Marsha Lenihan once wrote, "People with BPD are like people with third degree burns all over their body, lacking emotional skin, they feel agony at the slightest touch or movement."

I used to cry when I said goodbye to my father after our weekly Tuesday night dinners
I'd play out games of Go fish and Rummy like there was no winner, but I was victorious next
to my daddy.  
His eyes still crinkle in the corners and his smell will always be long car rides with blankets, books on tape, and a wide range of conversations even though he was always late
But I'd weep like he actually just dropped dead every Tuesday night because I was petrified

My small but portly frame would crumple and I would mumble the worries I was too scared to say
I was afraid I'd see my daddy for the last time that day
I thought I had asthma because I was always fat and sometimes choked on the air in my lungs as if it was strangling me but I had my first panic attack in grade three

I was sitting in Mrs. Arlotta's classroom ladida
just like any other story about a schoolday when I was punched in the stomach
with a fist of "I miss my ******* dad"
there was this bully beating the **** out of me with no prologues warning
Just to remind me Despair
is not some abandoned pit people place their pity into
Despair, can be like an earwig, you use hope like tissues to squash out intrusion
but earwigs are smart, experts at delusion
earwigs know where to hide until you go to sleep

Every other weekend I used to sleep at my dads house with his british girlfriend
and his lovely cats and soothing hot tub
and his british girlfriend
and the fireplaces and the tribal music
and the british girlfriend
and the beautiful homemade pond and the greenhouse
and the british girlfriend

I liked roasting marshamallows until their crisp outer layer began to bubble but not for too long for if they fell in the fire there was trouble
Bort are you seriously letting the girl eat sweets tonight, god knows she doesn't need them

I liked riding my bike through Elizabeth park their flower garden was absolutley breathtaking
"you know Haley if you got off your *** more often moving your legs wouldn't be such a chore"

And I loved dinners with freshly picked herbs and seasonal tablecloths tucked in the curbs
"go ahead, have another helping, you're just like your mother, disgusting"

Well Karen I hope I'm like her and I hope she's disgusting
I hope she tasted disgusting on the leftover edges of my fathers lips
when you two were thrusting, could you also taste the hasty goodbyes he tossed like
rubber ducks to a family
waiting in line for him to come home
and waiting and waiting for him to never ******* come home

I loved my dad.
yes despair was everywhere but seeing my dad was like finding religion
if a child could comprehend the task of going to church

Christine Ann Lawson once wrote, " The borderling queen expreiances what therapists call oral greediness.  the desperate hunger of the borderline queen is a kin to the behavior of an infant who had gone too long between feedings.  Starved, frustrated, and beyond the ability to calm or sooth herself, she grabs, flails, wails until the last ****** is planted securely and perhaps too deeply in her mouth.  She coughs, gags, chokes, spits eyeing the elusive breast like a wolf guarding her food.  Similarily, the queen holds onto what is hers taking more than she could use, in case it might be taken away prematurely."

Did my eyes taste sour when you few times you kissed my lids goodnight maybe that's why there wasn't one ******* hour without a glass of wine, another beet, hide your shots of tequila behind the birthday cards I made you.

There was an ache of despair that you wouldn't always be there that when you decided you wanted to participate it was way past the expiration date
I said goodbye to my dad after dinner last night without a second look back, I forgot he could be dead when I was blowing lines to stay alive

Experts say a key symptom of borderling is chronic emptiness
Maybe if things had been different dad, I wouldn't be such a ******* mess
and you would have to pay Connecticutcare less.

What do you do when the world comes crashing down on you?
What do you think is the best way to go about it?
I don't always know what to do when it's unexpected
I just go with the rhythm of the beat of the bass drum
Feel the wind in my hair and dance to the weight of the freedom
I just let the butterflies take flight, such beautiful insight
Watch the heat of the moment ignite with the passion of magics bright light
Life is short
Life is fast
Life can be humdrum
I've seen my worst, I've tried my best and still suffer from confusion
I know my type, I know the pain
I feel insync, but I've lost my brain
All at once, I've paid my dues
Pushed my limit and had everything to lose
Such a wonderful kind of enchanted mind of being lost and being wrong
And I laugh it off with a silly smurk
A sarcastic joke because I've been hurt
And I might not be right where I want to...
But I'm where I'm at and absolutley love where I've been

a quart of tequila,
still no feelings,
spinning ceilings beneath me,

in my venomous state,
we went to comedy night at the viper room.

torn to shreds in the front row,
of a gung ** americanised show.

i came because the river still flows,
with depp and the stageshows from the whiskey a go go,
directly opposite the pavement.

the boulevard was full of cars,
and homeless superstars,
that made it far,
but not past the stars on the walk of fame,
Holly would never be the same again.
*******, *******.

we walked past the cast of a bottomless flask,
cast in the shadows of the sorrows of rodeo drive,
staying alive is easy,
follow,
the yellow brick road and wish for a dollar.

tomorrow is another day.

i seen a man of my same age,
he was a traveller,
vocabular immaculate,
hair cut ******, dindn’t shave much,
one of the same touch.
grubby hands and unfinished plans.

his sign said, were ******.
i teared up,
he looked up and stood up and we hugged.
i could see me in his weird look.
just another rhyme in my page book.

i gave him a bag of survival necessities,
i hunted him down after 24 hours.
i was worried to go back,
and finish what i started.

i consider the concept as an artist,
but the truth is this,
the humanist within,
could never miss that appointment.

he sat there in the same spot,
and if i didn’t come,
he could of lost faith in the promise of a circumstance.

i took a certain stance,
he said he was a traveller,
a poet with grubby hands,
i held him with open arms.

i don’t worry about him,
i worry about you,
a ***** and the truth,
trumps and mansion and no use.

i’ve read between the lines,
and wrote this motion on tightropes and suspended emotion.
they want a showman,
but when we show them the ocean,
the don’t want to know the deepest minds inclined.

absolutley,
mutiny in the ranks,
my heart sank when you decided to revamp,
your opinion of me implicitly.

minor to me,
skeleton key to multiple routes.
i never gave a **** about your opinions then,
and I certainly don't give a **** now,

nor have i ever,
stared the gift horse in the mouth.

She stood there, across from me. Unable to look into my eyes, she stood there. With her hands in the pockets of her jeans, her shoulder and head leaning against the wall, and gravity trying to **** the tears she was trying to hold back, her head was down but up enough for me to see what was going through her mind. She stood there and she was beautiful. Her face was full of worry, confusion, anger and she was upset. Her hands were in her pockets because she was shaking, she was nervous. My words were realization, the kind that screams at you. She stood there and i stood across from her, looking at her, unable to take my eyes off of her. While i was full of regret, she was lost in her own train of thought. Someone had to make her think though. Silence filled the air for longer then i realized at the time. She looked up but quickly away, avoiding my eyes that were visibly begging for hers, and in that instant her tears played tag along her cheeks, dripping aimlessly down to the floor, giving into gravity. But she was beautiful. Biting her lip out of shame for crying, she looked back down and in that instant, defeat took over her every inch. I stood there, my eyes still begging for hers, and I couldnt move. She was beautiful and I was numb. To check if I was alive, i took a step towards her, being drawn in by her beauty, then i took a few more, until i found myself quickly wrap my arms around her. She went to turn away cause she didnt find herself deserving of this, but i held her, deserving or not. I held her because i wasnt going anywhere, anytime soon and i didnt want to let her slip away from me like i did the rest, because She wasnt the rest, she was her and she was absolutley beautiful where she stood. I didn let her go because, I couldnt, i wouldnt let myself. Her being there, within my arms, was my realization, the kind thats just a whisper in your ear. I pulled away and whiped away her tears. Finally, her eyes met mine. It was then that we both knew. I wasnt going anywhere and she was coming no where with me. She was everything. She was my beautiful girl and she is beautiful where she stands.

small upon the wire
extruded with such effort
she swings with the wind
capturing her  stability against
the verdent green, once secure
she again  launches, like a spelunker
down into the darkness of the bush
only to reappear and leap from leaf to leaf

having constructed her main lines
the little architect, then proceeded
with absolutley no fanfare
but an audience of two,
enthralled by her
bravado and industry,
to fill out the infield of the  construct

before setting some fishing lines out
off her main points,  to sway in the breeze
she  then  strolled  back into her leafy boudoir,
one presumes to have a well earned nap,
before dinner

through tear drops and bloodshed, ive said it a million times and ill say it again because when i lost u... a part of my heart, my soul, u took, my friend I look at your pictures, and i really cant help but to smile, sadden i remain, cos i needed to see u before u left, just for a while My days go by, i think about ur mom and dad, how hard its gotta be to remember the wonderful son, just a year ago, they had. tough listenin' to music, i find myself crying, still seems so unreal, the thought of u dieing. catch myself wanting to tell u all the new things in my life, even though since u've been gone, my minds not been right. but then again thats something i absolutley loved abt u, u could make sense out of anything, ur heart was so true. Intelligent as they come with such an interesting perspective, grateful to have learned from u, i was starving for that connection. handsome as can be, those green eyes are embedded in my brain, heart and stomache still flutter anytime i simply hear ur name. sucha shame, u were destined for greatness, the best at so much, always wantin to make it. hard to write with all these memories running through my head, give up anything to see ur warm smile once again. empty, for all along i had a plan, a year ago i wouldnt know this me, if that helps u understand. met a lot of people, but i felt u in so many ways that even mentioning this puts me in dark depressing daze. But i know i always will because u werent just anybody to me, i appreciate the person u were, so brilliantly unique. i fight tears almost as much as i breathe, because when i lost u, i felt like i lost me