highschool-me listened to far awaymusicals, the rx a foreign and edgy thing, everything sex, men smilingand cum dripping out; now the normalis redone and i watch – ravens land on old buildings,the turrets gothic, lined against the fall;nothing is magic – not the rawcoming in calendars, the daysfalling into vampire schedules, five a.m. blinking, late… Continue reading poem: autumn / catch me i’m falling
is it fall? —outside the madhouse windows?i have not showeredin three days, but i would liketo let the air cut me, the trees loose — danse —the new and old risingtogether: foreign dramasin dead worlds, patchinggardens, spirits in oldbooks, old spells —the split apple on my lip,wet like sex,dark and strange like innocence. i would like —to wash myself… Continue reading poem: september mental illness
alternatively titled: "buffy, season six" i am New York in the window,i am Paris in the glass.can you find me, i amlaughing—can you find me,i won’t last.cities in the stardustmake shit inside my head,can i sleep with Prague?with the adolescent-dead?the boys are saving nothingthe boys are going madi am just an illnesspathetic, never had.can you… Continue reading poem: emo song where the boy saves the girl, actually
my heart is a hole,the picket fence tornup and stabbed through,the thief leapingfrom the window, holding—the I, the past,my old myself. whydo normal words not fitin my mouth, their edgessharp and snapping—the camera catchingthe stripping, and Ithe old, new girlstanding naked by the sill.
something inside medoes not wantto get better. i am violently addictedto my own self-destruction.
I really must not pin hope on people who do not (yet) exist; one day, he might want to lean over the table and hold my eyes and hear the personal hell but in the tight space between 60 seconds and one minute, we are still nothing; he does not care about the damning things… Continue reading poem: therapy is cheaper when you’re in a relationship
we are girls tied body to body to music: our headphones like veins bringing the low guitars and lighter wails, pumping in the bright noise that keeps us from dying in locked rooms the memories coming like birds in flocks of heat our arms splitting open from remembering we are not talking, we are not… Continue reading poem: trauma
she sat alone; men are formulas with no answer, with no reason, and she can lay things out nicely in her head, but hit /run program/ and it is errorerrorerrorerror. they are laughing at her; they are laughing at her when she goes into the room, when she goes to the front of the room,… Continue reading poem: i swear i’m not neurotic, i just have control issues.
i am spinning in a blue dress and to first follow him i must be all of myself, not for the matriarchy but for my small ascendence into what He envisioned. this is not high school: strangers will smile at you, later, i promise. Also, listen: the depression and the choas will not go away… Continue reading poem: highschool is over (cheers to this)