It's not hatred, it's incredulity.when i was ten years old my
teacher asked the class,
"if you were god, what would
and i remember
biting my lip so hard
that it bled. carefully,
i wrote about
how i would teach
kids from an early age on how to
love yourself and no one
else and that there is no such thing as
an almighty power that will pity
you and answer your desperate prayers
at three a.m. because you're the only one
who has that kind of control.
when i handed it in she just looked
at me like i was the
her child's bed. the next day i
was sitting in her office wondering
why it was so wrong to
talk about what's in your heart at a catholic
school when that's what the priest tells
you to do at every sunday mass and
the teacher asked me
another question, "do you
hate god?" and i
wanted to scream "yes, yes!" because
how can a god let the world
slip through their fingers like this one has?
but instead i answered,
"no. i just don't think there is one."
and sat in the chair,
staring at the cross on t
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.How to love a girl who can't love herself.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
bipolar.after they diagnosed my father,bipolar.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my mother told me,
if she had known,
she would have never had children.
it scares me to think that,
one day i could hear a small voice saying,
“mommy, i don’t feel right.”
“you don’t look sick,”
they say, noticing that i’m not dragging around
an i.v. stand.
noticing that my sweatshirt is black
and not a white hospital gown
swinging around marbled, knocking knees.
“but i’m still unwell,” i say
in a voice that doesn’t shake
and they just look disappointed,
like i don’t fit.
like i’m the skewed painting
on the fucked-up-person wall.
“but,” they say, “don’t bipolar people
usually kill themselves?”
“but i tried,” i say
with my wrists unmarked
and they just shake their heads
almost as if to say
not hard enough.
“poor girl,” they say, looking right at me,
sitting next to my dad as he laughs too loud.
And There Was Lighti.And There Was Light2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He was seventeen when he died.
I never went to the funeral
but I walked past it the day of
the service. His mother
was in the backseat of a blue Dodge,
door open, head in her hands.
"My baby," she kept repeating.
"My baby." It would go from sobbing, to
screaming, to a soft whisper that
I could only hear being carried
on the wind.
It was a Wednesday afternoon that they found
his old red pickup truck parked
out front of Slim's, two beer bottles in
the back and the windows cracked to let the stale
I heard that his dad told the police he was
gonna take that old truck and fix it up, because
he had promised his son before—
because it's always in the before—
And in the after, his mother never had dry eyes
and I'm pretty sure my mom told me
that she saw his dad at the bar every night,
drinking his sorrows down because some people can't
handle the stress.
Some people can't figure out why their son would
"Some men just want to w
HushHis eyes are the first thing she sees.Hush2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They are red. A bloody crimson, glowing like hellfire in the middle of the dark mass that is he has materialized in, beckoning her closer.
She steps forward, uncertainty trembling on her lips as she reaches out a hand, fingers curling in on each other. The question tumbles forth easily: "Who are you?"
He smiles, his mouth the only other thing visible in an otherwise utterly black figure. "Anyone who you wish me to be. You merely need to give me the orders, and I shall obey."
His voice is otherworldly. It is as if a shadow had learned to speak - silky, smooth, dark and dangerous. She shivers at the sound of it, resisting the urge to hold herself as a chill settles into her very bones. His smile is that of a crescent moon, an upwards curve of a smirk as he watches her like a wolf observing a lamb. "Well, girl? What say you? You did summon me, did you not?"
The girl looks down at her hands. They are forever soiled, though it is invisible, and
AbsenceShe used to lie awake all nightAbsence3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
consuming letters with voracity;
it was the utopian lair she created
to slip away from the turbulent world.
Only too soon she learned
that you can't always hide
within parchment crevices.
(reality always finds you)
Even now, when she yearns to fall between printed canyons,
she can't help but curse those passive and lethargic days;
"It's too damn easy to fall in love with words on a page."
Found God1. The first time I found GodFound God2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Was when I was 15.
I found God in a pen.
I scribbled down words
And he brought them to life.
2. They found God in their phone.
Instead of handling the awkwardness
Of the party,
They prayed to God to get them out.
3. He found God in his paycheck.
He locks himself in his office
As if it was a church,
Hoping to see God again.
I think I saw him praying
Last week when I visited.
4. She found God
In the mirror.
When she looked at God
In the eyes,
She freaked out
And punched the mirror until it shattered.
The devil put his hand over
Her fist and told her it’ll be alright.
5. They found God in each other.
I thought that would make them happy
But every time they’re together,
They throw the Devil at each other
In an odd game of Dodge ball.
6. He found God
At the bottom
Of a Bottle.
And every time he sees him,
God shows him a little piece
Then helps him vomit out the demons
Inside of him.
7. She found God in a needle.
Then she found God in hers
dearly belovedthese daysdearly beloved1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
your name has been slipping
in and out of my rib cage
my heart forgets to beat.
how even after all these months i still
don't want to believe that
you're dead. how during the
first couple of weeks i prayed
to a god i didn't believe in and begged to know
if death tasted sweet to you. how once,
when the monsters in my head
didn't let me sleep, i
wrote you three poems and then
you were a supernova that
lit up my life for
a few radiant moments before,
like all good things in this
you came to an end.
the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.
but i think that,
most of all,
i hope you no longer
remember what pain
.some thoughts get so loud that.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you cry out for them to leave;
they scatter like birds startled
out of their trees, before landing
again where they were
and after a while,
you just have to
let them sing
fire and bloodi am stormborn;fire and blood2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
she who dances
with the dragons who
call her mother.
the devourer of a heart
that galloped across a great
grass sea. the queen
who breaks every chain she
sees and will rule over the world
from an iron throne. the
daughter of a mad king who
shall scorch the land with justice.
i am the unburnt.
fire cannot kill a dragon.
six steps to fixing youstep onesix steps to fixing you2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cry. scream. bang your fists against the walls
that keep you locked inside.
kick your feet in the air. tell your sister she's stupid
and wrong and that you've never loved her.
cry. scream. apologize via him to you.
let your tears catch on your lashes
until you can no longer see anything but your own
demise. taste the bitterness left in
your mouth from your own bitching and rot in it.
break a mug. break two. kick
the pieces around the kitchen floor and cry some more.
break a plate. break a cup. break a bowl.
break a finger because nothing can take away this
sort of pain. you are empty and yet
you are filled with so much anger.
break a razor and paint pictures across your skin.
you are okay, you tell them.
you break three days later and you lie
in bed, unable to move.
start picking up the pieces. clean up the mess
you've made and he's left.
use windex to polish off the dirt and
IcarusSun girl,Icarus3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.
Do not let anyone
clip your wings;
you were made for the skies.
pretty little poet fingersfabricated gods rest between thepretty little poet fingers3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
languid crevices of
her fingertips, scribbling profanities
all over her skin.
she's just mismatched bones
& blue bruises, telling of forbidden
love through archaic letters.
a tongue made for
wanderlust, & eyes made
for the stars,
even the devil fears her.
skinwalkershe was a vicious prion,skinwalker3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
anomalous & infectious—
my fractured mind was the
perfectly unsuspecting host.
i was so ashamed of life
& you had all the answers.
"don't let me go,"
she hissed each night,
coating my flesh in a
(it was just too damn easy
to grasp your viral hands.)
i know my ribcage is almost on empty
& my heart is converting to toxic waste,
but i still have a feverish serum in my veins
& a voice not yet conquered by broken bones.
your plague of malevolence
shall never govern me again.
For every goodbye I ever gave,there is a void that has yet to be filled.For every goodbye I ever gave,2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
probably don't remember when
we stayed up all night counting
stars or how this world
We were our own gods.
The day your faith died
was the day your mother whispered
"He's living with her now" and you
long enough to forget I was standing
Fast forward to
we locked eyes in whitewashed
written in the creases of
your skin like narcotic
borderlines between living and
acting and you could only
pretend like I wasn't
whisper in the wind
that reminded you
of being human once upon a
For the love of
all the smoke in your lungs and the
ache in my heart,
I hope you know who you are now.
My DiseaseMy fingers bleed wordsMy Disease2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
that my lips cannot say.
When they try to trickle out,
I scowl and turn away.
It may not be contagious,
but it is a disease.
Holding myself deep inside,
it's getting hard to breathe.
Lies come so easy,
to cover up the truth.
It’s like my second nature,
grown from my very youth.
It’s deeper than conviction,
more earnest than a thought.
It’s my way
It’s my life
It is my disease.
these catastrophic disastersTherethese catastrophic disasters3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is a storm inside her
chest; a miasma of
thundering insecurities and
flashes of despair. The irony
is, she has
astraphobia—but inside her
mismatched veins there lies a
tempest awaiting to be
set free. The most beautiful
people have the ugliest of
and hers just happen to be a
hurricane of chaotic
doubt marring the insides of her
handle with carethere are 206 bones in thehandle with care2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
i think we're more like
together like suffocating sardines in tiny
wooden boxes decorated with red
paint announcing across the sides
"danger: this side up."
.some people are dead.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
long before they die -
there's just no burial
for the spirit
rain.i still have buckets in my roomrain.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
from when you poured your heart out.
plastic pails full of pain and love
and lust and tears and names and smiles.
i don't know why i keep them...
maybe i hope one day you'll come back
to claim them.
or when i'm being really dumb
i let myself hope that you'll come back anyway
How to love a poet: Expect them to be flawed,How to love a poet:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a field of wild flowered-
& an inability
Love them anyway.
Know that when they look at you
they are noticing the little things.
Within Temptationi am neither hereWithin Temptation2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
nor there - just a
hidden deep within
a dangerous mind.
it's the fear,
somewhere in the
truth beneath the rose;
& all i need are
see who i am -
the deceiver of fools,
pale & frozen,
an ice queen.
but i will
stand my ground
in our solemn hour,
lost in a