Can we talk about the word trigger
Because people are dumb
Teenagers say they are triggered when
They don’t want to write a paper
They miss a goal in soccer
They drop their phone
That is called being annoyed or disappointed
That is not triggered

A trigger is an emotional allergy
Some that triggers distress or panic
A trigger is loud noises cause a panic attack

You’re good at finding the things that will hurt you and french-kissing them behind the locked door of a school bathroom stall.

When you were 12 your mother found you with scraped knees and asked why the hell you run to things when you’re so intent on falling down.
It’s a good hurt if it bleeds and it’s the best hurt if it kills you.

If you don’t want good things, nobody can take them from you so you take them from yourself, the art of denying, of choosing bad choice bad choice bad choice until you’re dizzy with victory because yeah maybe you ruined your life but it was your life to ruin and nobody not nobody is going to control you like that again.

Who can hurt you when you’re already cutting the brake lines and setting fire to the engine.
Who can hurt you when you’re practically an artist at self-destruction.
Pain is clean.
Pain makes sense.
Pain is temporary.

Isn’t it all temporary.

I boil and bubble over my clothes like steam over a cauldron
Cooking up a dreadful brew
At times unaware,  at times I am still in the body of a 16 year old
At war with her mind and body
Bones almost audibly creaking with each gust of wind
And although the world wasn’t kind to me all of those years ago
And although I wasn’t kind to me
And although older boys snarled their teeth at my protruding rib cages and hip bones hungry for a snack
I’d do anything
To get my body back

And boy, if they didn’t gnaw away at my skin and flesh
I may have been left with my beautifully rigid shell
But my insides are spilling out in soft rolls
Reflections making my head spin, the spinning of the clock, the new looseness of my exterior, my own hell
Maybe if I could do a spell I could tell the goddess how my body once fell at the hands of the Devil and it began to swell like a balloon and I’m waiting for it to pop
I’m waiting for it stop
And hopefully then
I will no longer dwell
On how much I hate a body
That holds me so well

Loving an addict is like living in a haunted house
It isn't always scary, but when it is, it is terrifying
It is shake you in your bones, haunt you to your core ~ terrifying

Little things lead up to the big scares
A bump in the night
(of *******)
A spilled elixer on the floor
(of straight *****)
A crushed up relic scattered along the floor tiles
(of Oxycontin pill bottles)

And you try to pretend it isn't happening
And you tell everyone you can't see the ghosts
And you ignore the loud noises and the sudden screams in the night
After all, this is your home and he is your heart


And now your heart is haunted

Cut off God’s thirteenth finger,
It brings the world bad luck.

At the supper of the twelve,
It traded life with a kiss on the cheek!
A tree held a rope for it,
So it could trade the life back!

Number thirteen of the twelve,
Died in a non-existent hotel room.

The dead speak tales of the one,
Who’s kiss killed the sun.
Blew out the world’s candle,
And slaughtered god’s cattle.
Loaded three long nights into a gun...
And pulled the trigger!

You pulled the trigger
I held the gun
Watching then fall
Is so much fun
Bodies dropping
One by one
You pulled the trigger
I held the gun
Darling can't you
Taste the blood
All these bullets
Just one is enough