I just woke from experiencing what it felt to be free
of a doctrine, of this overlying immense pressure to be righteous and respectful,
that which I've inherited from my own expectations and from those of whom I admire.
I had been touched by something even bigger than my own self perseverance-
than my connections between "the wise,"
than my science that I hold so dear.
It's almost indescribable- so bear with me
as I dig through my consciousness for a dream that could just be a great answer to our confusions.
I felt myself sifting through a softened solid
that was smooth and sunset-hued.
It stretched around me but went through me all the same.
It was warm but refreshing.
It cleared away the dichotomies, the questions, the labels into a vast spaciousness that couldn't ever make me feel loneliness because in this clear space,
there was you.
In a raw form- without explanations, without excuses, without fear,
without the taste of another on your lips,
without the pressure to exist.
Just you, and your experience floating around and through you,
in the most beautiful colors I've ever seen you don.
It was just you, and it was just me,
in soft solids of insight.
When I stepped forward, I saw your life around you,
not my interpretation riddled with negative and positive energies,
but the sights and sounds that created an indefinite understanding.
With the sunsets swimming around them.
As I got closer I began to notice my own life,
spirits of the past grazing my skin gently
and gingerly.
And when we finally were face to face,
in what might be nano-seconds
our eyes were not expectations but one,
our lips were not provocations but one,
our bodies were not vehicles but one.
And it felt comfortably fluid as we walked together in something I can only liken to acceptance.
It was fleeting, however.
I was pulled out of this by the hands of 3 AM on a Tuesday, my disappearing fever,
and desire to relieve myself from all of the water I consumed before bedtime.
The lingering feeling of insight and acceptance urged me to write,
and expel the overwhelming emotion of wishing I never woke up.
I couldn't stop sobbing
and I hadn't a clue why.
I guess it was because in this dream
I came to know
the world is crumbling around us
and all we can see are the demands and the means to be something other than oneness.
We choose be chained by these requirements,
because living in this world is not the safety of the amniotic sac that we leave behind in the past.
We should know that we could relive that every time we create something we strongly believe doesn't have to last.
I'm not sure who I've lost,
or what I've found-
but I can hope
it's knowing that we may not ever precisely touch what love is despite how much we try to render it through words
and actions,
a definitive language that gives us its tangibility.
But it can touch us.
It can touch us into being one again,
if we put our lives on pause,
It can touch us if we let it.

I hope the multiverse theory is true
and there’s infinite me and infinite you.
And due to the nature of infinite chance,
there’s a world where we have had time to dance,
there’s a world where we’re happy,
a world where we’re sad,
a world where I’m playing mom and you’re playing dad.
In one universe I was never born.
In one universe your ACL’s torn.
I’ll cry for the worlds where we’ve never met,
but in one world you’re Romeo and I’m Juliet.

there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?

o, you great young idiot!
you left blisters on my fingers from
lifting up all of your tiredness
trying to exalt it to heaven with human weight
i have broken exactly sixteen bones trying to
maintain the weight. lifting up your body
your suicide. your death. you made me
atlas and ******* my acl is torn and i have
arthritis.

o, you great young idiot!
you kissed a girl for the first time and didn't think
you'd ever be allowed to do it again. you thought
you'd be dead by next week but alas, you were
not and the reaper didn't take you in the night.
you kissed a boy for the first time and hated it.

o, you great young idiot!
you are sleeping in church and being forced to
realize god is over hyped. you think
maybe I'm wrong
but they always prove you right.

great young idiot!
don't **** yourself before the rains come.

i didn't know how angry
a scar could be until i saw
one on myself it was something
like a pocket-sized chilean coast
dragged across my knee disrupting  
and hills still dispersing as an acl
torn but unseen like how the many
excerpts of dreams were wiped clean
the anger is always ephemeral but
it always comes back whenever
i want to feel breeze in hair perhaps
i just miss the delaware river scene
and a long ago when my pencils
moved too quickly for my thoughts
yes indeed maybe i just miss loving
the journey not for the end like the
part where i did not know anything yet
still believed that it was all for the better

We lost you 10 days ago.

On the first day
I had just gotten my old job back
I walked into the main office
And told everyone how nice it was to see them again
Then I went back into my office
And heard you had passed
I flew home that night

On the second day
I tried to rest, recover the sleep I had missed  on the first
I couldn’t
My family wanted to go out to eat
I told them I couldn’t leave my room

On the third day
I got to see the friends we grew up with
Some I hadn’t seen in five years
We sat at a table for four
I kept looking to the open space to my right expecting to see you in a chair

On the fourth day
I bought a suit for your funeral
It had been so long that none i owned fit me
You would’ve thought I looked nice
You would have told me that

On the fifth day
I spent a night in your apartment
Surrounded by people that loved you
Some that loved me
I stood in your room and lingered
Our close friend saw me
We held each other and he showed me all the things in your room you had taken from him
I told him about an orange shirt you had taken from me because it was too large
We pulled out an orange shirt from a pile, thinking we had found it
It was a different shirt

On the sixth day
I got to see your face for the last time
I focused on your hands
because they looked how I remembered
I got to see you be put in the ground
I got to see my first love there
We hadn’t spoken in years
She told me she was married
I told her that was nice to hear
I spoke to your father, he had to be reminded of who I was
He hadn’t seen me since I was 8
But once he remembered
We spoke and we laughed
I spoke to your mother
I thanked her for moving to our town, I thanked her for you
I told her about all the good you brought to my life
She said I did the same for you

I cried that day and every day prior

On the seventh day I bought a flight back to Los Angeles for that night
I spent Mother’s Day with my family
I ate bad Greek food
We had to pull over next to a Wawa for me to use the restroom
I took the flight home
Normally I would have called a taxi but I asked my roommate to pick me up
You had introduced me to him
He used to sublet your room in our old apartment
I told him about the last seven days
I didn’t cry once

On the eighth day
I returned to work
Back for good I told them
I told my boss I ordered shakshuka for lunch because it was the last thing I ate with you
She said  she was considering the chopped salad

On the ninth day
Most of the same things happened
I spoke to the close friend who was still grieving in New York
I told him things would improve once he left the city
I saw my girlfriend who is recovering from a torn acl
She’s prescribed medication to help with her pain
I couldn’t stop asking her why I didn’t feel worse

On the Tenth day
I made a mistake at work
One that will likely never rear its ugly head
It’s the worse i’ve felt in 4 days
Sometimes I wish I could live in the pain I felt when I lost you
There nothing could hurt me
There nothing could be worse
You are gone and each day that passes you will be gone a little longer
And each day I will feel a little better
And I worry I may hate myself for that

Dear Momma~
  
  I was a happy kid growing up. No doubt about it. My teachers loved the smiles and joy I brought them, every day, even when I was dead tired and crankier than anything. They loved my endless joy.
   After a while, they started seeing the black eyes and bruises all along my body. I still smiled, even when they knew that I was dying.
   I was always scared of coming home, for fear of what kind of mood you were going to be in. I always thought I was going to die that night, but somehow I didn’t.
   I couldn’t sit still in class anymore, because it was so painful to sit down.
   They started to really notice, when I cried for the first, instead of smiling, when the roll was being called.
   I never told them what was going on, because you always told me that if I told anyone, you would **** me.
   When I got assigned a project to do about child abuse, I tried to get out of it, but I couldn’t.
   I didn’t need no Prezi, I was my own Prei. I was the living proof!
    I aced that presentation and got sent to live somewhere else, but after a while, you found where I was, and beaten me, until I was coughing up blood. I coughed up blood for a month!
   I wanted to **** myself, cutting and pills became my best friend.
   I was terrified of closing my eyes. I was terrified of playing soccer. I was terrified to even stay on the soccer team!
   For a minute, I thought the worse was over.
  I was terribly wrong.
   You turned to drinking and you because more violent. I was now at the hospital every month, because of you.
    I thought ripping my ACL was painful, but what you did to me, was so much worse.
   I ended up believing that I was going to die before the age of 20, because of how violent you were.
    I hated you for so much, I can’t even begin to describe what you have done.
    I was the kid falling asleep in class and getting sent to the office every day, because I couldn’t fall asleep in my own bed.
    They saw me as a troubled kid. I was so happy, Momma! You stripped me of my joy.
   You stripped me naked and left me out to dry! You didn’t even care how I felt, as long your needs were satisfied!
   I’ve never wanted to be miserable. I never wanted to be insured. I never wanted to feel like I was never going to be with it.
   You never once told me that you loved me.
  I became afraid of the world. I didn’t want be caught off guard this much. I didn’t want to be like this, Momma, but I am!
   You never once told me that you were proud of me!
   I wasn’t suppose to grow up afraid! I was so happy and you stripped it all away.
   You made me feel guilty for all the wrong reasons and it never got easier, as I got older.
   I stopped smiling and laughing. I was still part of the crowd, but they’ve noticed just how angry I was. They all tried to help, but I didn’t want any help.
    I always tried to fight this abuse on my own, but when I woke up in the hospital, I understood that I couldn’t.
   You really broke me, then, Momma. I never thought that the Devil would be my best friend.
   I had people tell me about Christ, yet I didn’t believe He existed. I went to church, but I was so overly angry at Him, I didn’t want to believe there was such a thing as a God.
    I blamed God for what you’ve been doing to me. People loved you, but I hated you.
   As many friends as I brought home, just to work on drills for soccer, because we had the biggest backyard, you would always made sure, that you were on your best behavior. They all thought you were the greatest parent alive. They didn’t know what I had to suffer, in order for you to be happy.
    You made sure I had clean clothes, showered, and looked presentable when I went out, but I couldn’t hide the bruises that were deep and dark all over my skin, the cuts, the casts, the damage that you have done to me- I couldn’t hide it.
   I wanted someone to know the truth.
   I loved you and I forgave you over and over again, as I do today.
    All I wanted to hear you say was “I love you,” but instead I’ve gotten, “I hate you.”
   I just wanted you to be proud of me, Momma, but instead I spent seven years, being beaten to death.
   Please forgive me for not being the child you wished you had all along. I didn’t mean to make you angry.
   I don’t think I can fake it anymore. I’m broken, inside and out, this is my goodbye
  I love you, Momma. I hope you’re happy now.
  
~Jo

At 3, I broke my leg
And again at 5.
This would cause my leg to be an inch shorter than the other the rest of my life.
7: My brother pushed me into a wall and cracked my skull
Somewhere near that same time, I shattered a pane a glass in my hands, requiring stitches
At 15, I thought it was smart to push a bag of broken beer bottles into a dumpster with my hand.

I set a car on fire hitting a deer at 70 mph, his antler coming inches from my lung
I fell asleep behind the wheel of my truck and totaled a mini van
I drove someone else’s truck off the road getting a new engine for the other
But it was better than the ice, the oncoming car, the gas main, or the fence post
I snapped the front axle of my rainbow Buick twice before I finally killed it
Each time, I walked away with just scratches

In 2006 I cracked 2 of my vertebrae taking a snow boarders jump with a sled
I sliced myself on metal tracks at one job
Even plastic containers have left their mark on me

I tore my ACL, trying to be stronger
(And because of that former leg injury)
And added a hernia appetizer

I earned carpal tunnel, trying to be brilliant
And just make more sense of all the broken

What hurt most were the 2 who wrecked my heart
Deeper and more scarred than any other pain

I am covered in little visible and invisible scars
The older I get, the more I collect,
The more stories I create

I did not slow with age
Just kept ramping up,
Making more as I give less ****
I am always littered with scratches, cuts, and bruises
Because I never stop long enough to worry about what damage I am causing

I’ve don’t bother with stitches anymore
I am held together with pure will and imagination
That old adage, “What happens when an unstoppable force meets and immovable object…”
I refuse to yield
Surrender is not the answer to that riddle

It’s to go around
I bypass
I imagine it doesn’t hurt
I find every other way

I’d rather keep going. I’d rather keep racking up battle damage
I go through my life with a sledgehammer
Knowing full well how many times it comes down on me

I am so very broken
I am always just barely holding it together
When all I want to do is fall apart
I keep putting the pieces back together
I am a maker
Filling in the holes with stories

Today, I walk with a lean, sometimes a limp
And ignore how often it hurts
My body is deformed and full of tally marks for every decision I have ever made

One day, my body will fail me for the last time
It will yield long before I do
All those cracks will finally show
And out of me will leak
All those stories
For everyone who helped me make them