a play in ounces IV

Since I was six, I've gotten lost 

in the sensation of being wanted 

by you.  

Desperation feels more comfortable

than comfort. 

5th grade and I will tell you

anything you want to hear

as long as we are across state lines; 

I am 16 and female and yours. 

I've worn your identity

like it was meant for me. 

I am terrified that no "me" exists

when I'm not being you. 

I am too clumsy. 

I am too fat. 

I am too quiet. 

I cry too much. 

I am the great paradox. Too much and 

never enough. 

They like building me: 

my arms and legs,

my torso. 

I dance like squirming, on display;

I stop moving in private.

Stiff as a board, light as a feather. 

I am made to be critiqued. 

Roll up your sleeves. 

Hide your back.

You, as a child, are what they've always wanted to be. 

("You are perfect,

I hate you.")

So they destroy you;

and in doing,

crown themselves victorious. 

You watch the laundry pile up. 

More comfortable in old clothes

for fear of a stain. 

on the fence

She said she wanted to be pulled

and not pushed. 

The best times are fear-based

and unedited. 

I adore you

when every part of you is right at the surface,

longing to be known. 

I love learning about you

when you think no one is listening. 

A play in ounces III

Maybe I will scream

until every lightbulb burns out. 

I am whole in your presence. 

When I write scripture,

I drag my nails across my chest,

devoted; obsessed. 

I am an emotional burn victim. 

There is nothing left. 

I burnt it down when I was born,

a dialectical nightmare:

two thoughts opposing;

a record scratched;

A wit's end. 

You want to know how my story ends.

But there's no safety 

in being the Savior. 

Your lifevest is like mine.

And we all drown in the end. 

A play in ounces II

Am I a mountain before you? 

What rocks are you picking up 

along the way? 

You should know

my emotions are heavier than yours. 

You will find me near the bottom,

weighed down by 

dopamine and missing dendrites. 

I practice my smile

like a doll. 

I thought I wanted me. 

I thought I had changed. 

When will I climb

like you

with sunflowers at my feet? 

Do you trace the map with your fingers and wonder, like I do,

what it's like to have never truly existed here?

I want to hold your hand

with crushing talons. 

when we dream we become lavender: a sonnet for the bees.

This seems like a good place to die 

surrounded by soft yellow petals 

and the cold that wraps around like 

a quilt.

Though there are still creatures here 

that bite, 

you are whole and safe. 

I want to wander here a while. To rest. 

And there's no reason I should not stay

to watch you as the seasons change

and you become something new. 

to bring your soul to new york city.

Talk to me of your discontent 

with the world,

with the systems 

you help to create and maintain. 

This hurt feels like it will last forever. 

You were left heaving 

on the shoulder of a great beast. 

It breathes and you are thrown off;

a child again. 

The taller the hotel rooms climb, 

the softer the beating of your heart

until it stutters and gasps and pitches. 

A reminder to BE ALIVE NOW. 

You lie on your belly

on rock made of nothing 

and wait for the beast's return. 

You would do anything 

to never be found. 

I, a bird; you, a statue; and time, our bedfellow.

Sometimes the waiting is astounding. 

And I am winded by the pause. 

Eviscerated by the ellipses. 

The space 

between his collarbone and shoulder. 

A sigh that drowns me. 

I am waiting forever. 

I am resting here.  

I am home. 

Solipsis

in the quietest light

i see across space to

your frame and stride;

if i go back to that time now... 

I hold all the power. 

I will move you like a toy car 

across a track. 

Back and forth until we are both 

dizzy from the effort. 

I find it funny that you can't speak here

In my daydream. 

You have lost the significance 

that you so desperately sought. 

A play in ounces

You label me as incorrect;

Inappropriate. 

I am a wound you pick at

with dirt under your fingernails. 

Surprise me. 

Delight me. 

Send me over the moon. 

Before you kick me. 

Kill me. 

Shame me. 

For being who I am. 

Un petit erreur. 

Devastate me.  

Je suis dévasté.