“hi.”

it was the start.

“nice to meet you.”

it was sweet.

“you look beautiful."

it was happiness.

"will you go out with me?”

it was new.

“my childhood was bad.”

it was the past.

“i’ll take care of you.”

it was trust.

“why are you so late?”

it was raised voices.

“i don’t care!”

it was breaking.

“no.”

it was angry.

“…”

it was silence.

“if you would just talk to me!”

it wouldn’t change.

“i don’t want to do this.”

it was lies.

“what did I tell you?”

it was pain.

“why won’t you learn?”

it was constant.

“i didn’t mean it.”

it was more make-up.

“it was an accident.”

it wasn’t.

“i won’t stop.”

it was months later.

“i’m in charge.”

it was desperate.

“who did you call?”

it was sirens.

“what is wrong with you?”

it was you.

“i need to talk to her.”

it was through glass.

“i need to tell you.”

it was said before.

“i’m sorry.”

it wasn’t enough.

“i love you.”

it never was.

“i’ll miss you.”

it was the end.

“goodbye.”

it always had been.

I hate to be blunt 

  But you're a bit of a cunt

Even homie Frankie approves

  Of such a verbal stunt 

And I really hate to pry

  But that sparkle in your eye

Is lit from the booze 

    And your saddle up high

Try not to look down 

  Wearing that cardboard crown

Rock paper scissors 

   Each one will make you frown

I'll just leave out a bunch

  And express my main hunch

You're a cricket among lizards

  Deserving a direct cunt punch

For shits and giggles lol

I feel as though

for a very long period of time

I was fighting against my own life.

my best friend would always say to me

"everything happens for a reason"

and maybe it was my stubbornness

or maybe it was the fact that that

was probably just her excuse to hurt me

but for so long I refused to believe it.

because what was the reason for an 11

year old girl to be used by a boy

so he could get to her best friend.

what was the reason for

a 12 year old girl to get bullied

because she weighed more than the pretty girls

what was the reason for

a loving 13 year old girl

who poured her entire soul into someone

to get emotionally abused for over a year

because all she wanted was to be loved

but for so long I was fighting

and for so long I was tired of losing

against me.

it's like that saying

"you get what you get

and you don't throw a fit"

and I guess I had to learn

to accept my misfortunes

and my wrong turns

accepts my aches

tears

and bruises

and understand that this is my life

why fight if you could learn to love.

Sometimes I wonder if 'I love you' is just a placatory remark

strained from the metal ribs

of an answering machine,

from left- over words

and cut- up phrases

and emotions discarded

all shoved together with glue and paper

and painted bright red

and given some pink sprinkles.

I wonder if 'I love you'

is just a parasite,

drinking my emotions.

and some day

it'll be sick of feeding on my same monotone

happiness

and sadness

and madness.

so it will peel off me

with a good layer of my skin,

revealing some of the wooden- doll

joints and bones

that control me,

and it'll fall onto the ground

Somebody else will pick it up.

They'll hear those words

'I love you'.

And maybe they'll fall for it

                                              all

                                                     over

                                                               again.

It's coffee at midnight, in the only restaurant in town that never closes. It's the long rides on dark roads on nights when she's laughing and we are singing along to an old song. It's the earthy smokey smell on his jacket, that I've been wearing for far too long. It's the days we remember ladybugs and their stupid little song. It's good morning sunshine before the sun even comes out. It's good night for the fourth time at three am when she has to get up at four. It's mickey mouse pancakes, peanut butter cups dipped in whip cream, and heath bar cake. It's the fair on my birthday, and a night at home alone for her's. I sometimes wonder if I'll be like her. When I split pills and pour the powder down my throat because the sleep comes faster. When I had my first drink at 12 and my second not very long after. When I found that I fall for men older than me. She's done the impossible, double herself in a new body. Then there are things that are different. She had already graduated and aborted my brother by her 17th year. While I, have been held back by her fear. She told me to learn from her mistakes, that she showed me everything not to do. Often it feels like we are equals. She told me once that I had to be better than her. That I couldn't drown myself in men and drugs to make the world fade. I promised I wouldn't at the time, but I feel kindly cheated now. The younger me never knew how hard it would be. How easily I could just drift. One stranger then the next in my bed,  xanax clouding my head. No it was never meant to be easy. 

I am changing

It is slow

And it is painful

But it's something that I need

So I will fall

from glory

And I will scrape

My knees

And I will

Write more poems

That you will

Never read

So send my love

To Mother Nature

For she sent her love

To me

Weak and sad most of the time,

in secret—faking it, is making it.

Missing the high of ADD meds.

Missing the ease of checking out with a drink.

Missing the liquid borders of 420.

Missing a break from the happy-faking.

Tired,

but just of Life.

Dreams to escape the tedious Life,

Life of boredom and laziness,

Life of failure and broken hearts,

Purposeless Life,

weak Life.

Nothing planned goes right,

Nothing goes right unplanned.

Fucked in the darkness, by a knight or a monster—

Dreams, Demons and Angels all reside—

Inside me.

I don’t want to know the truth anymore.

I hate the sound of the Bible stories—

I hate the whispers of the spirit gods,

I hate the messages I cannot ignore.

I have no peace in this mind.

I have no peace in this body.

I have no peace in this land.

Sobriety gives no escape from Thought—

I dream to escape

Thoughts.

Many tones

of Thoughts,

Many pitches

of Thoughts,

Many personalities

of Thoughts,

Many pains and temptations of love and hatred.

exhausted—

with no shut off.

Left to listen to endless Thoughts,

loud, confused and broken—

Thoughts,

Until I stop breathing.

And maybe not even then.

On my way home I saw a woman. I was on the bus; she was walking down the street. There're beautiful and scary lilac butterflies on ’r skin, pale as a sheet. The bus stopped, waiting for the green light; she was limping, it seemed she might fall and die outright. My phone rang, but I couldn’t pick up at the moment, as I was watching her through the window. Suddenly she looked up and – nope, no way – she smiled, what a weirdo. My throat felt like I swallowed nails, my head drained, no thoughts, no feelings, but finally I could understand:

The lilac bruises on the skin so pale – that was my pain, my bloodshot eyes, my tears…

Thanks to his hand.

Me and him, we used to play hide-and-seek, the one to hide, of course, was always me. When he would find me, he would squeeze my throat, he would beat the shit out of me, ’coz I was a scapegoat.

Indeed, I was a good wife.

I obeyed,

Until I grabbed a knife and slayed.

The bus moved on, I turned my head to glance at that woman once more. My own reflection, same burns, same scars, same sores. She ran away – or I should say limped away – and I killed my husband, we were both hurt and swelling, but we were free. I knew, I did a bad thing, but when I screamed for help, nobody heard. Would you judge me?

Every human being deserves a hug and a tender touch – I’ve got none. So who are you to judge?

That bus carried me away, I looked through the window as I picked up the phone. It was mum.

“Honey, how’re you? Are you out, where’s all that humming coming from?”

My chest became swiftly ticklish and tight, all I could answer:

“I’m alright”.

We never look and ponder what is

The green canopy above our heads

Inside each leaf lies a machine

Where natures chemistry comes alive

Breath deep and feel your lungs

How they make your body rise

The air is fresh and new each moment

For inside the leaves the magic lies

And when the autumn brings bright hues

They bid adieu and fall to lie

For their second purpose to break down and replenish the soil where trees are found