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I don’t want to be alone with my own thoughts

So much is happening and I feel like i’ll fall apart

if I let them speak,

I watch television on the internet to drown them out

I bear witness to my own gluttony:

netlix, amazon, hulu…which I cancel periodically

pretending i wont start them again

I make a therapy appointment for wednesday,

this makes me feel better

I feel like i’m going to be sick

physically ill

I need a distraction

to distract and be distracted

to give and take until this thing works itself out

until I figure myself out

I need to remember that this isn’t an answer

only a piece of an ever evolving puzzle

which shifts itself constantly;

knowing i can’t keep up

doesn’t keep me from trying

It’s a fight to stay sane

I know this

its why I unpack

I watched what it did to my father

bottling up his trauma

spending his life with the people who hurt him

I grew up with the person who abused me

I’m asked to continue to spend time with that person

as though that were a normal request

as if I am wrong for loving myself

fuck

I push everyone away

everything I type is so cliche

like

everything is so fucking trite like

this is the shit inside my head

insecurities and fucking

doubt

a child screaming to be loved

to count

I crack myself open &

wedge a crowbar between my rib cage and pull

I spill out

I leak onto the floor

this bleeding is healing

I know

doesn’t make it hurt less

it hurts more

because I know there’s more to come

healing hurts this way

I could press my hand to my heart

to stop the bleeding

blood would just seep through my hands so

I watch as it falls through the cracks of the floor

collects in the cool dirt beneath this room

below this house

I hear it sink drop by drop

pooling

into the water supply

but the well has run dry

this blood from my chest

all sadness and grief and rage and joy

I offer as sacrifice

to the earth who birthed me

& the well which sustains me

It has been a long while hasnt it my old friend? Since we laughed and talked in the old way, worlds blending into one garbled fluid dance, we made marvelous partners, you and I. Oh, how we moved through gardens and caves and fields and we played. We let joy flood our face pretending we were one. Not in truth only in jest but those moments, do you remember? What were you just thinking? You had a look in your eye and the ghost of a smile. Maybe you thought of me back where you left me. I’m still here waiting. Inside this house with its mouse-filled walls and its creaky floors. I still get splinters when I move from room to room, hiding from the shadows. They still haunt me here. Still scratch at my bedroom door. Whispering for more. It gets lonely here. I’ve made friends with the bats, remember how we used to watch them fly out of the house into the evening sky? We watched them grow smaller and smaller as they flew further away. We wondered if we’d grow wings so we could fly. Grow smaller and smaller. I hope you come get me. It’s dark here and the walls are not silent. They whisper secrets I’d rather not hear. Tell me stories I’m trying to forget. I miss you, you know. Do you miss me too? You must. You must feel empty too. 

Chaos is Order 

My mind is getting chaotic again
The evidence sits around me

in piles of clothes and pages and cups

of half drunk tea &coffee &beer 

scattered bits of my reality lay abandoned

in different stages of interaction

Like bouys out at sea
This is what the soul weaving looks like

This is what the soul bleeding looks like: 
Chaos

Hidden order 
Creation and destruction have a similar face

Hail from the same place

Leave me aching

In the same space
This room is getting smaller now
walls are closing in

As my mind expands

This space contracts

Pushing me deeper

into myself
deep

chaotic

wide
Like the depths of the sea
dangerous

mysterious 
It’s not enough to just

Dip a toe into the waters

Of chaos

It is necessary, for me

to become totally, utterly
Submerged 

Fair Trade

I dripped blood on my notebook,

as a Sacrifice, blood of my womb

to birth a poem

Fair trade

I’m beginning to doubt if my womb

will shed anything but blood

I live in a perpetual state of loneliness

I’m not certain what it would be like

to care for someone else

I’m content in my selfishness

cozy in my solitude

My mind keeps me company

Helps to wile away the hours and

my  hands are my lovers,

they know me well

serve me well

Stardust

I’m not shiny, I’m not happy,

I am hurt and damaged

Most days I want to slice myself open,

Rip out my heart, tear apart my soul

And throw myself into a deep dark pond because

That would be easier than figuring this shit out

That would be simpler than asking myself

Where the fuck do I go from here ?

How the hell do I find happiness in this shithole called my life?

That’s most days.

Then there are some days where I remember,

I stand outside and stare at the night sky

I let the darkness surround me and gaze at stars

I tell myself that I am made of fucking stardust

And anything is possible

I tell myself that I am smaller than a grain of sand on a beach

I am atoms, and molecules and energy and life

And I can just be

I can just breathe

Because I am fucking stardust.

Dust

the thing that tugs at me from my  last relationship is not the fact that she and I didn’t work out, because, bless her. I mean, bless her. Hell in a handbasket that one, but the emphatic way in which she professed her love for me. Then just shut it off. Which if I’m honest, I shut mine off too. I tumbled head first into love, because that is actually, not a thing I do. I am meticulous and I analyze and this time I didn’t. I didn’t think, I just lept, and I’m not sorry for it, I’m not ashamed of it. What I am sorry for is that I let her speak in absolutes. I let her tell me that she would always love me. That she would love me forever. She didn’t even love me for a month. I’m smarter than that. I’m wiser than that but I let her. And here’s the thing, the whole time the smarter, wiser part of me was raging against it, part of me believed her. Part of me thought, maybe this gorgeous, lively, drunken mess will love me all the days of her life. And here’s the part I resent, pay attention: the part I resent is that I let that possibility creep in, and it didn’t work out. And now, it has fed my complex. I have an unlovability complex, you see, and she fed it. Piled it high with sticks and brush, poured gasoline on it, dropped a match and walked away as that motherfucker burned.

My mother gave me up for adoption when I was a baby. Gave me up. What the fuck kind of a phrase is that? Then, people are obsessed with adopting things, pets, railways, freeways, elephants, things. I’m lumped together with a fucking freeway and I wonder why I feel less than. Why I feel unimportant. Then I wonder why seeing people as carbon copies of those they share DNA with makes me want to grind my bones into dust.

I was given up for adoption when I was a baby. A woman who was supposed to love me forever gave me away like a pair of jeans and a girl who said she’d love me forever didn’t even stick around to watch me turn to ash.

And it’s not about her. I don’t love her. That’s not the point. The point is that I have an unlovability complex and I am ash. I am dust. And I need that fucking shit to change. The point is I share a category with a fucking freeway.

That’s the fucking point.