You know?
You know that pit?
The one that eats into your stomach
Making tiny pinprick holes
Every time you see
Their pages
And tweets
And snaps
And posts
That don’t include you?
You know that silence?
The one that follows the confrontations
You’re brave so you don’t sit back
And take their shit
No you stand tall and tell them how it feels
But every-time they still don’t hear you
And you are again the mat they step on
The reliable mat
That will always be there, no matter what
You know that anger?
As you block out them
And their noise
And their vibrant lives.
But when you do
You block out the
One part of yourself
You maybe
Liked?
You know that hole?
The one you crawled into
It was so dark
And warm
And comforting
You couldn’t see yourself
Or really anything
So why is it
That now you can’t seem to get out?
You know that girl?
The one who you knew so well
Oh you knew everything about her
She was an open book
An easy read
But now she’s lying at the bottom of that hole
With a pit and an anger and a silence
That is consuming her
From the inside
And she can’t get out
And she can’t get out
And she can’t get out
And she can’t get out
Without help.
My Poetry, My Blood
All the time, you talk about my poetry,
Claim it's always about you,
Especially the darkest depths of it
You acknowledge that,
Yet refuse to change
So, what's the point, anyway?
You speak about my poetry,
The words that run so deep,
Gushing like scarlet blood
Once finally exposed
You think it's all about you
Well, maybe you're right
Ding, ding, ding!
We have a winner!
The prize: your daughter's heart,
Resting in shambles
Depression
As I laid down for my seventh depression nap of the day, only thought bounced around in my head. I miss wanting to be awake.
I miss the overexcited stomach of butterflies I got in grade school every night before a field trip. How adrenaline would flow through my veins and endorphins would flow through my brain simply because I would get to meet baby goats the next day.
I miss the endless whispered converstations, stories, and laughs shared every time my friends and I tried to sleep. How we would stay up to dawn, making out bodies miserable simple because our hearts didn't want the fun to end just yet.
I miss staying up all night to talk over the phone to the farway lover. How three thousands miles couldn't stop our attraction each other and we felt invincible because of it.
I miss that. Where did it go? I think it fell somewhere between the cracks of the backstabbing, the break-up, and the heartache.
Being awake means I have to face all that. I think I'd rather be asleep.
The Hardest Thing I’ve Ever Shared...
I want to be honest.
I want to be free.
But, sometimes I can’t
because addiction has got a hold on me.
How did I get here?
Why did I let it go so far?
I ask myself “Do you even remember who you are?”
I told myself I’d never be that person, that I’d never risk destroying my family. But, somehow addiction got the best of me.
I knew it was wrong.
But now I want to be different,
I want to be strong.
I want my life to move along.
No more addiction
No more substituting feelings with things that don’t belong.
I feel like I’m bad,
but I want to be good.
Come on girl,
you weren’t raised in the hood.
You’re better than this.
You’re better than THAT.
Stop wasting opportunities,
that’s what you’re doing,
and it’s a fact.
This time actually try to get better
and weather the storm.
You want to find purpose,
but, this, this is not why you were born.
You’re here to be strong.
You’re here to be free.
But the white stuff isn’t going to let that be.
Let’s move on.
Let’s give that up.
All THAT will cause is for you to be stuck.
You can do this.
You can turn it around.
Don’t let this one thing beat you down.
Go to the meetings.
Follow the steps.
Beat the addiction.
Later, you can figure out the rest.
Go be free.
Go be strong.
Go be determined.
Move life along.
Stop staying you will.
Just go and do.
Because you know you can go any direction you choose.
I told you I loved you
I tell you I love you every day
In hopes you will say it back
I tell you with my words
So that you might respond with your lips
I tell you I love you every day
To make sure that you will one day believe
That I believe
I tell you I love you every day
Because truth always slips out
You pulling me close doesn’t linger long enough
To feel my heart throbbing the feeling
I tell you I love you every day
Because I know you will eventually say it back
I tell you I love you every day
Because I never told him
And now it’s too late
With you I‘m so scared to lose
I tell you I love you every day
Because I know now not to wait
Out Of Me
I’m standing on the edge of this cliff, screaming your name, and releasing all of these emotions just so I can move on.
I’m running and running until my legs give out and even with nothing left in me, I crawl to my feet and keep running.
I have to rip out every page in every notebook your name is mentioned in and burn them to ashes because I’m still writing about your love like it’s mine to have.
I have to take my heart and squeeze you out because if I don’t I will drown in the acid you left behind and as it burns I will still ache for your touch like its the only salve that can save me.
I need to get you out of me because I'm afraid if I don't, I'll be left holding nothing but broken memories.
head held down
with my head tilted to the ground, I miss life around me. at least that’s what hear them say somehow when not looking up the world seems to pass you by and you’re oblivious beyond the speckled flicks in the asphalt that glimmer in the sun. I never quite realized how much the world spun around me. how hours turned to days and nights to days, days to years. without looking up the colors of the fall never met my eye. the blooms from the spring never caught my attention. had I looked up I might have seen that he noticed me that when I passed by sometimes all his focus was lost. that when he caught a glimpse of my bent figure prostrated to the ground he wondered at me. he wanted to lift my face and see what was behind my eyes. what the profile was that covered by my straggly brown hair. I wonder if I had known sooner would I have looked up? looked up to see that even though sometimes though it seemed like he was moving on he struggled. that even though sometimes I could hear his laugh echo in the hollow air, that he was lonely. that he missed me? That sometimes the only refuse he took in the day was in waiting for my bent figure to pass him by. sometimes as he watched from the distance he wanted to tell her to lift her head. tell her to hold it high, tell her to be proud. but would he have loved her the same if she did that? maybe something about how intently she gazed at the ground brought them together. he didn’t know. how might I have acted had I known? some say its never too late but somehow for me, as usual, I managed to break the ideas and principles that we seem to be raised on. by the time my head was raised, he was gone. his eyes weren’t there to welcome me back to life. he wasn’t there to see what was behind my eyes. and somehow I realized that the world was just as hollow and empty with my head held high. somehow it felt more comfortable suffocating slowly underwater. it felt better for me to feel the pressure from the water burst my lungs. at least then the world felt more obvious. at least then there were no rainbows and sun to lie trying to convincingly tell me that things were going to be okay when everyone knew they weren’t. I had looked to the stars for answers and somehow all I had found in the cosmic atmosphere were jumbled patterns of unrealistic hope. and somehow looking down underwater it seemed to coax me back to reality and tell not to fight the realities of life. it told me not to fight it. it told me to let the water fill my lungs and not try to reach the top. he wasn’t there to save me anymore he wasn’t there to pull me back up anymore there was hardly any reason to resurface.
rip it out from deep inside
dread.
dread fills me from the inside out
and I am worried
my insides
might just come out...
come out like yours,
when they betrayed you
and your humble innocence.
“it’s good”
I say
but that’s a lie.
It's not good
It's really
truly
not good.
to be honest
I never thought I’d have to face this
I never thought
my senses would be assulted
to this level.
I feel my skin
squirm
my throat
sqeeze tight
and my stomach
turn.
this horror
this terror
this
raw feeling
raw smelling
and raw tasting
thing
sitting in front of me.
I can only imagine
how it felt
being
cut
open.
Stabbed in the back
after a lifetime of loyalty
only to have your insides
ripped out of your body.
No one should
ever
be forced
into the presence of this
stigmatic disgrace
“So, yeah, dad.
In conclusion,
I REFUSE
TO EAT THAT CHICKEN LIVER!”