this is how it happens
it's the last day the temperature will be
above thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit
until February
you're not looking at the date
it's just the end of November
the middle of the night in the middle of a road
at the end of November
the hum of this small town hurts your ears
you're stuck in a dream where everything you see
turns into a weapon
this is how it happens
you knocked back sharp, amber liquid
to make this place feel a little more okay
and it only worked halfway
no matter how soft the edges are
you bruise your hips when you
run into them in the dark
you're ******* on your fourth cigarette when
a police officer pulls over and asks
how you're doing today
in the too-bright white of the headlights
the sick taste of Red Stag sticks to
the roof of your mouth
the mouth that you're moving into a smile
the mouth exhaling plumes of smoke at the ground
you're okay
"i'm okay."
you don't tell him what you're really doing
you're really taking all of your
thoughts about stopping your pulse for a walk
you don't tell him you've been
chasing ambulances all night long
please, officer don't leave me alone, you don't say
he tells you to have a good night and drives away
and this is how it happens
the moon smiles at you with every single one
of its tiny, sharp teeth
nobody but your cat finds you in that bathtub
nobody but your cat watches you rise from red water
watches it drip drip drip
from every chasm carved in your left arm
nobody but your cat saw the soft animal of your soul
shiver from the cold that day
it's the first day the temperature
dropped below
thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit inside your chest

for every pierced ear on
every ******* planet earth,
i can count another reason why
i am not like them.
they say i just haven't found my place yet,
but they don't know
i've had the map backwards my whole life
i'm lost the way a shoe on the side of the highway is lost
i'm the crack in the wall
that your mother covered with a painting
i'm the bulb in a string of lights
that burned too bright and flickered and died
i've been sitting on my emotions for so long
they're only pins and needles now
nobody screamed when
i asked the world to forget about me
like when you say something in a crowded room
and nobody even looks at you
all i have to do is ask myself  for
a way out; look myself in the eye
and say, "it doesn't have to be this way,"
i think about last november
that day i lost blood in the bathtub
as the water got colder
and i keep my mouth shut
but i think that i am cursed
to walk through life with glass
in my eyes, and i'll get my
ride in a hearse before i
am twenty-five.
there's shrapnel and
pieces of old photographs inside
every scar on my left arm.
dirt and grime
from the last five places i've lived reside
inside every canyon carved.
all i want is for somebody to
look into the hollow sockets of my head and
see me
but i don't think i need a heart to
sleep next to the hole in my
chest, i just need to put
this thing to rest