When you’re generalized anxiety disorder
looks like
buying broccoli from your local Sprouts.

I walk in,
phone in hand
in the case I forget my short list of three items
because you see
this is a short trip
an
in and out trip
a,
there’s nothing we gotta stress about here trip
don’t even need to freak out about the shopping cart cuz
it’s a grab a basket kinda trip
so

I grab a basket
but only after
I grab some bagels
not on the list but I promise me
I’ll thank me later
see,
we have
chicken, broccoli, milk, and dry shampoo if I can find it
but I can’t find it
so we have chicken, broccoli, milk,
plus some bagels.

Chickens first, thin cut thighs
can’t ever buy the first item so I grab the one from behind
I think this is how my mother raised me
or this is OCD
I guess it doesn’t really matter
as I make my way to the broccoli
but find,

it’s not alone
so I grab the...

Bloody Mary
is trapped in my mirror
when I enter the house
she whispers my name
one
two
three times.

And I come around.

She has this way with me.
We make eye contact and I start talking
it’s so quiet, they never know there’s more than one of us in there.
We can talk for an hour
maybe more
sometimes I catch myself
tell her I really gotta get going
but she does the same thing I do
has a way with distracting goodbyes and turning them into deeper conversations.

She always does that.
And I’m always mad at myself for letting her have her way with me.

But her spells are so captivating
she loves to strip me naked with them.
Especially if I already am.
She says she likes to see what’s underneath these layers.
So I pull back my skin.
And it always starts as a strip tease.
And I’m always proud when it ends as a strip tease.

I’ll even tell them about it.
How she almost got her way...

When I wanted yogurt
I got black out,
got my body is doing a thing it’s never done
so stubborn mind finally takes a back seat

thank god for that

that there’s a back seat available for stubborn mind
and it knows how to find it
just in time.

I came to in the hallway
held by parents who are not my own
see I’m here to take care of their child
who is my little-bigger-than-me sister
but I am barely lucid and need to shit.

What a miraculous thing
this body
and lucidity brought on by the most
eh
instinctual sensations
you cannot run from a shit even in the most
unfortunate of circumstances.

I am bent over on the toilet
she is holding my sweaty head.
I think we made it just in time
or she did
not sure if I’m a part of the team
or a hockey puck on ice being transferred
to the best players
either way,
I can’t wipe my own ass.

When you’re 29
keeled over a toilet
...

You’re such a fucking tease girl.

Your body
has been designed to take it
and when you don’t
no matter how many times you’ve led them to cum
caught their ocean’s men on your chest
if they don’t enter you in the way they please…

You should feel bad about it.

Make sure you listen
as they jokingly make you feel bad about it.
And remember,
these are only jokes.
Why can’t we joke this way?

He’s only kidding,
unless you’re not,
then
let’s do this thing!

But do it too early
they’ll call you easy
hold out too long
and you’re not worth the wait.

There is no right way to do this.

And what the fuck?
You’ve already done this.
What are we waiting on anyways?
Your body
isn’t that pure untouched innocence anymore.
Let’s not let you forget
he marked you.
Fuck,
you’re lucky this one even wants you girl.

You should want him back
despite the red flags
those are for the bulls.

(2) He calls me pumpkin
carving me out with his tongue
our seeds are spilling.

(2) Ding dong ditching
our neighbors, we might be
monsters, or, children.

(1) Exorcism not
always cross-bearing, screaming
but just waking up.

(1) The schools are haunted
or will be by child ghosts but
our guns guns guns guns.

(1) There’s razor blades in
candy, hide the children not
the candy or blades.

(2) Bloody Mary is
trapped in mirror picking skin
they will not get it.

(1) We are witches, spell
casting seduction, do ‘em
dirty for the past.

(1) Skeletons are not in
the closet but walk among
us, open your eyes.

(2) The zombies come out
we find our own blood in theirs
this life is comfort.

(1) Ouija board says yes
but my lips were not moving
is it still consent?

(2) Lucifer sings hymns
begs god for place in heaven
god, does not forgive.

(1) Eight-legged spider
is there...

When the rocks tell you to believe
you wonder where you lost your capacity in the first place
think
about the years you searched for God at the bottom of the bottle
learned
the liquor always runs out
but not your need to pray
and then count
all of those that went unanswered
watch open palms turn to fists
yet still try to learn his stories not as myth
but can’t stop finding the fairy-tales so comical.

I think I lost him the day I started looking
asked myself why
he wasn’t already buried so deep in my bones like with the rest of them
who had no questions as they dropped dollars for donations

I
clung to pennies
didn’t want to give anymore away to the imaginary
thought I’d collect enough to save them all
but you’ll notice
in the years of aging
that saving is only meant for self
everything else is just distraction
even if it’s a beautiful one
who knows how to hold you...

I’ve stopped picking up my pen as often
you told me it was smart
to pause it on a high note
it feels like forever though.

My mouth hasn’t been at a mic
with excitement.

You said to create everything
and settle for nothing
that I mean something to you.
But who am I
when it all means everything
and nothing at the same time?
That it’s always
and never.

How I told you I’d write you a poem one day
for the art that you left me.
And how human of me
to wait until you couldn’t hear these words.
But they are as much mine
as they are yours.

Could it be that it may have only happened this way
me digging through journals
flipping pages
for your exit?

And every motion of the pen
seems like it’s not enough.
Like how laughter can’t be captured
in consonants or vowels
it takes breath and movement
but you are only still now.

I wonder if I should give this poem a happy ending
...

There’s nothing wrong with not having words for your insides,
other than, “numb,”
other than, “okay,”
meaning it feels okay right now because you’ve practiced
this art of numb and fight back tears.
This tastes like repression but your pallet can’t be trusted.
You’ve answered, “fine,” for so long
it comes as easy as an exhale
as easy as,
“how are you?”
without listening for the answer.
But maybe no answer
is the only truth we will ever hear.

Sippin’ Dr. Pepper
smoking cigarettes
me, biting apple
clenching water bottle to my chest.

Us, screaming opposites attract
but he,
can’t stand the idea of commitment coming back
and nicotine
how it messes with my head
trying to disappear between the sheets
but can’t fall deep enough into his bed.

So we ride
on jokes amidst our pain
talk about it
kind of
then let it slip away.

Laugh
at how we’ll burn the whole thing down
then get silent
find our trees
are burning closer to the ground.

But he holds me like
I’m something he doesn’t want to let go
but knows me
like I’m something he’s gunna let go.

And we joke about it
as we watch the forest burn
pretend it won’t be us
until we’re called to it
walk into fire on our turn.

Wonder,
if we’ll make our way back
holding each other’s charred hands
pale skin turning black
parts of us
slowing falling to the floor
...

Sundays have been dedicated to God
but I watched him take them all back
dedicate them to his front porch
his guitar
the smoke that exits his lungs
and I wonder
if he can tell the difference?
When God exits him through melody
will he still call it prayer?
Call his exhalation, a begging from his knees
a remembrance to all he left behind.

Sundays, were dedicated to God
what he meant was family
but he never speaks of his father
only mentions mother in passing
on the subject of dancing
repeats melodies as if he’s calling her back
and she repeats prayers as if she’s calling him back.

But it is so common
that they can’t hear each other over the music
that when God speaks in different tunes
he says there is none
and she holds hers closer
lets go of her son in the name of the holy spirit
and he makes his life a crucifixion
but keeps it silent
nails hands to the sound of his...