A speech about “The imaginary boy”

He didn’t wreck it all at once. That’s what I liked about him. It showed he had control. 
I had control. By control I mean I took my meds, obeyed my parents, parted my hair in the right place and kept a gun out of my hands so I didn’t blow my brains out when I got the urge to. By control I mean I eat the right foods and think the right thoughts.
I obey my mind, but my mind does not obey me. Please do not pity me– save those looks for someone else, for I’ve experienced happiness so stupefyingly high that your hands would burn off at the touch of it. I’ve jumped off of walls and bounced back smiling. I’ve loved madder than anyone in between the bars. I’ve been a witness– to love so wonderful I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I’ve cried all the way back to my birth. Just once, I’d like to be the person who just lives. Who doesn’t slow down moments. Who doesn’t have to look away. Who doesn’t have to stop the voices. Who doesn’t have to change. I envy
The people who can look at their left hand
and just see a left hand. People call me thinker. miss melancholia. She’s real quiet they’d say. A brooder. A poet. I want to blink– without seeing rolls of prose spilling out of chairs, and sky and eyes and computers and skin. To take an unconscious breath. To not fall in love with the beautiful girl who’s sitting all alone.

4 AM

for Robyn .

let’s lay our bones to rest,
my friend.

This dust has been collecting
Us for days now
Our days are years.

No beginning
Or ending

It is always four AM
Where we are
It’s always four AM

Lay your bones to rest
My friend

You’re gonna
Dance yourself
To death




I’ve been meaning 
To talk with the
Want. Ask her what it is I need
And why I want it.
I would float away for love,
Yes, I know.
I am the girl who is delirious
With death, drunk with hesitation.
I am the purple cry of urge
Filming a gorgeous doom.

I am the island.

I am the needle of her need.
The smear of love she leaves
As she smashes the table.
The storm of love she refuses to breathe.

One, two, three, four, five, six.

Voiceless I stand
allowing myself
only to count to six
to be the Urgency
in the speaker
in Einstein on the Beach
“These are the days my friends,
these are the days.”

Useless I stand
pieces of Window
of some kind of Anger
in my only heart.
The kind of anger
that lives in eyes–
that look like terror–
and sorrow.
and past.
and loss.
and melancholy.
and years.
and cloud.
and wet.
and tired.
and alive.

and alive.

and alive.

Hand Me Another Cross

Listen here, mad girl.

Don’t you live where the walls

Watch you never eyes shut

All is open doorways into your

Marrow afraid of the cancer in

Your socks sometimes you are

Silly sometimes you are not

Sometimes you are the villain

Other times you’re the dot

In the middle of the target

That’s on the back of my neck

Asking how can I get all the

Way around to her
Sometimes, I feel the pain in three places.
Christian! Hand me another cross.
I wanna learn from my stigmata
a brush with blood
I like anything in series

you’re dying.

Other times you’re screaming

Always at something you can’t even see.