Surviving tonight(poem #164)

Public service announcement for those of you who were sound asleep,

Wrapped comfortable in your lovers arms or holding firmly to your antidotes to depression,

Last night at 4am the Purge of sanity began,

The ideations poured in like childhood nightmares,

But unlike the ones on Elm’s street,

I can not run away from these,

The distance from my bed to the door became a labyrinth,

My brain became the fun house at carnivals that remind you that the only thing worse than spiders is staring at your own reflection,

Each corner lines with mirrors to expose painted on smiles so frightening the Joker would have been proud.

Now confined to the gallows of my own consciousness I beg my brain to just please except that I am being hung by my own hands,

To just drift off into unconsciousness so I can finally sleep,

Sleep avaids my ever pleating heart,

The boxing match turned into a cage fight,

In one corner my heart,

The other every lover I have ever had,

Each punch laced with broken promises, lies, and heartbreak,

There is no referee on my self-loathing,

By the end of tonight I will be lucky if I come out alive…

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Attempting to Explain Why I am Single(Poem #161)

The number one question on tinder today is: “How in the world is a girl like you single?”

Well boys and girls please sit down as I tell you why:

  1. Swearing isn’t lady like and I don’t give a damn that people fucking think it’s rude.
  2. You would look so much prettier if you just tried a little harder.
  3. My love is like a treasure chest; filled with glistening moments that bring glory, joy and wonder only to be later seen as monitary value to be barged with, tested, and sold to the highest bidder, each piece taken away from me as symbol of my lovers’ triumph over my heart.
  4. “I don’t date short girls”.
  5. May fairytales are more like Grim’s. There is no happily ever after, and I am pretty sure my “Prince Charming” got lost and is too stubborn to ask for directions.
  6. “It’s not you it’s me…”
  7. My body is more like a quest than a home; each knight gets wrapped in the excitement of saying they have slain the dragon but never knowing what to do with the princess after that; the crown didn’t fit my head right and I don’t fit into the kingdom quite right…maybe I was better off with the dragon
  8. Omg you like girls too that is so hot we should totally….ehhh stop there do not pass go do not collect two hundred dollars, that is not how this game work.
  9. I’m not the type of girl that people fall in love with. I am the paper town meant to be burned down by men with matches. I pride myself on provide warmth and love by sacrificing my heart to the hollowness of bones. Creating graveyards of memories, where all ex’s are followed by “oooohh”‘s
  10. “We’re sorry the number you have dialed is no longer in service or has been disconnected. Please hang up and try again”

Starving my Depression (Poem #160)

Hello, I will be your doctor today.

Please tell me what I can help you with.

Well, sir….I have chronic, cycled depression,

Acute Anxiety,

Haphazard Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,

and a fluctuating eating disorder…

Since the age of 8 I have felt like I am not good enough,

Have attempted to kill myself 3 times, but succeeded in my mind over a thousand,

My intrusive thoughts appear more like imaginary friends than skeletons,

Insomnia no longer is a word, but a conscious state of being completely awake while living a nightmare,

But overall I am generally functional…

Well the best I can give you is these pills…

Here take one of these in the morning, and one of these at night to go to sleep.

Does anyone else find it ironic that one of the greatest side affects of antidepressants is weight gain…

Followed by drowsiness,

Potential breakouts,

Suicidal thoughts,

and a lose of Libido….

As if I didn’t walk in here self-conscious enough,

My anxiety spikes just thinking that the things I am clinging to to make me better may actually bring to life all of my nightmares at once.

Remember to always take your pills in the morning,

Ignore the sickness in your stomach,

Pretend you aren’t overstimulated simply by light,

Accept the fact that your state of bliss was concentrated down to a pill,

Swallow the pill with your sadness.

I gained 10 pounds in a month on my antidepressants,

Which was surprising because I didn’t think that zombies could gain weight,

Especially the ones who are starving to feel better,

While still shoving tranquilizers down their throats.

I starved my depression so much so that the light at the end of the tunnel just turned out to be the blinding sense of being “happy” that they promised,

My chill pills didn’t make me feel safer,

Rather I felt as if I was floating on the open waters of the ocean,

My monsters clawing below me,

When really I was in my bathtub…

I found that instead of feeling more alive, I felt more like death,

Each pill become another bullet-hole to my creativity,

The fabric placed over my eyes so I didn’t see that I was only “drowning” in a cup of water I continued to fill…

So Mr. Doctor, I come here today to tell you

Please keep your pills to yourself,

Instead,

Please give my a prescription for my life back.

 

 

Home (Poem #156)

I got told by my father today that my sexuality wasn’t natural and was immoral,

My mother laughed at the idea that it even exists,

I’ve never felt so alone and judged. 

Yet they wonder why I am tentative to show them how I feel,

But how am I supposed to act when the walls I called home are filled with wondering eyes,

When I can’t be half the person I am in fear that you will only see me as that and nothing more,

How am I supposed to act when your house no longer feels like home,

Because people like me,

We aren’t welcome here. 

Mom and dad

I would go home more of you really understood,

But I can’t. 

My friends now don’t understand,

How I can label myself as one way yet say I have never dated someone of the same sex,

That I have never laid my hands on a women,

No they don’t get it. 

It’s not that I haven’t considered it or don’t want to,

It’s because I can’t. 

Mom and dad,

I want to feel at home again,

But I can’t,

I don’t want to walk in the door with my girlfriend and simply have to call her my friend,

I want to hold her hand and tell you

How she is beautiful,

That she lights up my skies in a way that would make the stars jealous,

That her laugh is more beautiful than the apple blossoms that bloom in spring,

And that in her arms I feel more secure than when I have stood in my own home.

I want to do that,

But I won’t.

I fear the response,

And your ignorance.

No I am not with her because I have been hurt by men!

No this is not some phase I will grow out of!

No she isn’t some experimental toy I have because I am in college!

No she is not just some girl!

She is strong,

She is beautiful,

And she is mine!

She knows more of me than you ever will,

Because she can see past the stigma of a title.

So I am sorry mom and dad,

But there is a chance that another girl or boy or ze will take the place of what you tried to call my home,

Because they don’t make me live in a house of glass,

And they finally succeeded in make me feel less alone. 

Your place as a man (Poem #155)

The systematic problems with heteronormativity and patriarchy,

Are not limited to the silence of voices of those who are not blessed with falling into those categories,

No,

They also create a world that limits and defines what it means to be blessed by living there,

It discounts part of a voice of a male activist standing on a street corner fighting for equal rights 

It muffles the screams for their brother and sister with questioning scoffs of how could they understand,

It is as if the heteronormativity and patriarchy hold all people to their roles.

No one can scream too loudly without their faith, morality, and validity being questioned,

As if being male took away from his message,

And being straight means he could never understand what it meant to be a thirteen year old boy hiding in the locker room too afraid to change because he was gay. 

You are he will never understand but that shouldn’t discount his voice. 

Allies and advocates come in all shapes and sizes. 

So just because he can stand in his white male heterosexuals privilege does not mean he does not understand what it means to have your voice shake because of a message,

Because society has a shotgun to his head from both sides waiting for the wrong words to slip from his lips and spill over. 

Believe me I’ve been there,

On the edge of standing for something I could never truly understand but wanted to save,

Had my heart tremble at words peircing my lips. 

So I want to thank you white heterosexual men who take a stand,

Thank you for grabbing the blade of a double edge sword this system has created to prove the point that it is not ok,

I see your sacrifice and bravery,

Thank you for taking your place in our fight to gain a voice for everyone,

 whether they be men, women, straight, lgbtq, gender nonconforming, people of color, white, and/or trans.

Thank you for taking up the fight,

And taking the place you can only stand as a straight white man. 

The reality of the “perfect man”(Poem #153)

I’m tired of boys telling me I’m worth it,

When they only walk away.

Because you were the 13th boy to lay hands on me,

with little to no intention to stay.

I guess I should be used to it,

hearing those ringing words,

“You deserve the world!”

Yet the world fell at your hands

Because even though you say I am worth it,

I still feel second hand.

like the canvas you laid paint on,

but you wish you never had,

because the picture that we painted,

though it truly wasn’t bad,

didn’t quite breath perfection to your life.

No the image was all too real,

not like the fairytales that I had waited so long for.

No my canvas has been broken, and ripped, and torn.

My edges are all rough, no longer soft and smooth.

So stop telling me I’m worth it,

that the perfect man exists…

Because the perfect man wants a new canvas,

not one he has to fix…

The right way (Poem #152)

I’ve always struggled,

to find the right words,

or the right way to show I care,

or the right way to speak about pain,

or the right moment to express myself,

or the right way to hide just enough of me that I don’t get hurt,

or the right way to fall in love,

or the right way to dance on eggshells for others,

or the right way to place my hand upon your face that you can’t feel mine tremble,

or the right way to smile so shyly that it looks like innocence but it really simply fear,

or the right way to kiss a stranger and make them feel like it means nothing yet means everything,

or the right way to not feel,

or the right way to say I forgive you when really the ache in my heart says I won’t forgive me,

or the right way to sit across the room from someone I love and tell them I am happy for them when my world is falling apart,

or the right way to say I’m simply not hungry when really hunger doesn’t come close to how I feel,

or the right way to say just enough that you will believe me when I say I am ok…

I’ve been training myself for years…

for the right way to pretend to be me,

but the right way isn’t working anymore,

and I am helplessly lost,

with no right way to go,

or no right way to fix this and move on,

and I am starting to curse myself,

because the right way used to seem so clear,

but now the right way is filled with the fog of tears,

the dew of sadness,

and the raindrops of despair,

even though the clouds are filled with emptiness,

it is still raining,

and in the wind I hear it,

saying that the “right way” is what lead me right here…

The first date (poem #151)

I want to thank you,

For sitting across a table from me sipping coffee,

Holding short conversations about life,

Just like a perfect gentleman. 

You may not see it,

But I’m not used to it,

And it is nice to sit down for once

Not be treated like a paper doll,

Being undressed and redressed by men after first dates

Men who are later suprised and repulsed when they get cut by my unclean edges. 

I may appear tough but the paper can tear when touched by too rough of hands,

Or exposed to too much fire. 

So when I say it was different,

I mean it in the most sincere way,

Thank you for holding my gentle paper hand,

And holding meaningless paper conversations

In that paper coffee shop,

Thank you for not taking the chance to take advantage of my paper heart

And letting me be the fragile little girl I can be for five seconds,

Because it is nice

And rare for me

To sit across a table and have someone be ok with the paper version of me. 

Porcelain Skin (Poem #150)

Daddy doesn’t like the piercings,

Says I am telling young men that I will do things,

That I am making an image I don’t understand of myself,

He doesn’t like the tattoos,

Says I will regret the ink,

That I am ruining my beauty…

Daddy you don’t understand,

The innocent beauty you are holding on to was taken from me at thirteen,

The metal doesn’t take away my ability to consent,

and by you stating that I am making an image of myself you made and excuse for the man you claimed you would kill when I told you what he did to me,

Daddy you hate the idea of someone’s hands touching me,

but you never asked what I wanted.

Daddy you don’t see that I use the ink and needles to replace the blade of a knife,

that I would rather make something beautiful out of the pain.

And daddy I thought you would be proud of me

because it is easier to explain a tattooed and pierced daughter

than one with scares and blood running down her arms.

Daddy why can’t you see past the ink and the metal,

Daddy let go of the little girl you think I am,

because I haven’t been a little girl for a long time,

Daddy why can’t you see that this is something much bigger than you will ever understand,

Daddy why can’t you accept ink stains on porcelain skin over blood stains on a broken heart?

 

Sometimes the nicest people you meet are covered in tattoos, while the most judgemental people you meet go to church on Sundays.:

Reflection of the soul (poem #147)

I saw the purest of colors radiate from her. So beautiful and clean. It made all of her flaws and superficial faults look like perfection on a broken piece of stained glass. Her beauty became much more than the ink, makeup, and jewelry. Because the aura she brought to my life was that from her soul, and her outwardly beauty could never compare.