Hospital Bed

In the ER, the lights are always on
and despite it all, the nurses laugh
amongst themselves. I am sobbing
without sound, as I have been all day,
to rinse the pain out of my skull.

Taylor drains some blood from my arm.
They say the curtains must stay open,
so they can see in. I know I am selfish
because I will not go back to school.
At home the unfinished books have been
crowding my space.

My friends aren’t here with me,
so they will never know. I wonder
how long I have left.


Why did you leave me that night
terrified, all alone in that big house
sloppy and stumbling and then throwing up
and not remembering and chewing pills
and taking long gulps of gin and vodka, why
did you leave, how could you?

And when she asked, “Resolved?”
I said yes.
And she marked it down on the chart then
said, as an afterthought
“I guess those things are never really resolved though.”


I drop them, breadcrumbs
as I trudge through the dark forest
Find me, Save me
Stolen away by mice
Trampled by leather boots
because my friends are looking at their phones

I throw them, handfuls
Save me, Help me
They fidget at the discomfort
of crumbs down their shirt, loosen the collars
What a nuisance

I am not hinting anymore
Breadcrumbs pour from my sleeves
Eyes dripping in pain
Everyone walking
looks away


I’ve been walking a tightrope between life and death,
waiting to see on which side I will fall.
I’ve become so wilted, anguished and bereft,
tangled up in your miserable thrall.

A ladder of scars ascends my sharp ribs,
each rung marking a body filled with pain.
I cannot climb down now that I’ve reached the top;
the winds howl for my soul in seductive refrain.

The decision lies now in my quaking two feet,
whether I’m to fight on or surrender.
All alone high above tiny houses and streets,
I realize I’m the only contender.

Saying Goodbye

I built a shrine for you.
A shark tooth, two feathers,
a jagged piece of crystal.

How does anyone say goodbye?
A kiss? A hug? A wave?

I need your blood running
down my arms, into my veins,
becoming me. DNA entwining.

Let’s go out together,
holding hands, a picnic of pills
before us, a celebratory glass
of champagne. Fingers meshed.

We are two, we are one,
we are nothing.

When you go to the forest



When you go to the forest
I hang my head in my hands
and cry for the oceans between us

When you go to the forest
I brush my fingertips
against the lips you never kissed

When you go to the forest
the hawks start circling
and I begin my prayers

When you go to the forest
I will fasten the golden braid
around my neck like an albatross

When you go to the forest
my hands shake with all
the things they might have changed

The Perks of Being Suicidal

You don’t need to waste time eating.
You don’t need to do homework.
You can tell your professor you have a crush on him.
You can sleep around.
You can break the speed limit whenever you want.
You are allowed to cry however long you want.
You don’t have to buy new clothes.
Even brushing your teeth is optional some days.
You can start downsizing your apartment.
You can stay in bed all day.
You can quit your job.
You are able to stare at a blank wall for hours.
You can stop worrying about finances.
You don’t have to force a smile anymore.
You can cancel all your plans.
You can ignore all your calls.
You don’t have to feign interest in the stock market.
You don’t have to worry about exercising.
You can plan your own funeral.
You are allowed to live without caring.

Picture this

the hellish recurring nightmare
of all the faces I love most
peering at me from a semicircle

thoroughly disenchanted with
who I turned out to be
a silly disappointment
in a pool of tears

frantically scraping arms
for veins
sobbing end it please

but they hide the knives
uselessly flailing
in the straitjacket
we call life