if i were a boy
to be honest
i would probably do all the things you boys do -
i would **** girls
and take names

being a girl
if i had the same ability you do
i would **** boys
and take names

but i am blessed by my shortcomings
my chubby face
my awkward side profile
my angular nose,
my gender.

THE FALSE FACE OF THE AMERICAN DREAM IS THE FACT THAT WE LIVE IN A CLASS SOCIETY CREATED BY THE RAMBLINGS OF SOMEONE
tired.

in a land of false faces
we the people demand a standard that is not achievable -
not for our education but for our ****** egos.
perfection is a siv that will not hold water
a constantly crying child
that we cannot ignore
but cannot silence

in a land of false faces and fat stomachs
we carve out our bellies with knives
and turn our backs to the other girls in the school showers
we deem ourselves unlovable
by the vase a bouquet is placed in
by a face our soul is placed in

in a land of false faces
we are all a tragedy number

THE FALSE FACE OF THE AMERICAN DREAM
IS THE FACT THAT OUR
faces
we find
unlovable

why is it that every time a boy passes me in the hall
i feel guilty
like i owe something i haven't paid
like i ought to have something but i haven't taken the time to get up and get it -
embarrassed.

boy,
why does the back of your neck frighten me
why does the suggestion of your frame
make me wish i was not existing
what is it about you that is so
*******
scary

i am a goddess
a wisdom
a prose
and yet i cannot look normalcy in the face
you are nothing special
but you are enough to untie my laces

jiggle loose like a jigsaw piece
that never quite fit right
lost from another puzzle
in another box
looking for a similar shape

you'll go for one that is just a bit uncomfortable
if someone pushes you hard enough
it's a billion piece puzzle
no one will notice if one is a little bent in
to fit

i'm not meaning to be cliche
but you bent me in too many places
now i don't even fit you
you ******* tryhard

a familiar tightness and shortness of breath
slips into my chest...
college always does this to me.

it's not even the work.
i can do the work
like a prisoner doing his time
it's the people that i can't do.

why am i so socially awkward?
i am a triumph among those younger than me
but people my own age
make me feel like a snail
hiding in a shell in plain sight
where i could easily be stepped on.

i must sink into my comfortable stereotype
yes, that will help
i am a gamergirl who wears batman shirts
and plays assassin's creed in the library
move along, ugg boots.
nothing to see here.

i had this strange notion that new clothes would make people want me.
like a tripping over a new stereotype and taking it home to dry
would make people notice me
like my pictures on instagram
now that i can hashtag "gamergirl"
"nerdgirl"
"glasses"
"geek".

like somehow big bows and tight jeans
loose sneakers and earcuffs
and fake glasses
would finally sort me into the right file
with all the other people
like me (?)

like me.
are you like me
as in the clothes i'm wearing
the movies i'm watching
the games i'm playing
are you like me like the words i use
like the smiles i smile
like the imitation kim kardashian perfume that i buy (?)

i had the feeling that people would notice me
that hipster boys in starbucks would take a sideglance, then go for another peek
that boys from ivy-league schools
would ask for my number
that gamestop employees would stand too close to me...
and i was right.

but being right doesn't always mean you're happy
and though i am somehow now interesting
and attractive
and easy to sort into small plastic boxes
i feel
empty
poor
cold
materialistic

basically, i feel like every girl i have ever envied.
i don't know why i envied them.

they are not like me.

you don't like girls who sass back

you want a girl who'll follow you around like a sheepdog

cleaning up your scraps.

you don't like girls who talk a lot

or too loudly

you'd prefer meek with a dash of kitten sweater

and i don't have anything against kitten sweaters

they're ******* awesome

but i've got a huge problem

with meek

so you and me...

it's not gonna happen

the great dilemma:
not becoming our parents.

but it's genetic make-up
we're ******
either way
you'll end up being your parents
you can't stop it.

it makes all the impossible
possible
things you said you'd never do
you'll find yourself sitting in the middle of

my mom is my face
and my bad knees
and my anger
and how much i cry
she's the cuts on my arms
and the shape of my fingernails
the curl of my toes
my weakness for underdogs...
my mom's inside me
like a parasite

i will cut her out

i found you on the side of the road
like a bright, yellow leaf that just left its home
a shiny penny in the gutter
drowning in the street.
you didn't want to be collected
but good luck getting away without any feet
i won't let you leave
me.

if i ever become a mother
i will clip my wings
and do my best to stay grounded.
my mother -
a flightless bird
got away despite everything
but i will let you put me in a cage
if we have to
i will not
leave you

i promise

nothing lives forever
except hatred
when mother dies
everything she touched will smell of it
it will hurt to throw it all away
but it's better than living with something so repulsive
as hatred

he kisses ***** like he's dedicating babies
like somehow he's doing a great service
but no one really knows exactly what the **** for

he walks too close to me
up the hill
a married man
with three kids

he thinks it's fine to treat his wife like ****
in front of their friends
like he's exercising dominance over a dog
and exploiting how well it
obeys

a fourteen year old daughter
who has panic attacks when you drop a dish
or knock too ******* a door
or talk too loud
it sounds too much like
her father

i have never hated anyone more
than i hate this man.

give me a tickle
trip
taste
of what it feels
to have your face
an inch from mine

i wonder if i would still like your nose
or your smile
or if you'd like
mine

it would be so much easier if i could just click your face for a like
double click for a heart
in real life
i'd sit in a bus and spend all my time liking faces
or not liking certain faces
then it'd be clear for once what i think of you
and if a little drop down appeared that gave me the option to comment
and leave words across the bridge of your nose
like
"this girl is a ******* *****"
or
"be nice to her, her brother rapes her every night"
i think it'd help us all out
because words are now our only form of communication
can't do anything without 'em
if you're **** with words you won't make it
body language is on the back-burner

you don't understand a ******* word i'm saying
can't take the hint to leave me alone
i'm glad you like my face
but we can't communicate,
facebook boy

for being so obsessed with faces and books
we don't do much with either
can't understand smiles
for the life of us
take it the wrong way
90% of the time
i like faces
and i like books
but you only like them
together

i would like to write a cute little poem so i can post it on facebook
and have everyone tell me how adorable i am
how good at mediocre poetry i am
have them repost and like and comment
on my mediocrity
but every time i sit down to try
the word "****" pops out
and "****"
and
"*******"
and "cutting"
and "help me"
and "go to hell".

and no one on facebook would like that
they'd unfriend me
not that i ******* care
just that i have a hard time being adorable
no matter how many times people comment on my cute face
i am not a cute person
i'd cut you,
*****
forreal.

i almost wish i could be like my little sister
the prodigy
but **** prodigies, man

if you give me a few minutes i'll trick you into thinking that i enjoy your company
like a jester i'll flop around in my jingly hat
contorting to the contours of your personality.
i'll convince you we're best friends
i'll come see if you're ok when you're sitting alone
i'll feed the insecure monster in your ribcage lipstick and
"my god, that shirt is way too big for you".

it's not even that i don't like you or something
i do
it's just that i have no time but i pretend that i
do
and i like to help other people instead of myself
and
i know i'm about due for a relapse
and
i know that i won't tell anyone
and
i know i'll keep helping you
even though you'd never dream of doing the same for me
and
i know that this ******* *****.
but i have decided to be a charismatic jester
this is where my home is
and i don't have enough money to jump ship

put one more welt
onto the canvas my mother made for me
doesn't even bother me
i hope she feels it
somewhere
somehow
she deserves
to hurt as much as i do

i would like to line you all up
shake your hand
one by one
inform you that i don't need you
and then employ a large wrecking ball
to knock you over
one by one
so i don't have to look at your faces
any more
i get very angry
and then i cry
and cut my body open
it's your fault
i would like something to be my fault for once.

three people i love just called me
right after i screamed for someone to help me
my tears are falling in my mouth and suffocating me
i can't take this anymore
i threw out the knife, but that nail file
will do

help.

i know that i am hurting you
by staying away,
but mommy hurts me, too.
she cannot tell me that she doesn't give a **** for me
and then send me texts
telling me
she is missing me
praying for me
loving me
half an hour away
this time i'm the one that doesn't give a ****,
mom.

oh, little brother.
oh, little sister.
i know i am hurting you
i know that i can count the times i have visited you this year
on one hand
i know you miss me
please know
that i am sorry
i will try harder
i am not helping anything
by hiding

mother will see me
but i will not see her
she's the dragon in my dreams
as a child
encompassing everything i love in her scaled hands
and long teeth
holding them
away from me
i will get what i love back
that is a promise
even if i have to
****
things
like
me

daddies have it hard.

i am tired of reading poems about how much you hate your daddy
stop talking, please.
daddies
have it hard.

mommies get to be the nice ones
(if you are lucky)
get to hold the baby
snuggle her
tell her
she is loved
daddies must be hard
sometimes
daddies
have it hard.

even if they are wrong
you must allow for change
if you cannot, stop asking others
to allow YOU to change
it's not fair.

some daddies don't know
how to be good daddies
forgive them
do not
hate them
some daddies are like children
they need to be held,
too
sometimes

forgive them.
the world runs on forgiveness
and it hasn't been running for two years
you could make it all better
if you'd ******* try.

forgive
daddy

i am plugging my ears
i can't listen to you talk anymore
lalala i hum to myself
stop talking
please
i can't handle hearing you say it
again
restoration
isn't gonna happen
daddy stop
mommy's not coming back
lalala
sing me a song
you're the piano man
dad no one is going to help us
it's useless asking, asking, asking
no one will say yes
lalala
plug my ears
i don't want to hear
anymore

there are things in this world that aren't ******* fair
like children who believe they have ADD
and avoid dealing with what they really have.
like mothers who tell their children lies
about fathers
like children who adopt monsters that don't belong to them
personas that they try on like sparkly ballet flats
writing poems about being abused
and having ADD
and a ****** life
some children are wrong.
and i only know because i am their sister
children learn to tell lies
it's not their fault
i must remember not to blame them
but it is hard
there are people in this world who were truly abused
and you, sisters
befoul their anguish
with your wolf-cries.
i will never know how many times i must say this
but you weren't ******* abused
and you don't have ADD
and your mother is a ******* liar
i love you both
but i cannot listen
any more.

sometimes i forget where i am on the list of funny things that i say to you
to make you want me around.
sometimes i goof up and retell you a story
half true, half made-up
and i watch your smile glaze over
well,
at least you're still
smiling.

this social deviant rejects normal rules
or at least, she says she does
but truth be told
it hurts me just as much as any other self-conscious
self-inflicted
human being
when you don't seek me out
or you say
you'd rather hang out with her
than me.

i don't like admitting this kind of ****
it displays for all
that i am just a human
i like to think that i am more
but short-comings have short-fuses.

if girls are so good at painting their faces
i wish we could turn them loose on a real canvas
see what they really mean
when they paint those black lines
every girl is a painter
she needs a real canvas
da vinci is lurking behind those sultry lashes
trapped in the eyeliner-barbed wire
a concentration camp of cover-up
clipping their own wings
willingly
with eyelash curlers -
every girl is a painter.
i wonder what faces they would paint
if they stopped focusing on their own face
i wonder if they would still have clown-smiles
and slanted eyes

i am looking for the next van gogh
but he has camouflaged himself
and is dying in front of an empty mirror.

she's got a face like a 1990's beauty queen
high waisted shorts
hair pulled over the top with a miniclip
gun tucked in the back
miniclip
on the front of
her blouse
setting them up
knocking them down
converse allstars that she paid $50 for
grazing the rocks by the waterfall
that she poses in front of

dear 1990's beauty queen
you'd like to be innocent again
but your brown eyes
are locked and loaded
it's just a small trick of fate
that you were born in this decade
the girls here are machine gun prima-donnas
and you were born into them
your high-waisted shorts
won't let you out of it

i decided to take a break from snapping selfies
i'm a child of this century and that is our primary form of communication -
don't judge me
anyway, i've found that it's really not that hard
if you think you look ugly all the time it's ******* easy.

it's very hard to be a successful poet without being in love
and i haven't been in love since
....
maybe it was ryan
but i don't know if that was love or not
i think it was more like
wishful thinking
i have been determined to find my own bravado
ever since

i like boys that use pretty words
and think deep thoughts
but i would never want anything more to do with them
other than the small attraction i give sunlight and water to
every once in a small while

i am slightly worried about not being in love.
at my age
with my gender,
that is one's occupation
i can rightfully fail school
if it is in the name of love
they might even make a romantic comedy about me
if i do all the wrong things just because i am moonstruck

i would ask you to fall in love with me
to give me an excuse
but to be honest...
i can't be bothered.

i talked to a man from india
jilted at the altar
three times
by the girl he loved
because she was
"feeding her dog".
he waited nine hours in his tuxedo
"like an ***"
he said.
she wanted more
"gifts"
if she was going
to marry him.
depressed, he went to a *******
"where the real fun began"
got hired as a dancer
got paid to make women wet
something
he'd never done
before
most were married with kids
he felt bad at first
but his boss said
it couldn't be helped
get used to it
he became incredibly wealthy
many friends,
many gifts,
paid a high pension
didn't show his face to the girls
but showed other things
eventually he was banned
for being too
prosperous

...a man almost forced into prostitution
even when he didn't like it
a sad story
one that belongs on a blog somewhere
or in a poem

and it all happened
on imvu
welcome to the ******* internet
where being ridiculous is cause for farming liable sympathy

keep her clenched in your fist for an hour
she'll give in
cramped places
do that to people
kick her hard
while she lies
in front of you
baring her innocence
she'll give up
and that's what you want
you want submittance
admittance
of futility
you want her to say
that she knew she couldn't win
that she couldn't fight
that she knew you'd win
you want her to admit

that she is
lesser

it's not going happen.
i won't admit anything to you
out my ****** teeth
you try so hard to hurt me
you go out of your way
you're a blowhard,
and i am not less than you
you are just hot air
i am solid
i am not
less than

my anxiety makes me feel like someone has cramped me into a little box
and my lungs have shrunk
and i cannot help but tremble
and i wonder if the millions of other people
who are so afraid of existing
would crawl out
and sit with me
so we could try to make each other
braver
cut a lip
with a fist,
maybe

these melt-away anti-anxiety tablets
don't work well enough for me
the coiled spring in my chest
is threatening

i will collect all the words you miss-spoke
it's alright,
i like them.
sincerity comes easy to you -
taking into consideration how much effort it takes to talk in the first place
you figure that you might as well say something that's ******* honest.

i like people who have stammers.

give me that sweet summer
goodbye stain on your lips
and i'll give you
half my smile
so you'll keep coming back
for more.

my stomach is trying to **** me
it says
red you left me empty
three days
now you try to eat something
tough luck, *******
haven't you learned yet

i try very hard not to fall in love with certain boys
boys that think i am a ball of yarn they can string along
care free
i get snarled
too easily
might be
the ginger in me

i especially avoid all boys with guitars
my heart is a six string
and they've got the pick
i don't like that

never fall for trumpet players, either
the myth about them being good kissers is false

i like rough and ready boys
with dirt under their fingernails
and autumn breezes in their hair
they catch up those green fields
in their eyes
look at me with them
and i
can't resist
that one
for some ******* reason

everyone says
"get a boyfriend, red"
but there aren't any boys in this small town
that are like that
and dad says
don't fall in love with southern boys
...sorry dad, these northern boys won't do

my face is on my grandmother's lacy diningroom table
it used to laugh through the creaky hallways
and pounce up the wooden stairs
and lay in the creek
but now it is imprisoned on the table
with all the other relatives
who are gone
that my grandmother
leaves there.
she walks by them
dusts the shelves by the big window
arranges chairs
avoids my frightening grandfather
reads books
drinks her tea
stares at the ghosts of her granddaughters
seated around her diningroom table.
i didn't mean to haunt her
i am sorry
grandmother

i saved all the tea my grandmother sent me
in her vacant-expression birthday
easter
christmas
thinking of you
cards.
thinking of you -
that is all
happy easter -
that is all
happy birthday -
that is all
not even an automated smile
a pre-written well-wish
the most primal of cards
full of tea.
i open the tea
smell it
hold it
look at it
decipher it
grandmother,
you send me a blank card
with your and grandfather's name
and a little baggy of tea
could you not at least say
i am sorry
is this tea an apology?
you always spoke through tea
but this tea i cannot decrypt
i saw you just the other day
i didn't say a word to you
hardly looked at you
i watched you sneak a picture of me with your old camera
laughing with my friends
is this tea
i miss you tea?

grandma,
it's ok.
this wasn't your fault,
it was your daughter's
i do miss you
i will save the tea you sent me.

sometimes when i think about being skinny
i get worried that if i ever do
i'll be one of those ugly skinny girls
instead of one of the pretty ones
and that would be terrible
i mean
isn't the object of the game
to be the highest
in demand
and if that doesn't work out
what do i do?
get fat again?
shoplift my features from a twisted magazine
in the media maven's fist?
yeah, that's a good idea.

**the problem is not that girls or guys are ugly and need to be prettier
the problem is on the inside of people's faces
i have begun to realize that this is not all their fault
we are desensitized from a young age
and though we might try to resist
television, facebook, tumblr
flashes us a picture of an unhealthily thin young woman
and tells us to strive to that standard.
even if you mock it
the image is in your head
and you begin to make small comparisons
i don't know if we can change our thinking anymore
people try, it hasn't worked very well
but WE CAN CHANGE the images that are put in our mind
for the people
by the people
rage against the barbie doll machine.

i will clean my room tonight
and wonder if this is the last time
a man has to come and look it over.
maybe next time we will own this house
and i won't have to worry
about being kicked out
because we can't pay.
i used to own a big yellow house
an old one
with a green roof
and sunshine-smiles peppering the air
now it is a war zone
mommy made it that way.

i will find home someday
home is where the heart is
when i find my heart i will know
where to look
my heart piece is somewhere in that dungeon
i will take my sword and find it

***** with sticks
come in twos
like some sick
pair of evil ******* shoes
(the kind that gives you blisters)
it's a rhyming kind of night
which is weird
this redhead wants a fight
c'mere.

knock down
a sassyredhead
better dodge the rebound
stings like *****
on a friday night
this ginger was born to fight
i don't take **** from no one
especially when i'm in charge
i hit hard
even though i'm some ****** sitting behind a computer screen
killing monsters and other fake human being
-s
on a low budget rpg game
i'm still leading a ******* team
you being older doesn't mean
that i don't get respect
i'm your ******* guild master you **** -.-

the american dream:
a wistful wanna-be broadway star
dancing dewy-eyed through the streets of
streets
streets of
the street of -
PLANE CRASH
a white picket fence
meatloaf
on the table
in a magazine
the magazine
of a gun
a gun
on the table
locked behind
white picket
white pick
white
picket -
PICKET LINES
how to succeed in business
without entirely lying
american dream
the americans
scream
we want our
american dream
the tv screen
sold us
to walmart
one american dream,
please
american team
all american boys
the boys and girls club of
one nation
under
shallow water
american dream
it is what it seems
americans
dream
dreams
breaking seams
that hold us together
americans dream
americans die
only americans
allowed to dream
only americans
waste it

i have a thing for vengeance.

i like to watch people reap what they sow
i like to watch evil human beings eat **** for what they've done
i enjoy it.

and that sounds kind of ******* messed up
sort of
but at the same time
i love to see good, kind people
succeed
does that still make me bad?

my dad says that my gift of justice needs to be redeemed
that i have so much trouble forgiving people
because i refuse to give up the right to vengeance
that vengeance is the lord's...
i get that,
dad.
but i don't want to wait
for these ******* to die
before they get
what they've sent around
and i don't want to watch
the few good people on this earth
die before
they feel alright
for once

i am a fighter
i can't help but fight
someone once told me that's why i'm single
i said
*******, man

i think that doughnut is speaking to me
excuse me
i must go hear
what it has to say

i look at you like a broken kaleidoscope that i had as a child.
though it was broken
i convinced mom to let me keep it
because kaleidoscopes are ok to keep when they break
they're confusing and ****** up to begin with
the picture never made sense anyway
so spiderweb-y cracks aren't noticed
it still looks pretty
when you look through it
kaleidoscopes are really good at looking pretty
i could look for a long time
and not get bored
even when it was broken
it still looked
pretty

you are my broken kalediscope

yes
i did just call my cat
a *****-*** ***
because he was climbing up my bookshelf
trying to steal my **** again
don't judge me

i am wearing a purple hat
that someone crocheted
and i don't know where the **** it came from
i found it on the floor
of my bedroom
but i feel like jo
from little women
so basically like a badass *******
don't bother me
i've got an amy to take care of
...*****

i wish i wasn't so afraid of my forehead.

afraid i'll brush my bangs just the wrong way and someone will remark
"my god! that girl looks weird with her forehead showing."
afraid like i could change a part of my face.

i guess i could if i was one of those rich ******* on "housewives of ---"
or jwow on jersey shore
i could go shopping for new noses
and larger cheek bones.
like changing a feature of my face will make me more wantable
when it's the crap that comes out of my heart people don't like
instead

i wish i could bare my forehead
stick my ******* right up there for all to see
but i am afraid of my forehead

what is a forhead?
just a bit of skin
just a little forehead
that is what scares
this redheaded leopard

this is why lionesses hide in kitchens
majestic ******* that should be out there running things
this is why there are no women presidents
because we are afraid of
ourselves

some people are just plain *****-*** crazy
and i can't help feeling bad for them
but if i feel bad for too many people
all i do is feel bad all the time
and that just don't work
for this girl
some crazy people i have to let slide
i can't let them use me as a foothold
every time
footholds just get stepped on
and that just don't work
for this girl
that just don't
work