Putang inang pakshet gago putangina mo tarantado x2
Kinakanta ko 'to tuwing nagagawa ng isip kong paglaruan ang mga alaala kong ang nilalaman ay ikaw
Ikaw lang naman talaga eh, dati, ngayon, at bukas, ikaw pa rin
Ikaw pa rin ang sinisigaw ng pipi kong puso
Ikaw ang tanging Nakikita ng aking mga matang bulag
Ikaw ang tinig na naririnig ng bingi kong tainga
Ikaw ang nakapapasok sa maliliit na eskinitang daan papunta sa aking puso
Ikaw lamang ang may kakayahang baguhin ang daloy ng ilog ng aking dugo upang masundan ka

Ikaw
Ikaw pa rin ang pipiliin
Kahit ilang beses mo akong saktan
Kahit ilang beses mo akong saksakin gamit ang bubog ng aking nabasag na puso
Kahit na mawalan ng boses kasisigaw ng iyong pangalan
Kahit ilang babae pa ang pinagkukwento mo sakin at ang pakiramdam ng bawat kuwento ay tila baril na tumatagos sa aking puso
Dahil pagkatapos mo akong saktan nagpapakatatag lang naman ako upang masaktan mo muli

Ikaw
Na minsan kong tinawag na mahal, babe, pangga, bebe luvs,
Ay matatawag ko na ngayon na
Tanga, ulol, manhid, pangit, hampas lupa, haliparot, lintek, demonyo, leche, gago, tarantado,kulelat, hayop, sira ulo, walang hiya, bakulaw
Iilan lang to sa mga katagang binigay ko sayo
Sa pag-asang malilimutan ng puso ko kung gaano kita minahal
Pero wala
Nag-aalumpihit na ang sikmura kong pinipilit ilabas ang lahat ng mga parte **** linunok ko hanggang sa wala nang maiwang bakas na minahal nga kita
Nag-aalinlangan ang isip ko, kung itatapon ko na ba ang ating mga alaala o itatago lamang upang mabalik-balikan kapag nalulumbay

Siguro ikaw si Kuya Kim, diba ang buhay ay weather weather lang?
Kasi nagdala ka ng bagyo sa aking mga mata na naging landslide pababa ng aking pisngi
Nagdala ka ng lindol na ang epicenter ay sa puso ko at nabulabog ang buong mundo ko, at ang puso’y nawasak
Nagdala ka ng buhawi ng hangin na paikot-ikot lang at kahit sinisira mo ang lahat, nahihigop mo pa rin ako
Nagdala ka ng tsunami sa aking isipan at binura mo ang lahat kaya’t ikaw nalang ang laging isip

Ikaw
Sa kabila ng lahat ng kasawiang dinala mo sakin
Oo
Ako na yung tangang nagmahal pa rin sayo
Ako na ang nagpakamartir na harapin ang matitindi **** hangin
Ako na ang sumalo sa lahat ng bubog ng iyong puso, sa lahat ng luhang iyong iniyak
Ako na ang trainer wheels sa iyong bike, sabi mo di mo na ko kailangan pero gusto kong naroon pa rin ako upang masigurong hindi ka masasaktan
Ako na ang bandaid sa bawat sugat na iniiwan ng mga babaeng minahal mo, mga halik sa sugat pinapatigil ang dugo
Ako na ang unan **** sa gabi mo lang nakikita, sinasandalan tuwing pagod, may problema, mahihigpit na yakap tuwing luha’y di tumitigil
Ako na yung stik-o sa pakete mo ng sigarilyo, inosente’t di ka sasaktan, pero iba pa rin ang pinili mo
Ako na ang babaeng umaasa sayo na parang naghihintay ng ulan sa tagtuyot
Bakit ba hindi nalang ako

Ito ang tanong ko sayo, ako nga ba ang talagang tanga rito? Di ba ikaw rin?
Bago ka maghabol nanaman ng isa pang babae, kuya tingin tingin naman diyan sa paligid
Baka nasa harap mo lang, ang babaeng matagal nang hinahanap

I want to rip you off - but you don't come off easy.
I want to get you off - but it's not that simple.
You tend to sleep & I tend to talk.
And talk and talk.
I tend to leap & you tend to walk.
I skid my knee.
But I never stop.
I keep going.
On and on like a bandaid.
Bleeding underneath.
But that won't stop us from seeping out the sides.
Well get soggy and soft over time.
Only water will wash it off.
So I'll stay dry in this heat.
I'll keep it turned up to ninety.
Giving everything and what am I getting?
We need stitches.
We need surgery.
It won't help anything.
Just a bandaid.
We'll just keep bleeding.
We're dying.

“every time i feel my stomach convulse it’s a new wave of tears
take vitamins, she says
you should just eat, she says
you got skinnier, another says
“eat! eat! haven’t you been eating!? and this bandaid! quit cutting yourself, kalena”
and for a moment i think it’s truth
i think it’s honest
i shout “i do eat! they’re just cat scratches”
and if she would have lifted up that bandaid
she would have learned it was honest
it was truth
but it was melted away flesh that she would have found, not torn
but melted
and in the highlight of this moment i see all of my dreams come true
finally, someone notices!
finally, someone cares!
but yet she’s willing to stop eating. to make sure that i do.
my little thing. an entire 98 pounds, not by choice.
so unhealthy, so sick. all the time. so **** tired.
she would stop eating for me.
and though it doesn’t help, the thought is comforting. it should be disturbing.
it is. in the way that if she stopped eating…
she would lose weight.
and then i would fight harder and harder until my rib bones were sticking out so far they were larger than my chest.
emaciated.
bony fingers that boys don’t want to hold and girls don’t want to kiss.
hair that slides out with the slightest tug.
no one wants that.
except me, of course.
i want that.
i want to weigh 85 pounds.
i want to die.
i want to be so high on the emptiness that i die.
i faint. and they cannot wake me up.
eternal sleep. forever peace. and the best part of all?
I would be horrifically tiny in even the smallest coffin. “

Isn't it funny,
That you want things
You dont have,
and have things you don't want.
And you spend your time praying,
Trying to justify sin
And pass it off as love.
We get this idea in our heads,
That we aren't meant to be alone.
That the only point in life
Is to find someone to make you
Feel complete.
But if you need someone to fill you,
Isn't that just like putting a bandaid
Over a bullethole?
There's always the possibility
Of love leaving,
Of having empty spaces again?
I think its more important to
Complete yourself.
People come and go like seasons.
But you will always be stuck
With yourself.
So live and love as hard as you can.
As passionately as you can.
And remember that the last persons
Voice you'll hear when you lie
Down to drift off into eternal sleep,
Is your own.

Who dares intrude my solitude?
Loftily peasant, don't be rude!
Don't make me say
"Off with his head!"

I shall always be with
clean
knees.
You were only given
me
to please.
If you shall disobey, I'll have
you
dead.

That's how it goes
in my head.
I say spit,
but you spit on me instead.
Who has the wheel now?

I'm a freak
when it comes to control.
The minute I lose it,
sometimes I follow.
No other way,
no how.

But what am I thinking?
Last week I was prowling
and now I'm scowling
at the fact that
I've been twice bitten.
Those horrible teeth of worthlessness
are as sour
as a ripe citrus.
It's not possible for me
to make it in the business

I can never make up my mind.
I always got the fence up my ***.
I guess only in myself will I confide.
I do like things better
when they're not alive,
so lets just end it
and call a quits.

It's too hard to tell
if it's insincere,
but I'm the only one
allowed to be fickle here!
So "Off with his head!"
Like a bandaid.
No fuss, no fits

The old blue box filled to the brim
With bandages, Advil, and what my dad used to call "magic healing lotion"
So that we would feel special when putting it on
After falling down
From the monkey bars on the playground across the street
Or that first time I fell off of my bike

Now my pain is more than skin deep
Not a simple dab of magic healing lotion and a Spider-Man bandaid
Will help stop the blood dripping from my wrists

The old blue box filled to the brim
With bandages, Advil, and what my dad used to call "magic healing lotion"
Now sits on the top shelf of the closet
Collecting dust

"Rip it off like a bandaid"
It will sting less,
only for the first second or so.

Too bad I liked to take my time
while pealing the sticky material away -
prolonged pain

You were like a bandaid. You protected the most vulnerable spots of me. You wrapped yourself around my body, always taking care of me. You never let any of the bad things come in and hurt me. Even when the cuts weren't that bad I still needed you to be okay. Because just you being there made it all hurt less. And I was so grateful to you.


Then one day I looked to find comfort in your presence and you were gone.

hands in cup
circling, circling,
washing away,
yesterdays detritus

humming, mindless, tuneless
far away in another place
thinking, of memories

slip, crash, drop
favourite cup
now
mosaic on hardwood floor

shards, and shards
me, a barefoot island
in a sea of ceramics

every which way
sharp reefs to navigate

but needs must
I am an island alone

none will rescue me
and i cannot sit all day

one cut,
on big toe
one coffee cup
much loved
now, binned
one bandaid
and off to work

serves me right,
should have paid attention
sheesh I loved that cup

Muster up the words, "I beg you."
Form some kind of apology, please
This isn't you and you know it
Your heart is too warm to treat someone so cold

The breezy winds flow through your hair just as well as they do your emotions and you're making her feel like a helpless feather with no other choice but to get blown away
Even a simple goodbye would be better than this
Trust me, I know closure isn't really your thing, but she deserves at least something
Anything would do this situation justice, just please talk to her

This isn't you, please snap out of it

I know you've been hurt too many times to count and you're looking everywhere for something or someone to fill your voids but do not use innocent hearts as vices, they don't work like that
Don't rob someone of their feelings just because you have a hard time coping with yours

I know sometimes certain situations and feelings can be interpreted differently, but don't kid yourself, you know exactly what you're doing and quite frankly it's making me sick

You aren't perfect and neither is she, but the least you could do is offer her a bandaid when she needs one instead of drinking her blood and leaving a mess for her to cleanup afterwards without even calling her back

All of this is running like a train through my head when I look into my mirror and see myself start to tear up
The bags under my eyes hold all of the emotions that I try my best not to let out

It should be easier than this
Maybe it really is easy, and I'm just not used to change
I'm not sure about a lot of the things that are happening in my life
However, I am sure that I need to stop becoming a bad memory to others

It keeps me awake at night to think about all of the wrong I've done
That there are people whose only memory of me is how I was the worst for them and I don't want that

To my past friends and lovers, I can't say sorry enough
To my present friends and lovers, please don't give up on me; you are the reason I'm still trying
To my future friends and lovers, I hope by the time we meet, I am nothing less than perfect to you

I'm not used to change, but I could get used to being a good memory

Cover my wound and I'll cover yours.
Protect what's healing;
Be the time that's needed.
Act as each other's waterproof shield,
guard what's bleeding under our sleeve.
Cover the wounds until it's time to show off the scars.
One day, I'll show them off with pride.
But until then...
Let's be each others bandaid.
I'll cover your wound and you cover mine.

-espe

the lovesick little ******
wears a bandaid on her trigger finger
and bites her split lip
while aiming.

she is trying to go higher
past the tree line
and figure out just where to aim.
she points, & shoots.

Always there
Medicine cabinet
Like a friend
When in need
Healing process
Covering proceed
Stick on
Where belong
Medical’s blend
There are brands
No infection
Quick fix
Look no further than the bandaid
The covering like a shade
Bandaid and let heal

"they" say it's easier
to rip off the bandaid quickly
presumably because the pain
is so fleeting
but is it okay by "they"
if I scream my hurt
drawing out every syllable
loudly, complete with raging
spittle and seething emotions
throwing buried truths
into a stunned face
that can't wake up
or shape up, or shake off
shackles of an insanely lost
predisposed personality
Is it okay with "they"
to hurl obscenities
to those that have been defeated
in their own mind
"they" say to rip off the bandaid
quickly
but I've found, by doing that
the wound bleeds more profusely
and it's harder to heal
for the bandaid,
"they" reviled
was the only ******* thing
holding
the deepest cut together

I.

poetry written while I'm lying in my best friends bed in the middle of the night

II.

the way the words "breaking up" coming from your lips sound; the way they feel the same whether it has to do with you leaving me, or you leaving her

III.

you have to respect her, ah... I see. and then there's me

IV.

poetry written by putting hands to a keyboard and just moving until there's no more roman numerals left is poetry that's written in the middle of the night while I'm lying in my best friends bed

V.

I deserve better

VI.

you deserve significantly worse

VII.

here's how I imagine it- my phone rings.
"I broke up with her."
"I don't think we should talk anymore"

VIII.

I didn't lie when I told you I love you but I don't know what love is. you'll always be my first love, but I really don't know what love is

IX.

but it's probably not this

X.

we didn't talk today and I was glad, I had a good day

XI.

twenty two things written while my best friend snores to my right and I wait for you to call tomorrow so I can rush off the phone and pretend I'm still far away

XII.

this was still my city before you came into this life, so why does it feel like it's all in honor of you?

XIII.

today I read that if a trans person starts taking testosterone they need to double up on vitamin C because it kills their immune system so now I have to stay with you until you start the shots so I can bring over 5 cases of OJ and force feed it to you like the child you are

XIV.

the child you look like.

XV.

I dunno, like, I just don't even know how you're going to react, and like, I'm torn between being really curious and wanting to rip the bandaid off and just not wanting to find out, you know?

XVII.

You know what I think?

XVIII.

another-break-up-poem from the *****-who-just-won't-break-up-with-him

XIX.

one time when I was in 5th grade we had to learn Roman numerals and my teacher made us do entire math work sheets answering in them for like a month. her name was Ms. Schwanbeck and I had her the year my mom started dating that one guy that she married that one time. she was also the one who taught me it's L-M-N-O-P that we were singing in the alphabet song and not elephant ***

**.

I dunno, maybe I'm just not strong enough

XXI.

like poetry aside, metaphors and all that ****

XXII.

maybe I'm just not meant to do it anymore

XXIII.

I do love you, I have this whole time

XXIV.

but don't forget that I have no idea what the **** love is

I'm clever almost never
That's untrue, I am quite daft
I once came close to dying,
I got stuck under a raft
Sarcasm is my strong suit,
I use it when I can
This fact became a nuisance,
When I worked for Uncle Sam

In class I played the clown,
I was often tightly wound
Always acting out
The court jester to the crown
I know how this must sound
A rotten apple on the ground
Just don't beat me while I'm down
I might shock you with the knowledge
I still have parents who are proud

See, Im verbally proficient
Surprisingly efficient
I'd cast you out like bait
Cause I’d much rather be fishing
I'd cut you down with such precision
If this was my decision
Without any permission
I'd stitch up your incision
That seeps down in your torso
And turn it into a tradition

My verbiage is unrelenting
Savage and outstanding
There's thought behind my speak
I'm a primed linguistic freak
Destroying all on-comers
Feasting on the weak
Tiptoeing like a sneak
Subdued and quite discrete
Let's hope we never meet
If we do you should retreat
Along with your whole fleet
Like the shepherd to his sheep
Go on head back to momma
Continue ******* on her tete

You can't handle what I'm dishing out
It only adds to my mystique
I'm steadily reminiscing
Back to when Caesar led the Greeks
Conquering all his enemies  
Well established as elite

Your eyes were shaded by a vision
When stricken with a nasty condition
Embarking on failed missions
Should I even bother dissing?
All while leaving a lasting impression
On the mouth you never were kissing
To only end up missing
The target you were *******
Without help or assisting

From beginning to the end
I'm burning bridges I can't mend
Breaking all the rules no one would think to bend
Born to live until we're dead
No more all this wishing
That you were dead instead
Using the brains inside our head
And coming to a conclusion
Your brains' been underfed
Relying on the masses
To muster up intent
Resolving every problem
With a bandaid made of lead
Surviving on a crumb of bread
Its only temporary
A fazed out forgotten trend
Like disco and bellbottoms
Or mohawks and shaved heads

It's time we payed back our debt
Make sure the homeless are all fed
Put these issues to rest
Tucked away in bed
It's not time for story telling
The fairytales of past regret
Back before our needs were met
Finding solutions to our problems
We mustn't ever forget

My heart has been breaking every day
With no way to allocate the exact cause
yes I know where is sets off
but I never know where this deep pain hides
surprise

it shoots from my heart
down my veins
into every limb of my body
then it encapsulates me
help

Am I crazy?
I know this is real
No one knows
The pain that I feel
When I say that out loud I feel like a child
But when I hold it in for an inch, it feels like a mile

This is intensity
In full swing
I know I can be more hurt
But so can a person suffocating

I’m not sure if my heart is being squeezed by something so intense, so present
Or if its getting strangled by literally nothing
Nothingness
Nothingness banging on the front door of my chest
Dense, dense nothingness
Thirst: a very present pain cause by literally nothing when what you need more than anything is something
With thirst, you can have many things, but not have exactly what you need.. what you long for

What if water was never introduced?
What if instead of it being imbedded in every human beings brain,
It was abstract?
What would u do when u had a thirst attack?
Panic

Intermission
Interruption
This depression is the greatest eruption
Something is caged inside me and needs to be let out
But what if it's too real?
What if whatever encapsulates it is Pandora’s box?
And does not change how I feel?

It's like a man
Looking at me, taunting me, torturing, ****** me
Some see him as very generic looking
Others don’t seem him at all
I see ugly and scary
I feel the pain he afflicts upon me
When people hear my screams, they think it’s a silly act
No help to be found
Just me and this empty alleyway full of people

Climbing up the sides
Reaching for clarity
The pills vacate my blood
Withdrawal is insanity

Scratching at the walls
As they close behind my eyes
Swimming in tsunamis
Ripping tides
Muffle my cries

A temporary bandaid
To stitch over the pain
Every second
every day
My body rendered
Trapped
Detained

I relent
And they rock me gently
As I slip into a dream
Where I can run, jump and dance
Not break and bleed at the seems

But the body needs to rest
From these soul destroying treats
So I'll abstain
Refrain
Remain
True turmoil
No easy feat

Then a week has passed by
And the world regains familiarity
A deep breath
And a stretch to the sun
Full of possibilities
And new clarity....

I arrived at the church at 5:30.
It took me a bit to find the place

  there were only a couple half-inflated baloons
  to mark the occasion.
  Those, and a small sign with an arrow, which led
  
      down some stairs and into a cafeteria.  An
      older lady greeted me.  She had a calm smile
      on her face.  The kind that comes with age, that
      says that you've been there, done that.

"Are you here to give?"

           Of course.  Why else would I be here?

  "Yeah"

She leads me to a table that has a number of tall dividers
set up on it to prevent people from peeking at someone
else's personal life.  Like I care if you've had syphilis in
the last year...well I might if it weren't all men in here.

I start filling out the form.
No, I don't have an STD
No, I haven't spent a time totaling more than 5 years in the UK before 1996
No, I don't use drugs
No, I haven't had a fever in the last 24 hours
No
  No
    No
  No
No

I do admit that I have been out of the country recently.

I hand my sheet to another lady.  "Where did you travel to?"

    "Japan, mostly Tokyo and a few places just outside"

    "Carol, could you check Japan on the list?"

She turns to me.  "I'm almost certain that's OK, but I have to check".  Another contented smile.

I sit down to be interviewed, we go over the questions once more.

    "Alright, I just need a small sample before we begin"

She takes the sample with a small contraption that
fits over my finger and jabs a small hole.  She runs
a quick test with the blood, letting a droplet fall
in a test tube filled with a blue liquid.  

The droplet sinks to the bottom.  She checks a box.

Apparently we're good to go.

  I'm given an empty blood bag and a number of rubber-banded vials
and pointed towards a circle of beds in the middle of the room.

I walk up and a portly gentleman takes my bag and asks me
which arm I'd like it in.

"Right"

I pause.  

I want to be able to check my phone while I'm doing this.

"Actually, let's do left"

He gives a grin.  "Here, hold both your arms out"

I comply.  I immediately notice that my right arm
has a very accessible vein.  We're doing the right arm.

Oh well.

   "Let's go with the Right"

I smile and sit on the plastic seat

He swabs my arm with that wonderful orange/yellow dye
and gives me a stress-ball to squeeze, to help the process go
quicker.  He comes back with the needle.

I look away as I feel the uncomfortable breach of my skin.
It's a small pinch followed by a dull sensation, my body
telling me "That isn't supposed to be there, get it out".

         I hate needles.

I feel a light sweat break and my breathing quickens
ever so slightly.  It's ok because the hard part is over
I squeeze the stress ball every few seconds and I chat
with the man.

His name is Nick, and he's been doing this for a few years.  
He used to work in a restaurant, and then he worked for a
flooring company.  
He remarks
    on the fake grouting that the floor in this room has.  

You  can tell that he loves his job, that he's satisfied with life.

He comments on the t-shirt that I will receive for doing this

(because who would do it if they didn't get a t-shirt, right?)

He says it looks like a blueberry snowcone and tells me a
rather entertaining story from his youth about blueberry
snowcones.  

I pipe in with my memories of the Tropical Sno  shop we had
when I was a kid.  

The bag is filled, the needle is removed.  A bandaid is placed,
and then my arm is wrapped with a smily-face bandage.

I give him a left-hand shake and go sit at the refreshments table

I drink a Pepsi.  I hate trail mix.

After about 10min or so, I get in my car and drive home.
I put on the blueberry snow-cone colored t-shirt and sit
down to read a book.  I think about the people working
at the blood drive, and I think about how happy they
seemed.

I wonder to myself what the difference is between someone
who gives blood and someone who gives time.  I have friends
that travel the world for the Peace Corps, living in third world
countries with no running water, no niceties.  I think of friends
who could sit in blistering heat, helping to build a house for
someone they don't even know.  I think of myself, who thinks
that donating money to the Leukemia foundation and donating
blood to the Red Cross is somehow equivalent to donating sweat
and an able body.

I should really do more
maybe then I'll earn that smile
that those folks wear so proudly

I quit letting you steer my beautiful life,
causing this sort of internal strife
I quit letting you steal a memory from me,
having me escape for a moment selfishly
I quit letting you fester in my lungs
and defending you with my poisoned tongue
I quit letting you be my constant escape,
using you as a bandaid to heal my scrapes
I quit letting you be a part of me
because today and forever I am clean

There should be a genre of poetry called waste verse
tasteless and terse like the khaki pine needles that
litter the space underneath your porch.
a neglected place,
where the broken blue bottles and dew
marry in early morning ,
attended by a congregation of woodchips,
beers cans and
guinea pig ****
dancing easy with the morning breeze,
and carried like the currency of an early dreamer's reverie,
morning.

morning.

morning is gluing a teacup together knowing
that it will be broken tomorrow.
and day by day, the absence in form will grow
until that once teacup becomes nothing but empty space, with
its base designated in place of the back porch ash tray.
when i turned back one day, there was nothing left of its body
nothing left of it that i could see but paint dust, a couple of cuts
and some blood covered by a bandaid that doesn't stay on
because feet sweat a little too much.

morning is repetition for comfort
but breaking routine is
starting to feel more appealing
than keeping it,
because I know one morning I will wake alone,
with a rusted infrastructure and fractured backbone,
and have to look upon a screen with thousand texts that read,
"there are other fish in the sea"
well, *******, maybe he was my sea.
i mean,
he is my sea,
maybe.

there is a genre of waste verse called poetry,
and the simple syllogism of it all
leaves me reeling.
but after i finish my cigarette over the khaki pine needles
beneath your porch and go inside,
"good morning", i say.
"good morning", he said.
i cannot remember what was so important just a few moments ago.

morning.

I have.....
curly hair
autism
a sunburn
freckles
a black cat
a blister! AAAHHH get a bandaid!!! MOOOMMMYYY!!!

I am.....
left handed
long legged
a girl
funny


My ID card describes me as:
caucasian-whats that mean?
female
minor
blue eyes
red hair

All of this describes me
None of it defines me

I gave you head for 36 minutes while you drove and when I asked if we could pull over so I could use a gas station restroom you called me selfish and said I could wait. There is a bruise down the left side of my ribcage from leaning over the armrest and I couldn't breathe for two minutes because we hit a pothole.
Good girls wait.
I couldn't wear a seatbelt on the high way because the strap wasn't long enough for me to be able to have my face in your lap. You said I'd be fine and I played your voice over and over in my head every-time you swerved because you had one hand on my neck instead of on the steering wheel. You got angry when I flinched at a passing stop sign and asked why I didn't trust you.
Good girls trust.
When we got to your moms house, you got out of the car and went inside before I even opened my door. You were naked when I walked in. You said "foreplay isn't my thing". I couldn't get my shirt off for five minutes because my fingers were shaking and the buttons were too small so you grabbed the kitchen scissors and cut it up the back. There's a scar along my spine now and you still run your fingers along it every-time I beg you not to. You tell me obedience is love.
Good girls obey.
You said you wanted to **** me in the bathtub so I bent over to turn on the water and you put yourself inside me. I cut my foot on your mothers shaving razor, and you told me you'd get me a bandaid after, told me to hold still so you could finish.
Good girls don't move.
We never made it into the bath because as soon as you were done, you yelled at me for getting blood on your mothers good towel and said I told you I was hurt but only in my head so of course you couldn't hear me. You came back with washcloth and a bandaid. Said I should watch where I step from now on.
Good girls are careful.
You walked me to your brothers room because he had a waterbed that you said you'd been dying to try and told me to put my face in the pillow and my *** in the air. Hands behind my back like a delinquent baby. The first hit came as such a shock my body jolted and you yelled something I couldn't really hear from under the pillow. Once my thighs looked like Tigers bellies and my neck was aching, you placed your corruption inside the only part of me you hadn't touched and when I started to scream you pushed my head back into the drool stained pillow and said to be quiet.
Good girls are quiet.
When you finally released inside, you threw my clothes to me and popped 3 Vicodin. You asked me if I wanted one, and I told you I wanted them all. You explained that that would **** me and I explained that I knew. You said you had to save them for your friends tonight, but you'd provide my noose once you got some more. When you dropped me off at my house, you grabbed my wrist before I got out of the car and said to give you a kiss. I said no, and you tightened your grip, told me to be good. I kissed you.
Good girls are good.

Good girls wait, and trust, and obey, and good girls don't move and good girls are careful and they are quiet and good, and good girls ..
good girls are good. But I am not.

got a band aid
my heart has a hole
you took the cork
to keep my tears
from draining out
and drowning me
in my own despair

A contest twixt reasons to be

Con test ants take your po
si shun

push sush slow n stedya

There's a being, I once thought fellow who needs this test
to pass,
he has studied with masters and knows near as muchas Faustus
but he is scared there could be hell to pay,
some day.
(Catholic maybe, but he believes some lies about what he doesn't
believe for a good reason, maybe boomers with non-hero dads,
them and priests imagined some hellish **** make Loyola nuts.)

just breathe and be wit
be wit me
meinthee'n'theeinme and this ain't ***, kid.

This ain't ceasing for a moment to be me meditation, this
is Sisyphus being happy out loud

in a crowd, you know how that feels everybody
shouting hallelujah like it means everything

and it does again and not everybody, but many bits
of everybody, knows that I don't know what. I don't

know what Hallelujah is supposed
as meaning,
you ax me glory must first be defined,
compared to what
Hallelu?

Jah, right tuff won, the Name, Ha Shem

but glory, what is glory?
What's it weigh?
Worth-y or light?
Air or stone, or iron, or silver, or allah those and gold?

Time,
value that. Why?
Navigation needs a clock, for the test,
minus the lag as the rock rolls free from time to time
        Looky
        here, the alchemy guy say:
Uranium to lead for a clock to find, or
the missing helium that implies, to the wise.

A word's enough,

fu'few,

Loser vibe. Phone rings. It's a robotic femaivoice saying
power may be cut to me due to high fire danger

Are hopes prayers? I hope so,
and wishes could be I think, if they were in this realm

no evil imagined here makes it past the third and final
in sane un sane in cip I sent sentient cons eee ince

test. So, know, dear reader, we mere words,
weal build worlds witcha
but we won't lie.

Book of Life, first chapter, look it up.

The Jails burn around my kind,
minstrels in the woods still sing of men like me.
mistrals, the winds, wrap the world
and, listen,
you know
mistral whispers to sirocco as they

send swirls of spirational science-eance to form

ideal angels dancing
pirouette on the point of my pen.
2 per angstrom.

----
Those winds are in a mind I manage mine,
I make right use of them by
responding to the signals,
the prods, needles'n'pins, now

Rock and roll saved my rubber sole,
my mnemonic savior rescued me

Sisyphus, ah, we all think you happy and

hallelujah, too. To you, Mr. Cohen,
thank you. You got me through a few...

Contention only comes from pride,

and momma don'low no pride in heeyah

Stick that in yer ear, and smoke it.
Here we get along
or we ain't,
see.

Crazy guy with the dog collar, remember him?
He's gone. Outa here.

Don't fret, he is one of the first in every cycle to recall
Nietzsche thought God dead and Sisyphus happy.

Was he mad or sad?
Sad I say. Sad to say he never knew a great
god almighty that he liked enough to get caught
up in a joy explosion of hallelujahs and such,
he never dared

e=motions you know where those go.

I do.
They go to the fuzzy edge of everything ever realized yet.

But no one, so far, has realized that all at once, in time

the rock stops rolling and we, if you imagine
happy ever after is re-alivable,

spiritually, you know, in your dreams or such,
not religion
bad word,
whoa puppy, did somebody beat you for your own good?
Poor idle word, abuse of such a strong idea
a bandaid on reality,
who could hate
your idea?
re-connect, better, okeh?
not religion.
Just made a connection. Okeh.

we live here, feel at home

Well, jus as well we rest and see if we agree with what we just,
just always means everything it ever does now,
tis ne're an idle word here nomo. Nor discouragin' ones.

Just now. Perfect oh, that which

concerns you. How would that be if it were perfected?

Say, you know? no, me neither. true, rest. smunchemup= trust
trust me. You lost? Hell?

Every body sing with the Kachinas

Nobody knows the trouble I seen,
nobody knows but jee ee ee sus

as they fade…
so there. amen. and the sunshine's in and we are seeing
novel mercies never thought,
new in every detail,
no lie. Life wins.
Death is in on it.

It's fixed, it can go on as long as you may imagine you can.

you slowly fade away

like a cut

turns into a scab

but just like that scab gets picked away and opens again
is

like what you do

if it happens enough it turns
into
a scar

is that what you want to be?

i shouldn't have to clench my jaws when my feelings get hurt. my teeth are shattering at every fake smile i give when i have to look into your eyes and watch you look away. you touch my spine and you say 'have a good one'

i keep scraping my elbows for you.

band aids don't fix broken hearts. i peel them off but my wrists still bleed. i have a bad habit of scratching and scratching and reopening the cuts that you have made and trying to close them up trying to love myself.
how much of your life have you dedicated to leaving?

to the point where i rather have you than pass all my classes

you can't put a ring on it if my fingers are broken.
just because you like the idea of my hands doesn't mean your heart is attached also.
would you care if i broke my arms

i hope you rip your gloves again
i hope you cry over me

how are you doing without me?
how long do i have to be gone for you to finally miss me

i love and don't lie



you've become another story.

that day,
i wanted to break the glass in front you i wanted to scream in your face and beat your chest i was literally going crazy for you i walk out and i will never understand why you don't just understand that
'you can't break a girls heart and not expect her to go crazy about you'
why is time moving so slowly...

and i was wearing bandaids on my wrists and i peeled them off and put more on and peeled those off too and put gloves on and tore them and threw them away and put more gloves on and i couldn't stand and couldn't sit and couldn't keep working and couldn't...
the same song keeps replaying in my head.

i'm fine until i think about it. i hate you
you make me want to throw everything away

nice men don't cheat
and nice men don't lie

at nights i set my alarm to 3:30 to see if you will text back
it's 5:45
tuesday september 22, 8:30 a.m. i almost called you.
10:16
10:35
10:49
10:58
11:02
11:10
11:12
12:31
and then i lost track
i don't want to talk to you anymore


i haven't forgotten your birthday. i'm sorry for not memorizing your number.
i still have your pictures on my phone. i still get nauseous when i miss you
how could i let go of something so precious
i can still hear your accent.
i find myself saying the same things you used to tell me back when you still loved me the same song keeps replaying in my head
when i think of you my body hurts.



she only likes me cause we're not together
tell her i knew before you knew

sometimes i never want to see you again
i hurt you by leaving.



here's to pay your bills:


i'll forget about you one day. i promised i wouldn't

'text me when you make it home safely'



now i don't dress when i get home from work
now i sleep with my guitar
i wear my hair different

this is the closure we never had
from today on, every angel i will ever come to know will have a memory of you attached to it.

it takes two weeks for my wounds to heal. by the time i am done with this, it would have been two weeks. and this won't hurt anymore. and i will stop bleeding. and the cuts on my wrists will finally close. you were not a bandaid. you could never be a bandaid. i am sorry you couldn't close the same wounds you caused. i am sorry that it is hard to swallow. and i am sorry for apologizing for things you haven't done.
by the time you get this i would have listened to your voicemail 33 times
i do this for revenge
and i will never say goodbye


this poem is not incomplete. i just like to leave you uneasy. have a great life.


p.s. everything that i have written in here has been subject to what i felt at the moment. please do not think that i hate you.

p.s.s. it took me days to write this and i love you

p.s.s.s i wanted to get you a watch today

p.s.s.s.s you don't wear watches

p.s.s.s.s.s happy birthday



i love you

i love you

we live in foggy car windows, spitting out white lies that turn in vain,
white lies that turn black
like your hair, as it caresses your shoulders
like my hands, as every cell in my being reaches for you
but the cytoplasm current is too strong, and swallows me whole
like if your words were quicksand
i would sink
i wouldn’t fight the pull
i would let each needle and thread stitch me to the right side of your brain
with no anesthesia
nothing can hurt more than tiny paper cuts that we don’t know about,
you are the hand sanitizer and lemon juice that drips into my open wounds
i try, and try to shake you away
i don’t recognize my own bed when i sleep alone
my dreams are more of a reality than the actual person laying next to me

i feel the cliff under our feet, i push you first,
but your sweaty palms grab my wild fang t-shirt
and i’ve never felt more alive than when falling to my death
leave the world behind
i don’t know if that is a blessing or a curse
leave me behind?
i don’t know if you are a blessing or a curse
let my lungs fill with each particle of quicksand until it overflows into my throat, spills out of my mouth
onto your lap

babe, i’m not trying to fix you even though i always try to fix people
you like me with makeup and rose petals
i still take rolls of tinfoil, clump them together, and swallow them whole
to fill my aching hunger, the number on the scale means nothing when you are dyslexic
please don’t see me with hives and weeds
that grow from my ankles, straps on me
with a ***** on the end
begging you to call out my name
with mouths open, and gentle kisses in the elevator after i met your mom
pull the bandaid off, rip my onion layers off

i still feel more at home
on crowded buses where i am the only, white person
white person walking in low lit alleys with gazing, men
men beckoning me to come closer till their hands slip, in
in hidden closets dating the opposite, ***
*** in unfamiliar places with temporary, homes
homes in hospital beds and drugs pumped into my, veins
veins in your arms, is where i am still trying to feel at home
trying to feel
trying...

honey, i’m sorry if i held your hand too long
if this can’t be as good for you as it is for me
cut me from my shambles
you didn’t have to say you loved me
i read it between your poetry
yet, i still hold my own hand, draped across my torso
sometimes gravity pulls my hand up my ribs, to my breast
so i can feel my heartbeat
maybe this time i won’t forget how to...breath
i will stop digging up my own grave
just to inspect my broken corpse, to try and rebuild this temple
the bricks don’t fit anymore
too many fragments taken away

like my body was used for science
the doctors diagnosed me with a hypothesis
it read if with you, then without me
what is a hypothesis without the theory?
theorize goodbye kisses at red lights
research the car filled with the smell of *** and morning
question **** stains on my sheets
or tear stains on my shirt you wear

i cried for the first time with you there
you were laying next to me in bed, my arms around you
you were asleep
and i wiped my tears on your shoulder without you knowing
i cried to the rhythm of your breathing
spoke hymns in your ear you would never hear
confessed my love, gave you my all
your eyes never opened
weaved your hair in my hands
while i unthreaded stories of my past traumas,
giving you one piece at a time
your heart never flickered
tinkerbell lost her flicker when she didn’t get attention
but how much was too much until it suffocated her?
my thighs in knots from straddling you