anger burns so deep within me ,
i dont know where
it stops .
               .
                .

god told me there was a mistake
when creating
you

(and he whispers when he lies)

so
look me in the eyes next time --

tell me it's not painful .
.

the room is red, through
eyes stained by
blue glass ,

vague memories plague
me
(a girl in a dress,
the orange sun, and the red
and white
of his walls)

i can’t believe i know you,
with water leaking
from your eyes .
                          .
and
one day,
i think —
while gassed,

ill carve our initials into
the first
tree i find ,
and cry into my palms
just
to help it grow .
                           .

and
maybe that will make me love you
back.

HOW
do you convince a man that you do not
like him?

how do you transfer in
                                        words,
the feeling of bile stinging your throat
as you choke on words that should've
never
have needed to
be said

WHY
doesn't he listen the first time?
                                                      when
you spit on your hands, and pray to a god
that you don't know, forgive me,
but don't forget me,
p l e a s e... i
just want
to go home,
                       even though
he has taken your bed, your thoughts,
and
      your
             sleep,

WHEN
did our belonging become
less than
his success, my organs are
                                               not
a playground, and his skin is not your
rug-- let us go,
well say once more,

we really just don't like you.

i cried my eyes out for
you:
thick,
         laundry detergent
                              tears,
in sickly smelling blues .
.
.

i will never be the same,
                  i
               sup
               pos
                 e
                  ,
stained in white and red .
.
.
                                    

you know i know who
did
this
to
me,
right?
i can smell it on you .
.
.

my                      love,
do i               sure cry
for        you, my
broken heart,
it aches for you,
but          my love,
my                love is
not                    forever .
.
.

red
.
.
is a safe color,
the color of warning and
sweet relief,
as
a man wrapped in
plastic comes to your door,
with gifts or a fire hose,
to take you away,
or
as you zip
yourself up
in a sleeping bad with
crossed
stitches.

orange is the color of fear,
of horror,
of how you bled through
my doorway when i turned
off
my lights,
plucking at my heart
when i was trying to
sleep,:
orange is the color of night
when you want it to end.

yellow are the edges of
a picture, of memories
upturned by bees, and flowers..,
and eyes that look up
out windows.
yellow stands next to brown
as my toes tickle wood
and im warmed by
the sun,
yellow are the walls of my kitchen.

green is a gray color;
a neutral that fuels fire
with
mint swirls that surround me,
as
i wish
to run into a forest, hoping
i could somehow
drown a swamp with your body,
or
eat alligators alive.
.
i swear that i
would.

blue is left the saddest color,
ripping stains through
the sky
and leaving oceans with no
islands,
.
blue is the feeling of nostalgia
as you pray to planets
you'll never reach,
wishing for a hole to crawl into,
and a zipper for your heart.
singing
is blue, and so is
night.

purple is a royal color,
the color of a dress behind glass,
as children's laughter
tinkles and a man folds up his
coat; leather.
purple is the color of cake, or
the toys in a baby's room
and
my sheets before i cry.

black is the aftershock of sleep,
and of beauty,
as you stare at the floor from
your place on the couch and
wonder why it hurts.

i look at the sky everyday.

i
dreamt of love
my whole life.

boys, barbies, and all of me :
.
tiny cuts in the system,
tiny wishes
and
perfection

where
i thought love was
creation;

pink cutout cardboard and
subtraction of all
flaws .

but love is just kinetics ,
warmth and
confusion .

love is when it’s
cold
and your cheeks sting and
you look up at the sky
and
you smile ,

knowing
you can dream of love
and still
live.

did you cry as hard as me ,

when you broke me
on the floor
that night ?

heaving chest ,
i screamed and screamed
and hoped
you'd see me
on that red
red carpet ,
heaving .

i bled for hours thinking
you'd notice and
sew me up ,

as you always do ,
.
did .

but you have never felt the way
i felt ,

and you didn't .

i pull down my pants,
underpants,
and then i pull down my skin,

and it seems as though there has been blood stains
there
since forever,

so when i look down and greet each thigh,
i have begun to greet the floor
as well...

in thinking that they would laugh, when
i trim myself in the mirror,
i
make cutting motions and
pretend
to slice open my skin and everyone else
who says i am
not worth it
..

but my curves are warm when they hug me,
and i think
i see a girl hiding
between their folds, in the dark...
lost,
but in her own body.

so when people look at me, i've learned now
to cower,
to put away my teeth, my hair,
my words of indignation,
and
turn into that tiny girl, where
i'm always safe, always small...
always alone.

where i am crucified, but loved,
hungry, but not wanting,  
satiated...

but only for now.

who was i
to you
?

on that blown up
leather couch
and streaky,
sheet-less
bed,

who was i
if not the person
i explained

and who were you
to
imagine me on
my knees
?

don't forget -
youll love me forever
,

that pretty girl
in gray and
blue
who couldve loved you
back :

and
don't forget -
you killed her.

blood.

so much blood leaked into
my eyes
as you took apart the
pieces in my head.

i don't know when it started:
but i was four, maybe
five,
the first time i remember
you taking a big chunk out of me:

i was sweet, rosy red,
and stuffed in a dress,
and you were black,
a pale shadow in
dark clothing as you grabbed
my legs when i tried to run....

and did again,
every night
from then on out.

i was
seated on a couch each time,
and
i felt as though
my eye bags
touched the floor
every second and all i really
wanted
was for you not to be angry...

i hate that stupid couch.
i lied so many times.

you have cheated me—
and now i am going to skin you alive .
.

forgotten ,
i am desperate to be swallowed whole
as you look right through me
like a window,

in greens and grays...
i could be rotting,
d y i n g .
.

and i know you would still not see
me whole .
.
.

so ,
am i just a walking corpse
to you ?

my face
merely
unrecognizable flesh?

eyes like little pearls ,
the sky is pink and i can’t even cry ...
and still you are standing
t a l l .
            .
              .

but even invisible,
i know i can still hold a knife and
i can still know
rage.

and you can still pretend that i don’t exist ,
praying
that i never try to **** you.
.

disconnected ,
my torso has been torn from my legs
and i lay in pieces, separated
miles apart ,,

wires, like silver veins,
stem from plants
and flowers,
like
little golden ropes .
a noose around a garden *** ,
and
a robot without its head
.

they always say that love is blind ,
but i think love
must be cruel —
for she dressed me in red and then
left me to die,

and you know..
a tea kettle who boils
also screams ...

i want to be loved so bad

it took a long time to feel okay again

no one in the world is as nice as me

six feet deep
you have buried me ,
and i bang on the coffin door—

the
little bees outside make honey
while i just try to breathe .
.
.

one day, this grass will grow quite tall,
and i will soak my
aching feet ,

who was it,
                    who told you to hurt me?

who is it, that wants me to
die?

these roses are so beautiful, yet
all of them have
thorns.

i pull up my pants -

leg, leg, zipper,
buckle
.

the room heaves with me ,
a breath released
and a mind
unclear :
.

i don't know if
he made me bleed,

i don't know if he
even
would .
.
.

the sky looks yellow
as he walks me home,
but it's not:

it's blue
and the wind stings my
cheeks
.

don't
say my name
to get my attention,
thats like acting like i
can't hear without it.

don't
use my name
as an insult, for i hate
it already, and find it
used up in that line of resource.

don't
worship my name
the way you want me to worship
your words, it may be my own,
and it may be who you see me as,
but i can still be just fine
without it.

god must’ve made me , strictly
to be broken open —

and
you look at me with such innocent eyes ,
but
i know you see
right through
me ,,

so
tell me , do you want me to
strip ?

please you?

there’s a hunger in your voice
and i know i’ve heard it
before —

you
are like everyone and
everyone likes
me

but i do not falter ,
and i will never, ever break,

because
every time i touch myself,
god gets on his
knees .
.

i want to be loved so bad--

but when does the
future become the present,

and
when will the
crying stop becoming
choking —

how will i forgive you
for wounds
you
did
not
open?

forgive me,
i cannot love you
the way you love
me.

i long to be whole again
.

send me to heaven,
or **** me in the process.

why are the walls always blue...
in the places where it hurts to be?
in the places where i watch
a little girl you grow up through pictures of
a little happy family in
a house that’s big and round...

who am i in this story?
.
trailer park trash assuming the role of
dignified enough to be
in that house...
with a kitchen island,
and a garden, and a beautiful, bright blue
fish tank...?

*******.

******* for having what i wish i had
when i was small,
when my parents first cracked my head open,
and accidentally filled it with illness and
bugs
from our gross, apartment floors...

for i did not grow up with a happy garden
or through pictures that mommy
keeps on her wall...

if you are unhappy, i must live in ******* hell.

so you say that we are from the people
who buried their dead
with flowers.

and you say that when
the world ends, we will simply learn to fall
apart.

i wonder,
if there will still be love when we convince
ourselves
that everything is still alright.

but how can we love the children that
we lie to…
and how can we trust those who
we forsake…

when you look me in the eyes next time,
or when you look at that spot, right beside
me,

i will remember our dead,
and i will remember
how you never truly meant to leave flowers.

i cannot seem to find any air
when i am with you .
                                    .
                         ­             .

so
i try to make myself anew,
and then
push myself out into a world where i find that
then
i cannot breathe,

and so when you hit me,
instead of laughing,
i just choke ,

and instead, when i feel water
in my lungs,
i heave
instead of hiccuping,
and finally understand why
i am not the favorite child.
.

i know that i was lied to
from your place among each star ,

glorified, i
let you lie—

as you looked right down
your nose -

it is sad,
as
you bit me for a kiss
then grew a
house
inside my heart

how could i ever have let myself
love you
?

i tried to die for you —
give my little body up for you :
and for
those
          that i
                   loved

but maybe i didnt love anybody ,
and maybe
                    that’s why i stayed.

they say that pain is always temporary
but i don’t feel
temporary —

and
they say
that you can always
                           heal,

but instead, i guess

i
hurt the ones i loved the most
and then
realized there were people
watching .
.

i would’ve died for you ,
                                         you know ?
hung my body up like a curtain -
a poison crown of thorns .
.

but
maybe god wanted you  
                                         instead.

it hurt when she took you from me,
but it hurt even more when you
willingly let her.

i want to scream,
and forgive myself for
forgiving you.

feelings are meant to be
hurt,
for if they were not,
why would they?

he came crawling up the street
like a nightmare in a human body*
grabbed her arm, and while
paralyzed with fear,
*she forgot to run

you trail blood with you ..
wherever you
go —

leaking from holes i made
inside your
                   chest ,,

so tell me //

why
am i the one crying ,
when i know
i’ll break your heart ?

i pray that you will end me ,
with a knife plunged in my gut —

for
death is better than
any pain
that
i will ever cause
                           you .
                                    .

i don’t trust you with myself ..
anymore ,

unfurled -
the ocean laps at my feet
as you wish to
gaze upon girls ...
—
all
perfect flowers .
                            .

you say that you understand , and
that you hate it when i do that.
.
but i think you’re drowning ,
and i guess ,
this means you don’t want saving ...

do you think —
you’ll still love me ,
even if i make
your face bleed all blue?

you tell me that i’m wrong,
in a way that should make me feel
stupid.

i feel angry instead.

i dream we live in a different life ;;

you are pretty
and i am
young

and i stare into your
eyes and you
look me all over

almost . .
like i am food .

but you do not eat
me

frankly :
you never could
.

i wish i was who i wanted to be,
. . .
technical problems .