It's those thoughts that keep you from sleeping

The memories that either make your mind fluctuate with cringe worthy sadness
Or the recollections that entice us to laugh to ourselves at four AM and wish we could go back

Sometimes it's the worrisome or eager anticipation of things to come  

Though nothing is guaranteed
Tomorrow will bring the sun

The memories of that time when someone got too drunk and was so far gone you couldn't understand a word they we're trying to say

And as fast as you could say "hey, you don't look so good"
A typhoon of ***** came shooting out at light speed onto the floor
Then the wall
Then the way to the toilet
Then on the toilet
Then eventually in the toilet
And more often than not, on themselves

I can remember my 9 year old hands scrapping macabre words on top those tortured blue lines that pitied my gated head.  
I can remember my down the street friends, lips turned purple, from the snow temperature, glistening watered creek in my yard.
I can remember the quivering muscles in my stomach begging me not upchuck a landslide of overflowing butterflies on that summer night when he took my hand.
I can remember shutting out the lights on that one night while the cross hanging on my wall starred me down to fall to my knees and pray for the rotten wood in my heart to be repaired.
I can remember turning over away from that cross and find comfort in the damp pillow trailing a broken path to my withered eyes.
I can remember the thrown away unopened lunches falling free from my fingertips and throat.
I can remember my stomach hating me and my mind thinking in happy confetti-like gestures with a piñata full of echo’s, because candy insides are the devil.
I can remember abandoned dinners when spiders that took my place to cobweb my chair, and my food in the trashcan.
I can remember remnants of silver, sharp-toothed squares being injected on my skin and used as crayons.
I can remember the tree’s with broken arms smiling at me as I sat under the black leaves sharing their loneliness with me and I never did mind.
I can remember my lullaby had the same frequency as the jumpy breathes fluttering from my sunken lips harmonizing with the drops of my tears and blood.
I can remember the creature starring back at me in my bedroom and we had matching scars.
I can remember I hated her.
I can remember she hated me.
I can remember the young, immature boys with sharpened tongues quick with words that constricted the evil accumulating my skeleton as if I did not already know what needed to disappear.
I can remember my lips faking exposure of my tarnished, ***** teeth with the corners of my mouth turned up and the reflection of my cross blurred in the two windows on my body.
I can remember his voice on the other end of the phone line as he confessed his love at the same time while he was the tracing paper on my skin and I was that paper’s captain with a sharp, shiny penknife.
I can remember skipping the blue skies outside my chambered bed failing to search for the keys, but I was the guard and they were hanging on my cross.
I can remember falling to my bathroom floor, cold and sweaty begging for forgiveness as I gave my body and soul away to the undertaker when I checked off sin number “too many”.
I can remember God’s smile at me from the heavens and my heart being split open but not the bad kind of split, the kind that burst in the presence of grace.
I can remember the growling of my stomach scaring me away into night terrors, every night but they soon became my home.
I can remember sitting on the floor as my older sister, with her packed bags, walking out my house into her adult world and I was not at her car door waving goodbye.
I can remember my older brother leaving for college and I ignored the door shut.
I can remember my selfishness floating in the hands of Satan for he is the record sin keeper.
I can remember church pews darkening as I sat up from them because my sins squeezed inside and left scars, but that golden, stained glass alter at the front kept them in line all nice and tidy, and I would smile back.
I can remember that beige bread chiseled heavenly by the hands of God resting in the little golden doors behind God’s chair sprinting down my throat and planted seeds of glory in my withered and dry garden.
I can remember the holy water raining in my stomach praying for minerals of bits of food.
I can remember the blood in my veins fighting the layers of my skin rebuilding crooked patches that did match my normal skin color because I was the chemical warfare throwing rusted razors and bow and arrows penetrating the fortress just above my veins.  
I can remember needles and stitching living in the doctor’s drawer untouched by my skin even though my name has been reserved on them 47 times.
I can remember breathing.
I can remember praying.
I can remember living.
I can remember remembering this when I am 100 years old.

i've seen your face, recently,
popped up like that nightmare i keep having where my body is left in
lukewarm sweat. your eyes are still as green as stems, and i want to
upchuck upchuck upchuckupchuckupchuck

it's funny how when i was 15 you were my king,
i would have crawled hands and knees, blisters popping like your
car speeding, impressing the ladies with your hair flicks and
tricks
and i know now i am still that 15 ****** dress up girl to you, only i've
filled out, filled in, know where to put the eyeliner, make it waterproof,
knowing how to speak, my tongue is whipping and sharpening

the last time we spoke we didn't speak. you didn't let me.
you shoved the drinks down my throat so fast the cards were blurry and you waited oh so patiently. 'you're such a bad girl', you said.
with your manhood prodding me, you spoke mean. you never spoke nice.
i wonder if i'll always love and hate you.

for so long you made me question myself.
maybe i shouldn't have worn that, or said that, or placed my foot a certain way or maybe i showed my teeth too much or maybe i was being too flirty, or maybe not enough.
these self doubts became my condolences, and even after we were 'friends', you never looked at me the same way. i had to be 'friends' with you because my friends loved you, even after i told them what you did to me.

i see your face like beers shoved in the back of the fridge,
and i am so mad at you, so mad, so mad, so mad, you've taken my guts
and thrown them into the ******* sun.
i was fifteen, you were almost eighteen you and took my limbs and broke them all.
i was prettiest to you on my knees, but baby i am the most beautiful when i'm stabbing you you you you
repeatedly.

I'm trying to write a poem, because that's what I do
write poetry about me and you, you and I
those guys, these kids...

that time I choked on fireflies because every third word I'd say illuminated the sky and between every spark of light the shadows clenched my eyelids.  Or all of the times Elmer fastened them shut and I saw nothing but sticky, icky white glue

poems about something true, like the genetic connect between my cats- they're sisters
or the non genetic connect between me and my stepsister- i miss her
poems about hating the way I destroy each building block I set aside
poems about hanging on for the ride
I could write a poem each and every day about the birth of the earth in may
but when springtime arrives and lucious life thrives I can barely get out of bed
poems about irony
poems about the law of murphy

There's a poem I've written too many times about the criminal I am and all of my crimes
there's a poem I have not yet written in ink, about not knowing what why or how my thoughts think
there's a poem I will write, and it fills me with fright yet gets me through the night
because the beauty blooming from your eyes intoxicated me, like the hug from a drug pollenating

You can't simply try to write a poem- upchuck the acidic thoughts you think
they weigh you down like past and future hangovers
molded like heavy boulders almost tipping off your shoulders- you can't simply try to write a poem

It's like loving your cousin though you've barely known him
like a conch pressed to trying to hear the ocean
but it's really just your blood pumping in motion

With the violent jerking,
And battering of my heart,
And my self-image,
I have deteriorated.
I don't want to look at myself for a second longer than it takes
To put on my face in the morning,
Because if I do,
I will begin to poke and **** at my own flesh,
Feeling as if I am going to upchuck every calorie I have consumed
In the 15 years, and 120 days of my life.
If I look at myself long enough,
I am repulsed,
And my day from that point on will be violently,
Disruptively disordered.
Everything I am forced to consume,
Because of the need to hide my disastrous disorder,
Will become disgusting, half-digested
*****.
And rottingly,
I will feel pure,
And vile,
All at the same time.

I tell you now I mean not to offend, but I have this on my heart
Good friends are hard to find, and I have about two-- so that’s a start
I am built with this capacity to love, and need an unconditional friend for Always
I need someone to talk to, I need someone to share and not judge how I spend my days
It’s crazy how you can have a few that say they are true to your cause
But turn around and leave you lonely to speak only to the four walls
I need an ear to be lent without the bitter upchuck of an aftertaste
Someone who won’t use what was spoken during weak moments to later throw up in my face
Someone who can be honest with me, making me better and not kick me when I am down
And when it comes to the wire, they will defend me and stand with me on solid ground
Someone to offer a hug, and a few words of encouragement when I need to just make it through
Someone that I can call on at any time, that will make time for me because our friendship is important to them too
A person whose words can hit home with truth, but are seasoned with salt
Someone who can admit when they too are wrong, instead of making it everyone else’s' fault
A friend who can lend support in my career, but also admonishes me to chase my dreams
Someone who wants to know what makes me smile, understanding my complexities and my amusement at silly things
A person's whose opinion is just as much the same as mine as it is different because we can agree to disagree
Someone that understands and actually takes an interest in the part of me that's Queen Poetess B
Someone who won’t use me only in their time of need, and forget me when times are great
A friend that can share in my successes and accomplishments, and not secretly stand on the side tryna Hate
I try to be the friend to others that I always wish I had, but cannot find
And I become more restless as time continues to pass me by
I am a good soul whose journey feels unreasonably solo despite my attempts to be enough
And the odds of being knocked down are higher than the expectation to keep getting up
Best Friend, I wish I knew you; I have some tears to shed in your presence
I want to know your character; I want to cherish your essence
I want to support you and help further your ambitions
I want to lend an ear and anything I can to help you to achieve your visions
I want to extend a hand for you to hold when words cannot explain how you feel
I want you to tell me what you are afraid of, even if it’s not real
I want to provide a calming word to ease your frustration
I want to be the one you call when your success calls for a celebration
I want to be the friend you are looking for in the darkness, holding the source of light
Most of all, though, I need you to fill this gaping loneliness in my life.

all i can break,
is my metaphorical fingers
as they **** and fly and zing and upchuck my thoughts,
barely there somehow i do not know i do not feel i am far away
and pummel and spit on and crush and **** and bite and tear and torture until they are out of my head and i am a silk sheet fluttering on a soft cold bed
by a father who felt compassion once
and maybe still does far away get out of his head, come back to earth listen come back to us
then maybe silk sheets would flutter and there would be colors and light and movement and pictures and more than this cracked broken glass jar theres no ship in this bottle just air and ants and the aftermath of a parched throat

he is running down my legs. sticky
inside my thighs. like the glue you
used in elementary school. the kind that
peeled off your finger tips.
he is inside of me, dampening my
underwear, seeping on my fingerprints.

i do not know if he likes me,
but his touches feel almost like
love.
but it's not love.

i am the girl, sticky with him and
attempting to recreate my spine.
i am the girl, marks like warning
signs on my *******, but all i can say is
(harder).

i want, this girl to jump inside that lake and
drown.
and wake baptized, fresh, alive.

he is inside my hair. he likes my
hair. he loves my hair.
but this is not love.

i tell him to pull, but he is too
gentle.
i am the girl spilling out her
teeth.
and you are the boy chewing up my
guts.
it is not love.

he is the foreign boy who smells, not like
the ads or the films or novels.
he smells like early mornings and that is where i am always
finding his lips.
he is sinking in my intestines, writhing and thriving, he is the upchuck
threatening beneath my
molars.
i am the girl crashing hard and burning diamonds.
within this room he has shredded me.

it is not love. he is not love.
but it is something.
something.
something.

this is purge
toxic upchuck sludge
rigorous rigor mortis decay
it's not pretty, but it's real

wish I had cupped hands overflowing
with moon rocks and pixie dust
but I'm plumb out at the moment

these words are septic
and the valves rusted over
to get it running again
you gotta let flow

stomach sores fester
bloated bile gurgle
sloshing esophageal shores
the unsaid brimming ruefully

on the cusp of all that was, is
or doesn't even matter anymore
**** if I know

it's all stagnant murky

Something to be learned
From my gut
But focus too hard and that tension will cause my gut to shut the **** up.
And sometimes I want it
But until I listen I know I stay haunted
By a gut that churns and yearns to upchuck the truth.
Just learn the truth!
It burns in you!
But still I tense and squeeze and search for keys
Search for meaning, search and plead
We make believe while our guts clench and scream
You are the truth!
Its only you!
And its only me
Because we cause what we see
Just like the fish cause the sea
And the sea caused the fish
In an age old wish for self
You see identity just builds itself
It has no real base in some impermeable self
Its the illusion of self
That swells from relation
Because yours is not mine and
Mine is not yours
But apart from all this: nothing is sure!
We’re a network of cells distinguished by traits
But we form one big gut because we’re one in the same.

Born right, if this incongruous line is to be believed
****, from everything I've seen, why won't you let me be?
From the way they make it sound, I think i'll just pass up that pension

With this luck I'm not sure why I don't pass tests just guessing

If its multiple choice at least
(and it always is)
You can tell I'm more than fed up with the lack of agency
Developing around our common enemies
Festering, on the bloated *** of this so called society
Becoming a myiasis

And I'll never hear the end of it
From the kids to ugly to earn the extra credit
And from the back half of my grey matter
Turning numb from mindless chatter

But

Society will silently suffer
Burdened down with crowns churning from an endless gutter
Plastic trash meshing poorly, piling into a funeral pyre
Ever burning and choking out the fat-*** cooperate liars

No wonder gas mask production is up
As I'm getting ready to upchuck my lunch
Sorry for getting stuck, or regressive
But batter up, ****, get ready for restoration

Claiming good as bad
With every passing fad
Distracting all my would be comrades
Zombify the undergrads

I don't have time for mindless upheaval
And replacement

Have you ever been stuck like Chuck in the muck?

Feeling like a sitting duck always getting plucked, can never hold on to a buck.

You look at other people you're awestruck.

They look at you and see a schmuck.

You start thinking, bad luck is why my life's running amuck.

Until you look in the mirror, it's not luck I just ****.

Then you look at your life and want to upchuck.

Well, when you are tired of saying yuck and waiting on good luck.

Then it's time to look up, get off your duff and truck cause there's no such thing as luck.

There's A Reason For The Seasons.

the state of mind you trapped me in when you locked me inside my own body, confining me to perceive the natural motions of life as if I’m falling from a twenty-story building and perpetually climbing back up the stairs

I have fallen on this same pavement so many times before that I can mutter every name of its  frequent passerby’s, i can mentally trace every skid-mark, every link to your DNA from your musky scent to your bristled hair follicles

How you’ve managed to follow me everywhere I go though I haven’t laid eyes on you in two years,
how those around me sigh with hopeless exhaust when they countlessly attempt to rescue me from another inevitable fall onto the cold concrete,
How you breathe fresh air that holds your feet up from the ground, saving you the trouble of having to empathize with Mother Earth’s raw flesh beneath  you

Yet, I am still heaving through corrupted lungs, still swelling the epithelial tissue lining my throat,
still expectorating old memories just to swallow them again and again, each time forcing me to upchuck ****** acid from a place inside of me that implies no medical explanation

I have become so sick and fractured that i can no longer see,
I cannot hear, I cannot speak
But somehow when I touch, all of my delusional senses return as a shadowy figure that resembles the monster of whom I fear most

My vision funnels in, and out
until I feel nothing but the same cold pavement cushioning my bones like a disjunct lullaby

And as my mind melts into a dissociative puddle of nothingness,
I plant my feet on Mother Earth’s raw flesh, and her magnetic waves of energy wrap around my nimble toes, bringing me back to the staircase upward

I find a new psychosis every day
To drop my consciousness in and watch it
Floatsinkdissolve in turboiled social pit
Re membered in fear with loathing alway
S a thoughtbone under down actions body
Speech mind avnues stomped in cortex Jell-O
Wiggly gods addictive upchuck the hole
ly Cosmos re-designed skilldreamily
Thieving noeblood from the ??? of us
Discernible not yes maybe i don't
Know give me a break i'm just a he at
The trough ******* with fervor egopuss
We see as nectar in our work and play
We find a new psychosis every day

Is there a man of such steely self-control
Of such virtue, character, fortitude
Strength and pride in his manly role
Confidence and heart and stern attitude

Valor, endurance, resolution, will
Courage, patience, defiance, intellect
Manliness, ruggedness, rock-like, chill
Decision, quality, all cool and collect

That he doesn’t have to go and upchuck
Whenever he hears that “Desiderata” muck?

You ever wake up with your footie PJs warming
your neck like a noose? Ever upchuck
after a home-cooked meal? Or notice
how the blood on the bottoms of your feet
just won’t seem to go away? Love, it used to be
you could retire your toothbrush for like two or three days and still
I’d push my downy face into your neck. Used to be
I hung on your every word. (Sing! you’d say: and I was a bird.
Freedom! you’d say: and I never really knew what that meant,
but liked the way it rang like a rusty bell.) Used to be. But now
I can tell you your breath stinks and you’re full of ****.
You have more lies about yourself than bodies
beneath your bed. Rooting
for the underdog. Team player. Hook,
line and sinker. Love, you helped design the brick
that built the walls around the castle
in the basement of which is a vault
inside of which is another vault
inside of which . . . you get my point. Your tongue
is made of honey but flicks like a snake’s. Voice
like a bird but everyone’s ears are bleeding.
From the inside your house shines
and shines, but from outside you can see
it’s built from bones. From out here it looks
like a graveyard, and the garden’s
all ash. And besides,
your breath stinks. We’re through.

Eligible for an upgrade...or an upchuck, or something...


Good comrades once were forced to stand in  lines
To register submission to The Cause
And beg for life while starving in the cold
Applauding all the while their misery

Good comrades still fall in obediently
To register submission to the ‘phone
And fight for selfie-space – oooh, look at me!
Applauding bars of connectivity

The irony of queueing before false shrines-
Good comrades once were forced to stand in lines

"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend XXII "


I find a new psychosis every day
To drop my consciousness in and watch it
Floatsinkdissolve in turboiled social pit
Re membered in fear with loathing alway
S a thoughtbone under down actions body
Speech mind avnues stomped in cortex Jell-O
Wiggly gods addictive upchuck the hole
ly Cosmos re-designed skilldreamily
Thieving noeblood from the ??? of us
Discernible not yes maybe i don't
Know give me a break i'm just a he at
The trough ******* with fervor egopuss
We see as nectar in our work and play
We find a new psychosis every day

fungi sunshine ride try time
grimey-find me-blinding--house couch tv--remote variable-gruesome food spoonfed by joanna newsom
singing in the key of airplane noises--make-shape-exorcise fate from cups half full of lulls and binary--hi-bye--lycanthropic soda dealer guilt tripped by the full moon--cool dude though-fun crunch curmudgeon stuffing love into guts-upchuck-punch drunk-cousin to state vector wreckage-barbecue-hard to loot-heart over headaches--family-friendly--revelry-devil setting clocks back--watch-lost and boundless-child in a wilderness--eat-eat-drink-****-****-****-pistis-missing person surgery--blind forensics-thick skin---little bitty mystical-sit down

upchuck, be sick
know mortality.

I used to have writers block but I broke up with it.

Now I listen to sad music and upchuck ****.

I don't know where I am going or what I am saying.

But hello.

Beaches and windows.

I have never felt the sadness Mount Eerie has.

Aching bones and unsaid prose.

I was ***** last year.

He was a friend but in the end, he betrayed me.

I'm not nearly as broken as I could be.

I cut my hand on a barbed bad joke. Men go to Jupiter but to get there would take a great deal of intelligence. Women didn’t think that phrase out. Upchuck. The trail disappeared in a hail of leaves in the wind. Now it’s nightfall. A boring night out is spiced up with vehicular homicide. People of the sea have fear of open atmosphere. Alchemy is a prerequisite for hanging out with me. At least ****** excuses one of Jury Duty. When one cries, out there someone laughs. Hypocrites get what’s coming to them. A shot in the dark is a random act of faith. There are ways around dreaming of falling, but no way around dreaming about not running fast enough away from your biggest fear. In complete silence, myths are proven. Saving the world is instructed in a language no one understands. What’s hiking with broken legs. I’d just as soon breathe on the moon than run the risk of seeing you. When no one understands, you must be considering yourself no one. Beneath the moon is where every bad thing lives. The cracks in the sidewalk are the secrets to finding love. Ego is a prison where we all spend some sort of sentence. My halo is made from a glowstick. If loose lips sanks ships we’d have much bigger boat graveyard. Why is Jumbo Shrimp an oxymoron. Shrimp is an animal, not a size. I don’t own Shrimp sized pants. A flipped quarter determined the fate of all of us. Luckily it landed on edge. Last night I dreamed I died. I woke up to find myself at my Death Row Last Supper. I went to hell on vacation. Every room is next to the ice machine that doesn’t work. Wander around an empty hospital to never be at ease again.

You ever wake up with your footie PJs warming

your neck like a noose? Ever upchuck

after a home-cooked meal? Or notice

how the blood on the bottoms of your feet

just won’t seem to go away? Love, it used to be

you could retire your toothbrush for like two or three days and still

I’d push my downy face into your neck. Used to be

I hung on your every word. Used to be. But now

I can tell you your breath stinks and you’re full of ****.

You have more lies about yourself than bodies

beneath your bed…

upchuck is a Wolf feeding its pup
a pup figuring it out
a Deer with big doe eyes
in winter-land christmas card
a Man will go a long way
lost in the ice and snow
all the way to cannibal

Ah... nothing more enjoyable
than acidic gastric fluid (bile)
flowing backward into esophagus,
resulting in heartburn, meanwhile
disrupting pleasant dreams,
which phenomena also known as
gastroesophageal reflux (GER)
found me discombobulated
and swiftly tailored into harried style.

Unsure how successful literary endeavor
crafting reasonably rhyming poem;
actually the following
written a couple years ago
with only slight modification
regarding aforementioned topic
yielding moderately satisfactory
(née middling) result.

While deeply asleep
scant minutes before dawn's early light
burning sensation within deep
tracts of throat did creep,
yours truly immediately awoke
with a start, at strong violent
urge to upheap
(upchuck, toss my cookies, regurgitate...)
insync on par to set Guiness Book
of world records to leap
analogous to lemur

at lightspeed into bathroom,
(these lovely bones
ne'er made jaunt to water closet
but collapsed in a heap -
injuring right hand in the process)
nevertheless, I made little
on the contrary no bowed peep,
but immediately stood
bolt upright stock still
after crumbling to the floor
tear ducts activated eyes
as if ready to weep.

Sadness less pervasive than fright
since reverse peristalsis uncommon
within mine body electric regarding plight,
which analogous volcanic eruption
albeit bubbling magmatic flow slight
retroperistalsis or antiperistalsis
found yours truly
on par with fire breathing dragon argh
ga you ably momentarily nonplussed -
while dry cough minus gushing lava
gratefully only smoldered before simmering

upper gastrointestinal lining
courtesy mouthfuls of bottled water
allowed, enabled, and provided satiation
sudden unquenchable thirst relieved
resultant unpleasant aftertaste (no pun
intended), yet distilling humor helps
me weather, manage, cope... with
unexpected physiological fiery phenomena
- shot straight up within digest
heave tract, and did lament this rick
kitty packet of muscle and bone aft

times susceptible to disheartening
woebegone news afflicting this non
Norwegian bachelor farmer, whom
if the missus cooking triggered bout
unleashing bit torrent of unsavory
plate tectonics, perhaps indicative
of continental drift shrunk down to
miniature, (think nanobot size)
where fault in thee stars
must be held in contempt of court.

No reason for inclusion of above verse,
(previous ten lines), I just wanted
to incorporate said phrases, tip peer
me got some legal lear'n, when truth
Philly admits he seems to know less,
the more he learns, which prompts me to

posit emphatically that ignorance
equivalent to bliss, thus presenting
quandary how kin this pronouncedly
reasonably intelligent garden variety
**** sapiens unfetter himself with

cumulative knowledge without reek
horse (neigh) to invasive surgery such as...
prefrontal lobotomy, or tamping down
smarts some unknown cyber surfer(s)
could easily misconstrue as vainness,
smugness, quintessential pomposity?