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I wrote this when I was 13. My best friend had just killed herself. I was, and am, broken from it.

~~~~~~~~~~

I passed by your locker
On the way to class today
It still is such a shocker
That you've really gone away

Half a year has passed
And now we're back in school
The feelings of hurt still last
What you did to us was not cool

I miss you more than anything
As I walk the crowded hallway
I think about and remember many things
Since you were called away

You were such a beautiful girl
Such a radiant smile
I pray on everything in this cruel world
That I may see you for a while

Sometimes I forgive you
But sometimes I will not
I don't know what to do
Understand, I can not

Now you're up in heaven
And I am here below
I have something to believe in
Why you left I do not know

I wake from a dream
My face wet with tears
It truly seemed
Like you were really here

A thousand days have gone by
And I've missed you every one
I wish I could spread my wings and fly
To you, my special one.

Goodbye dear friend
How I'll miss you!
I'll see you once again in the end
Wait for me, will you?

Pins and Bird Shit

“We’re having problems” The words fell from my mouth and remained suspended in the air in front of me; I could part the letters like curtains.
Daylight broke when the response shone through, eviscerating the deafening silence with a few short syllables.
“Then work’m out” you stated simply, and I nodded, taking and basking in this brand new information.
I certainly had problems and was used to taking care of them myself. Why should this time be any different?
As much as I’d liked to believe that everyone’s not “like that” I knew that truly everyone is to some extent. I also knew it was always up to me to just “work’m out” for everyone.
I’m sick of being the world’s largest walking pin cushion. I’m tired of being poked, prodded, and a receptacle of harmful, life-sucking things.
But in all this, I realize I have a purpose and a responsibility. I must continue; I must push forward and move ahead as a powerful force in a sea of apathy.
I am the sudden wind tunnel on an autumn day, blowing your dress up to your chest and reddening your cheeks with an angry gush. I am a wayward squirrel in the road, causing you to swerve from your destined path and live for a moment. Catch your breath. I am bird shit in your hair and sand in your eyes. I am a cardboard papercut under your finger nail and the coffee table tripping you in the night and bruising your shins. I am a force in your way, and you will make your way around me. You will climb this obstacle and push forward. You will pull your dress back down and stop your car in its tracks. You will wash your hair and flush your eyes. You will bandage the wound and ice the bruises. You will live and you will be okay.
You will work’m out.

Nevermore

I lust after small towns and
one lane highways…
Empty stretches of road,
closest Walmart hidden
45 minutes down the way.
Deer hunting, camo-clad
burly men with handlebar mustaches,
stick-n-poke tattoos
done over biscuits in
broken-down trailers.
Creek-diving, unafraid of
disease-ridden, bacteria-infested
waters - or sharp rocks underfoot.

I long for simpler times but
know that none exist,
or exist again.

As He Gasped for Air

I found this document among my high school writings. I haven't read the whole thing... And I don't know if I want to yet.

Dated 9/26/2007

His body was crumpled and appeared small, as a stillborn child.  They dragged him to the shore as his chest no longer heaved.  They fruitlessly attempted to revive him, but his heart was stopped and his lungs were full.  His eyes were closed, his mouth forever frozen in a sly smile.  His sculpted body, tanned skin and blonde hair no longer seemed attractive and his formerly luscious lips had turned blue with lack of oxygen. 

I remember my anxiousness to go to the lake every year.  We usually went every July from the first to the fifth.  We’d have parties on the fourth, the only day out of the whole year my parents would let me drink.  I always looked forward to it.  The lake was like my second home.

Jimmy, Sarah and Brett were our next door neighbors at the lake.  Jimmy and Sarah, the twins, were my age while Brett was a few years older than us.  I’d usually stay with the twins, seeing as Sarah was my best friend and I had a crush on Jimmy.  Brett usually stayed away, sometimes in his room or out on the lake riding his Seadoo in circles and doing tricks, showing off for the bathing beauties along the beach. 

I always told my parents that I wanted to live there, at the cottage on the lake like Jimmy, Sarah, Brett and their parents, but they always shook their heads in a silent response.  Some things are meant to be taken in moderation, meaning the five days a year at the lake was enough. 

I used to go through post-lake depression every year until I was about thirteen when I realized that I’d come back and it’d be like I never left.

We’re eight years old, I’m walking hand-in-hand with Jimmy and chattering with Sarah on the side, though I’m not really paying much attention to her.  Something about Jimmy always caught my attention.  Was it his blonde hair that caught the sun so perfectly, or his cute freckles or the cowboy hat he never took off?  Was it his smile, his laugh?  I suppose I’ll never really remember what caused me to be so infatuated with him in the first place…

It was my father that pulled him out of that water and dragged him to the shore; it was my father that attempted to resuscitate him but failed.  He’s a paramedic; he knows what he’s doing.  He can save Joe Blow who crashed himself into a tree because he was driving drunk, but he can’t save Jimmy.  Jimmy’s beyond help now.  He’s beyond everything now…

Our school gets out June fourth every year, leaving me just under a month to pack my luggage for the lake.  I’m almost always ready weeks before we actually have to leave.  My parents think I’m crazy and I just tell them they’re right. 

This year, I’m thirteen.  A lot has happened since the last time I visited the lake.  I can’t wait to fill everyone in.

Opening the door and ignoring my luggage, I sprint down to the beach where I know Jimmy and Sarah are waiting.  I throw my arms around Sarah and squeeze her tight.  I look over her shoulder and smile widely at Jimmy and he returns the gesture.  I gently push Sarah away and tackle Jimmy to the ground, giggle, stand up, dust off, offer him my hand and pull him to his feet. 

“Long time, Jen,” chuckles Jimmy.

“I know!  I’m so glad to be back.  I have so much to tell you two.  I missed you so much!” I reply grinning.

“We’ll help you with your luggage, Jen,” says Sarah.

“Thanks,” I say, turning on my heel and sprinting back up the stairs to the car.

Finally it’s dinnertime.  Jimmy, Sarah, Brett and I are sitting on the pier, eating and giggling, reminiscing and filling each other in. 

Brett has a new girlfriend, Sarah has her eye on a cute boy across the lake and Jimmy mumbles about water skiing.

I eye him and mouth, “You okay, Jim?”

He mouths back, “Sure,” and looks at the ground.

Sarah blurts, “His name is Samson and he looks great in a Speedo,” she giggles and blushes.

I smile and gaze at Jimmy who is still staring at his feet. 

Brett nudges me and whispers, “My little bro is just missin’ his girl.”

“His girl?” I ask sadly.

Brett rolls his eyes, “Who do you think?  Every time you leave he’s depressed.  He won’t eat or sleep, he just stares at the picture of you two from a couple years back.  He’s totally in love with you Jen.  Right now, he’s glad to have you here, but he’s sad because he knows you will leave again soon.”

I gawk at Brett and he nods.  I turn my gaze to Jimmy who is eyeing Brett carefully.  I smile weakly and ask to be excused. 

I run to my room, slam the door behind me and slink down, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

I’m thirteen and I’m in love.  I have been for as long as I can remember.  It is real.

I stare in the mirror and my reflection is beaming. I feel pretty for once.  

Suddenly there’s a knock at my door.  I shout, “Who is it?” and make a move toward the handle when it turns and Jimmy comes in.

He looks into my eyes and I gaze back unblinkingly and smile.  He takes me in his arms, leans me against the door and kisses me, deeply, passionately…just as I’d always imagined it.

He grins and sits on my bed, pats the space next to him and motions for me to come over.  I sit and rest my head against his shoulder and he nuzzles my head with his sweetly.

He turns my face to his with his hand and whispers softly, “I love you, Jen.”

“I love you too, Jim,” I whisper back and we kiss again.

All of a sudden I’m completely exhausted and I lie back on my bed and drift off.

I remember what I dreamt of, too.  I was swimming in the lake near the stationary pier about fifty yards from the shore.  I was alone, or I thought I was until I heard the screaming.  It was Jimmy, I could tell.  I feverishly glance around for any sign of him.  He’s nowhere to be found.  Suddenly, I feel a tug on my leg and I’m being dragged down, down, down to the depths of the lake…I’m screaming but no one can hear me.  My chest is pounding, I’m not breathing.  I open my eyes underwater and there is Jimmy, pulling me down.  I hear him saying, “Don’t let me drown, Jen…Don’t leave me.” 

I sit up, sweating profusely and breathing heavily.  Jimmy’s still here, his eyes wide, watching me.  He wraps his arms around me and shushes me, assuring me that everything’s alright.

“Nightmare,” I whimper, not wanting to elaborate.

He nods and holds me closer.

This fourth of July we go to the neighboring town and watch the fireworks on a blanket.  Sarah groans as I take Jimmy’s hand in mine and lean alongside him lovingly. 

After the grand finale, we pile back into the car and drive to the cottage.

The next day my parents and I leave. 

This time, I cry.  I sob.  I don’t want to leave Jimmy.

He cries too.  We hold each other, kiss briskly and I leave.  It’s less painful, I think, to just run and not linger.

The ambulance arrived thirty minutes after I made the call.  A team of poorly trained volunteer firemen came and lifted his motionless body onto the stretcher and hastily loaded him onto the ambulance and slammed the door behind them.  They shook their heads.  We all knew that Jimmy was dead.  There was no reviving him.

School is boring and I don’t care about it at all.  I just want the summer again.  I want to see Jimmy.  Now we talk every day on the phone.  We tell each other about school and how much we miss each other and how we can’t wait to be together again.  I told him about the quote I heard once, “Because we didn’t see each other every day it made the time we did spend together a lot more special.”  He said he liked it and wrote it down.

Occasionally I talked to Sarah.  She informed me about Samson, who had asked her out a week before.  She was ecstatic.

“We wave to each other from across the lake and I go over there as often as I can, and we…you know…hang,” she giggles.   

Finally it’s July and we’re on our way to the lake.

We arrive and my legs disappear because I’m running so fast down the hill to the beach.

Jimmy looks wonderful.  He looks better than I’ve ever seen him.  He’s taller and more fit.

He notices me ogling his six pack and he grins, “I’ve been workin’ out.”

I smile and push him to the ground and kiss him passionately on the lips. 

After what seems like an eternity Sarah harrumphs and I say, “Hey Sarah…How’re you and Samson?”

“Don’t ask about that dickhole,” she replies.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…that bad.  Welcome back Jen. I missed you.”

I get up and hug her tightly.

That night I sit on the pier and gaze out onto the moon-draped water.  It’s still. 

I hear the wooden planks creak behind me and see Jimmy standing there.  He smiles and I motion for him to come and sit next to me. 

He turns to me and I can see him smile in the moonlight.

Then, he pushes me in the water and jumps in after me. 

I scream and tread water, holding him close.

Sly Sleepy Smile

Covers rustling
and I’m anticipating a
gentle caress and sigh
and a
sly sleepy smile,
but none ever come.
You’re more distant
than usual
and I’m hardened
to the softness of
this moment…
Appreciation evacuates,
sheer greed
takes its place,
salivating for
final touches and
sly sleepy smiles.
Cringing in my
alert- and awakeness
I wonder why
your sleeping form
ceases to recognize
the fingerprints of
my body against yours —
none other like it,
none could match this,
none would ever try.
Falling into
dreamy haze
I flash you a
sly sleepy smile and
drift back to a place
entirely our own.

apply directly to the brainstem

you're coming at me with such ferocity
like a quickly ticking countdown
on a late-night infomercial,
"i can be yours for only
two low payments of $29.99
(plus shipping and handling -
and i need a lot of handling)."
i recoil but am oddly drawn to
you, you're running out of time
and i'm running out of time with you.
only seconds left to snatch this deal,
can i commit to buy?
30 day trial and money back guarantee,
no risk involved.
eyes wide and mind boggled,
i dial the toll-free number and
slovenly order you ~
delivery in 5-7 business days,
but you're worth the wait.

Who Am I?

I am of the ubiquitous near-suburban Chicago life,

community pools and field days,

“No Train Horn” legislation; cops and paramedics

living on either side.

I am from the West side of the tracks,

from committees set on beautifying run-down businesses

whose members own rotting buildings,

shouting, “Isn’t the storefront hideous?”

calling for more funds to pull weeds and

taxing small business owners in order to do so.

I am of the same ilk as the local folklore heroes,

from Bike Man to Bag Man, to the Apache, and Crazy Amy,

I wander the same streets, perhaps just as aimlessly,

though not whispering to bags in restaurant booths

or talking to my finger.

I am of Lindy’s Chili and Gertie’s Ice Cream,

of Wonderburger and Top Notch Beefburgers –

of perfect milkshakes and crisp fries

on summer days or autumn nights.

I am of the backyard barbeques,

of Sunday night dinners,

family game nights and Rainbow Cones scooped just right.

I speak the language of “Blood is thicker than water,”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,”

and, “You’re perfect just the way you are."

I acknowledge that Longwood is Short Steel,

and Dr. Pepper is Nurse Salt,

Cats say “tweet tweet,” and birds say, “meow.”

I know Devils and Angels hill through

vicarious childhood memories of

my flagpole-stealing, Tiger Milk-drinking,

non-hot dog-eating, prairie-going father

who once tried to poison a neighborhood bully

with a mud and grass mixture,

laughing wildly as he ran to safety.

I am of the ashes – I am a phoenix reborn,

from the dully-burning embers of a nigh-forgotten past,

from constant saviors and lifebringers,

and from bullies and friends (and the fine line between).

I am from a line of teachers,

certified and untrained, educated and ignorant,

from love and disdain, but I am solidified

and strengthened by

my own sheer will to survive and thrive

in a world of adversity.

You have no power over me

I know you’d think me blessed
to know your foreign touch.
“Fat girl, slob, lonely girl,
I’ll give you something
you’ll never forget.”
Sick fuck, spewing obscenities,
you do me no favors now.
Touch me once, shame on you.
Touch me twice, shame on you.
My body is not your temple,
you have no power over me.

obla

took myself out to dinner for a change and
i still didn’t know
just what to do with my hands.
alone i sat jittering
xanax dreams a faraway fantasy
the tears tested my eyes
but i blinked them away in frustration.
it’s hard to see clearly
through the fog-covered mire of distance…
jury’s still out on what went wrong.
hope-filled hallucinations
of well-meaning dreamers
extending extensively toward
your existential crisis;
outstretched arms and open pocketbooks
“it’s just money, this is someone’s life.”
my head cocked to the side remembering
or misremembering, a deluge of thoughts
filtering through the sewer systems,
stirring with bullshit and
excretions of this disgusting world.
how is one supposed to float
on a raft riddled with sweet apertures?
but indeed,
there are still words unspoken
and worlds undiscovered;
utterances left to be muttered
and heard and shared
information to be gleaned
terrain to explore and tunes
to dance in our heads
until the bittersweet notions of humanity
stop the swirling all together
and begin a new reverie
just beyond, but achievable — always.
sweet fingertips flirting
with decisions unmade
how utterly and unequivocally stunning
to have such a life ahead.

curdling screams
play on repeat.

forgive me.

periwinkle

she was the type of woman
who could nurse a single shot
through the entirety of the night
(who nurses a shot?)

she lived life on the wayside,
asking, "what will happen next?"
[ what a way to live life! ]

she was never outspoken
or rebellious and
she never let herself be seen --
she treasured the silence.

she was not bookish
or serious, or intriguing,
she was just there.

love from,

mummy dearest

I'm For You

Feeling wistful and listless
remembering those times
I’d come home to your
chalked fingerprints
on the lock of the front door…
The smell of you perforating everything
as I ascended those steps
to you and
you were always waiting.
I love those memories
of cold days spent
in your arms doing nothing —
but nothing is what we do best.
My high school problems
melted away within your electric embrace,
your energy coursing my veins,
shocking me anew every time.
Saying goodbye (for now - not forever)
created a perfect dissonance —
to be in harmony again
in our next encounter.

On Thursday at 1:15pm I thought of you

I love your ridiculous -- but real -- laugh
      when you're truly amused,
   the look in your eyes
      when you're acting bashful,
   the slack-jawed expression
       of lovemaking,
   and the way your arms feel around me
       when we're perfectly entwined.
   I love the way we fit and
       we fight for this love
                   against it all
       we're upheld by our heart-strings,
   red thread from one to the other,
             incessant longing and
                  purest love.

I haven't given you (m)any thoughts...

(g)olden, pure memories
             of you --
  you are here but you are not. 
fluttering, pounding tremors
                    green translucence
  (f)low throughout
            seafoam cutouts
       and stillframes and
(s)till I love you
        [ I will not go back ]
   Heart, beyond the pale,
  floating on the periphery of
      comparisons between
   love and hatred
             nauseatedness and apathy
         innocence and harlotry.
      You walk (t)his fine line
walked to edges sharp
           and faults confined
    setting fires to the already flammable
and leaving me quivering
         in (y)our steathless wake.