When I was little I use to get sick a lot
I would sleep sitting up, or on the tile in the bathroom.
I would cry for my mom in the night as my stomach rids itself of the food I had eaten that day.

When I was little I use to stand in front of the mirror
I would turn from side to side, stand on my toes and **** in
I would cry to my mom, I thought I was fat. She told me I had a wide rib cage and I cried harder because that meant there was no hope.

When I was a little older I use to watch what I ate at lunch
I would sit with my boyfriend and his friends, I covered my mouth after each bite.
I would always be sure to leave food on my plate, and I never got sweets when I sat with them.
I would cry to myself- I thought for sure they were judging me by my plate

Now, I still stand in front of the mirror with tears streaming down my cheeks
I never eat breakfast or lunch, and I eat half my dinner.
I no longer cry for my mom when I rid myself of any food I have eaten-
instead I pray that she can't hear.

The Sound of Music pervades the air,
As the Nowhere Boys and Uptown Girls,
Come home after A Hard Day's Night.
Isn't it Tiffany's turn to make breakfast?

say say, "poems"

orbit around teenage angst or "melodrama"

and unrequited love or a "15 year old's infatuation"

with the relishes of teenage woes

alongside skanky ******

were reversed roles in a millennial

battle ; a literacy war



say say, "poets"

clad in magniloquent scrapes

of tight skin, "grandiose" leather

that screech tumblr or more commonly known "fashion"

were the luminescent windows

to that "boy's soul" or obnoxious ****



say say "teens"

as infertile as neglected garden soil

had fervent thoughts on "feminism"

or as the males see it as misandry

and whose words did not revolve

around themselves or "ignorance"

then maybe bloods wouldn't boil

past water's b.p.

and heads wouldn't load with loathe or "insecurities"

and hearts wouldn't heal with blood

or "suicide"

**| say say - m.m |

every other line, underlined;
a life preserver sewn together with words,
ink circling my wrists like it could
anchor me here in existence, even if
it's nothing short of a distracting illusion.
in them, i saw my own struggle resurrect
itself, still a burden from my past
haunting me relentlessly since i was
thirteen.

isn't that a terrifying thing?
that kids of this generation
swallow pills like candy, cut wrists
like ribbons, drink liquor like
sweet-and-sour medicine? they give us
a bad reputation for hyperbole and
self-diagnosis, like the things we see
in ourselves are any less valid,
like the science and drugs they "cure" us
with have any meaning when our
mental mortality is broken and sick.

they say it's for attention, but
breaking news: it isn't.

why would you want to fake this
disease? it's a miserable, dead end cave
that collapses around you daily and suffocates,
squeezing until your insides are a barren wasteland, until
time ceases meaning anything and the clock ticks, ticks,
ticks, until we feel
the ticks of time teetering towering above
our heads, and we wait for the minute hand
to come slicing down like a
guillotine.

i remember that summer night vividly,
in muted colors and looming black screens
three a.m., weighed down by
self-loathing, wishing for an escape route.
they don't tell you about it; there's something
taboo about the slithering double s slipping
through your lips.
but every year, people succumb to this battle
they can't win, because they're so unaware,
frighteningly ill-prepared.

it's twisted how "i have a headache"
can be an acceptable reason to stop
trying for a day, but yet
"i can't get up today
i can't get up at all everything is
pointless and my body won't obey won't
perform basic survival functions and i
haven't eaten haven't slept right in days
i don't care why should i care
i don't care i don't care i don't
why do i keep going on like this like
a dead man walking like nothing
is wrong like this smile isn't badly mixed
plaster like it isn't chipping away
cracking breaking the ice around me
drowning me in the never ending black hole"
isn't quite good enough.

i never knew it affected anyone besides
adults. adults never realized
we kids could get totaled, too,
that we could be hopeless and
hollowed out, walking infinitely
in darkness and dissolving each
second. so yes,
when i found quentin, i wanted
to change his end. i wanted
to make things better, because i remember
finally finding a name for the churning beast
in me and crying with relief, no longer
alone or empty, even if the feeling was the fleeting
shooting star in a the vast dark cosmos.
i want to save him from the violent end
because i have to, because i owe
every kid like me an ear to listen, an
understanding smile, and some battle tips
from someone with invisible scars.
i'm healed, now, but quentin and so many
others have already lost, and
god forbid we lose another
to the parasite in our brains.
in his words, i hope someone
can find a steel lifeline,
and that they learn to let go
of tricky ticking time.

This world that we now live in
So full of ungrateful sins
From the lies
To all the pain that never subside
We never trust
Our hearts will just burst
We judge one another
Killing our own brothers
Disrespecting our own mothers
We leave others to starve
And to our skin we carve
We find cruel ways
To erase a stain
To ease the pain
But in this cruel reality
Where there's no morality
This is the only way to survive
And although our world has evolved
Our problems in humanity will never be solved

It was a hot and heavy summer night
when one of us got the brilliant idea
to go skinny dipping in the river

We all knew about the boy
who had been carried away by the current
in this same spot two years ago
but no one acknowledged the elephant
in the back of the pickup truck

With our parents' stolen *****
sitting in our stomachs,
we took to the dark waters
all laughter and bare skin

Teasing and splashing and smiling
we had the time of our lives
and not one of us noticed
that we were being pulled out to sea

The birds break into song
as they see sweet Serenity
ride on by
the morning mist dances
the sky swift changes to bright light
as sweet Serenity dances into the day
Eluding memories of summers splash
water temperatures just perfect
Little Serenity tiptoes in
as she sings her song ...

"Red leaves fallen upon the dock
and the birds fly by, the butterflies
with striking colors, touches my nose
and makes me cry."

Little Sweet Serenity riding shyly
on her little bicycle
sweet as pie, loves to eat blackberries
on the hill by the railroad track
until the train came racing by ...

As the twilight begins
the folic in the air
little sweet Serenity
has a tummy ache
to many blackberries
to many songs
sends little Serenity
to say good night
until tomorrows new light ...

Debbie Brooks 2014

Tap the screen
Send the text
So my mind can be free
Heart beating fast
Seen at 10:23