"destoryed" poems
the girls huddle,
wallflower themselves
away from the bell-toll
of mean-girl chatter
gucci gang comes on,
& a few blood-boys
come out with juul-destoryed lungs
and sip their smuggled *** punch
someone shouts 'begone, thot'
& instead, i vanish,
into summer-stretched air.
you're only young once, &
then there's the in-between
of reunion. the late night fiends stay
until the sun peaks
through the cracks in the
façade of adulthood.
finally, somewhere near
the end of the night,
the intercom comes on.
the superintendent asks us to leave,
the bathroom is filled with brûléed vapor
& the ground has become as much of an ashtray
as the dirtied mouthes of those still dancing,
drunk enough to numb the memories of
the worst three years
of our collective life.
when the chorus of
**** that, **** you
fades out,
it's because the system is
crackling again
& everyone's head is turning to the soft voice asking;
where are you now?
what have you done?
are you perfect yet?
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 12:54 PM UTC
The water is cold and touches the parts of me that feel foreign
I am still pulling needles out of my hair
Bits of broken green and mud spiral into the drain in quick motions
The more I scrub at my skin, the harder it becomes to erase the damage I can't remember
For a moment I wonder how many inches of water is required to drown
When the moment is over I carefully step out of the shower
My eyes connect with the nurse, she tells me that I can wear these clothes because mine had to be thrown away
Only half an hour ago I reached to pull down my underwear to find nothing
I needed to be inspected
A black hole with a past I didn't know needed to be examined
This felt like the kind of dream where all the images are blurred and control is lost, the character moving forward doesn't resemble the one that fell asleep
I nod and begin to dress myself in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants
My sister comes to pick me up, she is in tears
I try to make a joke
To recall the person before
She doesn't laugh
I am not the same
A gravity weighs down the air, like a wolf fetching for the **** it bites down on the neck of my spirit and draws blood
It remains there for months
And will come to claim it's full prize in a court room
Full of men defending men
With reasons that vary depending on the sport, the class, the color, the ***
I was unconscious that night but I am awake to see the picture of you they use in the news
You are smiling
Eyes wide
You are a "good boy", a "future will be destoryed", a "made a mistake" kind of man
I am a "binge drinker", an "attention seeker", a "should of known better" kind of girl
You feel you have won
But I never finished fighting
I will declare a war
Not for you
But for the girl before
For the victims whose voice was once unsure
I hear you
And we will shout together
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
"Do you write poetry
about my broken bones?
Do you find metaphors
for the way you burned
down the bridges we built?
I bet people think it’s beautiful,
I bet they think it’s poetic
the way you destroyed me.
I bet you tell them
falling in love with me
was an extraordinary artistic choice,
Destroying people
is not an art form.
Coloring people with shades and values
of black and blue does not
make you an artist.
There is nothing poetic
about reaching inside of someone
to take what they told you
never to touch.”
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:09 PM UTC
I have this anger within me
Its black and rotten
and filled with a burning hatred
Its what makes my vision go red
and all thoughts fly out of my head
My body tenses as it prepares for a fight
That I know **** well will occur.
This anger lusts for blood
for death and mayhem
Its so easy to give in to it
Let it cover me like a blanket
Heh
a blanket of destruction
It has turned me into a monster
a deadly cruel beast
barely human
Anger issues is an understatment
I'm afraid to let it go.
becuase if I do then I will have to face
all the things I have destoryed
and left in my path
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 2:17 PM UTC