its funny how when you have known more
the dreary less
can become relief
instead of drudgery

Luca

in the curve of my brothers back as he
takes off his shirt in the morning i see my future
the graceful arch of his skin tells me all i need to know
about where i'm going and where i've come from
he doesn't realize as he talks and laughs
how much this little action shows me
how old he is
one little mannerism and i can imagine him as a teenager
i hope he keeps his caramel skin
and his curly locks
and his smile

i'm not angry
or at least anymore
its just like
someone has taken a huge
eraser
and slowly rubbed you away
inch by inch
until you are just those
little soft rubber shavings
to
brush and blow
off my life

why why why why why why
why why why why why why
why why why why why why
why why why why why why
why why why why why why
why why why why why why
why why why why why why
why why why why why why

betrayal is stronger and harder than ice

than the sharpened butcher knives of the store 

down the street 

and the tangy taste of the lemon I shouldn't 

have eaten 

but did. You 

think you can draw out forgiveness 

with your eyes, you think 

you can draw out the pain 

with your sighs, you think that 

i'll come running back

but I won't 

and I can't 

talk to you because 

I am afraid of 

all the things i will say
and all the things i will not do

unfortunately for you
my feelings cannot be won
by some late night typed
lazy eye ice cream doped feelings
running with an electric current
daze through your skin when your body doesn't feel
like its yours and you think you can
achieve world peace with the click of
a button

i am not sold for that cheap

these are regions i have not explored
and it is funny to think you have become
the person
i always imagined you to be
and the actions you make are not yours in my mind
but a new you that pays attention
and is sweet
it is odd for the mental to become material

i saw the mask
you wore
day in
day out
waltzing to the time
of your foot-stepping dance
of lies and deceits and little
celery sticks because they burned
more calories than you used while
eating them with your eyes becoming
erasers to make your sides lines
though they were just as thin as they needed
to be

i don't know why you needed
to be so much better
or why you felt so much less
but the falseness in your stench is something
i cannot ignore anymore
and something i will not
tolerate

they say you pulled down the shower curtain
they say you pulled down the shower curtain with your rage
how befitting

reaching out without hesitation
i have been giving the right to feel
granted access without fear
a touch without tear
but what have i unlocked
and what will be left empty
and what has already been taken
these are not things my fingertips dwell on

night

in out
in out
the breathing
and my mind racing
to come up with all the
reasons I should stay
because I know if I do not
calm down I will not function
on the rim
turn and his face
is that close
that close
this close
close
closer than I was to the edge
when I almost fell off

sweeter than sugar
are the words you never expected
and the feeling when you reach out
and touch

math class

(this ones a little old)

if I could push the ticking hands on the clock
so they would move faster
I would do it in a heartbeat
even if it bruised and bloodied my hands
because each of these minutes is a bullet
and each second an hour

sitting on the train these are my thoughts

i am lucky to be smarter than myself
and to know myself well enough to have packed a
pencil

as she wouldn't share with me and let me into her world
with her soft doggy eared noises that float from her earbuds into a sea

(the lurch the rumble we come overground)

artsiness comes in mysteriousness
like the figure who stares out the window at eleven at night
into the lights of the near far city
even if its only the home depot and the ugly building starbrights
and the windows where people live their lives for everyone
who is curious enough to see

doodling is my passion
more than anything else
and the curve of that lightning bolt is not quite sharp enough
(erase)
it is still not right
(erase)
and now for the stairs
and the trickling patterns
and the fall down words from the tip of my mind
to the number two lead
in my cut and bruised fingers

to lose myself in pencil scratchings
and someone else to notice
to care about my wrath
and one i hadn't even expected
to surprise

my self-confidence seems to fall on a meter
from did i brush my teeth this morning to mean girl awfulness
and i don't understand how this range
can be encompassed
in such a small head of mine
or how the fluctuations are sharper sine waves
than we ever learnt about last
year
in physics and the amplitude is too large
for all of my algebra two skills to handle
and my vocabulary to reprimand

(actually a song but you know-maybe if i'm brave enough i'll edit it with the recording)

i’m waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet

these days turn to nothing, nothing sweet

i’m trying to be better than myself

the way to get love, is love someone else

and hope that they reciprocate

the complex sounding tongues

for things we can’t write history books

or solve with simple sums

take it how it comes

how far will we run

how late has it become

how soon til we’re done

consideration

standing here i think
i could go home and write so many poems about this moment
so many words to describe the loud music
and the rush
and the way you get so excited over nothing
and i can feel the so-much smile strain on my face
the gentle ache of pleasure
but looking at you
i think if thats who i want to be
do i want to be the girl who will write so many poems
who will wallow in her words
do i want to immortalize this moment
or will it make it too dear
do i want to fall back to wishing
or will it make the pain all too clear
these are the questions i ask myself
while my knees pump
and our shoulders bump
and i look over
many many more times
than i should

tick tick tick tick tick tick
          tock
let the mouse run up the clock and down my arms
with its little paws jumping over the paperclips in my fingers and the rock in my
chest
where my heart is supposed to be beating
there is an egg timer
ticking
tick tick tick tock
tick tick tick tock
tick tick tick tock
i know the hatred in my eyes is clear
i know it is plain
and you can read it
and i know my stares are obvious knives
straight across the ugly yellow
grandaunt room with the eager blue
boy desks and the kid in front of me on his iPhone while
we all sit back and suffer
and enjoy the ride

first day mumblings

we're back
i guess i
thought i
would feel
something
different
something
other
than this
monotony
something
other than
this
sound
-----
sitting in the back
of the class
is kind of awesome
you can watch
everyone without
them watching you
and seem like you're
paying attention
through glazed over
eyes
and no one can
see what you're writing
------
what goes on in your head
what do you think behind
your blanks stares
you must be hiding something
i know you aren't that empty
------
oh i took you seriously
it is you who did not take me

nothing
nothing
nothing
and the time drips away
into the carcass of my mind
as the flies breathe into my ears
singing me songs
they hear downtown
by the penniless
hands begging for copper
to immortalize them
because maybe a dime
will mean that they won't pass away
as if they
hardly
mattered

we'll talk about silly things like the trains
because we know those words are lighter on our tongues
and they will not bear scars
for future
partners
to read and know
of what went on
behind the closed doors of our minds
and in the red bare tips
of our fingers

do you ever listen to anyone else but yourself?
because your words
they are going and going and going and going
and even when i do not respond
they keep
rolling and rolling and rolling and rolling off your tongue
with the ease in which i know that you are not speaking to be heard
but to speak
and you do not care about me
but only you
because you do not get it
how do you not get it
i am not replying
and yet you do not get it
how many words do you have to waste before you will look up and see another
how many times do i have to face you with silence before you realize something is wrong
or will you notice and just keep talking
piling the syllables on like the sticky syrup
in a twenty-four hour diner
that will never
close.

if i leave you
will you find me
track me down
in the middle of the night
before i run away
because i am scared
and running seems to be
the only answer
because my questions are leading me
no where
and my head can't wrap itself
around
all that is and all that isn't and all that
i
want
and all that i need
(under my shivering fingernails
is etched the truth)
so i will hide my hands
in my pockets
and i will shut my eyes
in their sockets
and i will race
away
from its-all-
too-much