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.