her reflection

written in college~ sometimes things aren’t what they appear. Sometimes you find that people are more complicated than you could ever hope to realize.

her reflection

the glass cracks invisibly
and distorts a girl –
slinking down on dirty tiles,
panting out of breath
and buzzed.

her bones dig in the floor.
she watches the burning walls-
they whisper her secrets
with the heady intensity of
a grade-school gossiper.

she screams with all the
cells in her wasted frame
to go go go go go away.

she screams till she’s shaking and water
is squeezed from her eyes
and her fingernails have cut
holes in her hands.

My Regrets to Leary

My Regrets to Leary:

Listen, the streets are quiet and
the news anchor lies about his whereabouts.
He is the naked enemy
beside me who is a pathological liar,
and tells me my name is
first lady and that I am a spider.

He told
of your delusions and the daisies
behind your ears.
No one believes in flowers in guns,
or kool aid optimism.
It is now a numbing vein,
a forgetting, a
tuning out, a
looking away, listless.

When the lights come on,
I scurry
into a dirty hole like my
other vacant eye socket friends.

When the lights go off,
I spin a regal blanket for us and stroke the
mustache of my enemy while he sleeps.