You know?
I've mapped out every situation
In which my life
Could end.

From work,
To class,
To daily tasks,
I've thought upon it.

The easiest time to
Off me
So to speak,
Would be those last few days
Between Christmas and New Years.

But even in those,
Your odds are worse
Than you might have thought.

For you see,
I might not look it.
But, I have persons
Depending on me.

In fact, nearly every
Second
Of every day.

I am either
Responding to emails
Or
Responding to calls.

Yes. Its funny, when you think about it.
But if I went missing
Approximately, 211 people would fall.
[Not including the dog)

Yes.
She might be annoying.
But shes incredibly In tune
To me.

When I whimper,
She cries.
When I scream,
She whines.

Yes, it's rather funny.
You see?
But if I went missing,

In fact the moment
I stopped breathing,

I'm pretty sure,
That my mum
Would somehow know.

So then,
Yes.
Its rather funny, isn't it?
If I disappeared for
Only a moment

Not only two
But three individuals
Would search for me.
(Not including the dog.)

I know everyone says that nowadays.
But I swear I'm not sexist.

I have to be feminist, right?
How could I not be?
I'm a female afterall.

I just sometimes agree that
I should keep my head down.

I just sometimes feel that
I shouldn't talk too loud.

I don't always think
I should be
Only seen and
Not heard.

But hell, I don't want to
Take their rights away.

Afterall, it's a transaction
Right?
That's capitalism,
Right?

If I have more
Therefore
You have less.

So please.
Let me just help the human race.
Since you guys can't
Give birth.

The factory is open for business
I'm just a dairy cow.
I don't want to take away your freedom

I just want to exist
On my own.
I just can't
For now.

I swear I'm not racist,
I know everyone says this.

Over and over and over again.
Especially with some ****
Like trump ruling.

In fact, I've really just got ADHD
Or was it ADD?

Did you see that butterfly?
It's wings were blue and normally they're white.

But did you know that the squirrels around here
Actually carry the
High medieval ages genetic formula
Of the black plague?

Yeah, that disease.
It's the one that wiped out basically
most of the world.

I think that's part of why
We associate black things
With bad things.

Like that might be why black cats
Are killed so much more often
Than whites

Or why no one likes the colour black
Unless you're trying to get back
At your white suburban parents.

In that case, let's get you some sad poetry
Or songs
Don't forget to get a piercing
Or tattoos
Maybe something in the arms?
Oh! And you have to always wear black
Even when it's socially
Inappropriate.

Aren't there still situations in America
Where black isn't okay?
I'm about 93.4% sure that's true,
But hey. I've got a made-up mental disorder named
ADHD.

So isn't every thing free game now?
If it helps,

I'm half Cherokee

My sister died in the womb

Do those hardships that I have
Absolutely nothing to do with
make me better at talking
about discrimination now?

Should I say I have a cousin that married
Someone of a darker skin colour?
Is that better?

Or should I just admit
That I can't physically Or
Emotionally understand
Your hardships.

I can only sympathise.
I cannot emphasize.

I can only protect.
I cannot recollect.

Simply because I am the colour of snow
Or even fresh sheets of paper.
And you're the colour of
The grim reaper.

But trust me, please.
I understand it gets harder and harder
To just breathe.

So this is our first tree!
Its the most scrawny and skinny thing
I've ever seen.

But It's lovely as can be.
To me.
Especially with an ornament for all three.

When we flicked on those lights
I might have said I felt a bit of delight.

Forgive me for rhyming,
We just happened to do this
At about 4AM this Saturday.

I'm a little sleep deprived.
But that's actually normal for me.

What's not normal,
Is that he turned
The lights on
This past Sunday.

And slept with them
Ever since

I guess that's love for you.

I shut my eyes,
Lids wired tight.

And breath.

Breathe.

I breathe all.

When they open,
I know.

I will conquer all
And smile
Whilst I crush their
Skulls.

I am trying
very hard
To have a holy-joly Christmas
This year.

I want to smile
And laugh
And cheer

I want to feel the warmth
That Christmas tree lights give.

I want to put out cookies
For an obese old man
To enjoy

I want to sing
And dance
And Carol

I really do.

I understand that you have friends
Friends you didn't want to see
When you thought you had to take me.

I get it.
I really do.
Sometimes I'm a

Downer.
A loser.
You might say,
I'm the
Weight round your neck.

Trust me.
I understand it
Quite clearly.

But that doesn't mean
I'll appreciate you
Leaving me at your
******* mother's

Whilst you visit.
She gives me these looks.

Looks that my animalistic love
Understands as
Bad.

Looks that carry "I'm so sorry."

And I don't want to see
And I don't want to hear
And please, please, please.

I just want to go home.



But you took the car.

Hi!
It's me!

Please, keep laughing!
Let me throw in
A joke or two,

Oh please!
It's my pleasure
It's at my expense, afterall.

But, please.

Just give me a moment,
Just to recharge.
A moment's all I need!

I just need
To curl into a cube.
Just for a second.

I just need to sob!
And before you know it,

I'll say,

Hi!
It's me!
And I'm so happy to see you!

Let's laugh and chuckle,
It'll be a gaffe!

You tell me to call,
With a smile.
To just pick up the phone,
If I don't feel quite right.

It's a lovely gesture.
But I think you and I.

We both know.
Don't we?

I wouldn't dare touch
A single number
For you.

I know that you're just a dog
But every time you whine,

My ears perk up.
In the most peculiar way.

I like to call it,
My offical
Mom-spidey-sense.

It's how I know which whine
Means what.

It's how I know when,
Your teeth hurt
You want to play
You need water
You just want to snuggle.

I know you're just a dog.
But, God.
I wish you were human.

If you weren't just a dog.

Well then,

I wouldn't have
To watch you waste away.

I don't believe in Heaven..
And I'd like to believe that if there were
Hell is so much more fun.

The priests said so
Since homosexuality is a sin
And your mommy sinned
By existing.

My apologies.
If I've doomed you somehow
But your dad is straight

And his grandmother is
Reigious.
To say the least.

I've come to the conclusion
That if there is a Heaven

You're probably there.
Maybe.
Hopefully..

Try not to judge me.
I was your mom, afterall.
Once upon a time.

Say a prayer, huh?
I'd love to meet you at least one time.

I know what they said
But

It's a lot harder
To separate myself

From what
Escapes me.

Bit by bit,
Tissue by flesh

It's not enticing
And I know the doctors said

She wouldn't know
She didnt have a brain just yet

But I do
And it's burning
With non-descript
Condemation

Allow me to bend
At the knees.

Allow me to weep.
Uncannily.

Over a basin,

A nearby water source.
Outside of my own.

I could be compared to

Those giving birth
Naturally.
Maybe.

I quite honestly Don't
Particularly,
Give a flying ****.
It's not about you.

But understand this
I am not over
I am not ended

Unceremoniously.

I am whole,
Though I am missing
Parts and pieces.

Lungs.
Bones.
Brains.

A newborn heart.

Hungry mewling
Whines.
Cries.
Tinkling laugher.
Unending diapers.

I lack those.
But still I am whole,
Even though I am only one.

I am whole.
And I need not
Nor want
Anything more.

I am whole.
As I am.

I have not ended.
I am not an uninhabitable
Husk.

I am me.
I am whole.
Just as I am.

Just allow me
To Weep
For a moment.
Just one.

I think
I can get over this.

I think.
I can see the light.

I think
I'm okay losing interest
In the things and people I once loved.

I think
It's best if you leave.
I still have my bottle.

I think
I love being an extra
In my own Hollywood
Motion picture.

It's relaxing.
Enticing
And yet also endearing.

I think
This is all for the best.

Me and my bottles?
We're fine without you and yours.

There is a hole
Where there ought to be more.
One huge fishbowl

I often relate to the glorified
punch-bowl

You can find me anywhere.
At your average party.
I'm just jungle-juice.

Everyone, hear hear.
Take a scoop of my soul
It's just liquid love

In fact, it's free for the taking
So please,
Give it a squeeze.

Try it.
You might even like it.

One huge alcofall
It's a bit of a saccharine
Taste.

It fades and the seconds we take
Are revolting.
But so rewarding.

I truly do.

I admit
One-hundred and ten percent
I submit.

You are better.
Stronger.
Faster.

I am a mere counterfeit
On your behalf.

A piece he tried to shave down
Just to fit
The hole he cannot bereft.

I submit.

Please take him and leave.
Theres no need to convince.

I am a misfit.
Theres no need to requit.

I am so tired.
I just want to lay down
And rest.

So please.
I submit.
Please take him and go.

Please,
Dear God. Woman.
Just go away.

We're happy.
Sort of.

We love each other.
I promise.

We're struggling, I know.
But, not in the way you think.

Let me assure you,
You're his past.
There is no room for you.

We have suffered loss,
But we can heal each other,
Without you.

I'm sure you're hurting.
I've been there.
I know each touch burns,
And every kiss scars.

But, Please.

I beg you.
Just go the **** away.

All you're doing is hurting
Two broken people.
We could have been three.

Please. Please. Please.
Just leave us,
Just the two of us.
Leave us the **** alone.

I know we only had two months together.
At the most.

But, please.
Know that your father and I loved you
With all our heart.

It killed me.
To pull your remains out
Piece by piece

We loved you.
I promise.

I scratched my skin but all I got was nail polish
Acetone
Formeldehyde

I scratched my skin trying to find you
Iron
Nitrogen

I scratched my skin
But all I got was
A bandaid from my kin.

When you take away
The Sick
The Broken
The Hurt
The just Barely making It

What am I supposed to be now?

Please.
I need to know.

I know that I do not walk alone.
There are so many people
That have walked alongside me
these past years.

But I also know that
each step I take
is on hallowed dirt.

My heavy feet strut
upon the heads of freshly
laid corpses.

They are the bodies  
of those that felt the
need to sacrifice for me.

Weary backs carry me
thru the fog.
Gnarled oaken fingers point
towards my goal.  

And away I go
Plodding atop legs
which once leapt
bounds around me.

I've been told I'm too
Quiet.

I've been told I don't
Speak
my mind.

I've been told I need to be
Loud
to be heard.

But I've never been told
Thank you.

I've never been told
Please
either.

I have come to realise that I am
One of those kind of people

The kind that are forever
In the background
Of everyone else's photos.

Wool.
It's so constricting.
Binding.
You could pull
       scream
           cry.
Yet.
It'll never give you a moment's weakness.

I am wrapped in wool.
     Legs.
      Arms.
All wrapped round and round
      in my own yarns.

Round and round we go,
stitches pulled so tightly,
I can never rest.

I am invincible.

Tick-Tock
          Let me show you your clock
                  Tick-Tock
                        So many hours I've hacked off
                          Tick-Tock
                             Oh no. You've gone and wasted it with all that balk.

I know you'll never see this.
I know it wouldn't help anyway.

When you said goodbye,
I didn't realise what we'd done.
I didn't realise what I'd done to you.

I know that I should be the one
Angry.
Scorned.
Broken.

You left me.

Remember?
And yet, I'm relieved.
We were puzzle pieces that simply didn't fit.

For two years you and I were...
Well, you and I were We.
Planning a life that
you snuffed out with five words.

I'm breaking up with you.

Houses, rings, vows.
What kind of schools we'd put our kids in.
Where we'd retire.

You're the one that said goodbye.
You're saying it was my fault.

I know.
I knew then too.
I know I didn't? Couldn't?
No.

Wouldn't.

I know I wouldn't Love you well enough.

And for that, I'm sorry.

I think there are some
relationships which were doomed.
Doomed before you'd even begun.  

Some that you should not
have jumped so quickly
at the chance to be loved.

Some relationships where you
should have become friends
before lovers.

Maybe then you'd realise that
you were better off
Friends.
Strangers.
Alone.

I can feel myself getting
scared, you know?

Not that I'm scared of you,
or of us

But that I'm getting scared
of what I'm going to do
when I can't turn around and see you.

I don't want to feel like
the core of my soul
dropped out from under me
just because you're a
couple thousand miles away.

I need this distance.
I need to push away from you.
Just a little.

I need to feel whole again
and I'm sorry for that.

I really am.

We lay in bed at 4 AM,
planning out the future with
giggles and warmth.

Theres stories of
our  childhoods.

Full of rosy cheeks
and the stupid mistakes
we made inbetween the sheets.  

But our favourite story of mine
is how we couldn't realise
that we were
so close
and yet so far
from that stupid happily ever after.

"Your lips are so soft."
You said to me,
after our first kiss.

You nearly shouted it,
even though we were so
close that you could've whispered.

It was like
your mouth
and your mind
couldn't deal with it at the same time.

Your conundrum
might've delighted me.
Just a little.

Enough, anyway,
that I kissed you again.

I don't like to lie,
and I'll be the first to tell you that.

It's just something about fabricating a memory in someone else's mind that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

All that I can liken it to is,
stepping into another person's brain
and smacking everything until it rearranges into the way that I want it to be.

But, does it ever stop me?
No.

It never stops me from telling someone
to have a lovely day,
that I'm honestly not judging every word they've said so far.

It hasn't stopped me from telling him
I love him too.  

It's like a broken faucet that I can't shut off,
I mumble the words without an ounce of consideration
for the weight he holds them to be.

But those are little white lies, right?
They're designed to make the other person feel better
and sometimes people need a lie to feel better.

So I tell myself, it's okay.
He needs this.

Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?

With every step,
you and I
We make our beds.

In the piney mosses
that grows in the cracks
of tired sidewalks.

Near the nest of peels
and fallen flakes from
age old graffiti.

We walk against  
forgotten faces
of decrepit buildings.

You and I
We lay our heads here.
To dream of a world gone by.

I take a deep breath in,
and let it out.

I'm safe here.
The blankets are warm,
I'm cocooned in the crook of your arm.

I worry I'm happy enough to disappear.
That I might somehow transform,
and lose this thing that I absolutely adore.

I let a slow breath out,
and took a deep one in.

All is well once more.

I love you, he grins.
I love you too, she smiles.

Why do you love me?
He asks.
And she blinks.

She goes quiet,
carefully considering each phrase
churning them round in her head.

Not because of a sudden onslaught
of twirling adoration.
Or even a hint
of tumbling affection

Nor because of a pure
strangling sensation of warmth
in her chest.

She is quiet because,
there is nothing
where she knows
should be something.

She tilts her head, and smiles.
Words mean nothing to you, right?
He nods, confused.

Well, why do you love me?
She asks.

She is waiting for the rush
of softly uttered adoration.

She already knows
and here they come.

Words fall
from his fevered tongue
in great big drops.

And there they go,
in great big waves.
Seeping into her bones,

Quickly, with
a hammering.
Silence.

They smile at each other.
And turn off the bedroom lamp.

They will have good dreams tonight.

There are so many
pieces of you,
sewn into me.

Stitch by stitch,
needle and thread.
I can't break away.

There are so many
pieces of you,
sewn into me.

I'll lie here,
on our bedspread.
Counting.

Stitch by stitch,
needle and thread.
You'll sew my limbs
into place.

You pull here or there,
tuck whats threadbare.

Tuck my foot under,
maybe I'll twitch.

I don't know how to
Separate what is me
and what was you.  

I'll never get away.

Because there are so many,
pieces of you,
sewn into me.

Self-empowerment.
What does it mean?

Maybe it means
That you can take a punch
That you can get knocked down
and stand up on your own two feet.

That you can spit out the blood
That you can dry your tears
and keep fighting.

You can.
You know you can.
Don't you?

Well?
What are you waiting for?
Your clock is ticking.

Be still, sweet girl.
But do not linger.

Feel the ebb and flow
Of your chest filling with
soft, sweet, hunger.

And then let it go.
Don't let your mouth open
just to say hello.

Let it all go.

Just as,
Your medals will dull.
Your statues will crumble to dust.

Just as,
Your lungs fill with your last breath.
Your skull will empty after death.

Your words will fall away into nothing.
You'll be forgotten.

After all,

Didn't you know?

Darkness looks the same on everyone
once you're consigned to oblivion.

We never could get our timing right,
Could we?

I was always one step ahead,
or one too far behind.

You were scared, I know.
That's always
The Status Quo.

But,
Can we try again?
Please.

I just need to try again.

The story goes that Vincent Van Gogh once tried to eat yellow paint because he wanted to feel yellow inside-that yellow was happiness. He drank turpentine and tried to eat some of his paints whilst in Saint-Rémy. But, if you read his letters-he wasn't trying to be yellow inside-he wanted to die.

Yellow, I think, would taste sharp and nutty.

It'd hurt you but,

It'd grab all of your attention at once
and coil round your tongue.
It'd choke you.

Not everyone can appreciate the curse of being undeniably captivating but distasteful for its own overtures.

Yellow is like biting into ruccola or cracking open hard sunflower seeds with your teeth. It stings at first but as soon as it's gone you want to recapture the feeling by trying again and again.

It's never the same.

Break free, they said.
It's great, they said.

For once, I might have to agree.

Let me go back to the days of unfiltered grins
Cackling laughter
Knobby knees.
Clacking together

It's so lovely, here.

The trees are greener, here.
And the moss smells of
The new age.

You'd love it here.
My little slice
Of Peter Pan's Neverland.