OH LIFE

you continue to abuse me...

a wise man once told me...

"self improvement is a never ending and imperative task."

what matters most is how well you walk through the fire.

it was the summer of burns

not sunburns

the hallways were thin 
the apartment was small and buzzing with wannabe hipsters

the room spun with the toss of my hair 
the sway of my hips and the flick of my ash

squeeze

sucking my belly in pushing myself against the wall 
as if it made a difference to passers by

squished

cigarettes made contact with skin

more specifically, my chin

[this is not a lie just to rhyme it actually happened]

and in this distracted instant

he whispered in my ear

touched my ass

winked

i never forgot that moment

even when it all came crashing down and i screamed his name with hate

even when fists were thrown and voices were raised in accusation

[.................................]

it was the summer of hell

fire

lies

and love

i have the scars to prove it

i

picture you perfect everytime.

everything that rises must converge.

i've been sitting here for days
thinking about the ways
i have hurt you
and the way you'd cry
and i didnt even try
to understand
i numbed myself
with bottles off the shelf
so i'd forget
just to feel it now
just to feel it now
i feel it now


i shouldnt be allowed to feel love

i

feel like digging a hole. i'd like to see how far down i get and maybe i'll dig a really deep hole that i can jump in. just a one person hole. where i'll sit and look up at the circular walls surrounding me spiraling up to the moonlit sky. [i prefer a moonlit sky when describing this type of setting] it will be dark and dingy and muddy but i'll be where i need to be. this is where i think and dream and wonder. this is where i thrive. the hole represents my wanting to be alone. yet the moon represents that i am not, in fact, alone; and that i like it that way. i think i will always like it that way and it confuses me. sometimes i wonder what happened in my childhood to make me need, that, moon, in my sky. 


sometimes i wish i was different.

i

just woke up from a dream.

you were in it.

you were real?

i hate this feeling of knowing.

and not knowing.

and wondering.

and now i miss you,

come back anytime.

i

have been sitting in my room for the past three and a half days, only leaving with layer upon layer of clothing on my body, a scarf around the neck, to smoke the occasional cigarette. i have been staring at the computer screen. i have been staring at words on a page. i have been eating mike & ikes.

jealous?

m. a.

"nolite te bastardes carborundorum."