i was too tender and well-meaning in my youth to understand why each petal plucked from a flower felt so powerful. the way it tugged, the resistance. like a stop sign colored in a light rose pink. it was softly forbidden, you weren’t supposed to do it — but it wasn’t impossible. i didn’t understand power, but i felt it that day.

the flower was my first conquest. i made confetti of anything i could get my hands on — leaves, fruit, toys — i couldn’t stand to see anything whole. to the untrained eye, i was just messy and curious. i was, and i am.

but somewhere along the way, i was the one that was ripped to shreds. someone felt that power i did in my mom’s garden and graduated to people. so did i.

and i so wish i could say i cascaded softly to the ground with a whisper like a petal and not a resounding thud that echoed in the bottom of every bottle of alcohol i drank, in the cramped back of cars of strangers, at the edge of the pitch roof of my house. i wish i had that much grace.

i now understand how the flower petals, the pieces of fruit, the dolls without heads or arms must have felt — to be unwilling participants of a mosaic that didn’t even make a very pretty picture.

but at least i’m sharp if you dare to pick me up and put me on your wall.

For someone like me
being told you're getting
exactly what you've always wanted
is like being told that you have
24 hours to live.

Because nothing I've ever wanted
really, actually, down-deep wanted
has ever worked out.

The more important something was,
the more ****** up the eventual outcome.

This self-fulfilling prophecy has been
more reliable than any family
member, friend, or lover has ever been.

It's never let me down.

Meteors are made of three components
Iron, nickel and silicates
You are made of something simpler
Sea salt, angst and
Tenderness

Yet my fingers always fall short
Of reaching you
But if you did ever let me caress the space
Between us
Not just in our lips

You’d come crashing down
Bursting in a kaleidoscope of flames
Orange and silver sparks flying
And I would still hold on
Even if you take me with you.

"I'm not going to win.
So why should I even try?"
That's what you've been telling yourself so when the bullies try to hurt you, you won't cry.
I've been down that road
a couple times.
Told myself a thousand lies.
Felt my soul die
a little more every time.
Then one day,
someone showed me the way.
When I looked to see
where I'd come from,
I saw a sign with instructions.
It said "this way to self destruction."

_______________

Bewitched by the charming graces of my private hell

Honesty, leave me be, that I should never kiss and tell


Soul to the winds, body to the flames

Salvation is ash, destruction a game


Spirit starving, though gorging be

Whether passion, love, or ecstasy


Only eyes am I

No hands to grasp the things I see


Only prayers am I

Never to reach the powers that be


On bliss' wings I soar upon high

A slobbering slave of darkening sky


Mind for fire, heart for dust

My remains trapped in a body in lust


The master plans the subjects scheme

The circle of life, the cruelest theme


Only eyes am I

No way to catch the tears that fall


Only now am I

Too late to save one from the fate of all


At the end of my rope I dangle and twist

Should I climb for the top or cease to exist?


Reason and sorrow to sweetest wits end,

Ignorance and wisdom dance, twist, and bend.


Grey rains fall and tired eyes swell

Never again to kiss or to tell