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This poem was inspired by Allen Ginsgerg’s, “Howl”.


i have lost so many versions of
myself to unadulterated;

unorthodox, fully vulnerable
addictive love that is growing like a cyst in my heart completely rooted in my vena cava
hours of study locked in my closet as metaphorical and literal as you can get
stepping on my throat in hallways because i can’t eat another bite of stress
starving myself because damn it felt good to dance on an empty stomach
laughing hysterically at my own incompetence because it’s 4am and I didn’t know that tears tasted like salt water taffy
Kissing rain drops before they hit the ground because it’s nice to break someone else’s heart for once
stuffing flowers down my esophagus because it makes the venom a little easier to swallow
lusting for fame when I can’t even mutter my own name
tearing at my eyes nose ears mouth chest because I spoke a bit too loudly and everyone is looking at me
stuttering tha tha tha thank you after you put a microphone to my very consciousness

Holding a lighter to my heart, pressing down and igniting my anxiety which fuels my own misery
squeezing my eyes shut when I really should have covered my nose because I can still smell the alcohol on your breath, dad
slamming my head against my bedroom wall as hard as possible because maybe then I could amount to something
letting blood sweat tears saliva tears vomit drip from my every cavity because I wanted so badly to get rid of my damn individuality
cleaning my fingerprints off of everything I’ve ever touched because I don’t want any evidence of my existence
placing cotton balls between my toes so I won’t make a sound when I walk across your room to kiss you goodnight, mom
Mistaking blood under my fingernails as paint
trusting god for keeping the ones I love safe when in the end it was me who got screwed over
Skimming my hands of my ribs and marvelling at how they do not feel as if they encompass lungs, air, life, or love, so it’s safe to say that my ribs have done a terrible job of protecting my heart
knowing that I’m much to smart to be in a bad relationship but not being able to realize that I’ve been mistreating myself
staying up too late reading poetry because that’s the only midnight snack I allowed myself to eat
wishing that i discovered my morals earlier so I could be reversible
fiercely loving bad intentions because they are easier to explain

Shielding my eyes in a curtain of hair for my face is a stage with not enough actors and too many people in the audience
counting calories despite the fact that my tongue hasn’t even left my mouth
kissing mosquito bites because at least someone wants what’s inside of me
clarifying all my personal secrets to people who had no business knowing my personal secrets

showering twice a day to get rid of today because yesterday’s tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow will be better
guilt ridden because of all the water I spent
loving four letter words



Who benefits?
Other than all the versions of myself that I’ve lost and found in the chaos of fragments that i’ve shed

I wonder if i will soon be among them
In all their unadulterated; unorthodox, fully vulnerable

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