paint by numbers and my writers block
are having sex again. i can't do anything
creative on my own anymore. we are
scattered snapshots, disorganized,
not in order, and i'm my own "out of order"
sign on a bathroom stall door in a public
washroom. my clavicles won't let go of my ankles.
i sleep in diagonals and wake up with
"i-slept-all-wrong" and "i-have-a-stiffness-
in-my-neck-and-a-crick-in-my-back."
i had intercourse with purity,
i used dirt as laundry detergent,
i slept with insomnia as my pillow,
and this morning i ate my hygiene
in the shower. tan lines were typewritten
on my cheeks when i wore your ugly
fingers. you
If I could draw…
If I could draw I would draw a girl
crouched and alone in a dark room
surrounded by sharp spears that she can't get past
They are her own inner fears and insecurities.
If I could draw I would draw a girl
silently watching the boy of her dreams
between them lies a vast field that she can't cross
This is her self loathing.
If I could draw I would draw a girl
struggling to open a book that holds all the answers
a book closed with an unbreakable clasp
This is her struggle against herself.
If I could draw I would draw a girl
I would draw me
I would draw all the answers
the ones I will never find
I would dr