It’s growing dark, but the sky is full of stars.
I dream of climbing into the clouds, and getting lost in the heavy grey blanket that consumes me. I need to find something warm to comfort me as I keep myself company.
I am words sewn together like skin, wounds healed over with new memories. I am empty scrawls that fill blank pages with lies. I am stains on clean paper.
I am the final empty echo of a dying scream. I am filled with disbelief. I am the unwanted ‘I’ in your team.
I need to drink the darkness, and drown myself in its tears, and sink to the bottom of its weakness.
The impurities in my blood need thinning with liquor, the hard kind, the kind that breaks me down to the smallest parts of myself, and lets me build myself back up from the ground.
Dawn is breaking, and my skin is full of scars.
There is a lump in my stomach that grows every single time
you ask me to speak in the front of the room and it threatens
to lurch out of my mouth— gastric fluid and all—
and I know vomiting isn’t exactly the most beautiful thing
you would want to read in a poem but when I am in
the front of the room, there is a stick of dynamite next to
my heart and I don’t care if the words spilling from my mouth
hold any beauty at all because I am just trying to finish before
I explode into pieces so please I am trying to get you to understand that I cannot do what you are asking of in the front of the room—
it’s not just public speaking; for me it is a public condemnation
and you are pulling on chains from inside my throat and
wrapping them around my body so God, I am begging you
to set me free because I am not good with words when
the air is so suffocating in the front of the room.
I’m tired of defining my life
Based on the amount of times
I succeed and fail each day.
I’m tired of tallying
My relapses into bad habits.
I’m tired of limiting myself
To keep from feeling and loving so hard.
I’m tired of existing as though
Numbers of any kind,
Make me good or bad
Or wrong or right.
I’m putting away those concepts;
My mind will finally get its rest.
Because I am no longer,
And have never been
The sum or differences
Of these things.
I am just me.
I will just be.
1. If you don’t like the way he kisses you, you won’t like the way he fucks you. Get up and leave.
2. If he won’t go down on you, but expects you to go down on him, laugh. Get up and leave.
3. If you don’t want to do something and he doesn’t respect that, slap him round the face. Get up and leave.
4. If he isn’t okay with the imperfections on your skin, if he says they turn him off, get up and leave.
5. If you don’t want to shave your legs and he thinks that’s disgusting and refuses to touch them, get up and leave.
6. If he doesn’t see your body as a masterpiece, as a complete work of art, get up and leave.
7. If he makes you feel uncomfortable about any part of your body, get up and leave.