I feel like crying when someone asks me to talk about myself
And I can only try to explain why
But self reflection tends to only see the bad things
I do not fit in with everyone else like I am expected too
Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I am constantly feeling like
Something is wrong with me, something has been off since I was born
And I am just finding out about it now

This is why I push away people
As quickly as I push away my meals
And why even now I sit here in tears typing away at a ****** poem
Or why scars cover my thighs and baggy clothes hide my figure
Why everyone I had known since a child slowly forced me out of their lives

So when someone asks me to talk about myself
These things are what come to mind, but
Overwhelmed with a feeling a failure, I still manage to sell a shy smile
And say something simple like:
"I like to sail and run cross country"
Because that's what they want to hear,
And I will wait until I meet another person that will ask, and maybe
I'll fork up the courage to spill everything out,
But probably not, I feel pretend

Old records spin on damage-discounted players
Dial telephones forever silenced on the wall
Tattered books of previous scholars scattered about

The scent of nostalgia
The memory of a loved one
The calling of home
All perpetuated in small trinkets and china plates

Reminders of the past,
Reflections of the present,
Resistance of the future,

So much is held in one single shop

My boot prints leave train tracks in the snow
Because I walk with a shuffle
My parts are incomplete; I find

walking uncomfortable

No one step feels the same
But right now it’s okay
Because between three feet of snow
A moon so perfectly halved
Under a sky naked of its stars
I feel
As if my shuffle
Is graceful
As if my walk;
Permanent
As if my steps
Are purposeful
Even if a little

Awkward

I am standing under a street light in three feet of snow
Not feeling cold
Or alone
Even though its cold
And I’m alone
My mind
It does not mumble
My speech
It does not stutter
My hands they do not shake here
I
Am permanent
I am whole here
My veins
They do not show here
They are not vulnerable in their color
Here
My heart
Doesn't skip a beat
My breath doesn't waver
here I do not hear
Ticking clocks in my head
I do not say clicking tots in my head
My speech is free of stutter
My mind as certain as these disappearing footprints
My walk, well
I still shuffle

They stuff cotton down your mouth
Because it’s the only thing that doesn't choke you
When they try to muffle your sounds out
But you scream with your eyes better than you
Ever did with words

It’s a sharp sound that hurts to look at
And you knew that contradictions were the best arguments
you said  “Arguments are the best way to show someone
How much you love them because
you are giving them your words
And that is the best thing to give.”  disagreement said “Or you could give em’
Some of your M&M;’s.”

They hung mosaics of your destruction on the walls and called it “Art”
So you punched a hole through your bathroom mirror and called it “Creation”
Spent the fourth day naming your shards “Zues” “Cordelia”. Saved the sharpest one
And called it “Helen”, said “Pain only ever hurts when its beautiful.” Disagreement said
“You’re a ****** up sadomasochistic *****”

On the fifth day you dreamt your father held you
Except it wasn't your father it was a ******* who found you
frozen to a street light
On the sixth day you called me and said: “I have a name for creation;
It’s destruction.”
On the seventh day they found you praying to the  images on a TV screen
Holding onto a mathematical calculation in your hand
Calling it the formula to happiness
The numbers spelled out




D   R  U  G  S

Wandering the Yellow Brick Road,
Toto gallops at my side

The glittering Emerald City
Only a small spec on the horizon

But there is no rush, we will be there soon
Danger certainly doesn't lurk on our path

But what’s that?
A gray cloud rolling in
Over my grand escape

Surely this is the fault of the Wicked Witch
She is the cause of all trouble
In a happily untainted world

But what’s happening now?
The scarecrow?
Confused, lost
The tinman?
Cold, unloving
And the lion?
Timid, coy

But where is the wizard?
He should be arriving any moment now
He will surely help us find our way

But where is Glinda?
She knows reality will release its clutch
She will give us comfort

My fairy tale world cannot crumble
Even in the distant memory of childhood

I hope I haven’t somehow lost
My ruby red slippers along the way

your lips,
painted the finest shade of crimson
gently tighten,
preventing the truth from pouring out

your eyes,
lined the smokiest tone of gray
slowly close,
shielding the pain from exposure

your collar bones,
protruding the way you always dreamed of
shy away,
covered by endless scarves

your vertebrae,
resembling the perforations of a page
sink down,
wrapped in layers of fabric

the measures taken
to hide the mess you've become
can't manage to speak louder
than the demons in your head