don't cry, pretty girl.
those tears'll soak into anything
an' count for nothing.

don't leave dusty trails down your powdered cheeks -
rosy freckled bones that you held yourself
when mother left
those tears'll soak into anything
an' look like nothing
in a minute.

hungry stomachs burn fevers in our temples
and shaky hands try to bring anything green closer
and empty, sticky refrigerators taunt and sneer
but summertime ends
and those tears'll
soak into anything
an' count for nothing
in a
minute.

after he tries to be sweet
but the moment is gone
i don't want to be touched

my eighteenth year
taught me how
not to love
but still
i trip
stumble
fall
into that which i avoid
so carefully
love
is a covetous
*****

it's a good thing
that someone always reminds me
to stick to what i know
otherwise
i would never try
anything

i keep trying to **** it up
but it keeps sorting its **** out
love isn't such a tricky *****
after all

oh,
dead
sleeping
snoring
college student,
i have the strangest
affection
for you.
drooling
wheezing
beauty
you lie on your desk
like a spilled milkshake in a parking lot
occasionally mumbling
things about
classes
and rap lyrics
finally,
a man who understands
my ideals.

the ocean is very deep
but i am very shallow
step on me
and i expand
to accommodate you
until i am
gone
why
does this always
happen to me

i wonder if i could slip through one of the cuts on my arm
through that long, narrow red slit
inbetween its folds
and be somewhere else
where pain flows fast and sure
but away

i woke up unrested
and feeling like ****
and the stark contrast
of the beautiful day
bleeding in from my window
****** me off.
to make it even worse...
i can hear the cicadas buzzing.
i'm wasting my life
more importantly,
my summer
and i don't even
give a ****

peanut-butter sleep
from a green and yellow bottle
via a little
round
white
pill

you're complaining at me
that you're hurt
that all the dirt
i said about you
and the crap that you do
made you bleed.
you're trying to tell me
that i need
to hear you out
but you don't hear ME
your one-sided personality
is shouting too
loud.

if you don't want to bleed
don't break hearts...
you ought to be more careful,
you'll get cut on the shards.
all you want is sympathy
another dull
piece of me
to add to your collection
of empty affection.

i no longer look both ways before crossing the street
i have decided to let Chance
have his way with me.
i've stopped stopping at stop signs
and watching my step on steep inclines

but Chance is a petty *******
and pays no respect to Intentions
be they good, bad, or
mediocre

i'm sure Chance wants me dead
him and all his friends
are tired of me
but he only wants his way
on his own terms.

one last hurrah
for Red The Liar.
she forgives the man that ***** her
and stays with him
how many more times,
miss Red?

i've been trying to navigate my own army of flipphones defying the neverending onslaught of iphones i am american and i love

when we pray
we pray with folded hands
bended knees  
trying to fit our bodies into a posture that is plea(d)sing.

bitten fingernails that had blood underneath them but minutes before
red ribbons of seeping blood billowing out quiet red veins...
so quiet.
such a quiet
death
it would be.

i pray on knees that i've spent a lot of time on lately.
by choice or by fate
only days before
doing things that i never dreamed i would do.
tears trickle down the side of my face and i dream
of other times
on my knees
in His presence
crying for mercy
that i would soon not deserve.

do i hate the god that resurrects my morality
or the man that abolishes it?

i wanted to
sit next to you
absorb
you
i wanted to
lean into you
feel
you
i wanted to
see how your shoulder felt
against my cheek
i wanted to
have you
put your arm
around me
just to see
how it felt
i wanted to
feel
you

it's no use hiding yourself
hiding your stomach or your hands or your thighs
because you are afraid they're too fat
it's no use
he will like you if he likes you
it doesn't matter how long he holds you
he holds everyone that long
don't be afraid
he's got other girls he talks to.
be what you are
or be nothing
let your stomach hang out
and the wrong side of your face show
don't care if he leaves after he hugs you
be what you are
or be nothing

everything leaves a heady
sickly sweet
aftertaste in my mouth
like whatever i ate
didn't want to go down
lord
help me
breathe

i struggle to stay awake late into the night,
painting.
fingers coated in jewel tones.

you're awake too, somewhere.
home from work.
breathing, sitting, eating, staring.
maybe holding her.

and i think of all this,
******* the holes in my sides, my palms
(even though they're healed over:
my second coming
tore through the both of us)
and i wonder
if she fills your arms the same.

if she makes your blood rush like i did -
if you kneel between her legs and beg
like you did for me
i wonder if every expression makes you exclaim, kiss her eyelids, pull her closer.
i wonder if you stare into her eyes when you
**** her
if it's as intense
passionate,
kind.

i
wonder.

i fall prey to men on the internet
like most every girl
(though i consider myself extraordinary).

they say things to me like
"i'd do you a million times over"
"i just want to kiss that face"
"hold that body"
"bite that neck"
and i let them say all of it
without protest
(though i consider myself immune).

through the internet they tempt me
violate me
and i let them
willingly
in this way
i am like every other girl
(i wish i wasn't).

pleasure
and guilt
go hand in hand
down the rollercoaster ride
i've belted myself into,
locked
and loaded
(i am sorry that i am a girl).

i wish instantly it never happened
when it is over
and it's not even real
(i am sorry i am pathetic).

i watch as
worry
fear
the promise of
incarceration
skips across me
and then settles
into dad's wrinkly
face.

thirteen
thousand
dollars

a
sixty-two year old
man
who's worked
his whole life
for a family
stuck with a bill
by a cup of coffee
with yellow teeth
and diamond earrings
on a leather couch

thirteen  
thousand
dollars

people are always asking
how much am i worth to you
how much money
would you give
to be with
me

thirteen
thousand
dollars

is the cost of
one whole year
that threw your entire life
into shadow
doubt
complete and utter
chaos
fear
despair

thirteen
thousand -

- pieces of paper
that we have put worth upon
now decide
your fate
you will lose your
house
your family
everything
you own
if you do not pay
but let's be real
you've lost it all
before
can once more
hurt
any less

thirteen
thousand
*******
dollars

in arrear
fees
this is how much
one year
of complete horror
is worth
and no,
no one pays the ones who suffered
we pay
those that won...

thirteen
thousand
dollars.

fear
that is not dealt with
but pushed aside
shoved down
buckled into a suitcase
still existing
just out of sight
is fear that will return
fear that will
conquer
fear that is waiting
for the most opportune moment
to spring its jail
and defeat
you
because you never
thought about it
until it was
too late
littleredwritinghood,
you are
in trouble
you can hold that fear under the surface
all you want
but it will not drown
fear has enough faces
to replace
any one that manages to fade
fear is
your mother's
face

clutching for knives
in the dark of the kitchen
"what are you doing?"
"nothing."

never used
a serrated edge
it works
too well

there are a lot of things
that are missing from my life
many of them
left badly
like a mother
brothers and sisters
and Daniel...

...i don't have words
to describe you,
Dan.
and i cannot
even write a poem
saying that you died
because to me
you haven't
some little part of me believes
that you are still here somewhere
and that is what keeps me
from breaking into little shards
that cut everything
they touch
you are somewhere
on your red motorcycle
with your bone-crushing hugs
still drinking and doing drugs
and smiling, smiling, smiling
even though
they say that is what killed you
i don't mind the ****.
i really don't.
i liked your heart
too much
to believe
you were evil.
you weren't.
and despite what some might say
i think you are in heaven
if only for the reason you were sent
to prison
ask jesus
to hug you for me, Dan
jesus knows
a righteous man.

these days
i am constantly reminded
of how much i need to remember
where i came from...
where i've been.

i went back through all these old pictures of me
when my face was round
and chubby
when my hair wasn't perfectly straight
my bangs a mess...
before the idea
that i needed to be
******
entered my mind.
and i remembered my background
the importance of the foundation
that i rest on...
i sit and remember
what made me
me.

i'll look at my life like this long line
that sometimes goes haywire on me
sometimes it comes
to the edge of a cliff
plummets downward
and then climbs back up
i'll think about holding little kids
and being friends with different people
and being so
innocent
so untouched
(i didn't think so then)
by the complete horror
this world truly
is

i will sit in this room
that i have never had the heart
to call 'mine'
it is small
with one window near the floor
messy
with three white walls
and one chocolate colored
in a house
we don't own
in a town
i always wanted to live in
just not like this
and i'll picture
the girl that lived in that crazy
falling down yellow house
with the green roof
and the rusty door
and the green fields
in the brilliant,
royal purple
room
with all the funny hair things
and colorful tights
and big
big
smiles
that say nothing
that resembles
'**** me'
and i'll think....
how
the
hell
did i get here
from
there

i wish i could be a bird
and accidentally eat uncooked rice
at someone's wedding
that i only attended
because there were so many interesting people
that wanted to
thoughtlessly **** me
just so i could die
and blame someone
other than myself
for it

there will always be people
who think better than you
who sing better
write better poems
why does this make me want to erase everything
and not simply
get better
or why not even
just be satisfied
and appreciate
that which i don't have
i am
selfish

i have black makeup smeared around my eyelids
adding a nice value contrast
to the already present bags
and i know i look insane
and my sweatshirt sleeves are covered in teardrops
and my head ******* hurts

and coffee doesn't replace bloodcells
like i wish it would
coursing through my veins
perpetually awake
hiding from the nightmares
that have set up shop
behind my eyelids

and the moments leading up to success is pure torture
it's a lot of waiting
and quiet, violent, personal burning
effigies that i didn't even know existed
being sacrificed
coming to the slow realization
that i cannot exist as a cartoon character forever -

i must jump the page.

i read you religiously
every morning
every night
study your passages of speech
your context clues that lie in the corners of your pages
feeling the curve of your wrists,
your chest.

your shrine grows in my closet
hoodies and tshirts and basketball shorts
new additions hung up, worshiped.

i never wanted another god in my life
already have too many
one in the sky, one at home, one in the past
who frightens me more than any

but i am an addict
i have a taste for pain like no other
there is nothing like the rush of losing you violently
and then talking you back into love.

even if it takes hours of my time,
days
watching your face through a screen
writing long text messages that are as untrue as the curved eyeliner you fell in love with

the rush of being the one to win you back
the pride in my ability to manipulate you into coming home
into wanting to be with me again
despite the ugly words exchanged
returning to your family
after months
of not knowing where you were...

me
being able to convince you to come home
having the conversation end not with a dial tone
but with you relenting
giving up

that is what
i live for,
mother

little ones
don't stay
little ones
soon fade
little ones
are fine
little ones
no one minds

i try not to let it hurt me
as i try with all things
but it lances through my stomach

you try to manipulate me into feeling sorry for you
a ****** predator
i will no longer.

tomorrow i will be
magically
sick.
sister,
enough of you
have made it clear
that you don't want to stay with us
because it's hard
to deal with hurt people
i ******* get it.
but if i have to deal with hurt people
for the rest of my ******* life
because you got to leave
and left me
here to deal with it all
then you can at least bear it
for one ******* week.
you will not
be seeing me
enjoy
your avoidance
of reality
enjoy new life
while the old ones
die
i guess you're going to invest
in aubree's baby
i guess me and dad
are too far gone
i guess you've
given up
on us
i'll give up on you
first
just give me
a minute
or two

going crazy inside my own head
no one to talk to
no one will listen to me

am i becoming my mother

beautiful, long-lashed baby girl
hair black and smooth, peruvian:
steel blue eyes.

mama has too many latin ******* to beat up
to enjoy your gentle burbles and smiles
too much hair to style
too many faces to kiss in pictures
that aren't yours.
gold chains and pursed lips and popped hips
her lifestyle,
though changeable,
leaves her unwilling.

too pregnant too early
too willing too early
i remember walking down streets with her
a child
telling me that she wanted to have ***.

she did finally,
and she had you.
for a few weeks, maybe.

i hope you live with your grandmother
and not with a stranger.
i hope your mother will apologize someday
for choosing to be wild
instead of loving
to one of the most beautiful baby girls
i have ever seen...

(just like her
mother)

i found you on the side of the road
like a bright, yellow leaf that just left its home
a shiny penny in the gutter
drowning in the street.
you didn't want to be collected
but good luck getting away without any feet
i won't let you leave
me.

if i ever become a mother
i will clip my wings
and do my best to stay grounded.
my mother -
a flightless bird
got away despite everything
but i will let you put me in a cage
if we have to
i will not
leave you

i promise

i feel constantly betrayed
constantly abandoned
constantly FORGOTTEN
LEFT
USED
by everyone.
everyone
besides me
gets to leave
gets to get away from this ******* town
these ******* people
our ******* problems
but no
little red
has to stay.
someone has to take care of dad
and it's always going to be her
because she is always there.
dear
sisters
i delight in the day
when i am not there
when the knife is not just dug into me
but into you
then YOU
will have to stay.
i hope you enjoy
feeling every little thing
that i had to feel
for two ******* years.
i hope they
carve wrinkles into your face
scars into your arms
and legs
i hope you write thousands of tortured poems
i hope you never get any better
and most of all,
i hope there is someone
who gets to do EVERYTHING you EVER wanted to do
and then never even
visits you
or thanks you
for taking care of dad
and for keeping their mind
crystal
*******
clear
of guilt.
sisters,
i will glory
in your suffering
when i leave
for good
which i pray
will be
soon
because i want you
to hurt

to my sister,
i am a nice keepsake
that she keeps in the bottom drawer

i live in a town she left for something better
in a house she never lived in

to my sister,
i am nostalgia.
i am twinklie lights outside nice smelling vegetarian restaurants
and self-taken pictures she sends to her new boyfriend
that i've never met

to my sister
i am something she visits
for old time's sake
i am no more important than her hometown
i am simply something to be visited
when the time rolls around
and you feel like you should go back to your roots and pay your respects

i am that moment.
i am that timeframe
i am those twenty-two years
those dandelions on the front lawn of our childhood home

to my sister
i am kept for keeping's sake

you wait in the car with your dad
outside a pretty house
hear children in the back yard
inside is like a polished tomb.

you are inside suddenly,
creeping in
see a figure
by a big triangle window
that goes all the way down to the floor
arms crossed,
shoulders hunched
it is
mother.

you don't talk to her.
you have to do this
she doesn't matter anymore
she's done the same thing
once before
it is only fair
what goes around
comes
around
but something keeps you there
on that shiny floor
glued
staring
at the pathetic shadow

they
refuse
to
go.
we say
"please come,
we haven't seen you in so long
it will only be
for a little while
we will bring you back
we promise
we just want to see
you grow up
just a
little
please."

the oldest girl
crosses her arms
like her mother
but her shoulders
are spread strong
her angles defiant
she says
"we will never go with you
we don't even
like you
you
are a liar
don't
touch
us."

we leave
strained hands on steering wheel
we grieve
like we have for two years
we know well how to do it
the woman in the pretty, empty house
gets the four little smiles
to keep her company
we get
the lake we make
with our enduring disappointment
to drown in.

thank you,
mom.

first he kisses them
then he causes them
we cannot win
or maybe just him
or maybe just me

it's like my life froze in the month of march.

she came in like a lion and centered my entire universe around one person
instead of centering myself
in this universe
that constantly bucks back and forth
trying to tip me off balance...

it finally succeeded.

my compass abandoned ship on the way down
and when i woke up
i realized i didn't know where i was
and had no means of setting a course

now all i have is a boy.
and i don't know where i'm going with him
i don't know how i got to a place where another human is the center for my gravity

i wonder if the sun ever thinks
"how did i end up here?
revolving around some toxic earth...
tricked into giving it warmth?"

my calender has cemented to the wall
march 2014
dusty
abandoned
i stopped noticing the passing of months
or caring

i don't know where my life is going
i'm no longer the one that navigates.

cuddling with our two
fluffy
crazy
weird-*** kittens
watching the walking dead
because it's better than reality
contemplating our juvenile cooking abilities
the prospect of dinner
a grim one
outside is grey
but yknow
it's alright.
we're
together.

over scrambled eggs and toast at 4am
i have realized suddenly
that i miss the red dirt of africa
in my hair
making my eyes scratch
and my skin
gritty.

and that i miss
marvin
...*******.
if that little boy
isn't ok
then nothing
is

good
morning
filled with absolutely
the opposite of ambition
i've declared this week a national holiday
and skipped all my classes
dad doesn't know
oh well.

i become extremely depressing at night
and i can feel it bothering you
in the pleading tone of your voice
the begging in your questions
you finally just give up
after a while

i didn't use to do this
it's a new thing
since you came
and went
and i came
and i went
and you went

i can't take a summer without you

i should really
do something about this
(you)
but i don't have the heart
i'm not stupid
i know when i'm
being used
i know you're just
bored
inbetween
shy...
alright.
but another thing
i didn't realize
that should be
on that list
is
selfish
you're using me for a
laugh
to keep yourself
occupied
on the nights
when your only company
is me
and a bottle
of jack
i've got to put a
stop to this
it's not fair
i'm not getting
out of you
what you're getting
out of me
it's quite a paradox
that i can be so intelligent
and yet so stupid
i like it while it lasts
but when you move on
i'll still be back here
just laughing
by myself
now
well
at least i'll still be
laughing

maybe

i scream at you
you scream at me
trying to make some sense
of this triviality
i don't even
want to be here
so what's the point
of arguing
what's the point of
being
if i'm not going
to stay,
dad

dear
james,
i would like you
if you ever said
what you mean.
instead, you make up things
to make me think i want to talk to you
and then you proceed
to be the most boring human being
on the face of the planet.
your fake
peppy
exclamations
are deceiving,
tiring
and flat
after about four
hundred
of them...
i love you about as much
as i love a toaster oven
or any other
inanimate object
james,
dear...
you are so
boring.

i talked to a man from india
jilted at the altar
three times
by the girl he loved
because she was
"feeding her dog".
he waited nine hours in his tuxedo
"like an ***"
he said.
she wanted more
"gifts"
if she was going
to marry him.
depressed, he went to a *******
"where the real fun began"
got hired as a dancer
got paid to make women wet
something
he'd never done
before
most were married with kids
he felt bad at first
but his boss said
it couldn't be helped
get used to it
he became incredibly wealthy
many friends,
many gifts,
paid a high pension
didn't show his face to the girls
but showed other things
eventually he was banned
for being too
prosperous

...a man almost forced into prostitution
even when he didn't like it
a sad story
one that belongs on a blog somewhere
or in a poem

and it all happened
on imvu
welcome to the ******* internet
where being ridiculous is cause for farming liable sympathy

a familiar tightness and shortness of breath
slips into my chest...
college always does this to me.

it's not even the work.
i can do the work
like a prisoner doing his time
it's the people that i can't do.

why am i so socially awkward?
i am a triumph among those younger than me
but people my own age
make me feel like a snail
hiding in a shell in plain sight
where i could easily be stepped on.

i must sink into my comfortable stereotype
yes, that will help
i am a gamergirl who wears batman shirts
and plays assassin's creed in the library
move along, ugg boots.
nothing to see here.