched as he jumped in the water,
played football, and wrestled with his friend.
He had made no compromise,
didn't change his plans because I was there.
I remember coming back to the cabin
where my friends stood with their acrylics.
Where along the line did I learn
to abandon myself for merely the possibility
of male attention, approval, appreciation?
How early was it cemented in my brain
that I am just an object to be admired
and should try at every given moment
to put myself in someone's line of view?
When did it first happen,
and how long will it take me to deconstruct,
to decentralize this gnawing belief
that I am nothing if I'm not perceived?

I am scared for my sister
And I am scared for my brother
The world isn't kind and we hurt one another

I am scared for my brother
And I am scared for my sister
Scared since the first time that someone dismissed her

I am scared for my sister
And I am scared for my brother
That some will teach him not to respect our mother

I am scared for my brother
And I am scared for my sister
Scared that I will not trust those who have kissed her

I am scared for my sister
And I am scared for my brother
I want them to be safer than many of the others

I am scared for my brother
And I am scared for my sister

I am scared for them both, I think we all know why
But I am making this oath, I will NOT just stand by