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Hello, all!! My post this month is a little weird. Since the month’s theme is “Good Times,” I thought, like always, I would attempt to use some sort of introspection to examine my feelings of disassociation after good things happen to me. Without all the fancy wording, this just means I’m a person that can not be too happy for too long. Maybe it’s a poet thing; maybe it’s a me thing. I promise I’ll ask Cummings in hell.

Okay, ahhhh. So. Where I’ve been since my last post… I have no idea; it’s been a fever dream. (HEY THAT’S THE NAME OF THE POST!) This year kind of gutted me like some sort of car wreck, and these past few weeks, I finally figured out what to stitch myself up with. Hopefully by September, the sutures will be ready to come out and I’ll have a really cool scar to show people. Right now though, if I make a reference to the bleeding, people just look really uncomfortable or cry. Yes, I am out of my comfort zone which is scary and sweet all at once. I’m still sick, but it’s getting enjoyable.

“Things I Wish Were Written on the Inside of my Mother’s Womb”

You will always be in love and

It will always be painful and lost through

No fault of your own and your cupid’s bow

Is so sharp that you will chip your first tooth

By smiling too wide and you will slam your

Face in cement for the first time and realize

It feels like your father’s palms and your hands

Will be small and soft forever but not too fragile

To make a fist and countries will wash away

Into the sea during your life and men will wage wars

In your body and leave you bleeding and full

Of blame and self reliance and not every part of

You will be strong enough to fight back but your

Feet will always be ready to run and your heart

Will almost always be able to keep up.

 

“A Lesson in Escapism from a Houdini Documentary on a School Night”

I don’t like the way my cuticles

look or how they scab over at

the sides and I don’t like being

alone at night but I don’t like being

with you even more and I don’t like

anything and my own skin is now peeling

to get away from me and sometimes 

I think I’m doing better than everyone

else but then I wake up under your bed

because at 4 am this morning I decided

that I wanted to be someone else’s

nightmare for a change and maybe

everything that is in all of us is just hot

air trying to escape into other people’s

mouthes.

 

“Written in Really Cheap Lipstick in Your Best Friend’s Bathroom”

i will never love you

all the time i will never

love you all the time i 

will never love you all

the time it doesn’t matter

what color lipstick you’re

wearing or how much tequila

i drink i will never love you all 

the time because all the time

you’re not worth loving.

 

“Real People Don’t have Scabs Like That”

i rot your teeth,

i pull blisters from fair skin,

bile burns in your stomach, and

you’re the happiest you’ve ever been with

glazed eyes and an oversized clogged heart.

then you realize that this is no way to live and

that drugs-

are no more than cowardice and poison things

boiled together in a broken home.

that i-

am no more than cowardice and poison

things boiled together in a broken home. 

and one day

you will find your rehab, or your

bible hidden in the bottom drawer, or whatever

the fuck else saves you from the angels

like me who make great loves out of tin foil and

are raided nightly for the stashes we hide in our chests.

the ones who will never find something we can not

swallow or smoke when times are tough.

the ones that are royalty in our own right because

the moon whispered to us one night in a lullaby

when we were too fucking drunk to stop screaming

and the moon-

is one man that does not lie. 

 

“I’m Only a Half Liar”

loneliness is something i have mastered (almost).

i can speak with a perfect spanish accent (while reading

from a book of translation).

i haven’t been sober in 2 weeks (except long enough to

read the labels on the prescriptions).

i keep having dreams about piano keys

and your fingers on them (and me).

I don’t think about killing myself very much

anymore (unless i am awake).

i do not love anyone without a reason (like breathing).

i can keep secrets like the kill floor of a cattle farm

(and tell them like the guts coating the concrete).

yes, i think i’ve made a home out of this (but i do not

think it is a life).

 

“Not a Family Tree, but a Burning Bush”

i come from a line of women that was conceived

from heaven and hell’s drunken one night stand.

 women who turn from flame to brimstone to salt 

to flame once again. women who did not give birth

but pulled the others’ tiny hearts out of their 

own throats. women that learned the word

“no” too soon and grew bored then

replaced it with the ever pleasing

“fuck 

no”

women with small hands for holding

cigarettes and syringes and children and

their mothers’ own hands as they lay dying

in hospice or a homeless shelter. women

who have been raped in broom closets yet

still sweep the floor daily and women who keep

their nails short just like their stories in case

they feel the need to scratch out their own 

eyes or anyone else’s for that matter. women

who leave too soon and love too hard and try

not to turn to ash in the process but if they do

that’s just another reason to make the burn last longer.

we are not saints and no one here has ever seen real gold-

gate or not but we have seen god. every time we turn out

the lights or recite our own prayers into mirrors. 

 

“I Said I Wasn’t a Love Poet”

i want to trace the calligraphy of your palm with

my fingernails and i want to jump into the fountains

 of your head before i go anywhere else and i want

to kneel in your direction as many times a day as

you would like and i want to spend my life looking

for that one imperfection in your architecture and

love it even more than the rest because this is divine

and i’m not sure which god did this to us, but whoever

they are; please tell them thank you for me.

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May 30, 2013

Comments

your writing is so relatable, it feels like everything i feel but it’s exponentially more beautiful. i wanna be friends with youuu

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