this is wrong, this is all wrong

I used to be so strong, 
but loving you has made me weak.
Now I dig my fingernails
into the palms of my hands
just to remind myself
of what it feels like to be powerful.

you and I will devour each other

You and I will devour each other like there is a fire inside burning up every bit of poetry scribbled down on the backs of napkins, every line you have ever spilled into me, pushed past my lips and scraped along my teeth with your tongue. We become wild things with sharp claws that rip and tear and bite, there are monsters in your voice when you moan into me and I am falling quickly in love with each and every one of them. And to be honest touching you touching me has provided me with enough material to last through years of loneliness, there is a quiet storm behind my eyelids when I am alone in bed with my hands between my thighs, there is a tidal wave screaming your name that only escapes in satisfied sighs.

glow

I fall in love with people who whistle or hum songs that have been stuck in their heads for weeks and walk with clumsy feet and bite their lips absentmindedly and whose eyes light up when they talk about their favorite things and like to jump in rain puddles and twirl their fingers in their hair and hold their coffee cups with both hands and blush at every compliment and unknowingly speak in poetry and practice their signatures and hold eye contact for so long it makes me uncomfortable.

starchild (10w)

You're the meteor shower I stay awake all night for.

my love you are made of so many stars // 10 word poem

one: never let yourself get too comfortable. never trust the feeling that you are SAFE.

I always knew that there was a fire inside of you but I was unprepared for the way that comfortable warmth could burn me, I never expected it to one day leave me with scars.

reasons to remain unattached (7/?)

There are gardens growing in your voice, flowers spill out every single time you open your mouth to speak or breathe,
but my voice is lost or maybe locked somewhere deep inside my chest. My tongue will always be tied, my lips will always be sealed.

Letters To My Former Selves (1/?)

Above all else,
please always be kind,
to others and to yourself.
Do not waste time feeling guilty 
for removing toxic people from your life,
because this life is very short 
and your time is very precious, 
spend it with those who fill you up with love and light.
There will be times when your head fills itself up
with deceitful, dark thoughts.
Do not listen.
You are strong,
you will win this battle
and many more.
Please keep going
and believe me when I tell you
that there is so much to look forward to.

you can always call me if you are feeling sad, okay?

You always compared your head to an unsafe neighborhood, somewhere you shouldn’t go alone, but I want to reach inside and take out whatever I can find because I have seen the light in you and if you let me I will show you where to find it whenever you forget.

a quiet soul whispers one request

People sometimes speak just to fill the void,

but I long for golden silence,

a darkness in which stars may shine.

Comparing Scars

The first time we compared our scars mine were so much deeper than yours, and there was still skin to spare on your arms, you could still wear cute sleeveless dresses and every day the sunlight could touch your skin, you were young and warm and full of light, there were infinite possibilities. I guess I envied you for that.

But soon the light was extinguished under your skin. Darkness in your eyes where before there were so many stars. You stopped eating your lunch at school. You started covering up your skin like it was a shameful secret. You were always taking those pills.

I blinked and when I opened my eyes you were gone.

I hope wherever you've gone there is no such thing as guilt or time. I hope they've let you hit the reset button and forget you'd ever known people like me. I hope your skin is full of sunlight again. I hope that there are so many stars in your eyes. I hope you're happy. I hope that you know now what peace can be. And I hope that somehow you might hear my apology. I loved you more than anything. Rest easy now. Sweet dreams.

I should have paid more attention. I shouldn’t have made living with this illness a competition. I should have held you closer. I should have said all of this sooner. I'm so sorry. 

there is a light inside of you waiting to be found

When everything was dark I would have rather died than ask for help and I can never thank you enough for tearing me back out from inside myself and I hope that if you ever forget how to find that light glowing within yourself you will let me show you where it is hiding, waiting to be found.

When you touch me I am made of starlight, are there galaxies in your hands?

I think there might be galaxies in your fingertips and if you touch me maybe I will collapse in on myself like a dying star but if you don’t I will never know what infinity feels like and I have always wanted to be torn apart and put back together and I want you to be the one picking up the pieces, you are the only person who knows where they all fit.

reasons to remain unattached (6/?)

You look at me like I am made of gold and moonlight, but I know that I am composed of nightmares and nothing more.

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 7

My friends all said that you were bad news and my mother said that I was just confused but I'd already fallen too hard too fast and honestly I still can't believe that a girl like you could want someone like me and you never tried to fix me you never tried to make me eat so I'd look the other way when you'd lie and cheat but you wore hickies like some trophy you'd won for kissing all those other girls but when we touched you were always careful, you handled my skin like it was made of glass but baby for you I'd break and bleed, I just wanted you to notice me please look at me please touch me a little more.

maybe i used you to feel less invisible it was wrong i'm sorry 

the worst thing I ever did was drag you down with me

When we were young we would compare our scars and contemplate the stars and everything was safe and warm and full of light, but I sank my sharp teeth into you and turned you into something new, something dark, I never knew you felt so alone I never knew that this was more than just a game for you I never read in-between the lines of those messages you sent I never hit reply I’m so sorry oh god please try to remember me like I was something good.

Last Session with Mr. Tie Guy

Mr. Tie Guy is sporting a real classic today: a black tie all decked out with Loony Toons characters bumping into one another and branching off in all different directions. I have a theory: They have got to be Christmas presents from Mrs. Tie Guy. Christmas, birthday, Valentine's Day presents. Hideous ties. Year after year. Maybe it's not Mr. Tie Guy's fault, after all. He's only trying to spare his lovely wife's feelings.
Yeah. This thought helps me despise him less.
Mr. Tie Guy clears his phlegmy throat and finally croaks a request:
"Tell me about the pillars."
Sigh.
Alright.
I will answer him today.
"Well, the pillars are like...God, I haven't tried explaining this in awhile."
"It's okay. Take your time."
"Okay...I guess the pillars, they're like, everything--the things in my life that have remained consistant throughout the years. The things that have always been there and will always be there. Thinking about them as a visual entity--pillars--helps me feel...more grounded, I guess. Less likely to detatch from the ground and float off into oblivion."
"Can you be more specific?"
"I thought I was being specific."
"What exactly are the pillars, though? Examples."
"Uhm, okay. I guess...I mean, it's more of an overall feeling--a presence--it's not exactly physical or literal...but, I guess--family, friends, music that I like, things that I like, concepts...you know, things like that."
"And these things make you feel strong?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Safe?"
"Yes. Safe-er, anyway. It's just comforting, you know, when things get loud."
"You mean the Furies."
"Yeah."
"Let's hear about that."
Sigh.
Alright.
I will answer him today.
"I guess the Furies are essentially every evil thing residing within me, making themselves known through various forms of taunting, relentless irrational thinking and crippling self-loathing. I separate these thoughts from my own and give their credit to the Furies because I do not identify with them personally. I don't want to think these things, especially not frequently and loudly. I just want to find a way to silence them. For good. I've learned to dim them, even mute them at times, but they always find a way back..."
"And that's where the Lifeboat comes in."
"Yes."
"And the Lifeboat is what? The medicine?"
"Yes and no."
Pause. I'm watching him fidget with his tie, which is secured so snugly against his sweaty pink neck that tiny blue veins are beginning to scream against the surface of the skin for air.
"I guess it varies. Right now, I guess, yeah, the medicine was supposed to be my Lifeboat. A comfortable break from the churning storms, and the security of knowing that I'll never drift too far away. But...that kind of fucking sucks, doesn't it? I don't want this to be my Lifeboat. I don't want to need a prescription to keep the Panic at bay. It's ridiculous. It's fake."
He checks his watch and so do I. Fifteen minutes remain.
"So you don't want to take the medicine anymore, then?"
"I didn't say that. The truth is, I'm just not sure yet. I mean, I'm on a much lower dose than I was last time. And that makes me feel a little bit better about the whole thing. But still..."
"What?"
His impatience irritates me.
"I want a real-life cure for the neurotic bullshit going on inside my head. I want to go out into the world and find it myself. Earn it. Not take the easy way out with some handful of generic downers."
Pause. It would seem that Mr. Tie Guy has no reply.
"I guess I'm just hungry for change."

He tells me that I'm showing real signs of improvement and progress. I say yeah, yeah, thanks. He says that I seem fine, and I can go home early. I am not done talking. He, however, is done listening.
This has been the last conversation Mr. Tie Guy and I will ever have.

reasons to remain unattached (5/?)

You are starlight in human skin,
but there are also flames inside your veins
and I have been burned too many times before.

a letter to my former self

One day much sooner than you think you will open your eyes up and you will breathe fresh air into those tired lungs within that aching chest of yours and it will fill you up with warm, golden light, I know that right now everything seems so dark and lonesome and I know it isn’t fair I know you feel the pain of that monster’s hands around your mother’s throat, his poison in her blood, but this will only ruin you if you let it and I am begging you to be brave and I am pleading with you to be kind, even to yourself.

I know you think that this is the end but I promise you there is so much to look forward to.

reasons to remain unattached (4/?)

I’ve spent years building up a thick skin so I won’t be ripped to shreds by everyone I touch, but you tear off layers with your lips, you cut me open with your fingertips.

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 6

I never want to feel this way again, bruised all over in a lonely bed, black mascara tear stained pillow beneath my head, where did you go after I fell asleep? The alcohol didn't mix well with my medications and I'm so sorry for whatever I said that made you feel like you should leave because the truth is you're the strength in my spine and the heat in my blood and when I sleep alone I wake up crying I know it's not your fault I know it's not attractive I know I'm nothing like you hoped I'd be.

i never want to feel this way again i don't even remember what i said i'm so sorry

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 5

I told my best friend everything that winter. It was so cold that year that my lungs always felt so tight inside my chest and my lips were constantly chapped, cracked, and bloody, when I breathed, secrets spilled out. I never intended that. He always talked about the cold like it was a friend he had known all his life, and when I spilled my guts on the phone that night he didn't judge he just gave me advice, he said I should have kissed you when I had the chance. But how can I explain how impossible it is to even hold your hand when my mouth is sewn shut and my tongue is all tied up? You said that I was cute but I bet you said that to every girl that looked at you when you figured out that you could ruin people's lives by flirting with them once or twice.

i don't mean that i'm sorry i'm just upset right now

my body is not a weapon

Since I was very young I have been taught not to use my body as a weapon, but I have never been permitted to feel powerful, I have spent too much time avoiding reflective surfaces to establish any kind of kinship with my own image, besides, my body is just the vessel that carries my being around, and I do not want any more eyes on me, burning holes in my skin and biting down, sinking their teeth in. My body is not a doormat. My body is not a weapon. My body is my vessel and very soon it will be Dust again.

thank you, thank you, thank you

I don't remember much about my seventeenth year. The filler details of the memories are vague, they float around with nothing tangible to latch onto. I do not remember what I learned in school. I do not remember the things we said to each other at our graduation. I do not remember the promises we made and broke almost right away. What I do remember is the way the air felt and smelled, and what staying awake too long could teach me, and my meal plans, and exactly how much I weighed, but I cannot tell you that it means something, anything. I do not remember coming home that day and looking my father in the face and saying "I'm sorry, I'm trying, but I'd really rather be dead." I am so glad that I called you up instead, because although I never intended on spilling my guts to you on the phone like that, if there is one thing that I will always remember it is how you taught me to be grateful and to be kind, to everyone, including myself.

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 4

I remember thinking maybe if I could just scrape out my insides I'd feel pretty or at least okay and I remember the way my blood rushed up against the surface of my skin when I dug my nails in after running two hours on the treadmill in that shitty little gym I only went to at odd hours of the night when I could be absolutely sure that nobody else would be there because when I feel eyes on me it isn't nice it isn't soft it isn't understanding it is burning holes in me and every time a little more of me leaks out and how am I supposed to be brave when I am so fucking empty I can't feel anything anymore unless it is so sharp it makes me bleed?

i'm sorry i don't mean to complain but why is pleasure so much harder to feel than pain?

reasons to remain unattached (3/?)

Even your name tastes like sugar on my tongue, but I am not used to anything that does not hurt; familiar are the things that sting and bite.

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 3

Crooked teeth, knobby knees, and a chemical dependency bound you to me when you were relapsing again and I still carried those capsules in my pockets, my deepest secret only to be shared on days when it was too rainy to stay dry. You always said that storms put unsafe thoughts inside your head and when winter comes you'll feel like you're already dead but until then I'll be your best friend, I'll be your slaughter disguised as savior and I'll tell you things like "trust me, it only hurts a little" and "believe me, it gets easier." I swear I would have turned you inside out if you'd have let me. Thank god you stayed away.

i'm so sorry i really am but i am too afraid to do this alone

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 2

You always said that I was kind, but loving you made me cruel and jealous and help me please I've got a weak spine and razor blades for teeth and they cut me up every time I try to speak but there are so many things I've got to tell you like how before we met I was so very alone and you were so new and exciting and a very good liar, goddamn, you could weave the most seductive webs, and when you grabbed me and said "kiss me now or never" and I lost my grip, forgot how to breathe, I really meant to be brave and say "I loved you instantly, that day we went to that park that one time, remember?" The truth is that there were a thousand reasons to leave and so few to stay but above all else there was love, and it was often cold and ugly and lonelier than I'd ever been on my own. But, oh, my god, it was so exciting seeing those glimpses of the unknown.

you wanted me because i was kind but loving you made me cruel i'm so sorry

BUBBLEGUM BARF Vol. 1

You wanted me to kiss you, oh god, right there on that inflatable mattress at that party at that house that one night, when we were young and dumb and your girlfriend was in the other room, trying hard to prove she could drink like the college kids even though she was only sixteen, but I was thinking damn it I didn't come here to fuck or fall in love, and baby you're a walking, talking poem, one I've been writing since I learned how to hold a pen, but your secrets don't belong in my head and since my lips are made of lead a thousand words were left unsaid all of which imply that manic depressives and binge drinking bulimics should probably never make out or make love or anything in-between.

i wanted it too but i was shy i'm sorry

Phoenix

I am writing this for a friend who no longer lives in this world. She left a year ago in search of something new, something better. God I hope she’s found it now.

They say when you die your soul can float away, or hide in stones or in water or in leaves. And when your loved ones gather to mourn, you will be stardust by then. There is no such thing as guilt. There is no such thing as time. There are only doors and windows made of colors and light.

They say when you die you will be gathered up and scattered away, returned to Dust and nothing else remains. First you will be a memory, and then a concept, and then a number written down somewhere.

They say when you die you will become a name without a face, something vague like footsteps that cannot be retraced. But your little sister still plays in the park you loved when you were young, and you will be the wind in her hair while she swings, what a comforting thing to be. And the wind will say: “Please be kind and be grateful always, and know your mother and father love you so very much. So, so much.”

They say when you die there are infinite possibilities. What they never tell you is that after it’s all over, there is nothing left to do but sleep.

Rest easy. Sweet dreams.

Plea

Please show me the way to conquer fear and coexist with the demons inside my head, because I have broken my back fighting them off and it has taken years for me to realize that they are here to give me the strength to make it through the night.

the difference between bruises and scars

You have left your fingerprints all over me, but you are not the only one. There are land mines waiting under my skin, and you will detonate every last one of them.

I don’t want to write any more crappy love poems

and I don’t want to write about daddy issues or eating disorders or blood or mental illness. What I really want to communicate is that we are all composed of bits of the Divine and so is color and so is sound and so is time and so is light and no soul in this world is ever truly alone and I want to take the Universe in my hands and tell it that I control it as much as it controls me and that all of this is just a part of my machine and if I died this very moment I would leave with so many questions that would only return to Dust.

Claudia

Claudia would swear she’d seen the face of God, and she communicated with him every night through a portal behind her closet door. She met him when she was very young when the choir sang and she knew that GOD IS THE LIGHT THAT EXISTS WITHIN US AND AROUND US ALL EVERYWHERE, THE SAFE PLACE YOU CAN GO WHEN YOU ARE AFRAID, THE MAGICAL THINKING THAT KEEPS US ALL SANE. And she claimed that when you stay awake long enough doors will appear before you and open up and show you strange dreams and suddenly you will understand everything. When this happens, you will want to share it with everyone, but you cannot. When the portals opened her parents became concerned, but the hospital staff did not understand a single word. God put a curse on Claudia by showing her his face, but she was always smiling when I sat with her on those cold days in the parking lot after school, and I still thank her every day for that time when she looked at me in the eyes and told me “I promise you that there is so much to look forward to. Wake up! Look around!”

reasons to remain unattached (2/?)

I am a vault of secrets, and you are the healing light

that will flush them all out. I have known since

I was very young that most things should be kept

up inside my head where they belong.

tiny white lies

I don’t know about you, maybe
you like those tiny white lies
people say - Everything
will be okay! I promise! -
but I want to be taken
by the shoulders and
shaken and looked in
the eyes and told “Maybe
it is all in your head. But
you could also be fading away.
How should I know?” And
I want you to look at me
in the fucking face when
you tell me “Well, life isn’t
fair” or “You worry too much”
or “Calm down.”

Time Travel Tourism Vol. 1

I open my eyes and I am in a very dark space, but bright, artificial lights keep on rushing past me in quick, fluid movements which are seemingly perfectly timed with the music that also occupies so much of the small space I find myself in. I am in the backseat of my best friend's car. She and her boyfriend are in the front, passing a pipe back and forth. The pipe's name is Mawu. The car's name is Falcore. It is the summer of 2010, and I am eighteen years old. This is the summer of love and of light and of wings, of peach tea and cigarettes, of acid trips and Literature of Film, of Elmwood park and trees whispering all their darkest secrets for anyone to hear. I listen, and I understand, and I fall in love. With halos of light and with arms and with legs and with Vonnegut and with Eliot and with blue and with yellow and with all of this, whatever it is, and I am lying down in the backseat of my best friend's car feeling pleasantly elevated and warm and this is a moment where it all just consumes me and the flame of my Self is briefly extinguished and I float, and I observe, and I dream, and there is no response but to cry and to thank God thank love thank light thank time for giving me this, for giving me All and One and please let me hold on a little longer-
-I am in the park behind the school and I am wrapping my arms around a tree, it is several months later and I have forgotten how to breathe. My knees give out beneath me and so I sink, and sink, and sink. Into the dirt and the roots and the stories of the soil, there are too many. Too much. I want nothing more than just to sleep and to avoid. Falling in love is an invitation to unfathomable pain, and it sits in your chest in your heart and in your lungs and it can stay there for years, unmovable, unchanging. There are tiny explosions in my veins when I hear You speak, the words break against my skin and shatter like glass. Everything is fragile, I think, I know that now.-
-I roll over in a bed that is not my own, and there is a beautiful girl lying next to me, sleeping with the sweetest small smile on her lips and I want to taste them more than I've ever wanted to taste anything in my life. I am sixteen and shy and nebulous and void. She is powerful and poetic and composed of opal light. Our fingertips are so close to touching. I can feel the movement of the air in her lungs. The sound of my pounding heartbeat threatens to overpower everything. Soon it will clap like thunder. Soon it will shake the earth. She will wake up and hold on to me for safety and for warmth and I will bury my face in her golden hair and live there for a hundred years. I will build a lighthouse. I will signal home. Something will hear me, pull me back, and pour me into the cosmic womb once more. Wake up. Start over.-
-I am born in Okinawa, Japan. It is August 1991. They don't tell you before you're born that from here on out you will have to spend every waking moment making choices. It never stops and it never gets any easier. To breathe or to turn blue? I try to crawl back into the void, but they won't let me. They try very hard to keep both me and my mother alive, and I guess for that I am grateful. She and I are really still strangers, but she has given me life, form, shape, color, sound, motion, everything swirls and screams and pierces and tears and cradles and comforts and sings and lullabies.-
-I am looking into Her eyes and she says "Welcome to Earth, child. This is your home. It is hot and cold and lovely and gruesome. Isn't it wonderful? To be alive?" I look at Her and I do not know where or when I am. There are no hints anywhere. There is nothing, everywhere. And I realize that She is me and I am Her and this is just a mirror, this is nowhere. She exists between me and a door to another place, apparently one which I am not meant to be inside yet. I tell Her that I did not ask to be born. I ask Her who makes these choices, who decides these things. She smiles and says "You are in control of your own machine." I tell her that there is a problem, faulty mechanics, I've lost control. Did I ever really possess it? I have no idea whether I am eight or eighteen or eighty or eight hundred years old. Nobody can change what has already happened, but anybody can alter what has yet to take place. Where and when am I? Where and when can I go? She speaks, but her voice is muted, the veil has been returned. I disappear, and so, of course, does She. We fuse together and I wake up in Omaha, Nebraska, it is 2014 and I've just had the strangest dream. There was Nothingness and the sound of infant screams while my own reflection spoke to me of birth and of machines. I grab a pen and scribble something down before I can forget, something the Dream must have wanted to tell me. And the Dream says: "There is no such thing as good or evil or here or there. Time does not mean a thing. There is no why. There are only memories, light, sound, colors, and motion. You were born. You exist. Understand. Please, please, please understand."

Everything Was

Electric threads connected Her fingertips to me,
everything was new and of golden
and of sunflowers and of flashlights
and of Dust.
Lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely!
Is that word enough?
Lovely Kafka, lovely Kerouac,
lovely Long Pine, Nebraska,
Lovely firelight!
Lovely Eskimos!
Lovely brothers from another planet!
Hand in hand
in hand in hand,
we crash together always
in the beginning
and in the end.
Electric threads connected Her fingertips to me,
everything was

reasons to remain unattached (1/?)

Please don't leave me alone

Please leave me alone

Please just touch me I need to be touched

Please don't touch me I don't want to be touched right now

clean slate

Starting this thing completely over.