The look in your eyes
when you look at me
fills me with ice and mice
that feed
on my inside out
heart of stone
that was carved and and broke
to fit a mold
All Girls Like Me
colored hair, only smoke to breathe
have death in site
cuts ready to bleed
but if I could stare like this for even one minute more
my black inside
could break to the floor
the black will fade to a light shade of grey
then lighter and brighter
the longer I stay
you talk about pasts and
how things have changed
how I might have been hurt
but I’m not so deranged
I say “I’m not as great as I may seem.
my insides are dark. black the only color scheme”
“that's not true” you say holding my face.
“you’re more than that. there's no black in your space”
I disagree up and down
I can’t tell you how often I drown
in my heart and mind
I’ve been dead for years
how long it's been
since I’ve shed any tears
but since this heart of mine
met yours
I see all sorts
of open doors.
I hope one day to find
what color you see
for my broken mind
All Girls Like Me
are meant to run
but what should I do
now that that's no fun?

Tonight,
like every night,
is the night I will lay
awake in bed till 7 am
while my brain makes
conclusions and draws
assumptions out of every
little thing I've ever done in my life.
Then the fears creep in.
The ones about whether I will
ever be a successful member
of the human race or if I'll just crash and burn
like my sister before me.
whether I will look at myself
the same way she did
when she thought of her two
beautiful children as she stuck
that last needle into her veins.
and I fear that love isn't real.
I fear its not real for me.
The last person who told me they
loved me probably meant it
but i didn't say it back.
I didn't say it back.
He looked at me as though
he understood but
I held his soul in my fingertips.
He looks at me now and I wonder
if he feels empty just as
empty as I do now.
I fear if I say those words things will
fall apart. I fear I will not feel
love enough to follow
in my sisters footsteps.
I fear I will be close enough
to him that our souls will cross
I fear we could be happy and I fear
once it happens it'll all fall apart
like all the others before him.
I fear the universe crashing and
burning around me
as my thoughts run around like
rabid dogs
biting every inch of
my insides that they can.
I breathe in the smoke
of sad tobacco and
feel nothing.
I light another and feel nothing
I feel nothing so often
Maybe I can't recognize when
I actually feel something.
I've felt like nothing for so
long how can I
love like before.
Sometimes.
I wish my sister and I
were closer.
not just half.
being related and being
family have no correlation
yet why do I worry
I will be influenced by her.
Tonight.
This morning.
I start my day.
I continue
as though the ghosts watching
me tear through my skin
leaving gaping sores
and cuts that I can feel
but my face stays calm.
I keep walking.
If he says he loves me tomorrow.
like I think he will
I won't say it back.
but I'll feel something.
so maybe it’s worth it.
Maybe I'll recognize how to feel
something again.

Step right up
Step right up
Step right up
We have a fabulous show awaiting you!
Full of secrets only women can show
Full of marvelous creatures hidden
inside the human psyche.
What are these you may ask.
Step inside and for the low
low
low price of your first born daughter
all secrets will be open to you.
dietary tips of the highest quality
how to keep a girlfriend for longer than
3 weeks
and even
whether a female ****** is actually
a myth!
because lets face it,
thats all women are good for.
****** object to meet the desires of
any man who asks
jokes about belonging in the kitchen?
here is the place to tell them
for the low
low
low price of your first born daughter
we will frolic in the land of
misogyny with you
and gallivant in your
precious simplistic
brain stem
that begs the question
“with all these women,
will *** be included in this package deal”
of course the answer is yes!
here thats all women are good for anyways!
why not pry precious
gifts from our fingers
and violate the precious
sanctity that you, yourself
yes you too!
hold so dear.
why not allow the basic ******* of
the privacy bubble to those
weaker than you.
its okay.
we don’t even feel offended
when you cat call us anymore.
we take it as compliments and
persistance.
and say to ourselves in confidence
that our bodies are worth looking
at for the day.
We boast about it to friends and think
that someone finally sees us
as being good enough.
so step right up
step right up
step right up.
for the low
low
low
low price
of your first born daughter
we are yours to take advantage of.
Welcome.
We were expecting you anyways.

When I was young,
my mother held me close
and I wouldn’t leave her side
and when I was young,
my father would take sips
of poison and call out to us.
When I was young,
my friends would come and go
like seasons and lovers
would come and go even more
frequently.
When I was young,
my hips were too big and
so was my chest and so was
my stomach.
When I was young,
I was called promiscuous.
A worse variation with the same meaning
but tell me how
an 8 year old child can be
promiscuous.
When I was young,
my only connections to home
were broken by drugs and anger.
All that is left there
are the disheveled remnants of family
who cared more about drugs
than salvation anyway.
But whats the difference.
When I was young,
I was left alone and shouted
at for it.
When I was young,
I was told thoughts of suicide
were unhealthy
but then why had I always had them.
When I was young,
I wished for the day when
I wouldn’t have to wake up anymore
I haven’t been young
since I was 8.
Now I am older.
I can say all this without
the slightest breath
of sadness on my lips.
Sadness still runs
through me like
rivers of cold melancholy
and I dream of a day when
I can say all this
with the taste of
an emotion in my mouth
because that means I
can open up again.
It means love exists.

Lost at sea
Alone in my fears
Everyone has gone to bed early but I stay up for days on end
Tortured by day.
Solace is in the silence
That night brings
But it's dangerous or a
Woman to walk alone at night.
Funny how my genitals are an excuse
For everything I try to achieve
Cotton candy bubblegum
Doesn't fill my veins.
I am also not a closeted
*******
Just because my face is pierced
And my hair is bright.
I am not an object.
I am not a thing to be taken.
A thing to poke at with sticks
To see if I bleed sweetness.
No one cares.
No one takes the time to look
At my face without noticing
My chest first.
I bleed the same as you
Sir.
Please don't touch me
Sir.
Stop
Sir.
SIR.
Get off my appearance.
Care for once.
Not about my looks but
The flesh and bone
You are prodding
With sticks.
I only have so much
Blood to show you.

My head hurt
From the ache of
Pain ****** upon me
By those before so
When you told me my
Smile was something
People write books about
I melted.
I'd never met
Someone who didn't only
Want me for a
Short time or
**** around with no strings.
I've never had someone
Look at my scars
And call them perfect
Because they lay
On my skin. MY skin is
Perfect to someone.
We don't stop talking
Till 3 am and you
Look at me and ask
How I exist outside
Of heaven.
It's lame.
But you mean it.
You say you have no
Idea what you're doing
And you're not wrong
But you already know
What to say to make my
Anxiety lift and dissipate.
I know I'm not just
An average girl. I'm
Weird and look nothing
Like everyone else
But you love it.
When you said I
Made other girls look
Boring
I melted.
I melted for the
First time in years.
I melted.

I once had a boy
Who loved me so
much he had
memorized every
freckle I had on my body.
He loved me to the
point that when
our own demons wouldn't
let go of our heads
he went to a mental
facility because he
couldn't stand how
wrong things were without me.
He told me that.
I heard it straight from his mouth
and that boy is gone now.
Moved on and moved away.
And even though that was
so long ago i can't
help but wonder if
I will ever be loved like
that again.
Will someone ever want to
spend that much time
memorizing every freckle
every scar, every inch of skin
on my body.
My stomach collapses
on itself thinking about it
because something in me
doesn't think it'll happen
or that I even deserve it.
My stomach acid burns my
throat as i up heave my
emotions through my chest
and wonder if I will ever stop
being thrown out in the
garbage like a used
******.
Everyone says that
everyone deserves to be happy
and maybe deep down I
want to believe it but
something aches and whispers
bitter tasting words
into my head that say
no one will ever love you
longer than it takes
to reach ******.
I'm not looking for perfection.
I am damaged goods and i know
other people are damaged too.
I know some peoples heads
are like hurricanes
and I am aware that
no one is perfect and
yes, I know that I cannot
be perfect but I don't
need to be perfect.
I don't need someone perfect
either.
I want to love like that boy
once did.
I want to memorize someone and be
memorized back.
To me the sweetest type of love
is the kind when
you just waste time.
But you love every
second and you
want nothing more
than to sit and
admire the beautiful
thing you have
right in front of you.