went up giant land ***** thing.
had to come down.
two giant anthills:
bites = fatal
they Swarm and eat you alive
journal excerpt, from when i was 11, almost 12. 2013
dewalt yellow construction stereo
marysville lumber coffee mug
plastic blue butter knife
red solo cup
black metallic lantern
smoke and ash
trees towering above
red case containing coffee grounds
a blanket of sunlight
journal excerpt from 2018; i wrote a list of things around me that caught my eye
all i am is an inconvenience.
i want a gun. i want to use it.
i want to be forgotten.
i want to cut my skin off.
i want to be thin.
i want my face to bleed.
i want to feel things.
i don’t think i’m depressed.
i just want to blow my ******* brains out.
i never want to die.
i wish god was with me.
i want a bigger tv.
i want a nice house.
i want a dog.
i want people to share my life with.
i want my daydreams to come true.
i want to say what i want instead of holding myself back.
i want to be funny.
i want to be poetic.
i want to be smart.
i want elise.
i want dad.
i want the nightmares to disappear.
i want to be something instead of nothing.
i want to know what i want.
i don’t like school. i do like school.
i want a car.
i want to stop wanting.
journal excerpt from 2017; when i was 16.
you tug at the edges of your hips, pooling your skin in your fingers
“i feel so fat”
i was finally getting accustomed to the idea of my own body
i’d begun to catch glimpses of myself in the mirror
no longer being completely consumed by hatred at the sight of it
and seeing the vast differences in size; how your body is so, so much smaller than mine
and still you hate yourself
has taught me
that i should hate mine too.
this is not anyone’s fault. just an unfortunate circumstance
I AM FROM THE THICK GREEN OF JUNE,
From dripping honeysuckle, hanging in the air
From saturated heaven filtering into my room through sunbeams
From santeria, from today, from all of my intangible companions
I am from the people who’s hands have been bloodied piecing together my shattered fragments
And from the fingers who have played their part in breaking me
I am from nights spent painfully awake
And from the comforting burn of black coffee jumping onto my tongue
I am from two children unwilling, unable, to grow up
And I am from learning to find the child in myself that I once lost;
Through soaring down rivers of cement on a bike too big,
Or through finding the smallest of things almost too beautiful to comprehend
I am from the world in it’s entirety, and all that it has to offer me
All I am from are the people that I love
And maybe a little bit of sunshine
everything means so much to me all the time
I WAS BORN
like a flame
i ate and ate and ate
until i couldn't eat anymore
i got too full
so i hurled myself into the sky in sparks
disappearing into the oil spill night
so i might live again
in another place, in another time
couldn't think of a name lol. i'm watching pulp fiction, so you know, it just came up. we are just like fire, aren't we? we require oxygen, we grow,, consume and eventually...falter. decay
it's been awhile since i drifted backwards
when you manifest again, like you always do
i feel your calloused fingers stretching, like spider legs
dangling in the back of my throat
my therapist said that it was a form of conditioning.
in 7th grade, we learned about oral ***.
sometimes, a man would fit himself into a girl's mouth
filling her and filling her and only stopping
when he was satisfied
the teacher stopped teaching in the middle of the lesson, eyes shining with apathy
"why are you crying?"
everyone looked at me.
everyone always looks.
you pulled my hair so roughly
i was only a little kid
i was only a little kid
i didn't even gag.
you tasted like cigarettes.
i wish i could go back to therapy.