The most you left the house in a week
was a peek out the screen door
All those exposed scurry about out
there and falsely carry your irrational fears
You think they care to judge you ?
Are you reading their minds
from a passing bored glance?

half read pages cracked open spines
books don't talk back or have eyes
You watch tv all day long avoiding
real human contact .
So proud of the few phonecalls
that you make and take
as if you had allowed yourself
to meet outsiders from another world

Stop avoiding life and don't waste time on tv
organize , clear your clutter seize the days
these hopeful fresh days without obsessing
about things you can't change
exchange tv remote for will and action
come alive honestly out of your moonburned
pale skin
pity filled  shutin
go with purpose
brave worldly wounds and heal all at once

don't  be just a phonecall

Phonecalls
Late nights
Your voice
Taxi drives.
Cocktails
Beers
Apartment heaters
Christmas cheer.

I'm
F
A
   L
     L
       I
        N
          G
too fast
too hard
for you.

I CAN'T

Lime green freezer pops
Swigs of senor Jack Daniels
My body gets hot.

-------------------------------

Jacky versus wine
Will fight to the death tonight
Victor gets a home

---------------------------------

Baby-making songs
(The world tastes like raspberry!)
Jazz flute Godzilla

-------------------------------

Little black cell phone
Glows modern techno at night
Rad leaks in my brain.

(I am now a spidercorn!)

---------------------------------

Idiotic cat
Sole bane of my living room
You should've been a dog

--------------------------------

Woman and man-thing
Flame haired goddess of cleavage
Mid-coitus phonecalls.

---------------------------------

Two shots of whiskey
One sibling revelation
Long night of country.

--------------------------------

Blood-baths, hair stylists
****** eye for the dead guy
Joanne: **** the man.

-------------------------------

A nice hairy man
Smirnoffs, beer pong victory.
Did I do a bad?

----------------------------------

I am drunk on you
And on you conversation
More than on the beer.

---------------------------------
Whiskey sours, full.
Half-**** swimming with strangers.
Attraction repressed.

----------------------------
Oh my pretty beer
You so inspire my mind
I can't stop giggling.

-----------------------------
Hank bones on the wall
A sad tale of pretending
Oh no! Demon feet.

forgot to button up
veils,scales, umbrellas
see this dragon rained

couches where dreams are cats
no body
just discarded fur and echoes of purrs

after reading the label it rubbed off
maybe its tasty
pretend until the last drop

apologies repeated sound like dogs barking
attention slowly goes missing
a chair to block anyone from entering

holidays celebrate themselves easily
the grocery aisles let them be known
No wristwatch no calendar
window dressings tell parking lots their stories

faces bloom less then flowers
secret coffeehouses for shameful breakfasts
phonecalls peppered with obvious lies
surprise its your turn

Nobody knows how to say goodbye to anything, even the
sea has ruined edges
leaves its will to a muddy bayou. Our
phonecalls hang onto me after there rings a dial tone, a curly tail
of wires ribboned around my most important parts
thigh, artery, genital. The bed
is the whole bedroom, now. I am handcuffed from the ceiling
waiting for your voice box to quiver again
and am kicking and screaming –
I am heartbroken at nothing, not for no reason but for
nothing. Lovers are not versed in goodbyes
or else we would not be lovers. But I prefer the sensation of
suffocation to cold blankets,
rather heat them up with blood and guts than have a
mattress that has never smelled my ***. You do not know how to
ring my neck or drown me in sheets that’ll
just hide hide hide the word
goodbye. If this is your worst trait, not wanting to go,
I am happy to let you love and hurt me until I can float, too.

Stop.
Stop apologising for him not loving you.
Stop apologising for having
small hands and a loud mouth
and a big heart.
Stop searching for reasons why you're not good enough:
you are more than enough.
Stop expecting apologetic phonecalls
or his car parked outside the front of your house.
He isn't coming back.
You don't want him back.
Girls,
you're so quick to see being a woman
as being weak, used, desperate.
You confuse fragility with weakness;
yes, you are delicate
but you are strong
strong and beautiful
and I promise it will come to you;
I promise that love will come to you.
There will be someone
who is more in love with the fact you woke up next to him
than the fact you fell asleep next to him.
He will love you in ways that fill your lungs
and he will love you because you are you.
There will be someone
that adores your small hands,
someone who considers your loud mouth to be music,
someone that wants to love your big heart.
There will be someone
that considers your body to be valuable art
rather than a mere object.
There will be someone
that doesn't tell people you're *'just friends'.
There will be someone
who is proud to have you.
There will be someone who will love you
the way you want to be loved.
There will be someone who will love you
and cause you to finally love yourself.

i remember
the phonecalls
the screams on the other end of the line

the sirens
the doctors
the bad news
the hope

the phone
was ringing ringing ringing
no answer
why were you not there?

the doctor
trying to give me new hope
the machine breathing for my child

and after the nightmare
we went out
and ate pizza

oh, what a great pizza

no matter the distance
or all the missed phonecalls
and unread texts
in a way
a small piece of my heart
will always belong
to you
my first love
and first heartbreak.

Esther L. Krenzin

We never entered into the
'No you hang up. No you hang up'
Game.
Instead we raced to end phonecalls.
Refusing to admit love.
Playing our own game.
It stopped when you cheated.
Games always stop when people cheat.

And it took some time to find a new game.
But one was found all the same.
Still teasing,
Still against eachother, rather then as a team,
Until you tired of games.
You wanted more.
Happiness had to have meaning now.
And so that game stopped.

And now the world seems dreary,
And it bores me,
But it's real.
And next time maybe I won't play games.
Next time.
Maybe next time.

it's kinda ironic how i could think about thousand things when we were apart but suddenly couldnt think any when i meet the sunlight reflected in your green eyes turning them into some kind of wonderland and i got lost just like that
and i dont think you have any idea how unfair it is for me
How you could talk about your day, while i stutter bc your presence leaves me breathless
How you could order your favorite latte, while i'm lost in the idea of leaving traces of my fingers on your skin
How you could wrap your arms around my shoulders, while my ribs collapsing from the thought that you'd leave your scent all over my clothes
How you could crawl to your bed tonight and dream about seasons and falling stars, while i'm wide awake, dying to know if you ever say my name in your sleep,
i scream yours every single night.
It is so unfair that i built my world around you
It is so unfair that for me you'd never become an old photograph even decades from now
It is so unfair that being with you makes me forget about
every touch
every goodnight kisses
every strands of hair
every soul
every summer
every pair of eyes
every rooftop talks
every six hours straight phonecalls
every car rides
basically the life i had before you walked in.

ps: i'm sorry.

the first time you decided we should stop talking,
my heart handled it pretty fine.

one hundred and eighty two days later,
when you decided again we should just be friends,
my heart was ripped to shreds.

that day,
i asked three thousand and twenty six strangers on the internet,
how i could get you back,
but the most common answer i got,
was that i couldn't.

i never really ever imagined my life without you,
and your texts at 1 in the morning,
and the phonecalls that would last for hours.

right now i feel like a shadow.
opaque and lost,
wandering around,
looking for something,
that no longer exists.

1/29/2015
princeton thursday night
all out of coffee
and, sitting by wood slats of the
sad sunroom i
smile at a dead beetle

set the record down on
helen forrest and all she does it talk about
how she loves so madly

the sun sets on the west
sourland bramble downwards the cul-de-sac ridge
was in my line of sight long walks

but pulmonary bruises like the radiators
and that was in what? october? april?
no. april's too early

i close my eyes in bed and
i still hear that ****** song
enraptured i sink back and

i open again i open!
i can't afford to die or lose
same thing, just yet

i have dorms to sneak into and
cigarettes to put out,
more lifetime flatlines to complain about and

drain pipes to stand next to and
grass to sink into when it thaws and
unexpected phonecalls from past men
to receive.

month long in absentia you never called me first and now
i gotta go flip this record over, man.
stand up down the stairs off the bed
remind me not to blink for too long.

Distances and cardboard boxes;
Maybe I like to move.
The coffee was good today and toasted bread with salted butter,
Was perfect.
I have been feeling loved and alone lately,
What's with the neighbour's loud dog and
dishes that don't wash themselves?
Crazy —
the dates I don't go to.
It was romantic, what the girl I didn't meet said to me.
Distances and unanswered phonecalls;
Maybe I just
like to move.
Stuck in traffic;
I found it beautiful how against bright lights,
you were just hair, nose and chin.
Anyway.
The pile of dishes in the sink is making me sad,
But still
the coffee was good today
and toasted bread with salted butter,
Was perfect.

For me,
love was
my favourite
pale yellow chiffon dress
or may be
my light brown hemp neck less

Brightness of diamonds
placed closely on my fingers
Or darkness of black lines
around my eyes

Love,
may be smiling, giggling or crying over long phonecalls
Or spending hours and hours
and someone’s savings
in a overcrowded mall

Tell me.
how could I realize love can be
more than my imagination,
and your life

It could be choosing
sleepless nights in dark forests
filled with pointed stones
when chances to throw your body
over a cushy bed
in a warm room
is still on

How could I know
how it feels
to take a bullet
directly on your chest
only to
protect the soil on which you were born?

And we, whom you left
in our five star rooms
to sleep peacefully
watch movies with bowls of popcorns
will never understand
what you did for us
even though
we are not related with relations


Today
When I saw you
sleeping peacefully
in the arms of tricolour
and 21-gun salute
could not touch your ear
Today when
thousands of bodies like me
with tear filled heart
raised their hand

I realized
my heart can never love the way
your heart does
and
your soul can never be touched
with my prayers

because

I have never been there

She wasn't storybook pretty
She wasn't even the plain kind of pretty
No mary sue or timid thing
She was weepy phonecalls at 3am
And smashing plates in kitchen sinks
She was thunder and lightning
Bright and burning
And you couldn't catch her if you tried
She was destruction and it was not
Beautiful, but it was enchanting
The type of girl who stole breaths
Simply for the enjoyment of watching
Us mere things gasping for air
She was a galeforce wind in winter
You couldn't look away,
And she couldn't stay
Even if she wanted to.

It affects her:
The calls, the messages, the smirks, the frowns, the curses, the white lies, the missed phonecalls, the skipped dates, the whistles, the hoots, the whispers, the stares, the anger, the harsh truths, the words they use to describe a human being that just happens to have a little extra **** to her body, the comments that come from those of the same *** about a body that could be perfect but why bother if there's no one to be perfect for?

It affects him:
The blank stares, the condescending voices, the cheers, the tears, the jeers, the insults, the absent father, the oblivious mother, the useless job, the harrowing boss, the old flame, the aches, the pain, the fact that he can't seem to make things work right when it could benefit him, the assumptions by them that he should be strong enough to carry the burdens of 12 others plus his own.

We need our girls to be smart but not so much that they become overconfident
We need our men to be strong and tears are meant for boys
We want our girls to be pretty
We want our boys to be handsome
We want our girls to understand their role in society and that they must not cross an arbitrary line made by those who fear them
We want our boys to grow up and understand they must provide, provide, provide and if they don't it's a sign of weakness
We want our women to provide children but oh no no no they must not work, where is the father?
We want and expect our men to be fathers to children, but not the ones born out of wedlock
We want, want, want but never ask our children anything because while we've strived hard to help their brains grow
we don't actually want them using that knowledge

We oppress our own people
And wonder why we see little success.

phonecalls on facebook ******* trigger me
transports me back to last semester
like some sort of sick boat ride
to the magic kingdom
perverts dressed as mickey mouse
asking if i want a selfie

and i get angry.
angry that i can't use those little plastic eraser guards
we used to make patterns on paper with
as children
to erase your fingerprints from my flesh.

i rub at them regardless,
smudging away at my own contour lines
losing contrast,
value,
scale
my repeating shapes are starting to look a lot
like a pattern my mother wore
reflecting off her red cheeks
as she laid on the couch late at night
her arm over her face.

and i'm terrified,
honestly.
i'm terrified of the damage i've yet to assess
once i make it outside myself
i'm on my way out
this month
and there's only a few days
of october
left

my mother spent the month of june watching fruit rot on the countertop
before she put it all in garbage bags and left
and that is how i feel
late at night
when peace evades me.

Frying pan to fire,
Escape into a trap,
Of course the grass is greener,
'til you stop and lay your hat.
She monitors your phonecalls
and every move you make -
You will always say it's greener
In your prison with no break.

He believes he is not ready
Yet he doesn't see how much shes adores him
He says he couldn't afford a relationship
Though he doesn't know she would be fine staying exactly how they are
With the late night phonecalls randomly and there letting each other know when they'll be unavailable
She loved how he seems to remember the small little things from their conversation
She loves how he has the same interest as her
But she cannot say she loves him though. Because that takes much more time to know.
She knows she adores him with her whole heart but never tell him

i try not to live with regrets,
ive made alot of bad choices but ive learned from them.
day to day struggles but i grind for mine,
i live and breathe for mine,
ride or die for mine,
would **** or die for mine.
a teen mom no help from the father,
did my best to transform into a mother,
had help from my mother and brother.
til God thought it was better to take them both,
left here alone to figure it out.
grew up with my son tried to raise him right,
busted my *** day and night.
motherhood doesnt come with an instruction book,
but its the hardest job i ever took.
having to learn as i go,
make mistakes as i grow,
taught myself everything i know.
multiple personalities i had to take on,
disiplinary, friend, teacher, dad, mom.
another child born into my quiet storm,
here we go again, dam shame fatherless children are becoming the norm!
it dont make no dam sense,
dont care who takes offence,
once a week phonecalls dont pay your childs rent!
hold up im not done let me ****** vent!
donating the ***** dont make you a parent!
dam shame, i, yes i, a woMAN, has to raise these boys into MEN!
With no help from these so called MEN!
a vicious cycle of fatherless fathers,
acting like your protegees are stress and bothers!
welcome to the world of  the woman, the single mothers!
Having to pick up the roles as you so called fathers!
but ima do my best, to raise
my boys into men,
real men !
and if i cant break the cycle i tried my best,
at least i tried to raise these boys into men!
so there kids dont feel the fatherless stress!
so baby daddys, ask your selves, did you try your ****** best!!!

(maybe this time it will feel different, different)
(maybe this time it will go different, different)
my last few rounds//i've come back out
more worse for wear than before i began
(maybe this time i will feel different, cherished)
(maybe this time i won't feel like such an object)
i know that you said//what you liked in bed
and what you spoke as their hands caressed
sounds of your voice crying and moaning
whispering all those little things to me
"you're so beautiful. you're so ****
"you are exactly the kind that i need
"you're so pretty. i love your shape
"and how warm you feel underneath me
"you are so perfect. you're desirable
"i love every thing about'cha
"you feel so good. you turn me on
"your skin is so soft and inside is so warm
i can't think//with all these things
filling up the space in my head
(maybe this time i will feel different, different)
(maybe this time it will go different, different)
i wasn't ready for being intimate
i can tell the way i still think about it
mess up her skin, her muscle, her bone
make her every part undesirable
twist and rend and crush and scratch
until she's not worth looking at
she let it happen then, so now i decay
thinking all of this every single day
i hate her i hate her god i hate her so much
cut her out of me until the face in the mirror is mine
and not hers
i hate how she sounds, how she looks, how she feels
her flesh is mine and it will be hell
dont look please dont look no touching or grabbing
dont hold or squeeze or bite or hug
i hate the curves
i hate your words
i hate everything that makes this life hers
cut her and cut her and tear all of the skin
so it heals and its ugly and not worth such sin
keep your lust for her, hold it, *******
dont ask for pictures or phonecalls or words
nothing to do with those who had her
she's a body. a nice one. what a horrible thing
i hate her i hate her i wish she hadn't been so weak
every thought is so hard to have im sorry i even feel this way and it was never your fault. never your bad. i let it happen to her. she let it happen, even through the shudders and whimpers and cringing away, she let it happen. weak. weak and small and easy to overpower. easy to pull out from her hiding place. easy to coax out from behind that locked door.
she's easy, too easy. too wanting, too...
needy.
doesn't want to feel like a thing. like your thing.
like a body to boast of
stop reachingg
stop lookig
stop seing
stop feeling
aroused
stop it stop it stop it stop it stop
no more
she's a body
her body
her *******, her thighs, her face and freckles
her hair
her voice
god, her voice
delicate
feminine
sweet, pleasant
sing ourself hoarse and only then are we content
lower in pitch
scratches the throat
an ugly noise something masculine from a feminine source
abominate
you're all straight
you wouldn't love the same if i were to change
(well within your right)
im not worth the time unless as her
her body
her words
her tone
all her
i almost want to be a man, i want to see
how many will leave
i read about love for a soul no matter what form
its a lie its a lie its a lie no one is like that
at least not for me
only just when it's for her
as long as she's stagnant
so you can touch and hold and grab and use and cherish
her body her everything its all her its always her it will never quite be
me
i dont want to **** her, or maybe im scared to really hurt the one thing that every lover has ever loved of me
it's not bad that they don't want a man, or a thing, or an it
no surgery scars or anything else
they can like what they like
i just take it personally
its her soft heart, and skin, and soul
everything will be her always always always always
daughter girl woman lady princess female always her
touch and grab and hold
maybe this time it'll feel different
and that i wont feel like all i am is her
all that's worth it is her
groom and touch up her body because, because they don't like how it is
can't stand to cut all the hair can't stand to see myself especially down where it all is
i hate it i hate her
she's everything
we're in pieces
i know you're different, at least a little
this time will be -
you met me with my words first
my creations
my mind
my humor
"what's your favorite constellation? i like orion"
you knew all of that before you knew her face
you knew me, you know me at least a little
heard me speak with her voice, always just a bit wrong but never too wrong, right? never actually bad enough to change
heard us for the first time and told us
she read it and she was!
i read it and i was so... happy. for her. by her
with her.
she's extra and excited and needy now
i allow just a bit more than before i knew you were in l..e, too
maybe i overreact, she. us. we.
it overreacts a lot. (s)he does. overthink
this is the only way i could get it out fully
out of my head and her head
such ugliness, such rawness and softness and fear
(i hate it so much)
it's ugly. it's true, at least a little
the song i make will be prettier
you'll hear it soon
i l..e you
im scared