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.

I would like to tell you a story about a soul. A soul that was as clean, pure and gentle as soul can be. Rarely in live do we meet someone or some animal who never wanted anything but to give love. This story can’t be told without talking about her caretaker and my wife.

About 12 years ago an injured kitten was released to Everett Animal Shelter. The kitten had no use of it’s hind legs and was incontinent. In those day it was almost 100% chance that this kitten was going to be put down. Don’t feel sad/mad about this, nature’s way can be very cruel. The her fate sealed, this was much more humane ending.

My wife took it home to see if the kitten could be rehabilitated. We had been fostering kittens for a while and had a safe room for her. After getting her settled in we look at each other saying without words “Now what”?

Well the first thing that needed to be done was give her a name. We talked for a bit and I explained to my wife “She needs a strong name. She needs a strong black female name. She going need it to help her through life”. The strongest black female name I knew was Rosa Parks. That became her name.

Rosa being incontinent was, well to be honest, was a stinky kitten. Stinky kitten became one of her many nicknames, HA. Rosa needed to learn how to take a bath. If you ever tried to give a kitten/cat a bath you know it’s not really a good idea. So my wife dives right in, picks her up and takes her to bathroom for her first bath. Rosa being the soul she was just sat in the sink and took her bath. She didn’t fight it, she never hissed or got angry. She just took her bath. This attitude towards water lead us to try water therapy.

Water therapy was a home job for us. We would fill a storage tote with warm water and put this rear palatalized kitten in it up to her neck. Now for first time in a few weeks this kitten Rosa could stand up with the water supporting her weight. This went on for the first year of her life. This was the start of many treatments such as acupuncture, a sling in her room and massage. She did all of it never complained about anything.

It didn’t take to long and soon Rosa was strong enough to stand and wobble out a step or two. After a few months of no more improvement it became clear that a decision needed to be made about what to do with her. Is her quality of life such that gets returned for euthanasia or is she happy and do we commit to her care. We knew that she could never live the life of a normal cat. She would never be able to go outside unsupervised, she could never be inside unsupervised except in her safe room. She was healthy and always happy so the commitment was made.

Rosa had her safe room but what to do with her when we can supervise her. Rosa needed a wheelchair. After doing some research we found a local company that makes wheelchairs for pets. After getting her sized up the day came she had her chair. We put Rosa in her chair and in no time she was zooming around the room. Rosa is mobile!!!

My wife and I would take Rosa and Cocoa (look for the story ‘Cocoa’s Ghost’) for walks around the block. Animal Rescue Foundation who had paid for Cocoa issues and Rosa’s early expenses told the Everett Herald newspaper about this and Rosa went mainstream. Look up the news article ‘Pets get a second chance’ if your interested reading it. Needless to say walking a cat in a tiny wheelchair got attention.

One of the things that was very special about Rosa was she loved being a foster mom. My wife would often bring home sick kittens, tiny kittens and just overflow from the Everett Shelter and put them in Rosa’s safe room. Rosa always excepted those kittens as her own within a day or two. I often thought it would have been funny to learn about the birds and the bees from her perspective.

Me “Rosa, where do kittens come from”.

Rosa “Well first you eat some food, then you ****, then you go to sleep and BAM kittens”.

There were many, many times a sick kitten would just curl up in her belly and sleep with it’s now mother Rosa. She was so good with the kittens. She would cuddle, discipline, clean and try to feed when needed. The kittens in her care got a family with a loving mother and bothers and sisters, often unrelated. She truly seemed to enjoy motherhood.

This was Rosa’s and my wife’s life for 12 years. Feed Rosa, squeeze Rosa, clean Rosa and love Rosa. Last night that most of that ended. A few weeks ago Rosa stopped eating and drinking. After $1000 of tests, weeks of fluids, syringe feedings and with no answers we made the choice and gave the gift. Rosa died the same way she came into our lives, in my wife’s arms.

I wrote this not to make you sad. I wrote this to share a clean, pure and gentle soul with you. Some of you reading this may have one of her kittens living with you now: a small piece of her soul living with you now.  Enjoy her gift to you.

Sweat takes over my skin peeling layers of invisible masks yearning for chemical feedings. It's been days- I've been thinking slow and fragile. Bedtime has no name and it hurts. There's caution in my eyes screaming " Stay Away"! Drowning in my own body of water. "Come Clean"  he whispers.

Solace and silence. I want. ***** migraines to migrate forever. Shivers to shed as I travel back into time -not swallowing so much inside to feel OK with chemicals balancing brain beats. "Come Clean" he whispers. Flashback: I see the love of my life holding a ring on the day strange beauty died in his arms. Images creep of a little boy begging for my wake. Awake I stay.

Beginnings to a next day with no recollection. Trying to find expression in lost graphs and schedules that were once dictated by "the medicine". It made sense. Cycling back and forth through highs and lows trying to remember that God made all things. "Come clean".

In this moment I want to live only because in the next moment I'll be dead- again. I can hear the race of my heart and I want a beautiful design only because in the next moment I will come down and want nothing." Come clean".

In this moment I convince myself to skip my daily dose only because a PHD took away the nightly dose. "Come clean".

Relapse. In this moment I swallow untitled entries to close my mind from a few moments.

I Sleep ;
I Slip
In Doze, I Seep out into the Scenes ;

In Potions Deep
In Notions Cold and Preasuring
I Fit and Knit my Crown
I Coral
I Knot and Concrete a Frown
But though I Invite my Efforts
My Thoughting is Leaks and Tearing *

Over Whale but Underwater
I Recover Nothing Reassuring
Slowing to a Pale
In Ocean Cold
My Feedings are Slurring to a Drown
My Motions ; Enwombed and Collected
An Unfoetal, my Body Undertakes a Vulnerable Mould

Above
The Surface
The Ship Blinks, on Fire
And Gifts from the Broken Hold Sink to me
It's all a Wink Directed at me
A Humour

But I am become Prepared Still
For the Next Life
I Discard, Decending Still
A Treat Sunk Below
A Monsterous Breakfast

                                                 *note­ : as in, secreting saline, watery fluid

I wish I could walk through the door.
I want to be on the other side.
They tell me to get off the floor.
I want to pass through and hide,
pass through the door of death.
I can smell the scent of the different rooms.
I can’t wait to feel the betrayal of the fumes.
I wish this bottle would get me higher,
higher to that lowest point.
For this inverse plan of disaster,
I shall begin to master.
Oh sanctuary,
why would you come to me?

Thinking much to fast,
and writing blood songs of the past,
as I stare at the scars on my wrist,
I begin to wonder,
was there something I missed?
Perhaps it was a cold deep purple sky,
more detached than that haunting smile in your eye.
Maybe it was two diffractions of symmetry.
For when the memory is possessed,
by an unknown passion of the gods’ eyes,
we will suddenly see softer tides.
I lie beneath the neon lights of the crosses and other anti figures,
dressed in blank stares with no air.
With closed minds,
they replenish and indulge their feedings on our lost soul,
and for them, it never seems to take a toll.
You gave me the words that were never there.

Today is a strange day.
As I watch the wealthy play,
I also see the children pray.
Oh a strange day.
I could see your lonely face looking back at me,
in the rear window of your parent’s Buick.
Your tears staggered down the ***** windows.
Drifting away, parting ways,
my thoughts always bring me to the sad days,
lingering intricate as a drawn out tragedy play.
You are a memory,
so vivid and extract,
quite detailed and exact.
Why did you come to me?

how on earth
could steaming squash and Brussel sprouts
be as good as Doritos and a soft serve swirl…
sure, I desire to be a healthy old man
but my taste buds wish me dead at 45
they long for sweet wheat and extra large
portions of meat
indiscrete feedings at fried food buffets
all the while maintaining the look of a fella
only slightly over-weight
…..still, I feel poorly
headaches and joint pain
racing brain and an inability to refrain
from the foods that are doing this to me
I never thought after conquering
8 years of ****** addiction
and 15 years a tobacco ******
that candy bars would be my greatest foe
forget candy bars
let’s talk bread….
loaves of sourdough golden roasted
rye to die for
and cinnamon…rolls,
banana or zucchini
sprinkled on toast with a touch of sugar …
it is no wonder I am larger than need be
the BMI calculator says I am 84 pounds
from defeating obesity
so much for my professional lineman physique –

Laughing with my friends
Betraying my step-sister
She's wishing for this to end
While I become more sinister
Hitting her
Manipulating she
Claiming I'm her brother
While a female, I am he
Letting my sister pour out her feelings
Using it later to my advantage
Using her for my feedings
Putting her into a disadvantage
God, I love blackmail

Calling her a crybaby when she cries like a baby
Just because I hit her in the head
While she's crying on her bed
I try to reason with my parents, claiming I hit her “lightly”
Thinking I'm rightly
Easily getting myself out of situations
Easily throwing degradations
At my sister
Knowing it's best for her
Knowing it's the best for mere skin and bones

Manipulating situations to get out of sticky situations
Leaving the blame to my sister
Leaving my past more sinister
Knowing how to get past the situation after choking my sister
Getting away with choking her after multiple attempts to end her life
Threatening to stab her with a knife

Yelling at her
Shouting at her
Just to make her feel bad
Just to make her feel sad
Just so I can push myself higher up the mountain
While she falls in a tin
At the bottom of the mountain
Watching her as she fell
Letting her drown in the pits of hell
As I'm viewed as the angel of the family
Not once treating her like family

Ended up making her have anxiety
Not having a single ounce of pity
Ended up making her sleep deprived
Looking as if she could never survive
Making her have insomnia
Well, that's too bad! See ya!
Ended up making her have the “sad syndrome"
Honestly, that not my problem- "um
Who said that?”

Next day

I view my sister as the “most perfect angel
Such a perfect and beautiful angel”
As I say to make her think I still like her
Manipulating her still
Letting her know I'm a walking light switch
Letting her know I'm a manipulative *****
Making it seem as if I love her
But I'd much prefer my father

Letting her do what she wanted for tonight
She wanted to sleep with me tonight
Before she fell to sleep
Before I fell asleep
I gave her hickeys
She tried to push me off as I gave her hickeys
But she couldn't since she wasn't strong
I knew it was wrong
But continued to do it
As she screamed at it
Yet nobody came to save her
Leaving her
They then labeled her as “problematic"
They labeled her as "dramatic”
Knowing that I was "asleep”
But I so desperately wanted to to sleep

Doing this for years on end
Ganging up on her with my friends
Loved doing this but it's time for playtime to come to an end

hey be on the automobile , more ready than i am to bust this place up
and set goes to the flames tyrannous soaring tape real effects sunburst
seance in carbon manifest this back from the heavens and **** up
beyond my better half, be on my bed for half, the night beyond
better hash, better sheets, better open your feelings, better love
better ****, better up and away,
                                                         bet all in or double down teasing
me play me open handed up and halve me open hand feelings and saying
feelings open feelings open everything you keeping inside feeling till you are
feelings open feedings on me from the inside all i told you i that i really really shouldn't have
want and want and wanton love for wanting more of want and love me for it
till i become a ghost, better feelings, beyond this feeling you have for me
become a ghost, till youre better feeling better beyond belief feeding me
information of your better halves and feel this heat on my arm, I've wanted
this for such a long time such a novice of getting whatever the **** i want
so why wake in doubt, run away in flame far out, faking nothing but the front
3 2 1 we came for the ruckus, put away your cleavage and give me all your moneys
and

Christmas Presents
by Ryan Kinney

For those I know and know I have some special gifts. Call it poetic materialism, or even selfish regifting.
I will give you what you don't want and take what I want, because such is the spirit of the season.

For my mother...
This old bird no longer caged, she gets to look on the other side of the bars this time.
Her freedom, so precious, that she will be as far removed from those who incarcerate her soul as possible.

Dad...
He gets another stumble in the hallway.
A head first dive into a bottle of pills.

My brother...
He gets a brief reprieve from alcoholic rage and abandonment issues.
His fiancé gets to bear the weight of these sins. It's a package bought with her dignity and sold with her respect.

The half-brother...
He gets mothered and smothered,
coddled and cooed,
held and supported, so much...
That he's unable to stand on his own.

My half sister...
She gets ___.
It's not like I'd know what to get her.

Grandma...
She reaps what she has sown in the cold, barren winter of her life.
Her years of hate finally cashed in
for an empty house.
The gift receipt bears the inscription,
"Wish you were here, (but not really)."

The murderous, ****** cousin...
He gets cold, prison justice.
A gouged eye for an eye.

The ******-addict cousin...
She gets undeserved sympathy..
As she drops another burden on this family.
Her seven deadly sins, rosy cheeked and innocent, get to ask,
"Where's Mommy?"

What of the countless other cousins, aunts, and uncles...
They get silent nothings.
A commodity given with the sentiment of fruitcake.
Every year I get it,
I give it away.


Now let's move on from family,
As they have moved on from me.

The ex-wife gets to unwrap another year of her inner rot.
It's a flamboyantly gorgeous package,
adorned with crisp $100 bills.
What about the outlaws?
Who used to be the "in" thing.
They get my absence.
Another alien transmission expelled from their bubble.

And how about my best friend...
Well, him, I like.
He gets new family, new hope, and new dreams.
His son...
gets life, our collective legacy.
A promise of future triumphs and heartaches.
His fiancée...
She gets domestic bliss.
All the joys of diapers and laundry and feedings.
These gifts,
paid for with each of her child's smiles.

The techie, my shy secret agent...
She gets her first year as Mrs...
And unemployment.
But, at least they are together in their poverty.

Now, what does one get a Love Toy?
She gets all my unrequited love..
The bulk of my desperation and loneliness,
packaged as an ******.
It's an awfully cheap thing.

My gay friends...
They get an epic dance party,
The likes of which only those from the "other" side of the rainbow could throw.
While the mundane from the dark side hurtle their sticks and stones.

The pseudo-grandma...
She gets my respect and admiration.
And gives, always gives,
Wisdom.

What of my new college friends...
They get finals and stress and hunger and house fires and...
Kinship in the academic struggle.

Finally, Me...
What do I get?
Because that's all this is about.
You didn't think I'd give without expecting something in return?

Well...
I get to ***** about why I hate Christmas.

Waiting for an audience , practicing every move , critique every nuance , critical eye contact with animal counterparts . Your display of affection is most disheartening , the only reason for you presence ? So politically correct friends can feast their eyes upon a " shelter dog " . A rite of passage like your tie dyed t-shirt , sandals and voter registration ! Claim to be  a PETA activist but your only a charade , a most dangerous psychopath walking from cage to cage ! Who stands before me ? You appear delusional as well ! In two days I'll be sentenced to the backyard , shackled to a tree ! Living off of rainwater and sporadic feedings ! Crying for release , tortured with fleas .. I have found the one ! Any guess on how I can tell ? You've the unmistakable look of loneliness coupled with the scent of depression .. An aroma within your gradient most vivid and easily detected ! The same odor within my cage , surrounding this wounded animal ! You and I will remain side by side , play off each others affections , render great joy to one another and form a bond that will last forever !

I want to hear your heartbeat
Wake up to your smile
Know that neither one of us is going anywhere
It's the dim lights of morning
That make me see how truly aspiring you are
How beautiful you are
I know what I want
I want the sweet sound of bacon
Sizzling on the stove
Coffee on the ***
Filling the whole house with good morning beautiful
Breakfast in bed on the days we both don't have to work
Dinner already ready
Late nights buffets of each others company
I know I want you in my bed
Every night just to cuddle
The sound of little feet
Pit-patting up the stairs
The not so sneaky laughter
Of our beautiful children
Ready to pounce on us
I know what I want
I'm ready for every possible scare
I'm prepared for the hours of labor
The screaming and superhuman strength
The cries of our newborn
The late night bottle feedings
The up and at em diaper changes
The racing around Walmart
Chasing after the little ****
The laughter we'll both share
When we realize we forgot the diaper bag
The oh **** feeling when I know I ****** up
Forgot to grab a gallon of milk
The U-turns I'll make just to make you happy
I know what I want
The masquerading of feelings
At least on the day I pop the question
I know I want this
The life of a father
The life as your love
Your best friend
Everything you want me to be
I know I want it
Especially just being yours
I want it all
Every waking minute of knowing I love you
Every sleeping second knowing your next to me
I might not be made of money
I might not be perfect
I may be half a man with these scars
But with you by my side
I know I'll be more than your man
I know what I want
I want you to call me your teddy bear
No awkward name like snugglewuggle
Call me insane when I write poems
Trying to capture how much I love you
I want those kisses when I get home
Throw the keys on the table
Grab you and hold you just for the hell of it
Pick you up and start dancing
Just so I can hear your laugh
I want to call you from work
Just to see how your day is going
Get you to laugh if its been bad
Make you smile bigger if been good
Show up at your work
To bring you lunch
Even if you already have one
Take you on dates even when we're together
I want to keep the passion between us alive
You know what
I know what I really honestly want
That's a lifetime with you

It can be hard sometimes to see your friends
moving on in their lives in ways you wish you could
Some are getting engaged
some are getting married
some are having their first baby
some are already on their third baby
It's not that you are not happy for them because you are
you are ecstatic and you are probably the person they laugh at
for being extremely excited for the happiness in their lives
It's not that you are not satisfied in your life
you love where you are because you know this is where you need to be
but sometimes you can't help but look around and think
"when will my time come?
When will I meet the one who is going to choose to
spend the rest of his life with me?
When will I get to cry at the sight of a beautiful ring?
When will I have the opportunity to stand in front of my loved ones
and declare my love for one person?
When will I get to bring a child of my own into the world?
When will I get to wake up to little arms wanting a hug as they call me mommy?"
Sometimes I feel like the universe is punishing me
because at one point in my life I was so certain I didn't want to be married
I never wanted kids
I never wanted to take the risk of giving my heart away
and trusting someone to not break it
I never wanted to give up my sleeping in however late I want
for having to wake up early in the morning for feedings
and tantrums
I never wanted to sacrifice my body to carry a child
that I would have to be responsible for the rest of my life
I never thought I was good enough to be with someone forever
I always thought I was too messed up in the head to love and guide
another human being into being whoever their heart desired
I was so sure I wanted to live my life alone
without any distractions
Now I changed my mind
I am by myself and I hate not having anyone to come home to
I have all of this freedom and all I want to do is let it go
and be needed
be wanted and share this intense I swear to God it will **** me
love I have inside with someone who will bring out the very
best in me
I don't want to be married tomorrow
I don't want to be a mom tomorrow
but sometimes I feel like I am in competition with everyone
and I hate it
I wish I never wished for the things I did
I wish I wasn't so scared to put myself out there
and I wish I never spent so many years doubting the one thing
I know I would kick *** at
and that's being a mother
I have a long way to go as far as working on myself
and I am not unhappy with my life
I lack patience and sometimes the excitement of
all of the wonderful possibilities my future holds
that haven't happened yet cause me to become so impatient
that I convince myself that certain dreams won't ever come true
I don't want to rush things
I want to enjoy the journey of falling in love
and becoming a parent
Some may think I am crazy and a little bit unrealistic
but I believe in my heart that those things are out there for me
I can't explain the feeling
I just know in my deepest heart it will happen
and when it does I will be so grateful for everything working out
in it's own time

To wake up as your twirled self,
not a single fragrance wrong,
making silence of your closed world.
Never questioning clarity.
To me that is most scary,
because I have never fit in skin,
I ate the feedings in one sitting.
Lived to tell my fractured beginnings.
To sing love ballads at a Wake,
wearing the ripped tights from the third date,
and you are what you take,
but I’m just learning to ask.

I want to see myself as perfect,
But the truth is,
I fall very short,
Being better than some is never good enough,
And I tend to ignore my faults,
Too lazy to spit the poison out,
It wouldn’t be too hard to change,
But I parade my strengths,
In a chain,
That becomes costume jewelry,
When treated as all I am.
My paper heart crumples,
Under the weight of this shame,
Quicker than it burns,
In the flames from my cheeks,
Nothing is unforgiven,
And no one can judge you for your struggle,
For who can say yours is worse than mine?
My voice croaks and dies,
In the effort to speak my sin,
And my head falls back,
Unable to rise and pronounce,
For I know my brothers will not forgive,
As my Master does.
As I have been guilty countless times,
In the same overbearing spirit,
Forgetting the weakness of the soul,
My own heart’s love of the forbidden,
And secret feedings on decadence.


Sins are meant to be accepted,
As what they really are,
Not hidden, nor flaunted
For there is no guilt is Christ,
Rise and rejoice,
Knowing you are free,
For the Lord is with you now,
He is able to keep you from falling,
Though you fall again,
You are not lost.

So small
Fragile cry’s
Laying cement in my chest
Look just like me
With your mothers eyes
But how could I have helped
An architect to perfection
Innocent and beautiful
Our little bundle of joy
How can I not enjoy
The changing of diapers
The constant feedings
Wake up room service
Midnight calls
6lbs 13oz
Only 20 inches long
And already a bigger boss
Then her mother
Speaking Morse code
On every cry
Still blowing my mind
Your a product of me
Finally giving my life a definition
I know happiness beyond bounds

moth-eaten light

listens to the shafts

of feedings.

tear through sackcloth.

worn by elder

nights wedging in

chasms for a sleep

that may never come.

Fur and fang,
brother's intertwined,
lycanthrope and upior,
mythology undermined.

Meat and blood nourish,
incomplete feedings,
creating offspring,
without breeding.

Under cover of night,
moon shadows walking,
seeking prey,
slinking and stalking.

Evil, perhaps
but it lives in all,
perhaps we are,
if we heed it's call.