Hello there, once again
I'm back for an encore
My last show
a performance ***** or sorts

Why wasn't I content with what we had?

Your love was so ultimately pure and civil and it ran in steady streams flowing constantly through your heart.
Whereas I'm a leaky faucet who doesn't know when to stop or when to go and pays no sentiments to temperature and "little" things that make all the difference.

I think I need to learn to love. I still don't know how.

Please read this, and please know that I'm trying to figure myself out.

Call me
a name
more beautiful
than I.

It hurts
to think
you might already be
drifted.

People escape
just as
fish swim-

I'm not alright with this.

I'm a bow turned too tight
wanting to break my own ankles
to feel relaxed

I would scream if I didn't feel
uncomfortable and too big
doing so

I'm tired of shrinking as I grow
and playing nice to people
who don't deserve it

I paint myself like a *****
to see if I can emulate it
so I hope it's working

I'm not stagnant

air sweet
with heat and moisture
"can I stay over?"
"yeah"
smoking together
laughing and playing
smiles invading
what I thought was cold and hard to crack

and so **** what I thought,
I guess
hungry kissing
I miss those lips so much
they feel so good pressing

I never wanted to leave
I think you want to forget how good love feels

I ******* hate how even after this I still feel scared to live.
I wanted so badly to die.
And now I'm still scared to live.

I hate myself for not asking you
to city cinema.
I still have the two tickets
sitting solemnly,
knowing very well that they'll
never find their rightful owner.

Make up your ******* mind.
I wanted so badly to talk to you
One last time.

Staring patiently at your icon
with a green circle.
Because you're there,
but I was just too *******
scared.

And now I'm scared to love anyone else.
Because I know how impermanent it all is.

I wanted so badly to die,
and now the one thing I wish is that
we didn't have so much in common

I don't know what to say
about the way you make
me feel so calm but alive
and warm even when it's
cold in the snow the rain
or anything

I feel like warmth surrounds
you and I would walk 10 miles
in snow storm in my sneakers
beside you with eye lashes
frozen closed

put on a jazz record
please and thank you
I want to stay so badly
and say how I feel
but-

I've never felt so good
in soaking wet clothes

I'm jealous
of every girl that gets to find you
like I did
and gets to
experience
being
swept off her feet
like you did for me

It makes my stomach hurt
because there will be
no man
like you
in my life
again

I'm not saying I want you back
I'm not.
I'm saying that I'm jealous
of every girl
who gets to be yours
and has the sense to enjoy it
while she can
before she fabricates
faults
in her mind

know I still care

We both turned off our read receipts (long ago?).
Don't want people to know when we
see or maybe
it's the choice
it's the control of perception
a light push back
arm's length reception.

You said you didn't think I understood you
and so it scared you when you found out I liked you.
If there's something I can understand,
oh god
it's that.

I don't want to push you-
or rather pull you
too close too vulnerable too soon,
know that.

I've been waiting a year to kiss you
and the waiting was so sweet,
wrapping wool around my finger,
sincere.
I will wait with you,
and for you,
my dear.

I'm not sure if I care that it's cliche.
Of course, these words have been said,
even crooned,
but not felt to their fullest extent.

Okay then, so I don't.
Because I've never felt this way
So right
My mouth holding the "so" like a velvet quail egg.
So natural and no sick
pit
throat closing
mind roaming
kisses like I used to have.

Nothing has ever felt so right.

I wish I could tell my old self
my young hunger
eating up a man's desire for me-
that it's a sour substitute for my own.
Belly full of unease,
maybe self-hatred
but not that pointed
a denial of my own needs.

I wanted to be sure
and I never was
but now I don't think we have to be.

I think we both feel the possibility of ephemerality
but I can't let this pass
without an attempt
trying to grasp
your shirt collar
to hold your sweet face
and trying to fight against the innate,
terribly strong urge to kiss you.

This is just as new to me as it is
to you.
I don't mind wringing it out to dry
in slow motion.
Unfolding with you slowly
softly floating
seeing where our hands land.

That sounds just right.
I love that.

The wholeness seems almost attainable.

I carry around a glue stick
and a hammer
everywhere
I want to keep it together

I gave a girl my socks the other day

I take some of the things I've done
and collage them
try to piece them into
a cohesive me
but I can't figure
the correlation
there always
needs to be
a thread
a tie
between each experience
and the whole of
me

As a child
We see ourselves
As important
As the centre of our worlds
Pursued by burglars
and murderers
Always in the centre
Of an exciting story
Making cities in dirt piles
And castles in trees
Running from house
to house
Like they're kingdoms
And we're kings

And not so different are our adult ways
We control our own destinies
And we alarm our homes and equip them
Because "it could happen to you"
Making buildings from dirt piles
And building cabins from trees
Driving from city
to city
Like they're different worlds
And we're different people

another night with you consumed in my thoughts

I never really thought I could feel this way
and I'm somehow unashamed
of my want of you
of my craving

to think,
at home,
there's the sweetest of any man-
waiting for me?
I'm boggled
blown away

I want to grasp your hair
soft, pleasant, lovely
I want your hands on me
strong, skilled, hungrily

you just know how to woo me-
I'm getting breathless right now,
writing this
just thinking about your leg touching mine
and then my hand on your cheek
then my lips on your lips
and my pelvis on your thigh

oh god you make me
want to scream

your sly
sweet
eyes look me over
pleasantly
without greed
and I know
you want me
as much as I
want you

I hate PDA,
but I would kiss you anywhere

In the darkest rain.
In the bitterest cold.
Let's go see a band,
let's listen till we're old.

We'll walk hand in hand.
Lead by streetlights.
We'll sample the stage,
and the city's finest delights.

Drawn in by the music,
Held by our curiosity.
I like this new feeling,
And it's strange familiarity.

Put down these reins young man
Your ownership's invalid

Your smile won't get you out of this
melancholy ballad

You say that you're incapable
Of loving
That's for sure

Well,
Girls are girls and ****** are ******,
And you've clearly stated your preference

From my blind eye, on the coaches side
A brain is an indifference.

But you're oh so deep,
And oh so cool,
But I think that's a pile of ****.

I could sit and say, "I'm cool with it"
Barely batting an eyelash

But I feel played in this extensive game
Don't deny my right to react

You're too **** scared
To even be yourself
You really have no *****

So, thank you,
I pray that you
Make a girl extremely unhappy
I hope that she
is way cooler than me
And is equally
uncontrollably sappy

Cause I'm done with it
This addiction I've quit
I wanted you for far too long

Have fun with your life,
and living with your mom.

They say that 90% of people
waiting on ***** donor lists
are waiting for kidneys.
People die
everyday
waiting for
People to die.

In a world where we don't
have organs for everyone
who wants
and needs them,
I ask,

"Do they need to harvest these organs right after death?"
"Yes."

How can I accomplishment that?
what loopholes do I jump?
Quick, painless, in plain sight,
without scarring those around.

I think of my previous options,
a rope, some pills, a gun.
All of these have faults now.

Until I can figure
a way
a how
to give my body
to someone else
to give my body
to someone how might actually
appreciate
life.

I need to wait, I suppose.
Finding life in looking for loopholes.

low
and depressed
still can't get out of bed
I'm low

no way out
no way in
guess that's how it's always been
And I'll have to deal with it

low
I'm so
low
I've lost my
glow

soft
flowing words
give way to chirping birds
but I'm still inside
no place to go

filled with guilt
filled with salt
no dripping
waterfalls

low
I'm so
low
I've lost my
glow

I can barely speak
to you now
I'm floating
underground

Goodbye
to all my friends
at least the ones
who said they were

In France everyday must be something
Going somewhere
******* someone

I'm not used to this
I'm introspective
Observing and waiting

Maybe Patrick was right
I don't make impact
But maybe that's what I want right now

I get near crying
quite a lot
I guess
and
even when I'm feeling great
I think things would be
better if I were to be
hit by a car
right then

I always thought these things
were always in people's minds-
always seconds from a suicide,
leaving everyone behind
but I'm seeing now that
it's just me and my mind
that are are constantly searching
for an escape against time

I'm kind of avoiding facing that,
because impermanence is
such a big part of my life
and I've learned through the years
we don't change, we just become refined
so I'm fighting with myself and my
******* hungry soul
to stay or to go
but I just don't know

whatever though,
my internal dialogue
is simply
dialogue
until it materializes

Filter
on the coffee maker
on your eyes
shielding our tired brains
from things it doesn't understand

We're all so tired
and ******
and altered
So do we even live?
Or are we sliding
anti-parallel
to reality?

I'm fascinated by the slightest
And hardened by the vast
Shadows cast perception
over matter-
a mask.

Oh,
You skin me raw.
Not to the bone,
But to the redness underneath.

Oh,
The dew of dawn,
Plots its land,
On my stale pink cheeks.

The promised land
Was never there.
For you lie when you talk.

I should've guessed
My own demise
For you are loud when you stalk.

Oh,
My mother dearest,
This is farewell,
Short and curt.

Oh,
don't mind the merest
because you are simply
to me
dirt

You irritate me
like
natural peanut butter.
not that I don't like the taste
but
You're like the oil on top
that gets on my hands
and makes that horrible
shlopping noise

But I can never be rid of you

Oh, you bug me like natural peanut butter

Neglect
ing everything around me
and inside me
everything I am

Rotting slowly
unshaven legs
smelling of sweat and
lost love

*******
on top of the sheets
and my clean laundry
dirtying without care

Neglect
ing myself
and the giving
of a care

Star filled rooftop boy
You hurt me good
And the bruises on my knees
Are purely pleasure
And nothing like the welts from my childhood

This is short lived
I know it is
No need for plans
Or conversation
About how this'll end
Or how we'll part

You're easily amused
But I think I struck a chord
You'll remember me, right?

You eat breakfast alone
At a place you've never been
Fighting the lonely
With a scone
And a coffee

Making meaning from nothing
On the pages of your sketchbook
There are faces of no ones
or the someones you imagine

But the feel of your features
feeds the fear in his heart
Makes you think homes are
made of skin not steel parts

You could only imagine
that kissing felt good
You could only imagine
You were hoping it would
But nothing could prepare you
for the feeling of him
Nothing could prepare you
when you saw the lights were no longer dim

Anxiety attack
Power vomiting into the sink
Downing NyQuil
To combat
My sudden loss of sleep

I'm pretty scared
Unprepared
As if I dared
To think these thoughts
Don't-

But 38,000 ft above
The stars are all
The sky's made of
And it's oh so simple
But oh so grand
So my daddy issues
Take the back burner
As I take your back hand

In 5th grade
Velcro was
in my mind
an integral part
of my life.

See,
I had these shoes,
and these shoes were white,
and they were simply simple,
and they fit just right.
So,
I wore them daily,
and to my delight,
if I grew out of them,
I'd buy another pair in white.

But see the
thing
with these shoes
were their method of clasp
They had
two
Stripes of velcro
(And that was badass)

So I'd rip
and strip
them off my feet
Slip them on
and off
They couldn't be beat

But as the year turned to 6th
Things quickly changed
Girls were wearing different shoes
And said that mine were strange

So,
Adieu,
To you velcro,
My faithful fuzzy friend.
You'll be,
in my heart,
an everlasting trend.

Offended
To the highest
Of my lumpy loping
Anatomy
See,
I came from you
Why are you disgusted by me?

Offended by my body

And my stretch marks
And my thighs
My waist is too thick
And my ******* are
Popping out of my
DDD bra
And you're in disbelief
And I suppose I'm in awe

Of how you treat me
And my body

Like it's not really me
Like this vessel is a
Machine to be worked
Harvested and cleaned

But hey,
It also contains a soul
And a mind
And a voice.
It contains a lot of things you'll never know.
And I'm fine with that.
But please, don't act offended by my body.

Oh sly sweet sugar of a man
you make me feel at ease.

I find it in you,
comfort,
with a cross on your neck.
I never thought
you'd be in the church
because you're delectably *****
and taste of pure sin

You're so nice
and quaint
but bubbling
beneath
is a beast of a man
a rough brute of a boy

Oh sly sweet sugar of a man
you make me feel at ease

It's hard to feel suicidal when I've got you.
But I'm still ******* myself
And I still feel
Blue

You say you want to build an altar to my body
and a shrine to my mind
but it's hard to register
when I want to die

And it's not your fault
Nothing to do with you
I'm just a little messed up
But I'm on you like glue

Babe,
I wish that nothing could hurt you
and that it could all be smiles
but my death is imminent
I'm only here for a while.

I'm definitely more interesting than she is.

I'm not saying this because I'm cocky or confident; I'm not.
I just know I am.

But why do I have to count and quantify a value for a girl?
Why is flesh a commodity?
And why am I trying to up-sell myself?

This self objectification never ends.
It is internalized to a point where I can't even feel emotions from the inside, only from how others would perceive them.

So detached from life.
From self.

I know she must've been great. Your family loves her. You did too.

I don't want to sell myself, but I'm feeling like I have to.
So insecure of my own "worth".

I don't save lives.
I don't even know if I can keep my own.

But I love you.

And she did too.

I can't think of better or worse, how I would stack up or compare.
But do I have to?

Am I my own ****** up ****?

Did he make the politics of love?

Immaturity in both
he and I
I suppose
Different levels of the same
sticky sweet glue of childhood

I'm immune to change
or afraid
but he too had flaws
And now I'm stuck
with his
Politics of Love

"Olivia, you deserve much more, let me say"
and it's exactly what I needed
but he was exactly what I needed
through that year
and I don't regret a single moment
crying softly in his car
followed by bellows and sudden screams

His
Politics of Love
were gibberish in my ears
like German
rough and exciting
thought I could learn it
word by word
but I was struck by their gravity
and my stomach
couldn't keep

Fighting
was a neutral
a constant debate of my needs
not needed
in my eyes
but you were hungry for that taste
of real love
I suppose
not authentic to me

This was a democracy
that I had no say in

**** your politics
I'm done

Politics of Love

what do I expect?
to be loved?

because lately it's been
just a pile of *******
but who can i blame?

because i'm really not lovely
and i wish to be truly lovely

i guess he would've tried
to make some sort of contact
if he really did think i was
something special

and i hate feeling needy
and i don't want to need a thing

but that's precisely
who i am;
someone who's deafeningly
indecisive
and who can't muster up the courage to do a **** thing that'd do her any good

I never write poetry anyway
What am I doing with my life?
and I'm not looking at paths
but spheres
that can cross and weave
that's my life, breathing and living for
progress and change searching
far across the plains of my mind
making reason and emotions combine.

Do I want to go to art school?
*******
Who am I anyway?
I want it so badly but shutting a part of me feels like amputating
I was never one for pain I didn't derive pleasure from.

Pride is a silly thing

I listen to too much rap music
And smoke too much ****
I got fired from my job
But I just can't leave
I still go there all the time
I still say hello to the kids
I still wish that I was something else
I wish that I was dead
And through the conflicts and the chaos
And the things that ******* this up
I feel like the real reason why this happened
Is because I just wasn't enough

I'm not sure what I created
from this man
like a god

A monster I suppose
and a painful facade

I don't understand what I did
to make things this way
But I know I want them back
To how they were
replay

Back to October
Where love was so fresh
and so glimmering
and everything he did
was astounding

I didn't need anything else
but him

now the nights are so cold
when outside things are hot
and I keep telling myself
things are how they are not
and I've ******* myself over
for perfection
rejection of love

Who knows what's for best?
I can't talk to you
I feel as though I'd be weak in doing so
Maybe we just need a rest

scream
I don't know what to do
Why I did what
I did
And the fact that
I have a choice
Makes this
So much worse
Then it could've been

God,
I miss you.
And you're impossible to
Get out
Of my head
Because there's always that
Option
To have you back
And to take back
Happiness
With a vengeance

If only this could be
More permanent
For better or for worse
It'd still feel better
Than this
Teeter totter
Of emotions
I'm experiencing

scream

When I read George Orwell,
I can only think of you two having ***.
Tumbling, writhing in the sheets.
Mechanically organic.
Something I'll probably never be a part of,
sadly.

If only you could take a pick-axe to my chest,
Peer inside,
See it all, wet, glimmering body.
I think you'd understand.

Everytime I see you I try not to jump on you
Like a heavy dog
My owner is my dignity so I keep still
But I'm barking heavily (inside)

I've been known to let perfection slip
Unknowingly folding my hand
******* over my chances
At a game I haven't even played yet

If I was self-important, would you see me?

walking home
drunk

in our bellies
and our lungs
lie my vices
we roll the
dice is this
strange heaven
or the bottom
-
maybe below?

walking home
stumble

through the
streets of
Charlottetown
with a joint
that has
no filter
in the cold air
I drown

walking home
high

a shooting star
passed us by
and you ask
what's a wish
and I say
not a thing-

cause your
open arms
and your
candid laugh
are all I'll ever need.

I can convince myself of many things
Like how my hair looks better with a little blonde than it does with none.
I can convince myself that no one loves me.
And sometimes it works.
And the mind is a devastatingly beautiful thing.
But mine never seems to do things right.
Like remembering things.
Or studying.
But my mind can sure do a lot of damage.
To a point where I'm sick with my own fears.
Turning like a sifter
Letting the good pass on
And leaving the lumps of bad.

Sleep
Clasp my shoulders like the cling of hungry moss.
Take my eyes and cover them with your
sweet
silent
dark.
Burry my restless legs in
cool
wet
sand.
Take my faint body into your faithful hands.

you haven't talk to me since that night.
no text
no like, or comment.
cause I guess that's how things are now.

I still have your vacuum.
your expensive, high-tech vacuum.
but I haven't used it since you left.

I know it was me who initiated things.
I'm the one who told you to go.
We cried and hugged and kissed and it felt too beautiful to be it.
Too beautiful to be a break up.

it was your birthday.
and I want you to know I didn't forget.
I felt it creeping up on me like coming to the end of a roll of tape.

when will you call me?
will you ever?
I still have all all your things; too big to put in a box to hide.

you still had Sarah's bed frame in your garage and I wondered.
I wondered if this is what it'd be like.
But- you talked to her.
Does that make me stronger?
For not caving?

you said you needed space and I listened.
but I don't want to listen to myself.
I want to break the stitches and gush to you.
I want to break the silence and talk to you.
But I respect you too much to put that on you.

I made the decision to be alone,
but now I realize that I don't want to be.

so I'm looking for someone.
But I don't want serious.

but then what do I want?

It makes me fill with something.
some gas, or thing
maybe not jealousy
but something close to it
when I see that you care about astrology
now
though you thought it was stupid

you wanted to teach me
I didn't want to be taught
but you loved me so I sat through your lessons plan your rambling facts on things I don't care one bit about filing up my mental real estate like krisp, klean, kondos in the North end- but you understand that now.

maybe I taught you?
I'm not sure either of us would admit to that.

why did I find it so hard to create with you beside me. Like my energy was being ****** up from me turning to sloth when my whole life I've been hungry, absolutely insatiable but now so full I could barely move.

is that love? did your love steal my magic?

and I wouldn't say steal. more like weighed on. more like dampened. but you held me so tightly I love you I lvoe you I love you sweet boy I still love you even if I need to be alone right now.

I don't want to feel like I need to be alone forever.

I had so many conversations with so many people. You know about Hannah, but there were so many. They all told me to leave. But- I don't know if this is any better. I don't know if me sitting and listening and being idle is worse than this spouting, plunging, hole.

but you never opened up, did you?
things you said we'd talk about- therapy sessions you said you'd go to.

I wonder if you'll be shiny, sparkling clean for the next one.

all "fixed" and open and unrobotic and ready to share without tantrums and fast driving and me being scared for my life. I try to forget those parts. They seem like a different person. Someone who could **** me. Someone who could **** you.

my therapist once told me that she didn't think I would go through with it. But when I saw you like that, I believed you could. I think that scared me the most.

Flippant. Uncaring. But- you were everything. I saw everything in you- the devious aggressor and the gentle pathetic victim. but there was no spark. there. I said it. There was no spark. But I cannot deny that it was a slow flame- and it lulled me into a soft sleep.

I'm not asleep. but I want to be now.

Patrick always said that I wasn't really there. I know what he means now. I don't know if I have the energy to be. I used to be so full of life and zest and now I feel like a sponge so full of the fuckery of it all without a way to ring it out.

and I guess that's why I'm writing again. Because I don't know if I want to talk. I don't want people to look at me like I'm ******. I know I'm ******.

so you're into astrology now.

Pots and
Planters and
Rubber boots
Flowers
Cans
and biscuits

Drawing still life
in this rushed life
area
chalk full up
of misfits

Out of place
but in view
a girl sits with an easel

an easel that holds her focus

It would seem hard to do
but her composure is true
Concentrated
Full
of virtues

Do you even read my poetry anymore?

We're in an empty field
filled with snow
and your breath.
And you cry
because it's not
what you needed yet.
I can't give gifts
upon gifts
upon slivers of my soul.
Because I'm not whole anymore.
so let's open that door.
See me leave on a whim.
See me leave with your ring.
See me leave when it's mostly likely to leave you a good sting.

I hate this empty feeling
In my stomach
Acidic and cold
Like someone punched it


I feel sick
I think I combusted
Wouldn't be surprised
If you loved it

I hate myself
I hardly speak
Because I hate what's underneath

I'm horrible
Understand that

You try to muster up upset
but you're not really
and that kills me

My sobs always landed so quietly
but now they splatter on you
like ice on cement

I hate these charades
you don't mean what you say
and I just don't know what to say
or feel

Stop acting
Be real

The perfect line-
you say them all
the time
but they're manufactured
not organic
but plastic

You want me to be happy
but it's useless

calloused hands
massage my unwound fists.
hungrily touching my line covered palms.

a strong force
has me in a silent grip.
patiently pulling me to an untraveled edge.

"Where am I going?"
"What am I doing?"
"Is this all too rash?"

but back in the moment,
all I know is that this feels good,
so I'll stop talking.

The light hits your hand
And my mouth hits the floor
It's the way you touch my neck
And your eyes that tell me "more"

This is divine
sublime
it's a crime
I'd suppose
To feel so earthed
And so high-
Slipping down the *****
of the bridge of your nose

Those naked
sacred
puppy dog eyes
Strawberry rhubarb pies
and warm wool

I don't know how you do it
if only I knew it
I feel like you know me so well

i feel
like a subplot
in a forgotten movie
most of the time

because my decisions usually aren't mine
and my thoughts get plucked like spring's petals
too early to be appreciated
and not still enough to be captured

Taxi cab driver
with the John Green book
the one with a tack on the cover
I'm sorry that I looked

But I'm sitting here alone
playing games on my phone

Not a day over twenty
Your face shows it well
You're young and seem so full of life
And I just can't tell

How did you get here?
Has it been a long ride?
Are you driving
Looking
For the things that aren't inside?

It's a February evening
and I'm making this complex
I know I'm being pretty silly
But you had to use your GPS

So I'm sitting here alone
Playing games on my phone

So we're finally at my house now
You carefully turned in
Well, I only had a 20$ bill
So you joked about a tip

How did you get here?
Has it been a long ride?
Are you driving
Looking
For the things that aren't inside?
And what's your story?
Do I know that face?
Oh, I don't know you
but it's been a long week
And you seem so out of place

I'm so out of place

I get out and fumble for my keys
It's an average night when it comes to being me
But a slight change in the common scenery is-
neat

I still cry when I talk about you
Although I'm no longer 12
And I only think of you
once a week
At the most

You've ruined me
for every relationship
I'll ever have
And my love will never be
easy
or
beautiful
like a silk ribbon on the wind
but more comparable
to a kite in a hurricane

I'll only love
musicians
but it'll never be
practical enough
to last
and I'll live my life
searching-
for some
fragment of a dream
that you never set an example for

thanks dad

Church
a sacred beauty
she stalks upon your fears
like a temptress with a wit and a fire

She'll take your money and your freedom

What a *****