Itches

I scratched an itch last night

And a piece of me fell off. 

A chunk of flesh and blood

That my body had rejected. 

So I pushed my fingers into

That open red chasm. 

But no matter how I tried

I couldn’t find the pain. 

So I ripped and I tore myself

Pulling pieces out from in. 

Searching frantically through gore

For the spark I thought I had.

But instead all I accomplished

Was shredding what was left.

So when I woke up this morning

It was to my own mess. 

Snow Day

A snowy day 

Blankets in whiteness

The world I can’t bear anymore

Under my feet

The crunch of snow

Like beetles that pour from my mouth

When I open it

To scream out curses

To all those who left me this way.

I scoop up snow

To pack in my wounds

Like the bulletholes in my brain

I spend the night

With needle and thread

Just trying to sew up the holes

But sometimes

Things can’t be mended

With cotton and metal and prayers

So instead

It’s smoke and mirrors

And filling and “emptying” my soul 

No sir I don’t

See the big picture

Just myself and the wide wide world

And if you think

That I don’t deserve

The millions of things that I’ve got

Then you’re right

And I certainly don’t 

Appreciate them like I should

But I just

Keep on asking

And the universe keeps on giving 

The clock here

Ticks away seconds

That everybody says I am wasting

Is it a waste

These seconds spent

Trying to find a happiness? 

Nomad

I long to run, to flee, to fly,
To leave reality long behind.

All I ask, to see the world,
Can't be too hard for just one girl.

So I make lists and I book flights,
Through insomniatic nights.

Whether by bus, car, or train,
I just try to escape the pain.

If I find a brand new home,
Maybe I'll not feel so alone?

Brand new city, brand new me
I always grow bored eventually.

All the old feelings crawling back,
Until I feel my skull might crack.

So I pack up and I move on,
Wondering how this can feel so wrong,

Some place, that when I first came
Convinced me it could heal my brain.

Every new place in which I come,
Gives me only fleeting fun.

Until I'm sad, once more grey,
And then it's time to run away.

I know it's best to ask for help,
But without my blues I'm not myself.

Sycamore

I think there's a sycamore growing in me

I sit in bed and think sometimes, of all that I could be,
Of flights, and friends, and sentences, of universities.

There's so much I could've seen,
People I could've been.

Instead I stay and contemplate,
And in my hesitance I do wait,

For words or signs or even smoke,
to tell me I am not alone.

But so far all that I have got
is missed connections, of those a lot.

So why should I believe in love?
Or a power up above.

When I get daily this damn show,
Of just how little I fucking know.

About how people live and work,
And how not to be a jerk.

Please someone rescue me,
From this mindless constancy.

There's rules that I don't quite understand,
"Just do this to catch a man!"

But what of us lonely few,
That no matter what we do,

Just can't get one to stay,
Eventually they run away.

Is there something wrong with me?
Below the surface, where I can't see?

More than love and more than Lust,
I want a friend I fully trust.

Acid

There's acid in my heart,

And it comes right from her.

Her thought is corrosive,

Rising from my core.

It hurts me 

And burns me

And draws me to tears. 

It knots up my stomach

Until I can't take it. 

And I'm left running

Trying to make it to the trash

Before I throw up. 

Trying to purge the thought

Of her hands on your body 

From my being. 

I never want to hear about

How she ever 

Made you happy. 

It quickens my heart

to hear it. 

Or how you thought 

you'd stay together,

It turns my stomach. 

Hold Me

When you hold me tight

I cannot quite remember

Being so happy 

Love

The love you give me

It defrosts what was frozen

It warms my night soul