remember the time
we stole a car and hotboxed the backseat

remember the time
you swore no one saw us
steaming up the windows
with your lips between my hips

remember the time
we nearly got caught
sitting by the river
with your hands up my shirt

remember the time
the kid from gym punched you in the eye
and called you a ******

remember the time
he was sent home with a broken wrist
and I got detention

remember the time
we lied in your bed
listening to each other's heartbeats

remember the time
your mother asked
"How come you've never brought home
a nice boy?"

remember the time
you told me you loved me
and I wanted to slit my throat open

remember the time
I tried to say goodbye,
but all I could muster was "I hate you."

remember the time
we tried to coexist
and I destroyed my mind
trying to get rid of memories

remember the time
we said hi in a coffee shop
and never spoke again

remember the time
we met?
Mutual class friends
invited us to a club

remember the time
we hit it off by the bar
and you told me I was funny

remember the time
you invited me out
and then invited me home

remember the time
we made a joint blog

remember the time
we planned our wedding

remember the time
you introduced me to your dog

remember the time
I told you I was unstable

remember the time
I told you we would never work out

Wounds still hurt
words still sing
Heart's still break
blood still bleeds

You wish it all away when you throw out the christmas tree
but nothing changes when the calendar does.

Have you ever been stuck
in absolute nothingness?

No matter how you get there,
you know you can't get out

Once here, the vines of your
guilt, sadness, remembrance
entangle you

In negative space,
you'll come to realize
how nothing is
peaceful
and empty

And you'll learn
to love it

Because nothing lasts forever

I know you
In fact, I know everything about you

I know the way you tie your hair up,
Left hand over right in a loose bun
twist once, twice, and then shake

I know what music you listen to,
Alternative rock, at half volume
and you skip nearly half the songs
past the first forty-five seconds

I know the way you dress,
but in fact, you never wear dresses

I know the way you think,
You used to have a mantra
"Concealer is for girls who have something to hide"

I know what shoes you wear,
and you tie the laces of your boots
in a double knot

I know the way you look at people,
you refuse to see only the surface
but your judgement is critical

I know you because we're
together always

I know you
I know everything about you

But I'm not obsessed with you,
I am you

my happy place has been poisoned.

i hadn't planned on crying today

You and I
stood hand in hand

You and I
walked in the sand

You and I
were together once

You and I
would never let go

You and I
reached out over water

You and I
left footprints in the dirt

You and I
were fraying memories

You and I
held on as long as we could

You and I
were always separate

We were notwithstanding

The first one this week is named Carlos,
he's tall and handsome and twice my age
He's got tan skin with all the hair burned off
his arms from sunlight sand and surf
He likes to call me "*******"

The second one this week is named Charlie,
he's married and chubby and masochistic
He's got a sunglass tan and three different cars
He likes to call me "baby"

The third one this week is named Ryan,
I think
He's tall I'm tall we were in his car our heads bumped
several times
He video taped the entire thing from three different angles
He likes to call me "***** *****"

All the things I've managed it do in my life

I've felt guilty for at least half

Maybe it's true that I'm going to hell
Maybe it's true

People sometimes ask:
"If you could have one thing back from your childhood, what would it be?"

A favorite Barbie doll

A play pickup truck

A missing parent

A dead relative

Me?

*I want my innocence back

Maybe it's sick to think there is only one way to get someone to notice you

Maybe it's awful that they aren't noticing you, in fact they've never seen your face

But is it so wrong that they like what they see?
Is it so wrong that you like the way they respond?

You like the way they talk,
even though they don't know your name

You like the pet names and ***** sentences

You like the way they suddenly can control you
without touching you

But you know you can never tell anyone
No matter how "innocent" it is

But really...

Is it so wrong to want someone to think you're *beautiful?

What's that? - he said
You know - I said
Why'd you take them? - he asked
Reasons - I said
He paused
I waited

You don't need them. - he said

So there's an issue between

you and me

You said yourself to keep the issue between

you and me

So I respected that and kept to myself.

But suddenly this isn't just about

you and me.

You went to one of your friends so that he could get onto my personal pages and mock me

You posted publicly on social media

You called me out in front of an audience

So tell me

What the hell happened to this being between

"you" and "me"?

I'll never know which way her head turns first when she hears my voice, or what stupid jokes make her start laughing all embarrassed, idk what it feels like to hug her, idk what kinds of foods she likes to snack on, idk what she looks like when she's tired, idk what random moments can make her smile, idk what she shakes her head at when she overhears a conversation, idk if she leans on a desk before she gets up or if she scoots out her chair first, idk if she picks her nails, idk if she lips when she gets an injury from basketball, idk what her hands feel like in mine, idk what shampoo she uses and what her hair smells like and how short she is compared to me so i can kiss her head and- i could go on. But it's the little things, you know? You two have that and I don't and it makes me sad

I've never felt a body
next to mine, under mine
with different parts than mine.

I've never felt hands
around mine, beneath mine
that were bigger than mine.

I've never felt lips
that never wanted mine,
didn't seek out mine
wouldn't taste mine.

I've never slept with someone
who wasn't at least somewhat
mine.

Call #1:
I was excited. I was going to tell you about the new friend I'd made. She sits next to me in rehearsal and has a pretty laugh. And the girl two seats over who had long hair and funny jokes. Or the blonde on my right who had great music taste and a contagious smile. As soon as we had a break, I dialed your number. It rang three times, you didn't pick up.

Call #2:
We'd just finished rehearsal. I turned my phone back on, no new messages. But I wanted to tell you about our conductor with the sarcastic comments and the irrelevant analogies. I was going to tell you about the breakfast buffet or the church campus we were on. I dialed your number, it rang three times. You didn't pick up.

Call #3:
You called back! The conductor was calling us back inside, our break was already over. We exchanged mutual apologies and goodbyes. I promised I'd call back in a half hour. And I did.

Call #4:
We were finally out for lunch, I dialed your number. It rang three times. You didn't pick up.

Call #5:
I shouldn't have bothered. I had nothing left to tell you. I just wanted to hear your voice. I dialed your number. It rang three times. You didn't pick up.

Call #6:
It's dinner time now and I don't want to eat. I know it's late where you are and you're probably busy. This time I even stopped to listen to your voicemail greeting. It wasn't the same. I sat through dinner waiting for my phone to flash with a message, a missed call, a voicemail. Something to show you still cared.
And it did. I eagerly flipped my phone over, it wasn't from you.
I spent that day clinging to the hope that maybe you'd call, maybe you'd remember. You promised.

Call #7:
It's after midnight. I'm on the balcony. The air is cold and I'm crying. Even if you'd called, what could I have said? Would I tell you my ex girlfriend is a dropout? That my insomnia's come back? That I nearly fainted during rehearsal, or that I was actually proud of myself for only having four nervous breakdowns?

The one time I felt like I needed you most, you weren't there.
I waited all day for a call that never came.

I was going to leave a voicemail, on that last call. I had climbed onto the railing, looking down at the street. I wondered what would **** me first: the fall to the ground, or a broken heart. I called again. It didn't even ring.

If you'd answered...
Maybe I would've told you that I'd twisted my ankle when I finally came down from that railing. Maybe I would've told you that I couldn't eat at all that day because I was too hurt. I could barely fight the tears hard enough to choke back a glass of water. Maybe I would've told you how everyone stared when I spilled my coffee because I couldn't even see straight. Maybe I would've told you how stupid I felt that I was even crying over you. You're a friend, nothing more- so why the hell do I care so much?
Maybe I would've told you. But I didn't. You broke your promise.

And maybe I'm obsessive, maybe I'm annoying. But I called seven times, and on the last it didn't ring.

Please cooperate, sweetheart. You're
Laying on your back, posing for
A cameraman with a sweaty hand.
You're nervous, I understand.
But you don't need to worry, we'll take care of you.
Oh, I know I know-
You need your rent money, right?

My dear, you'll get it don't worry don't worry.
All he needs is just one
Good shot. Stay still for us please, it'll be over soon.
And then we're done! See, was that so bad?
Zero pain on your part, right?
I know, I know, I'll get you your money.
Now you wait right here.
Except just one thing- would you be willing to model for us again?
Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry.

Real feelings,
realities,
experiences,
memories,
and unspoken secrets,
absolutely ****

Ridge
(as in steep precarious drops into nothingness)

I'm surrounded by "almost"s and idk what to do with it. You know, like a marionette doll.

I'm entirely dead, but when something needs to be done- someone can just tug the strings and I'll limp off in the general direction regardless of whether I want to or not.

Nouns with no verbs,
adjectives with no subject.

I didn't sleep that night, I was up all night questioning my existence.
Literally questioning my existence. It was intense. Just heard my mom's voice on a loop
"It's not real"
"Yes, I believe you might be experiencing uncertainty about your identity but personality disorders aren't real"
"They're not real"
"That's not the kind of thing you just bring up in conversation, it's not just an everyday topic"
"stop pretending to be them"
"it's not real"
"not real"
"not real"

I slept very little

I just
kinda feel like a lab animal on a surgery table. Can't do anything to help myself, just hope that the end is quick whatever it may be.

Is this the ridge?

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

Saccharine: Like a disease, like a bad memory, like a smell you can't get away from. Like a bad memory.

Miriami Matloff has never gotten along with her peers, whether it was at work or at school.  After discharging from yet another mental hospital after yet another suicide attempt, Miriami decides maybe she needs a change of scenery. Desperate to get out of failed relationships and gnawing guilt, Miriami flees to the big city of Los Angeles.

Saccharine: cloying, sickly

When she meets perfection in the form of a charming and mysterious young woman named 'Candy', Miriami finds herself infatuated. Finally! A roommate, a nice apartment, a beautiful city, and a circle of friends who all have their lives together.

Saccharine: thick, heavy, hard to shake. Like the common cold.

But when Candy starts to become distant- not coming home, dodging phone calls, Miriami wonders if maybe the sweet life isn't all its cracked up to be. In an attempt to find answers, Miriami stumbles upon an entire life she knew nothing about.

Saccharine: sweet and awful.

Like a bad memory.

i wonder what it's like to be so scared
of every decision

of every word, every action
every relationship, interaction
and conversation

i mean... I'm certainly not curious enough to find out

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

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

There's something scary and beautiful
about doing something wrong

There's something scary about almost getting caught, someone nearly finding out

There's something beautiful about getting away with it unscathed and feigning innocence

There's something nasty about knowing its bad

Something terrible about not giving a **** either way

There's something scary and beautiful about doing something you know is wrong

We'll call it **exhilaration

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

makes me sick to my stomach

I had the unfortunate opportunity of walking past you in a hallway

cried when I got home

I will not waste another ten dollar's worth of mascara on you
**You're not ******* worth my tears

So that's what you think of me

How could I have thought for even a minute that I was respectable.

All this time I was thinking I was deserving of love and kindness.

Last thing on my mind was your opinion of me, and it hurt. It ******* hurt.

Look at you, sitting in a seat of power and leering over me calling me shallow.

On further inspection, yeah it was ****** up of me to get fresh with my counselor.

What's a shallow nymphomaniac expected to do otherwise? Riddle me that.

look, it isn't my fault your mother named you that

sorry bout that, I guess. take it up with your mom, why don't you?

you have no right to be angry at me for alluding to your status

**maybe you should have thought a little harder about the things you told me in bed

I could tell you how I am
or I could show you

but I can't.

Show you, I mean

My pain is more than skin-deep
I carry around emotional baggage
just under my eyes
and drag it with me,
suitcases full of decaying memories

If you choose not to consider me as part of your life
and leave my memory to rot and linger for months
then ******* for trying to push back into my head
and pretend you care

If you think I'm about to let you into my life
when you haven't so much as asked me
if I even want you there
then ******* for trying to push back into my head
and pretend that you care

I'm just fine, thanks.
I'm great, actually.
Life goes on with or without you.

It's not that I hate you
or want you to leave me alone,
no,
it's so much more than that

I need you by my side
I need you to check up on me
I need you to show me that you care

and as soon as you do that,
I'll spit right in your face
Cut you down to size so you
never make the mistake of trusting me again

When you're gone,
I'm so alone

So I sit alone in my room at night,
watch lightning tear apart the sky
and I take paper cutters
and razor blades
to the tips of my fingers
so all my scars
all my pain
and all of me
remains invisible

It's honestly not healthy, how sick I sometimes get

I have a set of records between myself and I:

I once went nine days without showering

Three days without eating

Two days without talking

One day without my mind even in the right places

The record I'm working on now  darker, nastier and I can't believe I've even touched it

I had gone a year without--

And then a month without----

But then those scores broke and I'm not even down to an hour without----

Not a single material thing will ever
make me happy

Not even **love

I'm sorry I'm so broken,
I'm sorry I pushed you away.

I'm sorry I took you for granted,
when all I really want
is just for you to stay

Half a butterfly on my left wrist

The other half on her right hand

We hold, and hold, together we hold

A blue butterfly to hide our scars


I have a pink butterfly to draw attention to my pain

She has a blue butterfly to draw attention away from her eyes


We share our wings,

we give our hearts


It is time for metamorphisis

It is time for us to FLY

You, I love

Not "I love you"
me first, I this
me that
me before you

You, I love

Your smile, I love
Your mind, I love

Your kindness, I love
Your wrath, I love

Your imagination, I love
Your creativity, I love

Your confusion, I love
Your curiosity, I love

Your voice, I love
Your laugh, I love

You, I love

You before me,
no matter what *we do.
Because it is you whom I love.

I love my family.
But I hate spending time with them.

My grandma babbles about the "good ol' days",
an aunt stirs her tea.

The cousins are running wild "Who's watching them?"
Right, me.

My mother brags about her eldest daughter
and all her achievements;

I actually don't exist.

My uncle barks a drunken epithet,
hands slam on the table
laughter shakes shoulders.

Talk of kindergarten politics is touched upon.
The gays? They exist.
The poor? They're, well, poor.
The coloreds? Are they still here?

Dice are tossed,
feet shuffle under the table.

The dog yaps for scraps.

Uncle goes outside with a cigarette
takes a puff.

Auntie doesn't wanna go to bed,
says "a slavelord woulda haveta whip me to get me off this chair."

I decide I've had enough.

I get up for another drink.

I love my family.
But I hate spending time with them.

Not he/she/they but "the borderline"
The borderline imagines this elaborate fantasy to be necessary
the borderline turns to clinginess
the borderline may exhibit narcissistic symptoms
the borderline the borderline the borderline

the borderline-
a chalk marking on the sidewalk

the borderline-
trees separating territories

the borderline-
a sign stating do not cross

not me
I am human

but since I'm a 'borderline'
you wouldn't know that

would you?

We’re all here today 

We all exist in the present,

yet we base our beliefs

our thoughts
and our feelings
 on the past

What if we looked up and forward,
 rather than down and backward?

We’re here and now,

so why are we so
fixated on yesterday?

We can be anything we can fathom

we can work toward whatever we put our minds to

So rather than being the weeds in the yard

that need to be pulled every week,

the plants that drown the beauty

in their wreathing claws,

suffocating those which are trying to grow,
We can be the array of flowers

the gorgeous landscaping 
that makes children stop and stare

So grow as though yesterday didn’t happen, and like tomorrow is all that you can see

Because in the end, all that matters is what you did today

I took a risk with you
and I won't regret it

Just as long as you don't

I have no idea what to say. I don’t know what I believe in.

I do know what I don’t believe in, though.

I don’t believe in god. Or any salvation, really.
I don’t believe in sheltering opinions and coddling students. I don’t believe in censorship.
I don’t believe in the idea that we should teach by word of mouth instead of leading by example. I don’t believe in hitting children as a form of discipline.
I don’t believe in authority that abuses power in order to **** anything in their way.
I don’t believe in searching through your daughters text messages to find out if she’s in trouble in place of fostering a relationship that allows open communication with her so that she doesn’t need to hide.
I don’t believe in hanging threats over people’s heads in lieu of the things they have done when they were a different person.
I don’t believe in kicking people while they’re down by telling them that “someone somewhere out there has it much worse than you do.”
I don’t believe in hurting for everyone equally at the same time.
I don’t believe in painting my nails purple.
I don’t believe in vegetable juice.
I don’t believe in veganism.
I don’t believe in paprika or leprechauns either.
Hell, I don’t really believe in anything– and that, I can believe.

is a beautiful,
miserable place

I keep losing my train of thought

I really would like to find it,
but sometimes I'm afraid I don't even have the ticket

I lost my train of thought

So I decided to go looking

When I found it, it was derailed off its tracks

Wrecked completely, in flaming chunks

I found pieces of it hanging from a cliff

Other pieces somewhere in the depths of the ocean

And yet more pieces,
Still on their track and chugging to their doom

I lost my train of thought,
maybe it's best I didn't have my ticket

I will eventually
convince myself

That this means
absolutely nothing

I will eventually
be rid of the stickiness
that is the pain
of anything near me

touching my skin
and making my mind
revolve around strange
things

I sometimes think of sin

Of all things

I think about how wrong,
how it’s bad

Society says no
they all just want us
to go

It was my insecurity
it was my discomfort

It was the pressure from you
and all that wouldn’t fit

Everything that just
didn’t work

And so I threw a fit

I’m sorry.

Right?

Is that what
I should say?

I’m sorry,
I’m sorry

Saying it again
would make everything
okay

But it doesn’t.

The pain of
what used to be

The thought
of what could’ve
been

The memories
of the hurt,
everything
that really
just wouldn’t
work

I’m sorry,
I’m sorry

It is working yet?

Why am I doing this?

It wasn’t me,
I promise

Why am I
apologizing?

In reality,
who’s fault was it?


Why did you
try to convince
me that
everything was okay?

I’m sorry but

I think it’s

time to say that

it wasn’t me,

it was you

so this is

ultimum valae.

I feel like I'm being held back
Or maybe like I'll have a panic attack

Those I care about don't feel the same for me
And I can't help but feel like I'll never be free

If I stay too long I'll disappear
I'll bid you adieu and see you next year

"This isn't fun anymore"
come on baby let me just finish
"I don't want to"
I tried to push him away but
wait babe I'm not done
he was heavy and everything hurt
"Stop I'm done, stop"
and he had me drunk and high
"Stop"
I didn't know where I was
"I'm done it isn't fun anymore"
or who he was
wait just- I'm hitting it good right?
It was all I could do not to cry
just shut down and wait it out
but I couldn't close my eyes
because the smoke he gave me
was laced in something
"Can't we be done? I wanna leave"
ahhhh there we go
Now I was
sticky,
smelly,
soiled
and sick
"Take me back to my stuff"
*I hit it good, right?"
He didn't deserve an answer
So the tears rolled hot and
silent
down my face

I'm not saying you're inadequate, but
someone will always be better than you
the moment you decide you are not good enough

Whatever memory of you
Whatever small tribute to us
A physical manifestation of days gone by

I broke
Destroyed
Tore at the seams

And I'm not sure what can be repaired

i guess life caught up with me
it's been chasing me down
for my entire existence

but even though it's
caught up, so-to-speak

it isn't quite here yet

and now all my problems
and tomorrows
and yesterdays
and nights

are staring me in the face
waiting to drag me down

Hot like matches,
bright with heat

Fiery candles
lining the street

Warm to the touch,
full of hot air

You and I were
not meant to repair

Where we ended
is all we could be

Like a match,
you and me

We were temporary.