ive never gone fearlessly
putting pillows at the bottom of the staircase before sledding down them
trying not to bump and bruise my pasty skin trying not to bump and cut my pastel cheeks
i was afraid of pain and bleeding
spending too much time trying not to take up any space
or make the straight line of balance crooked or to speak quietly
as to not interrupt the present conversation

until i realized the conversation was lacking
that my voice was a color it did not hold
that no one really wanted to see it
“we already have three shades of blue, why do we need another?”
if we didnt have my blue how would i explain the color of your eyes
or the color of my chipped nail polish?
if we didnt have my voice how could i detail every second of falling in love
of falling in and out of pain of feeling that the world is biased and unfair
that the world is beautiful and takes my breath away
and that sometimes to get your voice heard you have to bump
bruise bleed make a mess scream be the loudest person in the room
be quiet
wrap yourself up in a blanket go to sleep no alarms
be somewhere you dont want to be
then go home
and find your voice again
and let it be known



i want to be quotation marks
the best thing you ever said to me
and the smallest whisper that echoes in your head
i didnt think you heard me
i always think youre sleeping

i want
so badly to be an exclamation point
exciting and marking the moments
we mostly want to remember
and the points we usually will

and i want to be capital letters
YOU and ME and all sorts of others
that don’t make sense unless they are
glued together
challenging recklessness
daring us to be real with someone else
if these letters can attach together
then what are we so afraid of?

that reminds me
i want to be a question mark the same one
that hits me right in the chest
when the answer is thrilling
the same open space
the opportunity for something
something unknown

i find myself in long sighs
in ellipses
(and uncertainty that reminds me of nothing but death)
in periods
finality and ending
in semicolons
that god no one uses properly

and mostly
i want to stop seeing you in every
in every damn sentence i read


im really mad because
its midnight and im hungry
i shouldnt have skipped lunch
or dinner
ive eaten too much candy my stomach hurts
there is nothing poetic about that
i have eaten too much sugar because my anxiety loves sugar
and not real calories that my brain loves

im really mad because
i was supposed to be unbreakable
so the warranty said- good for one life
and i feel broken
because the bruises on the insides are much weirder and unexpected
id rather fall and break a bone than to know
the damage of my soul

im really mad because im wasted
im sober but ive wasted hours of my life today staring at screens
and goading myself into working
on the play that still isnt read
the paper that still isnt written
the expectations that are still left unfulfilled
cannot be reached

im mad because i care too much and i dont care
and these tidal waves hit each other at awkward angles
i feel dizzy
i feel sick
i wish i had taken more swimming lessons
i hate that i still am scared of diving
its not a metaphor but hey, if you want it to be go for it

im mad because my tongue tastes sticky sweet
because my life is radio silence
and void of the vicarious things that make the sweetness bearable
my bed is too cold
my body is too
96 degrees Fahrenheit average but i will love someone
someday with the fire that i do not have inside me

im mad because my night is far from over
because i wanted nothing more than to not be alone
because i have carefully plodded my way along but i still
hate the paths ive chosen

im mad because its midnight and it should be different

I Bleed, You Bleed and We Bleed the Same (Unfortunately)

did you know that when you cut yourself
i bleed?
that the droplets of blood form droplets of blood red tears
and everything burns because your pain is projected
ten fold
i cant breathe and i hope
i pray
youre not struggling for air

one time
a face asked me loudly
there really were a lot of why’s
my power of exaggeration is gone
i want to write better songs about you
but all my poetry is so ugly

i screamed nothing
the words are incapable of showing off the indelible feelings
stomach crushing
heart tearing realizations that somehow
when we were sleeping i sewed my soul to yours
and no
our souls never matched perfectly but we fit together

you move and i move too
only slightly more because im always trying to catch up
and that voice in my head that face
it screams louder it wants to know WHY WHY WHY
i cant let it go
let him go
let it all go but
i cannot reconcile that letting him go would be
myself go and starting over
i am not good at starting over i am not good at questions with no answers
i am only good at empty sheets of paper
and scribbled out answers to the question
and anything that ends in why

because decision and decisive ridicules me as much as
3 a.m. ridicules me
it spits in my face it has a demonized version of a laugh
it hurls its insults
it spits some more and i just think about sleeping
and falling asleep and the cycle continues as the face in my head screams
questions and my head scribbles out answers
you shift and i shift and nothing needs to make sense
things just need to end
in concluding sentences and periods

Because I Still Care

You know exactly who you are because you only feign stupidity sometimes
in the moments it will make other people laugh
only because you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.
Please pretend I never said that.
I need something to latch onto in this sea of misunderstanding and non communication.
Why am I waking up in the middle of the night feeling lips that haven’t kissed me in months??????
Why am I still
asking myself these
redundant questions/am I still human?
You broke my little cold heart into 65 million little cold pieces
that people think are pebbles so they kick them around,
you reminded me that somewhere in the depths of myself
I had real feelings
hungry echoes of better love poetry.
Why would you remind me than casually walk away?
would you spit in my face nonliterally
and make it so my chest literally
very literally
hurts and my body literally
very literally
never wants to get out of bed in the morning..>…>?
Did you know that I was human when you broke me?

I want to throw up today and forever because I don’t have you
as a person or as a thought anymore.
I stare at your face and I wonder how
HOW did we become so far apart and if I could would I change it?
Would I let myself be unafraid of your crystalline eyes and goofy smile?
I don’t know that I would,
you’ve always scared me just a little.
You made me smile and now
now I hate you because
shards of glass piercing my skin wouldn’t hurt as much
as your words resounding in my brainless head.
(I ripped my brains out when I knew you’d never love me).

I hate that the drops and dips of my stomach have been replaced
by a tightness that won’t leave me alone.
I hate that the quiet compliments you used to whisper in my ear
have been replaced by the lines of casual conversation we have always stuck to.
Your semblance of normal is caustic, I mean,
this is the worst thing I have ever written and I still hate you more than I hate this.
I am just really sorry that I cannot form real words
in the real world and that I miss you very
VERY very much.


i would jump of the cliff
into the abyss
if it hadnt already collapsed
here i stand
on solid ground and i am more afraid
of the elimination of the route of escape
i cannot run far enough
or fall fast enough
or bury myself quick enough
i am forced
into the present tense
and it draws me into it
i exist in the realistic canvas of this earth
i breathe in the scents of the people around me
i am a portrait but i convince myself
and others
anyone who will listen
that i am real
i cannot jump away and i am too tired to run
so i guess
for now
and potentially for always if i can commit to being here
i am here
for the worse the bitter and the hardness of the ground beneath my feet
and for the better
because i love the way it feels to
fill my lungs with air



i scream as if it matters
but i cannot stand the way it feels for me to be here
and you to be there
separated by nothing but the walls we have so precociously built
and so ostensibly believe exist

i cannot think of the what it means that you sit there and i sit here
by our own minds

i hate you

i really dont

but actually…..the feeling of hating you feels better
than an undeniable want for you

i hate you

i really do
i say to no one they think my fake words are real
i am fake because it feels better