weirdo

I can't stalk you
if you don't see me

see me,
please and thank you

"I want you to notice when I'm not around..." Creep, Radiohead

trying

I think

perhaps I asked

for a certain something

too young and too

often, desiring it too

much, and the Universe

laughed the way she does

ominously and gave

me a different path...

there’s poetry in that

my own self

sometimes I forget my own self
that I write, I’m a writer
of cold hard truths and lies
of fucking and sucking
limericks and poetry and
structured things
that form in the mouth
on my tongue
in the membrane

in the white noise
that never stills
even then
I write, I’m a writer

curse the Other

when sorrow slipped
and anger fled
to calm
in the never-was
she’s not quite sure

but the moments
fleeting
into sweet smiles
with four legs
amidst recollections
waning
leave her

wondering
desirous just
to be let in
to hold you while you weep
and curse the Other

in the white space

when she was
a girl
the white space
welcomed
like a lover
she fought
hard to overcome
a sense of self
defeating
her arch nemesis
Mother

Sister sought escape
in a man in a bottle
in a needle

Brother got away
to a space
where poetry never lives

and the littlest lost
in a walkabout
within
a body of bones
flesh, sinew
in a mind that never
calms
in a heart that
bleeds

the bomb

where words lead
her little mind a wanders...

to laughter
to intimacy
to companionship
to...

the tensile strength of flesh between teeth
in that moment
before it gives
and she pulls away