snow covers the ground
and hides the footprints you left
when you walked out of our front door without saying
goodbye
and now my hearts shattering
into a million tiny snowflakes floating
around in the sky until it turns into a blizzard
because the more I think of all the fun we had the harder the snow falls
swirling around my head like all the memories we created
just like the snowman in our yard
but eventually the sun came out and he melted
his nose and button eyes falling to the ground as fast as I fell head over heels for you
and now I remember why I love winter
but hate the snow

blink
now you're 5 years old again
waiting for mommy to sing to you and tell you everything will be okay
after scraping your knee on the drive way while running around
until daddy comes home from wherever he is

blink
now you're 10
mommy's leaving for work and you're crying so hard
because you don't want her to leave
you're not used to being around just daddy
because he's never usually home
so you run down the stairs but the doors already closed
and her headlights are pulling out of the driveway
and down the road she goes

blink
now you're 13
mom and dad are fighting again
you close your eyes and scream into your pillow to muffle the noise
but even the whistle from the train down the road
or the whooshing in your ears that sound like waves
from not eating in three days
can't quite the fighting

blink
15
you're eyes are glazed and heavy
and the smoke pouring from your lips tastes funny but
the walls are spinning and though you never liked carnival rides
it feels like one now as you sit on an uneven stool
in your best friends garage
and inhale the burning substance that makes things funny and
helps you forget about the impending argument
that's happening at home

blink
18
white toilet bowls and shaky hands
quickly you flush down the granola you forced down
that morning
before rushing out of the door before
dads new girlfriend could say hi
walking down the hallway
of the old apartment building
the tiles start to move
and its like you smoked that strange plant again
but this time the corners of the hallway are getting dark
and it feels like you've been walking for
f o r e v e r
so you grab the wall next to you
as the floor rushes up and everything goes
*black

sometimes i look to the clouds for guidance
in hopes that their darkness can help me
but then it rains
and looking up at the clouds isn't so easy
and my hair is wet and make up is ruined so i run
under the tall trees that i used to be afraid of because
monsters lurked inside there
but now as i crawl on the dirt covered ground i
pray pray pray
to a god that's maybe not there
you're right

pain*
the look in your eyes told me
that even the worst injury
wouldn't compare to the pain that i gave you

I woke up to the sound of a train and it was raining. I might be dreaming.
My mom has always loved
the sound of a train and here I am in someone else’s bed thinking
about how much I love the taste of blood and the smell of sweat.
My plant has a pulse but my eyes might
be playing tricks on me, I have a way of forgetting to separate my dreams
from reality. Sometimes
I share too much of myself with people too soon. I told
him that my grandma had green eyes
and that’s where I got mine and that I’ve got nightmares that test
my patience night after night
with grotesque new realities on display before my eyes
and that my nails are stained from pomegranate and that
I got straight As and I told him to bite me because
I like it
but I shouldn’t have said it all so soon.
When I’m hurtling home in my metal death trap
powered by explosions I take pictures of the sky to show myself that
I’m alive and beauty is only here now and a deer
could leap or someone could swerve and ****
me or the airbag could rip off my jaw and I’ll
spend my life bearing my ******* way that I didn’t intend. I’m the writer
with no jaw that everyone reads out of pity and to get a glance
in the windows of a ******’s life.
When I wake up my jaw is still there
but I’ve been clenching it again.
No adderall, no *******, no caffeine, just the pressure
I put on myself and the weight of life knotting up the muscles in my back
until my ribs start to tighten and constrict my breathing so I pull at the ribbons
laced up and down my sternum
but it is too late and the bone corset pulls me in,
pulling pulling pulling until
my organs burst out of my skin.
He tells me,
“You’re hard to read, you know.” I giggle
but I find it tough to explain the rich cascade of emotions that are tied
to the lunar tides and make me crave coffee at midnight in terms
that don’t make me sound completely crazy.
Well, tonight I am eating dinner and attempting to read while the television
babbles at me from another room
about something I don’t need to hear but I hear
a cracking sound and my teeth are sharp and jagged and crumbling
as I run my tongue across them. I wake up sweating.
When it was sunny I bought socks from the little girl section and I drenched myself in perfume. Later on we were drinking chai tea
and getting *****, so I **** on your fingers
while you choke me and in the morning you make pancakes
and I eat it
but I’m afraid of the flour and the substance because it rises up
under my skin and collects in unwanted pools on my body.
I shouldn’t have drank any beer but
I had three
and I spilled my secrets the second I felt the warmth of trust.
God ******* ****.
I drive in silence.
The poster’s eyes have been following me
all night and I don’t know if it is a matter of perspective
or some delusion convincing me that I’m not alone
word vomiting on notebooks and textbooks and gushing
piles of words onto my comforter. I pictured
growing a human being inside of me and my heart
started trying to run from my chest
I scared myself into an anxiety attack
picturing years flashing before me. Before I told him
that I’m not like most girls
he kissed my forearms
and then he kissed my neck. Maybe I’m crazy for believing in astrology but
last night I was hearing your moans
as roars like the lion you are purring, nuzzling me
until you fell asleep and I remembered
being five and wishing I was Belle, marrying the beast. I don’t know.
I don’t know if I’m crazy.
I kept losing my earring in your bed like I secretly wanted to leave something more tangible than my scent or stray blonde hairs for
you to find and remember me by. I think you like me too much and I’m
afraid of what you’ll find when you get in my mind and see the battlefield
that rages inside of a pretty head.
I used to see the world with the eyes of a child but today I feel like I’m senile and looking at the world from the future and dissecting the past
because I lost track of time again and no one knew where I was for seven hours. I might have been wandering but I think I was asking
a fruit fly for directions when she flew into my pupil and laid eggs on my optic nerve causing the light to fraction
and my thoughts to be projected onto the wall ahead.
People passing by could see it all streaming out of me,
every emotion, every desire, every fear and every image,
even the smoking **** on the cement
from when he left got stuck on my screen
and the dream I had the night before
about a man with gigantic hands
and a woman shielded her eyes
as I thought about the way you use your tongue on me. When I finally
stumbled home the projection had stopped
but the maggots had started and I stared at the mirror
and branded myself with the word ugly.
The pill is folded in the dollar and I whack it with a lighter,
the white shards scatter out and I lay the bill flat and crush crush crush
until the powder is free of chunks. One two three
making ten perfect lines, five on each side and my nostrils are on fire.
I **** smoke from a pipe and get so high that my entire face feels like melting
off and I’m so determined to sleep that I can’t
and I anticipate
gritty dreams but I never drift off.
Three glasses of white wine later I drive to his house and I can hear the train hitting the breaks while we throw empty beer bottles at the moving cars
from the roof of a crooked house. And then, the willow tree
draped over the train tracks
grabs the wind with her branches and she summons
sheets of rain that come blasting down.
I’m afraid of heights and I’m not sure why but I think falling
from the apple tree at age thirteen was the first time I realized that
bones break and they never heal the same way and my hands are shaking but

I stay on the wet roof with you and I let myself melt into this
momentary reality.