Step, step away from the bus and
don’t ever look back. They aren’t
coming for you. Ever.
Even if they did, no one
would ever want someone
like you. No one wants you.
No one wants you.
No one wants you.
So you find yourself on
some God-forsaken beach with
a bottle of bloody-fucking vodka
and you wonder how the fuck
you got so messed up.
Then you drink and drink
until the haze of yesterday
wears away and then you stumble
back to your apartment
on Fifth Avenue and
pretend nothing ever happened.
Nothing ever happened.
Nothing ever happened.
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crepe paper soul.
she stood under their brilliance
like a mottled earth stands under the stars.
their laughter came and visited; and then,
it left with the sound of a thousand sorrows.
she stood apart, but she could still see.
she stood apart, but she could still hear.
she stood apart, but she could still feel.
she stood under their brilliance
like a moth is forced to flame.
she wore the souls of the burdened
like a coat made of fire.
what she saw was not joy.
what she heard was not laughter.
what she felt was not not delight.
her gift was not so much a gift
as it was a curse of perception.
if there was a moment in which she
would have ripped at the fabric and
released herself; it was as though there
were ten thousand.
but she would not. she would not.
Doubtless
You came without welcome,
wheeling and dealing and
filling me with yourself.
You strung me out and up
and all over the place,
but there’s no place for you now,
so get out,
doubt.
Bones
Why don’t you scream
just one more time.
Maybe I can feel it
just a little more.
Maybe down to my soul,
instead of just my bones.
Self
I sort of told myself today, "Self, you're gonna be okay." "Self," I says right to myself, "Be brave, be braver than yourself."
Mottled
They do not want the truth.
They want their things to be
prim and proper,
poised and perfect.
They do not want things as they are.
They do not want them
in the mottled gray they come in.
They want to see them shine –
in color; bright and brilliant and beautiful.
Feel.
You made me feel small,
and so I became tiny.
You made me feel brave,
and so I became courageous.
You made me feel hopeful,
and so I became an optimist.
You made me feel angry,
and so I became hateful.
You made me feel big,
and so I became fierce.
You made me feel alive,
and so I became passionate.
You made me feel,
and so I became.
bitter apples.
The things they say will heal you,
sometimes they only kill you.
They’ll give you a rainbow dream,
with letters and numbers and
secret meanings.
They’ll take everything you own,
just so you can keep on keeping on.
No, no. Don’t let them take you.
Don’t go willingly into their dark night.
You are more than their
bottom, bottom line.
You should have more time;
don’t let them take that from you.
It’s degree versus autonomy,
in a battle to the death.
Be free, sweet soul, be free
Don’t eat the fruit from bitter apples.
tell me.
Tell me,
does it burn the roof
of your bitter mouth,
those harsh,
cold, cold words you spout
when you look in those
dark brown oval eyes?
Tell me,
does it make you cringe
on the inside,
every time you tell that
little boy
(girl-man-woman)
that he
should, maybe, just go die?
Tell me,
how do you do it?
How do you get so damn
God-awful hateful
that you could dismiss
the plight of someone
you don’t. even. know.
based on false premises
and stereotypes?
Tell me,
how does it feel
to know that you could be
the person to pull
the trigger on the
hypothetical gun.
I hope you feel it,
someday, that burden.
I hope you know what
exactly what you’ve done.
the thing you could be.
I get it.
I get how you can want to
wrap your hands around his neck
and squeeze until the life
fades from his eyes.
I get it.
How you can have such
a deep seated hatred
that you can lose yourself
in a fantasy of the macabre.
I get it.
The way the alcohol burns
away the bad day like a
match that sterilizes the needle
just before a shot of magic pixie dust.
I get it.
The way that being selfish is
so, so much easier than being
selfless. Yeah, but the guilt –
that will eat you alive.
I get it.
And I have never been so afraid
of myself as that moment,
that I knew I understood.
The moment I knew exactly
what I might be capable of.
