what's done in the dark, must come to light.

you are a dark abyss of black, there is no visibility. black absorbs all color; you absorb and collapse upon yourself.

how to reach you? how to communicate to the distant? it's a good question to be asked. do you want to be touched, loved, thought of, cared about, talked to?
"YES!! I AM DYING--I WANT TO DIE, I WANT TO DIE, i want to die..." there's a simple solution for that, and you know of many. your tears are useless, your cries fall upon deaf ears. you are such a fool.
















"i am better than you, and you know i'm better than you. i will become something that will eclipse your existence and you will be sorry for all that you did. i am intelligent, talented, unique, mature, witty, attractive, responsible, ambitious, personable, kind, outgoing, caring...the list goes on, my dear friend. you are nothing but a setback and you--you are dead to me."

light begins to seep into the abyss of a room. a window has appeared. sunlight is able to come in through those transparent panes as the sun rises.



another one is built and put in. more glass in the room. you are saddened, yet pleased.




and another.

and another.
and another.andanother.andanother. and another!

it is clear what the abyss once was. a skeletal frame of plaster, messed up sheets, strewn clothes, a neglected desk and a chair never sat upon. an unpleasant smell mingles. with the sun, the rays bring a presence of contentment. you are the speech within the abyss, and your voice is crisp and clear. no more sounds of unhappiness, no more anger, no more disappointment. nothing.



you have yourself.

dirty deeds

i go to bed with you,
but my mind is on someone else.
your muscular body,
your angular face,
your tender kisses--
i cannot help but avoid your eyes
and picture someone else.

i lay next to you,
i feel your body's movement,
up, down, inhale, exhale.
the warmth on those cold nights,
i cannot deny that i crave it,
i want it, i enjoy it, i need more of it.

i can't look at you, dear boy.
i can't say that i'm sorry
to avoid you, to not talk to you,
to not look at you straight in the eyes.
you are too ostentatious,
you are a misogynist, a user.
but, i am like you, a user.

i hate your gazes,
i hate your poise,
i hate your stature
and your arrogant and egotistical nature.
your voice grates on my eardrums,
and your presence gives me an
overwhelming sense of discomfort.

i wish i never got involved with you,
i suppose i am sorry...
pity onto you.

my home is foreign.

i am going to go where the sun always shines,
the girls are pretty,
the boys are handsome,
where the fun never fucking stops.
but it's all become so estranged from me.

i can't be in my own neighborhood
without feeling like i will rile up
stupid, idiotic, meaningless, childish drama!
fuck you for "hating me"; you got what you deserve.
stop trying to blame me for everything you did...
to me, me, ME.
i can only smile with how demented you lead
a misconstrued life; you're so fucking pathetic.

my mother always has a reason
to bicker and argue with me,
my father cannot defend me, nor can he.
kind father of mine, you have no spine.
my house can definitely feel
as if it is not a home.

i run to alex, to becca.
the way i miss them--
i feel pains in my heart,
it is so awful.

god, i don't recognize the people
like i used to (and please, don't take offense)!
driving on mira mesa boulevard,
i feel like i don't belong.
i belong in la mesa, or santee,
or encinitas, or oceanside:
all of these places are strange to me,
i feel more at home in a place i don't know
than my own hometown.
i've been away too long.
it's been too long.
is this what will happen to me when i am older?


when i step foot in san diego,
i want to bask in the sun,
lay by the poolside
and relax with beirut.

counting the days for...what?

all i care about is a superficial goal;
to be rail thin must equal contentment!
i don't feel as hungry anymore,
but am i sad?
i can't tell.
am i happy?
perhaps.
the sure constant is that i cannot feel.
i get angry, but i am not angry
with the fervor that i once had.
i feel the sobriety of the days,
nothing changes nor is out of the norm.
the funny thing is that
i constantly feel as if i were in an
inebriated stupor--
i have since february;
my question is when it'll stop.

i don't feel empty,
i do not want to cheapen myself
for 15 minutes of pleasure,
i don't care if i have companionship;
i am stagnant in solitude,
but i can revel in it.
who cares when i can leave the fog
of san francisco,
for the bright and warm rays of
san diego?
i honestly could care less.

pressing key after key
on this expensive piece of technology i own
at least gives me some solace
in the meantime.

a trivial struggle.

my poetry has turned to shit,
i cannot write.
i feel this, and
i feel that.
i am frustrated by him,
i am sad about her.
my feelings seem to be
best expressed through words,
but no.
not today, not for the
past week and half
have i been able to decently
arrange words that i know
into something coherent
and perhaps even...
MEANINGFUL.

i will concede
that i am not a poet laureate,
nor will i ever be.
i just
have anxiety
over stupid issues,
about the time i
never seem to have, and
the stresses that try my mind;
they are wearing.

i am unhappy with my body,
just the way it looks;
and i will openly admit it
right now!
protrusions here,
folds there--it upsets me.
i do not know what to do!
(now i know,
most of you will tell me to
shut up, but i cannot.)
i am also displeased
with this insomnia i have,
this irregular sleep
that i struggle to fall into.
i blame the anxiety,
this over-active mind of mine
that will never stop with
the most random of thoughts,
and the most spontaneous times.
i feel as if i have no escape
from all of this--
i am trying to find a cure
that quite possibly
does
not
exist.

ha!

you care to not notice
what is in front of you.
unfortunately,
that is
a travesty.
be engulfed
in psuedo-happiness,
i

don't

care.

i have my words,
i have my thoughts.
i have good company
and i can fall back on my own
shrewd mind
to get me from
here

to

there.

but wait,
what do i know?
i break after
each relationship.
well, i try not to.
but it is difficult,
to say the least.
i blame my fear,
my fear of solitude,
of

being

completely

alone.

it's a journey
from knowing someone,
to loving someone,
to looking at the deceased.
i

love/hate

every goddamned

second.

fuck this dependency,
condemn your flirtations away,
these interpersonal relationships
turn out to be so inane,
it is torturous.
i

don't want

(i do want)

you.

being wide awake while fast asleep.

several nights of
difficulty sleeping,
staying asleep,
and then trying to
fall back asleep--
i do not enjoy this
fluctuation of
slumber.

my mind is so active--
why?
why, before i sleep,
do i have to
think about yesterday,
or four days from now,
or even six years past?
my mind is
so unkind to my body.

---

four years ago,
you took my innocence.
i willingly gave it up,
in exchange for body heat,
for a kiss,
a loving gaze,
words of care and affection.
but i do not think of you.
i think of the boy
who abused me,
tortured me, sought to
harm another soul.
you--you are wicked,
depraved even; die!
die already.

the male gender
evidently
rules my mind.
how characteristic
of a young woman.

i want to kiss who
i want to kiss.
i want to touch who
i want to touch.
i want to fuck who
i want to fuck.
i want to talk to who
i want to talk.
i want to glance at who
i want to glance.

boys and girls,
come to me.

---


i guess
i am very tired,
emotionally,
and physically.

do i ache?

i sit here,
with a sore body,
an aching heart,
an apathetic mind.
i cannot deny
that i hurt,
physically, but not
emotionally.

do i feel sad?
i do not know--
i cannot feel.
am i disappointed?
am i content?
am i depressed?
my mind is agonized
with questions that
my heart cannot answer.
i just know
that i cannot feel.

believe me
when i say that
it is beyond agonizing
when you cannot distinguish
the difference between
happiness and anger.
the constant limbo of
feelings that are felt exist,
but they cannot
be classified.

damn the apathy i feel,
to the darkest depths,
the deepest of crevasses,
the hottest of fires,
and the most unbearable areas
of hell.

my lips will stay pursed.

when will you learn?
it's not permissible
to be perpetually angry-
especially over the most
trivial
of
issues.

you're burning your bridges
quicker than you can
begin to construct them.
your immaturity rules
over you,
manipulating your actions.
you know better than that.
at least,
i am presuming so.

don't think that your
displeased attitude
will solve anything.
you will wallow in it,
it will consume you--
evidently it has
made you
a victim.

please, stop and
breathe.
one can only do
so much
to gain your forgiveness,
but all efforts
always,
always,
fall short.
what more do you want?
would you like
a bath drawn every night,
or perhaps someone
to cook your meals,
give you weekly manicures?

may your bridges' ashes
disintegrate back
into the earth.

you and me, me and you

i wish to wake up
next to you and
be too shy to catch
your glances, but
be brave enough to
steal a look here,
and another one there,
and curl my lips into a smirk.


but i cannot have that.



distance separates,
obligations block,
feelings and emotions obscure,
they are keeping me from you.



you are keeping me from you.


i yearn to grasp- to hold-
to reach for your hand,
the hand that nervously
rests itself on my thigh,
my breast,
the small of my back,
and the curve
of my waist.
your hands run along
my body
as if to say,
"i adore you,
you are precious."



but it will not happen.

i can only smile now.

it is so humorous how one person,
one young mind
of demented energy and thought,
has brought me down to nothing
and has pushed me to become
a changed person who is
wiser, more clever, but
a girl who is wary of all,
apprehensive of the kindest of motives,
afraid to establish anything
remotely sincere.

you continue to torment me--
what is it exactly that you want?
if you want to continue
this absurd game of cat and mouse,
dearest boy, you clearly have
challenged the wrong opponent.
i know what it that you like;
you just like to see me cry,
hear about my restless nights
and the seemingly endless
mental anguish you cause.

good riddance to you,
your voice, your mannerisms,
your immaturity, your ego;
your body, your touches, your music,
your smiles, your kisses,
your companionship.
i happily bid farewell
to everything
that is, was, and will be of
useless, careless, selfish, childish,
you.