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Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Monday, November 10, 2014

Horny Poem

I’ll give you a choice.
You can either take off the beanie, or wear nothing but it.

These are the lines I practice saying to you in my head
When I see you in your seat
I can’t help but picture you in my bed
I know how I’m supposed to be seen not heard
But would you rather these words be read?
Wait, let me set things straight

This is not a love poem.
This is a horny poem.

Because baby you turn me on
Get me hot and sweaty like a marathon
And make me want to take things off
Like that fucking beanie
Hipster I want to make your hips stir between me
Is that line inappropriate?
Because I wanted to follow it
With some crazy shit I want you to do with my nipples
Yes I said nipples
I mean I’m 19
And boobs are hot
Or so I thought
When I wore my special bra today in class
You know the one that doubles my Ds
Well honestly I’m already there 
but today I swear they looked like Es
Probably because you’ve enlarged the size of my heart
Are you studying biochemistry?
Because you’ve incredibly and endlessly
Recharged my hormones to ecstasy
Heavenly, heavily, and aggressively
Transforming me to those dreadfully helplessly enemies
Who let guys reduce their density
Leaving me floating
Supposing if D = M / V
You are massively reducing my volume
Because I actually can’t eat around you
My stomach has become a game of cat’s cradle
I’m not able to digest
How obsessed I am
With your chest
And how I’d like to press my bare one against it
Shit I want you to walk me home then come in
Pin me down and kiss me
Not with your lips
With your mouth
But these words are replaced with doubt
As soon as we come out of lecture
Because I’m sure you have better places to go
And with cooler girls to be
I watch you bike away
And say these words to no one
Except me.

Friday, November 7, 2014

Stress Disordinary

It’s 4 AM do you know where your mother is?
I do
I always do
She’s a floor above me screaming
Heaving up cries
Capsules of air won’t penetrate her lungs
She’s got the runs
She’s literally trying to run away
From a prison I can’t locate
So I guess I don’t really know where she really is

I hope it’s dreaming
But it’s hard to tell
when her body swells with heavy breathing

I don’t know where
has taken her

At 58 mom was kidnapped
Trapped in a memory of a man beating her
I hate that name
No one wins
Score isn’t kept by bruises on her skin

Yet years since she left him
Something’s underneath, beneath, within

When mom got diagnosed with
I didn’t believe her
I thought it was just for soldiers
Men crushed by bullets or boulders
Marines in Vietnam burnt down by the Vietcong
But I kept trying to understand
Demand to be normal
I didn’t see the cut so I ignored the bleeding
I wanted to be a child so I acted like one

Her mental illness didn’t fit the media’s depiction
so I disregarded it as fiction
Reduced pain to self pitying addiction

But mom fought a war
Our country surrendered
The courts speculated she was too educated for abuse

Her PhD outweighed her battle wounds
Calling justice was no use
friction and affliction wore in the sores
We didn’t live beneath the poverty line
So they sketched us out as crazy
Said she was insane on enough papers
Until it was a diagnosis
A psychosis
And as I woke up every night
to sound of my mother screaming
She didn’t sound human anymore
She sounded like a statistic

It wasn’t realistic
That she loved me with every letter
But was reduced to 4

an acronym for
Polite Talk of Someone’s Damage
Pushing Titles on Suppressed Demons
Persistent Tremors Shuddering Down as

Panic Terrorizes Simple Days
Pleasant Talk for Structured Destruction

You can’t function when you’re defined by
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

hammering behind your eyes

my reply:
Please Talk about Something Different

Stop telling me she’s insane
Because what’s really crazy
is that we don’t let  emotional bullet holes
heal into scars

It’s 5 AM

Do you know where my mother is?


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