There's a fridge filled with food.
It's fresh, not a bit rotten.
She cooks for me, she takes the time.
So that I'm filled before I'm starving.
After dinner they all sit
and do their quiet things,
but in a cozy way.
I'm happy to be in between them
once in a while.
Sometimes they cuddle.
She cuddles me a lot,
she knows how much I crave it.
I have never heard her yell.
She walks with me when I leave,
so that she knows I'm safe.
She's the safest place I've ever been.

I like the monday evening, as I walk home from my
replacement mother.
I eat something and go to bed.
I don't feel great and I don't feel terrible.
I feel all right, and that seems to be
the best feeling lately.

I stare at your words. What do I tell you?
That I do not love you, and I do not believe you love me?
That you left me, hurt me, ****** me up?
That because of your absence, this house is filled with medication?
About the nights I spend screaming and shaking,
or the twelve year old me who cut her wrists?
Do I tell you about my sister? My half sisters?
One is depressed and bipolar.
One is depressed and psychotic.
One is depressed and addicted.
Do I man up and tell you,
you're nothing to me. I hate you.

*Thanks, dad.

I have this thing for fathers.
The smell of a safe lap and
the feeling of strong arms
with big hands. Dark hair
on them, just like the first man
who ever hurt me, by
leaving me alone.

I have this thing for boys,
for virgins. The look in their
eyes when they see my skin
uncovered. Just like the first
boy who broke my heart.

I have this thing for cheaters.
who confess and than choke
in self pity.

For birds, broken wings,
fallen from their nest,
who I can offer my
life. Untill they fly.

We are all just collections
of reactions
to our past.

If you would read my poems
and ask what they're about,
I would lie
and say
not you.

Depression and Anger met.
The world thought Anger took charge,
maybe even forced Depression.
But it was not Anger,
laughing at the spattering blood.
LOOK AT THOSE BRAINS

Depression had a plan to die.
To find his freedom, meet his love.
He didn't mind killing for it.

Anger had a plan to ****.
To find his power, meet his strength.
He didn't mind dying for it.

But Anger loved Depression.
Depression didn't care.
As they walked into the school,
Anger wasn't angry.
He was doubtful and afraid.
Depression screamed at the top of his longues.
*TODAY IS THE DAY I DIE

You don't know what your words can do.
They hold me, spin me around.
From you might be in love to the smallest goodbyes,
rolled I forth and back chasing the words.
They ooze out your lips, right through me.
I'll do whatever they say.
I can crawl for you,
cry for you,
drink with you,
ride on you,
just to hear your words,
fall down my chest
and say
*Bye, honey

Around her
I'm the only one
who looks like him.

There's something about the air in here.
Heavy, pulls us down.
It smells like her depression,
my anxiety attacks.
Endless fights and un-won struggles.

I've been waking up,
covered in sweat,
not remembering my dream.
Except for those eyes,
they come back.
It's like they watch me in this house,
through hers.

He was lying on top.
I could feel his arrogance while his ***** was dripping out of me.
His **** had turned into an ugly, small piece of wrinkles.
The smell of him that I liked so much before,
was now brutally vanished by the smell of sweat and our juices.
I made clear to him that he had to go, so he left.
All I could think about was how much much I missed her.



This morning he playfully hit me with his umbrella.
Be nice.
He stuck out his tongue as if he was eating me out and said.
You like it when I'm mean.
I almost threw up.

Her words keep echoing in my head.
Can I tell you something?

We were half asleep and slightly drunk,
our fingers strangled in eachother.
I nodded,
and she told me something that made my heart race.
I'm so glad you're in my life right now.
I blushed, forgot to breathe.
I feel so much better now.

For a moment there, I couldn't speak.
So I kissed her on the cheek.
And I've been wondering for the last few weeks,
why I did not choose her lips.

If I could inject your attention,
I would never have enough needles.
My nights tend to become a chase for the rush your hands on my thighs give me.
I jump and crawl and I am proud to be your marionette,
but my waiting will not be patient untill you pick me up.

Use me.
I want to arouse your ego when you lack somebody better.
Please, let me feed you my strength.

Maybe I should just stop shaving my legs.
Everytime I do, somebody doesn't show.
I'm really starting to question my theory about me choosing bad men
and starting to believe there 's no such thing as a good man.

I don't know what scares me the most.

The loneliness or the freedom.
Thirty-one days are a lot when you have no obligations.
Nothing to complain about, I'm not used to that.
For the first time of my life I can wake up,
ask myself,
"what do you want to do today?"
And what if I don't know?
What if I don't like myself,
when I have to spend a month alone with me.
What if I'm a bad person?
Or nobody will miss me?
Forget about me and why they liked me.

What if I find out where all my pain comes from.

I have five sweaters of him in my room.
Because he never says no to me.
He lit my cigarette once,
when I was bathing and my hands were wet.
He taught me how to cook, how to climb,
how to like peanutbutter.
When I feel like ****, he calls me.
Because he feels there's something wrong.
He tells everybody I'm his daughter.
Even when my sister is around.
He tells my mother to man up.
And my friends to try acid.
He likes every single boyfriend I have.
Never thinks I'm making bad decisions.
He takes me with him to France.

I love him more than anybody in this world.
I don't need a father. I have him.

The first day we met
she wrote about me in her diary.
She liked my shoes
and that I smoked too.

They had warned me about her.
Stories in the paper of a young girl in a coma.
It fascinated me.
Nobody thought we'd stay friends.

But we did.

This one time, she snapped at me.
I made a promise to myself that night.
I would never forgive her.

But I did.

Lately she's been seeing things.
Nobody else can see them.
A fake smile of mine, a dishonest joke.
It makes me feel secure.
Last sunday she kept saying
how good I looked that day.
It makes me feel beautiful.

The chances are we'll grow apart.
Never think of one another.

**But I like to think we won't.

Those eyes.
No white at all.
No person behind that look.
Just pure insanity.
Hands shaking.
Throbbing veins.
Sweat.
He told me I'd better leave.

I still don't know if he was high on something.
I can't believe a person can look like that sober.

Back in the car, I couldn't cry.
I didn't understand.
On our way home he called my sister.

You're never going to see me again
It's all your mother's fault.
She never talked about it.

I went to sleep, I needed rest.
Because the six months after that
I was not going to sleep a lot.
Afraid that my own father would come
get us
take us away
do terrible things to us.
I never talked about it.

He didn't kiss me, he gave me a kiss.
A sweet smelling present, light and quick.

He didn't push his tongue through my lips,
no hands on my ***. No biting.

It was a kiss.

The kiss I saw a little boy give his baby sister when she started to cry.
The exact same kiss my grandmother gave to the love of her life,
on his cold, white cheek. Their last kiss.

Today I heard two men talk about how their daughters changed their lives.
One of them said he would never leave his life with her,
no matter how hard it can get.
The other one agreed.

I wondered, how could he?

She let my hand lay in hers
as she tapped it firm and rhythmal.
I knew I needed this moment with her,
but could not look her in the eyes.

She started.
You think you don't deserve true love.
I smiled. I'm such a walk-around cliché.
You put on this act of *** godess
because you feel that's the only way to get male attention.
Now I just sound like a *****. I'm not that weak.
You think every man will leave.
Boo-hoo, ******* bridget jones's diary
Because he left you.

That hit me.
Suddenly I was crying.
Not just tears, it was crying at its fiercest form.
I was howling,
every gram of pain dripped out of me.

She held me.
I felt clean.
I repeated after her.
Even though I'm afraid of being left alone again
She kept tapping.
I accept myself
I looked at her
*and I love myself

I am a hurricane.
My world is this ***** of emotions
on a saturdaynight with the vague taste of ***** and caramel.
All of my relationships smell like bodyfluids
latex with the fake taste of strawberries or chocolate.
My last wednesday consisted of two jobs, two bottles and no sleep.
It's how I like my days.
The people who were supposed to raise me snorted more than I ever will.

I am a hurricane.
In my eye, you stand.

Your poems. your words.
They shiver me, my spine weakens.
Your details, your roughness.
My mouth waters. My hands contract.
Your sentences content no fuss.
You're writing truth. You're killing me.
My eyes conclude. My lips unlock.

How I'd love us to use eachother,
feed our ego's with the taste of skin
take advantage of these stirless bodies,
but your words are all I know.

Why don't you ride him?
Because you're no ****?
You spread those legs and moan, but your pants stay on.

Why don't you let him?
Because you're not in love?
His teeth on your hard *******, your hands dig in his lap.

Why are you holding back?
Because he won't respect you?
In your mind he's thrusting inside you, you scream and turn and gasp.
But you tame yourself and walk away.


*I'm not letting society tell me who I can or can not ****.
Call me a *****, but I came ten times last night. And you wish you did too.

I used to believe in love the way I believed in a ******* rabbit,
hiding eggs all over grandma's garden because jesus died.
Now I know, my grandmother hid them, rabbits taste delicious and jesus wasn't even born.*

Love is selfishness.
It is impossible to love one, without wanting them to love you back.
To give time and attention to you and you alone.

There's no such thing as unconditional love.
We fall in love with one's attention in stead of one's personality.
We don't feel attracted to one's body, but to the feeling that body gives ours.
We do not love people. We love security, affection.
We want to feel wanted and loved.
And when we don't, we blame the one we never even cared about in the first place.

We walked past the girls in the red lights
Looked at their bodies and judged their ****, hand in hand
I wondered if they would take women, or couples
You got mad
"Do you want a ***** to go down on you?"
Apparently, you did.

I planned a holiday with my friends.
I would be living on the edge of coma for ten straight days.
Excited I told you the news.
You cried in my arms.
"What if they touch you, and you can't say no?"
Apparently, you couldn't.

I went to see a pro for the first time.
It scared the **** out of me.
Finally admitting my problem.
You laughed.
"Babe, are you a little coocoo for cocopuffs?"
Apparently, babe, you are.

My first poem was about you.
I bet you can't remember. You promised me you'd come visit me that summer.
Because you missed me.
I was about about five years old. At that age I still believed in promises.
You never came.
In fact, I never saw you after that.

I saw fathers around me.
Carrying their children on their shoulders.
Mom couldn't, she's not that strong.
I saw them, kissing mothers, with their children in the middle.
I kiss my mother. She needs it.

Once, in class, I wrote your name in my notebook.
With the words 'I miss my dad'
Got detention for messing up my homework.

I think about you dying. And I wonder what I'd feel.
I hope your ghost will also never keep his promises.

Anything, to feel nothing.

I used to wake up, six in the morning. Just enough time to smoke one before class.
Made me feel nothing for about two years.
Till my chimeras found me, through my buzz.
Tried pills, didn't work the way I planned.
First time in my life I felt even more than I was used to.
Got scared.
Maybe there is no medicin.
So the shrink gave me some medicin.
Made me numb for about six months.
Untill I lost my believes in placebo.
Tried ******* my feelings out.
Dug up some more issues.

And now, I've been sitting here, for the last two hours.
Staring at my wall.
It tells me in a foreign language that I am strong.
I painted that ****. I believed in it.
I'm not a bit stronger than the substances inside me.

I am falling in love again.

This is me, self-destructing. I will lie in front of him, naked, look into his eyes the way he wants me too and whisper in his ear the things he dreamt about. I will touch him, wherever he wants to be touched, just so he will stay the night, maybe even come back next week, when his **** wants to fill something up. And I'll be that for him. I will be that ****, but I'll be the best **** he's ever had. Cause that's the only thing I'm good at when it comes to men. I cannot be myself with them. I cannot make them fall in love with me, or make them stay. I can **** them off and hear them say that was the best ******* they've ever had. But when my anxieties kick in, they aren't here.

I am falling in love again.
Please, do it different this time. Please just walk away.

I know you didn't mean to lock me out last night,
and you were just a little too drunk and forgot about your daughter.
But it seems that you're the only mother in this town, who ever did.
I also know, you don't mean it when you say those nasty things.
You don't think I'm a failure, and you do love me.
But still it hurts to hear them, mom.
I understand you've always worked hard for us.
And now you need some time for yourself.
But you see, after seventeen years you can't just stop being a parent.
I still need you sometimes.
I know she always needed your attention more than I did.
I know I was the quiet one, with not that many problems.
But mom, the only reason I was never loud, was for you.
And I did need your attention, your time.
I was scared too, and sad.
He left me too, mom, and you keep forgetting.

I am too loud.
Too energetic.
I expect too much. It's so selfish.
I'm lazy.
Don't do **** around the house.
I'm too much of a girl and too little of a lady.
I'm too touchy.
Too scared of rejection.
When I'm asleep, I make noise and move too much.
I loose or break something every ******* week.
When I'm drunk, I think I'm so much tougher than I actually am.
And I'm such a bad friend.
A terrible daughter.
A despicable girlfriend.

You think you're ******* perfect.

I don't know. Either you gave me a million kisses. Your lips barely touched my skin, but I felt them. Oh, I felt them everywhere. Or you grabbed my neck and stuck your tongue inside me. And I just excisted in that moment, guided by your mouth. I can´t remember if you held my hand and I felt comfort, or you pinned my hands against the wall, and I felt passion. Did we make love or sins? I seem to keep forgetting, what is lust and what is tenderness.

Get up girl, don't harm yourself
Dry your salty face
Fix your make-up, grab some clothes
Look for a little change

Go out the door, into the city
Wait on the corner for one's help
Use your big eyes, the sweetest voice
Or be tough and try it yourself

Now find a place with a little peace
Ignore those staring looks
Sit down and light a cigarette
You know what's left to do

Load it, twist it, light it up
Slowly breathe her in
Close your eyes and clear your mind
It's okay to let her win

Don't think about what's happening
For now there's no more pain
You're not really alone, girl
Cause you've still got Mary Jane

Her warmth will fill your body up
Your troubles turn to dust
You think of what your tears were for
But you magicly forgot

Now go home girl and rest your head
It's been a quite hard day
And if tomorrow's harder
There's your secret runaway

I'm afraid.
Because I know me, not you.
I've seen my choise of men, and I know after today,
the way you kissed me, made me laugh
kissed me, made me laugh,
that I will fall in love with you.

I'm afraid because you're pretty.
And because most men cheat, especially the pretty ones.

I'm afraid I will forget all of this.
The pain, the healing,
and that I will eventually trust you.
Give everything I have, just like I always do.
Loose myself in your approval, love you more than I love myself.

I'm afraid that there,
at my weakest point,
you will be just like them.

There's this one thing I can't write about.
This fear
I think he started it in me
and they have made it grow
Untill this moment
Because you know,
sometimes
I think I lost my mind.
And within time I will loose all that's left
No control
No power
Sometimes I think I see things moving
Sometimes I think I hear things different
different from before
And from how other people hear them
But I can't explain
Not how it feels
Not how I feel
What if I'm allready there?
And this isn't real
Just a dream
or hallucination
What if I lost my mind allready?
What if I will?

Sometimes I get so positive
I scare myself to death.
I see beauty that does not excist
and I feel loved
by people who have never loved anything before.
I have fallen for the most terrible men,
I felt at home in the most hatefull families,
and now I look at you
and I see the best in you
even though you never did.

I'm a victim of my own optimism.

Sometimes we do things
And we can't even understand why
But we do them
And we can never un-do them
So we wait
For time
To make it look less important
For love
To make us forget

I did something
And I couldn't even understand why
But I did it