Look at how amazing he is.
He really takes my breath away.
He is going to do great things, look at what he is already doing for the community.
Why is he with me?
You have nothing to offer him.
Nothing important.
He shines so brightly.
He's a hero.
How could you compete?
You aren't even on the same level as him.
He deserves someone better, someone as wonderful as he is.
You are so needy.
Look at yourself.
Melting and blushing and searching for praise.
This is why everyone else left.
You love too easily and too much.
You are worthless and ugly and slobbish and selfish.
Oh look, now you're crying too.
This happens every time Tessa, you always fall in this same hole.
Did you ever completely climb out?
Hang on a second.
Stop it.
You're overreacting.
How did things come to this?
He held you in his arms last night.
Voluntarily.
That has to mean something.
Calm down.
Stop it.
You are stronger than this.
He chose you, remember?
Stop talking to yourself.
Entertaining the voices in your head is how you mess things up.
Every time life becomes kind to you, you search for the faults.
Why should this be so impossible?
Why aren't you allowed to be happy for once?
You can do this.
You deserve this.
These are the thoughts he vowed to help you stop.
It's time to trust a little, and let him.
Open up.
You're shutting love out again.
You know if he were here, he would hug you sobbing
And tell you to
*please, just put down the knife.

Skinny people,
Please do not jump on the defensive
But if you have never experienced the following
This is your privilege.
You did not ask for it
Just as we did not ask for our scarlet letter
Our crown of thorns that is weight.
I am forty pounds overweight
According to my doctor.
According to society
I am ninety
Telling me that 110 pound models are the normal
Ridiculously
Teaching me to swim by water boarding me
And then wondering why it is not effective.
Laughing in my face when I become bulimic
Which cannot be blamed on our culture
But the way our culture is shaped to think
Fat people can't get eating disorders
Or if they do, more power to them.
Being told
"You are part of the obesity epidemic"
You are an epidemic
Aren't we so coy to use the word 'epidemic'
For anything we want to get rid of?
Being charged more to sit on an airplane
Because your extra baggage will offend the other passengers
Because your extra baggage is an economical discretion
Like the economy could get any more ridiculous as it is?
Eating a salad and being the brunt of their jokes
Eating a burger and receiving disapproving looks
From mothers and their children
Who are being conditioned systematically to criticize others
Simply based on their outward appearance.
Being a ****** fetish on **** websites
Like my body type is a piece of raw meat
Fit for the slaughter
But it needs to have the fat trimmed off first.
Having people ask your partner what it is like to make love to you
While you are standing in the room
As if you are invisible?
Funny how the additional weight
Acts as a cape
That seems to cover you when people do not want you to exist.
Being told if you ever love your body
That you are lazy, slobbish, and disgusting
Well guess what, *******?
I LOVE this body
And all the things it does for me
How it moves
How it operates
How it is able to function
And just as frequently as people try to take bits of life from me
I breathe them back in
And they invigorate my being
My pores tingle with acceptance
So I rip the sheet off
Every inch of my body is visible
Can you see who I am now?
I finally am someone
Loved, accepted and beautiful.
I am more than just heavy.

distorted slop fed through a Marshall stack
attacking power cords with abhorrent abandon
random lyrics of pain based guilt
quilted the patchwork of ******* jocks
and played out arena rock
Kool-Aid dye job and slobbish hand-me-downs
earth tones, greens and browns
and drowning in the Northwest rain
insane solos played eating Rollo’s enslaved
to paved roads and dope fiend modes
Kurt’s hurt and flannel shirt
lifted the dirt off my heart
and set me apart from the sheep faced
high school mistakes
faking tans to look
totally Spring Break
holding onto hate and plating
fate next to kale chips and goose pate’
fame gorged but a porridge boy
knows no joy under the employ
of capitalism……
answer in hand the shot rang
and one million tear-eyed teens
sang
sad songs of pain and lament
replaying images
of a ****** prophet, heaven sent –

taking pity on the drunk girl
lying on my lap
begging me to kiss her
spewing on my leg
so i sit with you
your eyes are closed
resembling a rather large and ugly baby
you beg me to call you attractive
and i am revolted as you crush me
but i hold it in
call you pretty
speak of a fictional crush i supposedly have on you
which you probably remember
but i remember the ***** in your hair

Along the the beach
With skies coated grey
And a feeling of brooding
Sentimental reasons,
   The feeling of today
Gathered inside and repeated
Itself to me,
A walk through the wind
And the familiar ripple
Of my wind breakers
Whisp in the air,
   A familiarity rolls over me
And a sordidness of recollections
Flowers like a lukewarm
Spring day only half way
Flowering,
   Still waiting I trek into thoughts;

  I met once with fingernails
Adorned in a slobbish black,
Dirt filled and a sigh,
    She spoke to me in her
College plaid joggers with a
Sweater bearing another school,
  And we spoke of the dirt,
Simply and plain of how it
Had gotten there.
   And working in dirt
Brought a great day into
My life,
   Oh lover of words and
A philosophy of conversation,
   How the wind wept that day,
And the familiar greys peeking out,
   Unspoken yet here today
Sneaking in a familiar
Resonance,
    Today is today again,
A hint that this will be yesterday
Too.

I need help. I pick
at the dried, dark red
on my arm and I realize
it's from blueberries,
not blood, and I'm flooded
with realization, alarm, it
could easily have been
from self-harm not the
little pancakes I made
this morning, stakes
are high in this household
I might die but tenfold
more likely  I'll cry
as I make more
blueberry pancakes.
I need help.
My back aches on
the side that I grip her
tender body, my hip hiked,
my drink spiked, liken
me to moss on a tree I'm
pretty from a distance but
messy when touched and
probably just invasive,
pervasive is this thought that
I'm fraught with broken
pieces, spoken leases on my
affection, but I'm an infection
to be eradicated, erased,
replaced with a plastic
version of me that sees
only what needs to be done
and miraculously does so,
how though? I've never
learned the trick to
accomplishment, stick
around long enough and
my impoverished mindset
and slobbish nature will
bore you, too, tore down
among me are all the
trees I've rotted to the core,
but not more so than
myself. I need new seeds,
new roots, new leaves,
leave me now and imagine
me beautiful and strong,
wrongly assume I'll
heal and grow, show up
with the best intentions
and follow them through, too,
but I won't. I'm too
******* tired, I can't, I yelp.
Cast me into the fire,
reborn scant, I need help.