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sad girl poet, writing about my beautiful and tumultuous experiences

the middle of nowhere-soddy daisy Tennessee. It’s 5:43 and my sports bra is still wet from swimming in that rich guy's pool. The sun is showing up passive-aggressively through the mountains that I can’t even look at because I am so tired. But I know it’s there, that periwinkle sky…

A gallery of connection

curated by laughter and loud talk

filtered by space that smells like

cigarette smoke creating a faded vignette

around fishnets and party tricks

surreal is the mental picture

the colorful karaoke craze

dragon’s fly in dirty bar bathrooms

a click of the tongue sung

in the camaraderie of shared goods

running out with the bulls of burden

to the back of girlfriend’s truck

stuck in the moment of absorption

beauty attached to her brave rebellion

glowing in her open words

I am good. I am good. I am good. I am in love. In a dark room where our faces are lit by the world ending, he concludes that I am his everything. Hot light flashes over teenage bodies as they split into two night terrors. One is the ghost…

Tiptoeing into turquoise waters

and lollygagging through land that shouldn’t exist

within an agreement slapped together with spit

a rehabilitation of bravery spent-if you’re gonna be dumb you gotta be tough

A creature of the night, giving out cocaine kisses-missing something

maybe it’s high school’s broken hearts

waltzing through the alley like a champion with get-bent blues

she dreamt her ceiling was leaking-bound to give

projecting annoyance of tears shedding on cotton bedding

the first dream in weeks

Looking through the sheer moving world-with detached serenity-I think

she’s a bit too one with the waterfall

Fair of face -she’s Monday’s child

born beautiful and wild

Hiding from my grandparents at the truck stop

No longer the naked and innocent cowboy they once knew

The shining light on wooden floors faded my parent’s jaded integrity

A breeding ground for gross behavior

Summer camps foreshadowing the crushing regulations

Of soda machines and trusted friendships

The melding heat…

Still fuming with bull-horn breathe

I was a fourteen-year-old girl who still believed in magic

Frail and flailing in baggy clothes

Walking the streets at three a.m. like an angry lover

A trap door disposal without a congruent proposal

A fairy, a handmaid mistress- gouged in an arena

The Outsiders plot thickening by the minute

I trip, I trip, then slip into the dump truck's heavy metal

meeting my pink plastic jeep

A half-man half-beast thinks love is cheap

I think it oozes and seeps into the cracks

of this inhumane foundation-backfiring in it’s

innately profound proclamation- kill your idols

pinning butterfly wings for entertainment

trying to lick the tragedy off my lips

by shattering the seafoam idea of predestination

I thought I would be

the brave victor

I can’t tell if it’s heat-lightening, or if I’m just blinking too much. It is true! It is striking silently on a Monday night, mediocre to the day’s beauty. My eyes made the best of a spontaneous chore. Swerving through the slick roads of the country. Reminiscing on the sparkle…

Impatiently holding open the door/

to burning skin and long walks facilitated by

a manic manifestation/to heal holes in my

skin-by waking up that daredevil sun/

/metamorph myself into a red-nosed

delinquent/who smells of chlorine and piña coladas/

softly splashing among the humid air-and it crowns me

queen of winning four square/it’s a wonderful world

exasperated by the chemical taste of being high by

the beach/blasting its erotic energy into a

a tanning lotion sensation/a duration of swift grandeur

giving a curtsy and nod/to the thin crevice/the level

of too much fun/finagling what I think I can endure

so curiously sticky and/suspiciously courteous

these fleshy feelings of summer on my lips

Yesterday I was tasting my oblivion- it was the flavor

of pistachio ice cream- a sick sweetness I despise

Today I am a child afraid of storms anxiously wondering

what would happen if The Kiss painting falls off the wall

and evaporates into rings of translucent pink hearts

Born into a world that is shown in the reflection of bubbles

bad fortune blown by disgruntled wedding guests

who are writing off future plans of sandy scenes

and swaying cattails and a gentle breeze

Split by the phenomena of rummaging through trash

to recycle the useable that’s been disregarded

it’s the happening of the witching hour

facilitated by winking old ladies

I feel I am being pushed into pliable and yearning ground

Sinking within this body-body backlash

A vessel that I can not bare to bruise anymore

Folding into a life I could hear, muffled voices

A kiss- I could taste but not feel the flesh of

Experience the excitement of anymore

A pity party on paper, there are no guests

Tangled string life- (I am) a house cat who only plays

In the mess- manifested by a blasphemous subconscious

Looked at from outside my built-up barrier

With adoringly condescending sighs

Bleeding from my eyes, tears made of recycled remains

Floating above my bed

Dread from the malicious thoughts I am spoon-fed

Bimbo in Limbo

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