I’ve been chasing stars
scratching shiny cars

Looking for a way out
of my own milky­ eyed galaxy

Racing rotted leaves
tattooing names in trees

Climbing into basements
of abandoned penthouse suites

Punching holes in drywall
burning up the skies

looking for a way in
to never­-open eyes

I’ll write “forever” on a heart
that doesn’t beat in time

“Love” inside a soul
that just wants to die

I’ve been trailing stars

Stealing brand­ new cars

Looking for a way out
of curdled white regret

I woke up to screaming
no- I woke up screaming.

Your pallid, rotting face leering
above my lips

Icy steel between my bones,
hot wet rivers down my cheeks

A wash of pastel colors
and furious drumbeats

Laughter,
echoing

and your memory taunting me:

******* right    **you should be scared of me

She was an empty girl with worlds on her arms
Swirling, shifting, kaleidoscope dreams

She was a quiet girl with tears in her eyes
Dripping, blossoming, nourishing streams

She was a strong girl with blood on her hands
Slipping, chafing, encouraging pain

She was an important girl with jewels in her crown
Shining, glistening, cavalier fame

In her stream of consciousness
falling, falling, falling, falling

Until all that was left was an empty corpse
white, dry, draining life

Rock­a­bye baby...

High on the rocks

Thinking you’re safe,

and god knows you’re not

Baby is sleeping,

unknowing of its fate

Far, far down

there lies a frozen lake

For when the wind blows,

the cradle will fall

splinter to pieces

like a shabby wooden wall

Here the wind comes,

gentle and sweet

Planning the gruesome,

drawn­out death

the poor baby will soon meet

Forward and back,

the cradle will rock

The wind will softly caress,

all the way down

until the baby’s skull

shatters on the dock

From the high rooftops,

into the sea

No one could hear

the poor baby’s screams

Rock­a­bye baby,

high on the rocks

Thinking you’re safe

and god knows you’re not

Maybe I shouldn't have stripped

Maybe I shouldn't have lied on her bed in nothing but *******

Maybe I shouldn't have got on my back, told her to come over

Maybe I shouldn't have laid down naked next to her and drew circles on her back

Maybe I shouldn't have straddled her lap and pulled off her bra,
maybe I shouldn't have leaned down and bit the soft skin on her chest

Maybe I shouldn't have left bruises on her neck from my lips telling the world "I was here"

But she was the one that kissed me
(in more places than one)

She was the one that tore off my *******

She was the one who grabbed my hips

She was the one who told me the rest stays between us,

sealed like a kiss

I've seen you cry one too many times this year.

and it's too late for an apology- but I will say this:

You waited anxiously for nine months for my adoption papers and immigration requirements to make or break the family you wanted to raise. Thank you.

When I came home crying in the ninth grade, begging to change schools because the girls in my class wouldn't stop calling me "*****", you tore up your roots and left all your friends so that you could give me an opportunity to be happy. Thank you.

After you caught me lighting fires in the kitchen during the last stretch of middle school, you dug to the depths of your wallet and entered me in therapy sessions. Thank you.

Midnight of the week I was supposed to go to London, you came down to the bus stop that I was waiting at with all the emergency vehicles. You checked me into a psychiatric hospital as soon as I was released from police custody in the hopes that a clinical environment would help me heal faster. Thank you.

When you found out that I had put myself into a dangerous situation, you locked down my personal things and put passwords and restrictions around me so I would be safe from the predators of this society. Thank you.

All those times I chose not to come home, all those times I locked myself in the bedroom and wouldn't speak- It was guilt. How could I face the one person who has essentially given up everything for me, just to tell her I'd made another mess that she'd have to clean up?

How could I come home to the thought that I'd failed yet again?

How could I say to my mother, who has sacrificed unquestioningly each and every day so that I could have the comfortable life I've lived, that I wasn't able to be the bigger person?

That I lost another friend, that I'd broken a law, that despite the happy home environment she'd done everything she can to create– I still found myself wanting to die at night. That I still couldn't see past the disappointments of my errors.

You've done everything for me without complaint, and on this day I couldn't be ****** enough to even say "good morning."

It's too late for an apology, but I will say this:

I cannot see myself being big enough to support the two of us in the way that you have. I cannot imagine giving up the freedoms and the niceties that you have for me. I cannot grasp the concept of selflessness over selfishness.

Mom, I love you.

Please forgive me for being so difficult.