When I am seventeen I go a bit insane and I discover that the whole world is connected to me by strings and I don’t know if I control them or if they control me but I do know that I feel very enlightened and aware when I have not eaten for five days and I drink two pots of coffee a day to stay awake because the nights are still whispering all their darkest secrets and I know that there is a grid of cosmic light keeping everything in tact but why? I see God in the golden dust that exists within each and every one of us and it makes me want to tear out my hair and scream at the top of my lungs when you tell me you can’t find salvation, just look at yourself, look inward, look back, look ahead, look anywhere

I am at the party I did not want to attend

I am at the party although I would rather be at home in bed

I am at the party and I cannot find the girl who invited me

I am at the party and oh my god where should I stand

I am at the party and I am feeling grateful for the pack of cigarettes I bought before I came, now I have something to do with my hands

I am at the party and everyone seems to be speaking a foreign language I can't understand

I am at the party and no thank you I don't want a drink

I am at the party and I already said no, please leave me alone

I am at the party and I'm sorry I'm not trying to be rude

I am at the party and why am I sorry I haven't done anything wrong

I am at the party and I am trying hard to blend in with the patterns on the wallpaper

I am at the party and I am focusing on seeping into the furniture and into the floor and into the soil

I am at the party and it's been 30 minutes is it okay for me to leave yet

I am at the party and why don't these people have any pets

I am at the party and the line for the bathroom is way too long where am I going to hide now

I am at the party and I am texting myself would-be poems that will gather dust as drafts

I am at the party and I should really learn how to dance

I am at the party and I look across the room and I see you

I am at the party and she is biting your lip, her fingers in your hair

I am at the party and you look happier with her than you ever did with me

I am leaving the party as quickly and calmly as my legs will carry me

I am leaving the party and it's okay I'm okay everything is going to be okay

I have this fantasy where I am driving on the interstate and I am not daydreaming about crashing my car and being killed on impact

I have this fantasy where I have never spent a whole summer covering up my scars

I have this fantasy where I know my body and I am at peace with it

I have this fantasy where I never stopped making art because of what a teacher said to me when I was seventeen

I have this fantasy where I know how to write good poetry

I have this fantasy where I have never fallen in love with too many drug addicts

I have this fantasy where I am sleeping with a stranger for fun and not because I hurt

I have this fantasy where someone knows all the best parts of me

I have this fantasy where someone knows all the worst parts of me

I have this fantasy where I can say “I love you” out loud instead of just writing it down

I have this fantasy where I am giving my whole self to somebody else and they are not asking me for more

You and I will devour each other like there is a fire inside burning up every bit of poetry scribbled down on the backs of napkins, every line you have ever spilled into me, pushed past my lips and scraped along my teeth with your tongue. We become wild things with sharp claws that rip and tear and bite, there are monsters in your voice when you moan into me and I am falling quickly in love with each and every one of them. And to be honest touching you touching me has provided me with enough material to last through years of loneliness, there is a quiet storm behind my eyelids when I am alone in bed with my hands between my thighs, there is a tidal wave screaming your name that only escapes in satisfied sighs.

Well now I am aware
Of the newest anarchy towards your reasonings
An enterprise of not feeling anything
This practise of not making a sound.

Even the hollowest, little laugh, catapulted up
Through the roof of your mouth, and reflecting
Off the top of your tongue, can still be too much.
In earnest, even if it's an eighth of a sound, its apex
Is too much to drown out, I hear it everywhere that

It throws me towards. Holds me by the throat and it
Knows me now like it wants me to find out but then
Hides itself, like the chime of a bell, ringing off the hem
Of the dress you wore on October 30th of 2012, it is a
Sound that'd I'd never be able mute out, that comes
To me unexpectedly, and it takes the rest of me to keep cool.

Now the inches grow, and the moon men climb inside of
My mouth. I want to yell. Scream! But I can't even shout.
The words inside of my hands write, but the ink has dried out.
I wasn't sure but now I'm sure that the time has come and
That time on the clock is now. Call up the whales, undress for
The moon, I'm making Rice Krispies because the penguin girl

Is coming home soon.

The Benchwarmer with peeled eyes and a chip on his shoulder
Was all ears but under the weather

The Pick of the Litter told him to hold his horses and that he could not pass go to collect two hundred dollars

Bob his Uncle was down in the dumps that day
And ***** his Aunt's eyes were bigger than her stomach
But she had a punchline so funny it would rock your socks off then proceed to knock them off  even though they fit like a glove

But somewhere in the crowd there we're various whisperers and a soothsayer who knew The Benchwarmer would win it big single-handedly that day

And they all shouted from the stands

"You got a good head on your shoulders, you little pain in the ***!"

rainbow fish with the most beautiful teeth
swimming in circles around my head
******* breath out of my lungs
so suddenly that I sob my mothers name
and even the name of the god that I do not know
before the darkness of the lack of oxygen leaves me in a daze
and floating on the floor in a pool of my own sweat
clear like diamond tears from a dragon who lost its fire

whose only intent is to **** me father down into the shadows
as cold as the belly of a glacier
where I can finally catch a clear glimpse of my own soul
battered and tarnished and stained
i wish somebody could save me from this
fish seemingly beautiful but full of hate and
I don’t know where the hate came from
it suddenly rose in me at
first like a gentle drizzle and then became a tidal wave
that will flatten anything and all that wanders into its way
I don’t even know if I am capable of love anymore
will the monsters leave
wont they go

I need to shrink like alice
and go far away from this life that others have built for me
I am rapunzel in her tower I am trapped
but I cut off my own hair in a fit of self hate
and now have no way to escape
the only thing I can do is wait
but how am I supposed to change when I am locked away
in my own mind and nobody can come in
and nobody can help
and I don't know how to save myself

Things didn’t turn out to be the way that
I thought they really would be.
Often times, and more than not, they’re not
done the way that they should be.
It’s approaching that time when I move my
old mountain—this fact is most certainly true.
It’s time that I carve that big old mountain
that is blocking my one and only view.
My fifteen minutes are still on the way—
but coincidentally, I just might need twenty.
You say that there are no silver linings,
but touches of grey are surely plenty.
With time of the essence and all in a hurry,
I’m simmering the meat for the great big stew.
I believe it’s time to move that old mountain,
the one that blocks my incredible view.
Bulldozers, trucks, and backhoes not needed—
I’m thinking it will only require my hands.
For once in my life I’ll go to the source,
the untapped one that even I can’t stand.
So as I tunnel deep while digging in the dirt,
it’s time to find soil that bleeds all blue.
No better time to move that **** mountain—
you will be glad when I’m rid of it too.

I sit here and type
while
the sounds of alcohol
dribble in
through the netting
of my screen.
The pseudo-intellectual noise
of the painfully stupid
absolutely
infiltrates.

I sit here and type
while
I wait
for the camel to burn.
For his blue feet
to go up in
small,
mighty embers.
Resisting their
ultimate
culmination.

I sit here and type
while
my cat blinks at the
iridescence of nothing;
glinting
in it's
all-encompassing
emergence.
The invisible fields;
designs of the
archaic.

I sit here and type
while
realities flatten
in lives
everywhere.
Tragedy unfolds
upon more
tragedy;
leaving no
survivors,
no triumph.

I sit here and type
while
the Oroboros
eat their own tails;
solidifying their
eternal return
and
cyclicality.
Serpents,
in movements
of blindness;
displaying their
ever-lasting existence.

I sit here and type
while
domesticated peoples
everywhere
bypass the phenomena
that is,
our humanity.
Giving in to
temporal compression;
eyes bandaged.

I sit here and type
while
nothing in particular happens.
The terminally mad
go mad,
the desperate prisoner
remains imprisoned,
the lipstick stains
the mouth
and we all
go on,
as if we weren't
the wiser.