Wednesday, April 20, 2011


You left. Displacing air
That blew backward as if hurrying away
Like old men slouching, hurry along the street outside
Looking for something lost.

But when the air returned it caressed
As if with fingers belonging to a hand
Longing to be held.
A shy child that apologizes without words.
I clung to pictures like I wanted so desperately to cling to you.

Leaving notes to myself that spoke of the love you never gave.
I wonder if I'm insane or if this is perfectly normal;
To obsess. I'm ashamed.
12 years old and awkwardly agonizing
Because I want you to notice me and I thinking I'm to ugly to have you notice.
I'm not good at loving, I can only give and not second guess every word and action.
I'm broken of being too analytical.

I've forgotten what I once knew
And I can only stand here trembling,
Not daring to say a word
Because I don't know the right thing to say.
My hopes contradict them selves
And I'm inclosing faster then you can reveal me.
I want you to understand with out my tongue tripping and hopscotching around phrases
That I'm too afraid to share with you -
That I have always been to scared to share with anyone.

This is all in my head.
If life is simple there is a black and white answer
[either you notice or you don't notice]
but in this over/out blown world
Where bubblegum bubbles and the scent of a boys hair
Are hot air balloons and jungles of fragrance
A glance is undressing,
Your touch on my hand the intimacy of love making.
I find myself wishing I wasn't so stupid.
So naive, so painfully self aware of what I am
Which is nothing.
Nothing to you. Nothing at all.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Today is a day for confessions

I never want to cry around you because I want the time I spend with you to be happy.
I try not to get attached because honestly you scare the hell out of me. I'm scared to love you or feel anything because I know you will never love me back.

You say your scared to tell her you love her because you're 99% sure she'd never talk to you again.
Well I can't ever tell you that I feel the exact same way.
I hate how she treats you. I hate that she ignores you for weeks then comes over just to fuck you. I hate that you love her.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


Size 0 was always a dream floating past me.
I used to sit on my bathroom floor,
back propped against the tiles where my spine cut like uneven knife wounds into me, dreaming of being size 0.

They say a girl of 5'1 should be 103.
133 always told me I'm a failure.
And just a glass of water was all I would take
Hoping to wash away that unclean greased feeling
That 30 extra pounds gives you.

Have you ever tried sleeping on a dead empty stomach?
its not so bad.
kind of like some one punching you from the inside,
fighting for you to give in and have one little bite of food.

Its better then standing up
Or moving when you haven't eaten for days.
being dizzy always scared me
Ever since that time I fainted at work
And smashed my face into a metal ice scoop.
And that was only on pursuit of size two.
I'm more careful now.

"just a little juice."

" really, I'm fine"

"Not pasty just naturally pale."

"It's just so hot in here."

Really, there are a thousand excuses for why you look sick.

Have you ever done disgusting things to make yourself not eat?
like crawling into a maggot coated trash barrel
And scrubbing it out.
Hoping the three week old soup of other peoples meals
Will make you sick and you can purge
Whatever calories are left.
Wondering to yourself all the while
"Does throwing up count as negative calories?"

I just want to be a size zero.
I want toothpick thighs that don't rub together when I walk;
that look good in dresses and amazing in jeans.
I want to look like the mannequins in clothing shops.
The perfect body type, for why else would they try to sell clothing off it?
(have you ever seen a 168lb mannequin? there's a reason for that)

I just want this fucking body to listen up.
I cry every time I look in the mirror or look at these god dammed legs
that in my despair I worry will never look right.
Will never be skinny.

I want people to feel my bones when they touch me and treat me delicately.
I want girls to look at me enviously wishing they could look like that.
And men, I never want to have another man look at my body in disgust or uncertainty.
Never want another man to leave me for someone more skinny or pretty.
I want to feel worthy of attractive peoples affection.

I just wish I could unzip this fat suit and step out as the real me.

I want to be happy and have one less worry.
103 . . . I can do better then this.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

It Is Over

Now I know.
I mean for sure,
It's done.
I can pack up my memories in boxes
With diary pages like old news papers around them.
I can put those pictures
And dreams away.
Every time I see a place I wanted to show you
I can finally look without the ghosts images
Of you and I before my eyes.
It's fitting that on this day
There should be rain.
Someone was merciful and didn't give me
A bright sun to mock my misery.
No. This isn't a nice day,
A fine day,
There aren't birds singing in a blue perfect sky.
This isn't the kind of day I would of wished
To share with you.
It is a broken ruined day
And I like it.
Every perfect thing reminds me of you.