Hello. Goodbye. Go fuck yourself.

Hello. Goodbye. Go fuck yourself beautiful. I want to tell you nothing. But I want you to feel something. The shame of being beautiful-ugly, fat-fit, hairy-exotic-homely fuck. Fuck you inevitable, fuck you future, fuck you destiny, (How many more times can I say fuck? I don’t fucking know.) The darkest part of myself is the one that feels. That goddamn, emotional bitch.

My mind is a hot mess, pungent, strong, and smelling like grandma on a hot day. Smelling of tight silk and body odor. Keep it together. People depend on your confidence, but it’s neuroticism. They tell me I am so thoughtful. A blessed curse because I cannot help but think of everything. I am overly observant and wildly underspoken. I do not let people see my fear when I have a PTSD panic attack at 3:02 A.M. having to check, once again, all the locks on my doors and windows. People do not see my knuckles whitten as I sit in traffic realizing that I forgot to put my shoes away in their designated location, and that I will be thinking about it all day. And that, I will march straight to my shoes when I cross my threshold at home without stopping to show affection to the one I love. People don’t see the serenity and peace I feel, the zen like mastery of emptiness, when my robotic ¬†vacuum removes all the tiny, singular strands of hair that wedge between my toes, and stick to the soles of my feet, a reminder that my house is not clean enough

not clean enough

never clean enough

not clean enough

People do not see that I am scarred by a vulnerability once exposed
a naked soul that must always be clothed
because it is a messy thing,
psychotic and crazy,
and you won’t be the first to witness the wound under this armor
and you are not going to like it
because it still hasn’t healed quite right.

POW-etry! Or, Fighting with a Woman

It’s starts like a slow hum

humhumhumhmmmmmm

But then a feeling overwhelms you and the

humhumhum

feels more like a sickness in your stomach

like a

grrrrgurggroglegrr

and the synapses in your brain begin firing rapidly

electricly like a

zzzzst zzzzst zzzzst

You know something is happening,

but, you didn’t leave anything behind when you left

and you haven’t brought anything back with you.

But the bell goes

DING!

And whether you’re ready for it or not

she’s huffing and puffing,

wanting to spill some blood.

Who likes a clean floor anyway?

THEN,

you make the fatal mistake of speaking first

which comes out sounding more like

blubbllahgaublubblahblue

Sorry?

You brace for impact,

but you’re not ready.

She won’t need gloves for the blows she’s about to deliver.

Sorry?

PHWAP!

That’s it?

BONK!

Do you even remember what happened?

ZONK!

She pauses

silent and staring

delivering a

BIFF!

You don’t even listen.

POW!

You don’t even know me.

BAM!

When was the last time you showed me that you even cared?

KACHUNK!

The synapses in your brain are overworked

slowing to a sparking

tsz tsz tsz tsz tsz

before you short circuit

she delivers the

Big BOOOOOOM!

Do you even love me?

Smile Bitch

When your fingers grow callused

from the hard-pressed pencils

When you’re asked to read aloud

and you stumble over the words

When English feels jagged and cuts your tongue

Smile Bitch

Smile Bitch (1)

When the redneck on the corner calls you

a towel-headed heathen

When the security at the airport searches you

because your last name has too many syllables

and you have to be hiding more somewhere

Smile Bitch

Smile Bitch (1)

When your knees give out during the mile run

and the class goes on without you

When your white shorts bleed through

When Mama calls you lazy after your backs been broken

When the family says your brother is killer crazy

Smile Bitch

Smile Bitch (1)

When the world is laughing at you

Just Smile

Smile Bitch Smile

Smile Bitch (1)

But when your little sister
plays in your footsteps and stumbles

drowning in the laughter of the crowd

Smile

No

Bite Bitch

Bite Bitch