alongpause

[alongpause]

in a million universes i keep becoming you.

this man has existed before.

this exact man has never existed before

i just wanted the chance to be made from adam's rib and see what all the fuss was about

i just wanted to see for myself what creation feels like

god took adam's rib to make eve, so adam wouldn't be lonely

a companion for all things who was different and the same, strange and yet familiar

if i can do that for myself, then why would anyone want to stop me?

if i can tear out the unneeded, unwanted parts of myself and make a new person who loves me, who is me, who can finally breathe in a way this one can not

would any fathomable god still be just if they stopped me? 

[alongpause]

clothed again, yet i still feel naked

i am discarded and tossed aside

barbie doll in the gutter

if this is how i feel after a medical exam

how am i ever going to be intimate with another person?

they left me sitting here, waiting for someone to come take my blood

i could feel the doctor making assumptions about me

and my life

as we did the pre exam interview

i could see it in her fucking eyes

when i sat there in the tissue paper, i prayed for a fat doctor

when she walked in, 5' 7' 130 pounds, i thought

this is it

it's over

and by god, it was

staring into the eyes of the literal painted lady on the ceiling tile

by someone named riley, who knows where or when

one of the most painful experiences of my life

and i breathe and breathe and breathe

and then out of nowhere, out of somewhere

the tears finally come

and don't stop until i have my clothes on

and now I'm still waiting and they threaten my every breath

wobbling and wavering but i just don't want to cry anymore

I'd much rather dissolve

presence of mind to ask for a miniature bottle of water

I've been sitting alone for 15 minutes, waiting for someone to take my blood

will someone please come take my fucking blood

so i can get the hell out of here?

12 hours later i still feel the speculum inside me

rending me apart

the ghost of its jaw, teeth inside my flesh

the reverse bite tearing me in half

and nothing could be done nothing could be done

just relax, she says, like it's easy

like it's easy when all the pain you've ever felt

is concentrated down to a pinpoint

and inflicted in one solid and unyielding moment

and breath shakes the belly

and i want to say "i never cry" through my tears

but all that comes is "sorry" floating out on a bubble

written in shaky lines

"sorry"

and she says its okay

but it doesn't feel okay

it feels like every secret I've ever tried to keep

has been laid bare

written in braile on the pores all over my naked body

and she presses on my breasts,

my limp, dead fish breats,

in spirals, gentle yet firm

press press press with praticed precision

when she presses any spot more than once,

i worry

i worry so big and acary

even with no room in my brain for it over the aftershocks of pain

and the embarassment of humanity

but she says it's all fine

then she says

lose weight

lose weight for cancer prevention

and in some way she is right

not the way she thinks, but in some way

it's been 12 hours, 13 hours, 14

I'm still shaking a little bit in my rib cage

I'm still floating half in half out of my brain

somehow i left my body

somehow i was only a body

in that moment, those moments of pain

the worst pain

i never say I'm at a 10

always in pain and i think,

"this can't be the worst"

"no way this is the top of it"

no matter how bad, i never say ten

well that was a ten

if they can knock you out for a colonoscopy

why the fuck couldn't they put me under for that

10  20 30 40

worst imaginable

and they didn't fucking listen

they never listen

they always ask "do you feel safe at home?"

usually i say yes because my mother is beside me

today i said yes because i didn't think anything would change

if i said no

[alongpause]

picked last in dance class,

a friend and i, sharing our woes,

compared ourselves to dented cans of food,

picked over just for looking different

and then one day,

a beautiful boy walked in

the side of the class where the girls stood

was populated by whispering

as he talked to the other boys

you could see in the corner of his eyes

that he knew we were whispering

that he knew it was about him

i wondered if that happened everywhere he went

i wondered if every room parted in silence

to allow him to pass through

just so everyone could put their eyes on him

i wondered what it was like to be beautiful

when the boys were told to pick a dance partner

all the girls watched eagerly as he crossed the room

the closer he got to me,

the faster my heartbeat got

but i didn't dare to dream

i couldn't dare to dream

until his hand was on mine

and he chose me first for every dance that day

and i thought i was in heaven

my friends told me they were jealous

and i knew all the girls were jealous

his attendance to the class was spotty

and every week i held my breath, waiting for him to walk through the door

waiting to see who he would pick first

and it was me

it was always me

i think back to it and i wonder

i wonder why on earth

why me

i never let the idea grow in my heart

that he might have thought i was beautiful

that he might have, over all that dancing

and those tiny conversations

developed some kind of feelings for me

even now, i couldn't fathom that

so i just wonder,

what made someone do something so kind

for a stranger?

i wonder what he saw when he looked at me

i think he saw a shy girl

who had never been told that she was beautiful

and he wanted to make her feel better,

if he could

and he did

and he was so beautiful that it seemed like

the whole world was holding its breath

when he was around

i still wonder

if he was an angel

[alongpause]

my honey-swollen belly 

shivers

wou will not make me throw it up

not this time

not while i have god in the pit of my stomach

[alongpause]

for four years you were my soul

every moment of my existence was in dedication to you

and when we were severed it broke me

i mourned the loss of the self i was through you 

for no less than two years

perhaps it was more

and out on the other side, i can't remember it

i look at the things i wrote down

the only proof i existed then

and the memory that you and i were ever We

the memory of the hole inside me when we weren't

it's all so faded

there has been so much hurt since then

so much lonely, dead time

i don't remember being a person that long ago

like i came on the scene just last year

was it really so recent that I was still mourning us?

why can't i remember?

my heart aches that I can't remember loving you like that

that i can't remember being loved like that

even if it wasn't perfect

even if it wasn't forever

forgetting seems like saying it was insignificant

but it wasn't, it was everything and always

i thought i would carry that pain forever

i thought i would always feel the sting of how much i loved you

how it pierced me like an arrow

and you tore it out

did the wound really heal?

why can't i even find the scar? 

[alongpause]

I.

i will always, only ever be

your burdensome baby boy

your parenting completely reactionary

your are still flinching away from the trauma of your own mother

you say "i am better than she ever was"

like that means anything

like better equals best, or even good

when she set the bar so low to begin with 

the massive weight of her 

is still present in this house

so she could treat me like she treated you

this house you invited her into

and it keeps compounding

until i draw the line in the sand

the line that even you don't respect

like you think someday i will wise up

and shove a child under the bus you're driving

II.

i will always only ever be

your burdensome baby boy

we are sucking the life from each other

you never cut the umbilical cord

but you blame me for receiving anything from it

all i do is take take take from you

you never said it, but the way you act 

you never had to

nevermind all the things i give to you

children are supposed to give give give to their parents

children are there to take on, to unburden

children are meant to relieve

but to you i only inflict

i have absorbed so much toxicity for you and from you

but its all for nothing it doesnt matter

you're not supposed to be thankful for someone when theyre just fulfilling their purpose

your first child was the one you had to support

your second child was the one made to support you

and he doesn't work hard enough

does all he can for you but it will never be enough

because he wasn't strong enough to grow himself up right

he should have been able to suffer through on his own

because we are all suffering and life isn't fair

and he needed to know that more than anyone

because he had the fucking gall to want it to be fair

you had one child to love and one to love you

that first child can scream at you and spit in your eye and it will never matter because you love her, always love her, will always love her

the second child can give you everything he has but you have to turn him away because its not enough

tell him to come back when he has more

and you're so mad even though he loves you, always loves you, will always love you

[alongpause]

my body is me, but it's not me

my brain is me, but it's not me

if these things are not me, then what is?

but i feel so disconnected from these things

how can i be when they are all that i am?

my body is me, and my brain controls my body

who controls my brain?

is that what i am?

the thing that is the brain but somehow above the brain?

i am immaterial in this way and yet

i am all material, only material

i exist in the way everything exists

but i also exist in a nothingness, a concept

am i a soul? what is a soul?

is a soul something you earn by having a brain and a body?

godhead, three in one, brain, body, soul

and i am none of it 

i am all of it

i don't feel like i belong here

i don't feel in control

the things people see on my body

the person they think they know just by looking

that is not me

and so i am not a body

the things people presume to know about me

after speaking with me briefly

after hearing the triple filtered secretions of my brain

these are not me

the things that had to be filtered

things i loathe and cannot control

those are not me either

so i must not be a brain

so what the hell am i

and where do i live?

they call me old soul,

tell me a soul must be saved

a soul is what gets you into heaven

but i am not going to heaven

so what is my soul?

and where does that leave me?

[alongpause]

still living in my parents' home

i am a child except in all the tender ways

i am expected to sit quietly and obey

be seen and not heard

like a good child, a good kid

i have to reflect my parent's values

i have to surrender my agency to the sacred

parent/child relationship dynamic

be an extention of them,

be a tool for them to use

but when i cry, i cry alone

i, the child adult, an adult for the time i have spent on earth,

a child for the lack of proof: no job, no marriage, no one, nothing, i am no one, i am nothing

and showing joy or excitement, those shackles that bind to childhood

is disgusting to them, it's not proper

i am a kid when i try to act on my own, make a decision

i am met with patronizing statements blanketed in "I'm just worried about you"

when the bills come in, i squeeze blood from the stone myself

i live in this house, i am tied to the walls with IV tubing and bedsheets

i am part of the living, breathing viscera of the houss

i am furniture and I will be in the house when it burns

my silent, motionless vigil as the fire eats my wood and cotton and plastic and heart and soul

I'm never getting out

[alongpause]

i think i don't realize

how fast, faster then slow, slower, slowest the time goes

because there is no one to talk to about it

the loniless wraps around me like a personal time machine

my leg muscles twitch and jerk and jump and skip

i want silk shirts on my skin

there is minty freshness in my heart

when did the time start to skip and jump and jerk

water is like the spring from heaven

so ice cold and flavorless delicious

and it's like that all the time, but i only notice now

in the singular pinhole moment

and it floats away and it's gone

and it never happened

and the time keeps changing

my fingers are numb on the ends in a way that feels like softness

like sherpa-lined gloves

i wonder if my blood is making it there

is the elevator that is my circular system

from my heart to my finger tips and my heart and my fingertips and my heart and my finger tips

i am the line in the book you keep rereading

as you fall asleep

#notes for my future reference self #i got suuuper high and felt amazing and wrote this poem #all i did to it when i sobered up was fix some spelling issues

[alongpause]

i miss just existing with you

lying on the floor of your bedroom

several bedrooms have come and gone through your life now

that i have never seen

i wonder if i will ever see one again

will i ever lie by your side again

just quiet, because we need it

together, because we need each other

or do we exist too separately now

[alongpause]

1

my stomach is worn down from

the pain relievers again

they don't tell you about

gastritis and rebound migraines

until it's too late

I've been in constant pain

for over 10 years

it's all

inevitable

2

you can talk about getting skinny

getting beautiful

leaving my fat carcass behind

an ugly artifact

i will always be the ugly friend

and no one will chat me up

i will always be watching other people's

bags and whatever else they

leave behind when they get up to dance

big fat nothing

3

my stomach aches and

it feels like some sort of

cosmic retribution for fatness

which i never asked for or

did anything to foster

because people do think that you do this to yourself

they think that because the moment they relax

and stop torturing themselves

the pounds creep on

instead of wondering if they're doing something wrong

surely it's me

even though i do the same dumb shit they do

skip your meals count your calories

mentally berate yourself until you are too ashamed to eat

4

when i ride the motorized scooter

at the supermarket

because the pain i feel when standing

for more than a few minutes

is indescribable

i feel so ashamed

because i know people think

i should be dead

they don't want to look at me

they think i am a lazy slob

my fat jibbles as the cart hums along

too fucking loud

drawing all attention

lord help you if you need to back up

everyone's eyes and vitriol will be upon you

just you fucking wait

5

my mom never notices the way people treat me

they treat me so wrong and bad

because I'm different

what i wouldn't fucking give

to stop being so different

for one damn day

people see it all over me

i limp i wince

i can't look anyone in the eye

i make so many erratic movements

i flinch away from sounds

people see 14 seperate ways

that i am so very different

within the span of a minute

and they treat me

so poorly

when they do

i wish i had dissolved all those years ago

i wish i had never heard the things

people would say about me

[alongpause]

my humidifier has a strange hum

like a Tibetan singing bowl

this is how we meditate now

to the hum of the air conditioning

i tune my frequency to the electrical hum of my tinnitus

and I'm counting my breath 1 in 2 out 3 in 4 out

and my toes are relaxed, the soles of my feet are relaxed

my heels and ankles are relaxed

so on and so on until it reaches the top of my head

and i have to lead myself through this excercise

or else it's too slow and i grind my teeth

and it's torture

the kind of thing that makes you bite through the skin

on your hand

even though you're in a place where everyone is watching

to make sure you don't do that sort of thing

and the blood explodes in your mouth like

when your teeth break through a pen

and calmly you get up and walk to the bathroom

and if they noticed the blood on your face

they didn't say anything

and you stare grimly into the mirror and think

i will never do this stupid meditation thing again

the minute i get out of here and they can't make me

i will never do it again

but counter-intuitively you teach yourself to meditate

just to find peace while they're trying to make you meditate

when they tell you to go to a beach

you go to an icy tundra

and you keep it in your mind even now

and feel calm

and the air purifier is singing

and your body feels heavy with peace

and you smile

because you taught yourself how to do this

you built something out of the shit they force fed you

when you just wanted to spit it in their faces

and you feel like you are alive

and you are still alive

[alongpause]

great shambling thing

why do you live in my mirror

i see the pain in your eyes

the way the flesh hangs off you like ribbions

and you dont care

the pain is from your chest

hollow and vibrating

threatening to smash open your ribs:

is your heart

and the words that used to drip from your mouth

have run dry

and i see that

the hands that tore your to shreds

were yours

so i sew you back together

and kiss your skin

it will scar

but you will live

and you will love again

[alongpause]

Literally trying to chill on a Friday night with my buds and no one is picking up the horn

Got no drugs anywhere not even some melatonin

IOS accessibility features Dark Noise 100%

Crumbs in my bed !

Galaxy Light: ON

I need a new weighted blanket this one is unraveling

Constantly convincing myself I'm not actually autistic but I can't convince anyone else

A constant reminder plays in my head that most things I do and say and feel would qualify to someone else as "r-word behavior"

I wonder if that matters very much

It seems like a lot and it seems like nothing

I think I am a lot and I feel like nothing

My dad said all my extra facts during our trivia game was like playing with Sheldon Cooper and

I want to crawl inside myself and die

I also don't care that much.

In a strange way it's validating

In a weird and roundabout way, my father has identified me

And it's not flattering

But it might not ever be from him

I think I should be allowed to exist in a space where I feel like I can breathe

A full, deep breath

Something I've never had before even in my deepest meditations

The air is too thin in a place where the love isn't true and deep

And there is always judgement

And your muscles are never relaxed because you're cowering away from yourself

And maybe I'll get a new weighted blanket for Christmas

And I'll feel seen in a nice way and it'll be a good day

Or maybe it won't

[alongpause]

In the old house on chandalar there was a laundry room

But it wasn't really a room

And one day when my mother and my sister were having a fight, as unremarkable as that occasion was

I crawled into the small bit of walking space where we threw all our clothes

And I closed the door

And I felt so safe just for a moment

In the artifical womb of the laundry room

The damp clothes formed my endometrium

The hum and twitch of the dryer like a beating heart distorted through fluid

The familiar darkness of pre-life provided by the windowless little tornado safe guard

My insomnia melted away as I was transported back to a time before thought or knowledge

A time when it was just me and my muscles and none of us knew there would ever be anything other than warmth and darkness an the bumb bumb bumb of the heart

It was the sun before I knew there was a sun

Can we ever really stop loving our mothers

Even when they make us crawl into the laundry room and close the door

Weren't they everything to us, back then?

Even if every thought in our head and emotion in our hearts can find no love

Doesn't our body still worship at the altar?

The broken bodies that they gave us, the damnation of our genes

But can we ever really stop loving our mothers

Or will there always be some molecule, no matter how deep within us, no matter how primal and abstract,

That remembers

[alongpause]

I wish I was a little brother and people saw my innocence and the life in my eyes and the way I am in love with everything and thought, "I need to protect that. I need to fight for that"

I was born last into my family but I am not a little brother.

I cooked all the meals and did all the chores and got all the guff. Every lie my sister told was believed and every truth I told met with doubt so strong and so convicted that I often began to wonder if I was somehow lying and didn't know.

I would cry and beg, believe me believe me believe me, but sometimes when you are bad you are bad forever, even if no one remembers how you earned it.

When you are bad forever and the world catches up to you, the cosmic judges decide to punish you for your sins by breaking your body, well, no one blinks. No one blinks in you stained-glass family because God has decreed it, and you can't remember what the Bible says about these things.

You are growing older but not old and you ask every day, "why does no one see me and think they should help?". You are still twitching on the side of the road and the car that hit you never stopped.

When people look at you, they do not see a man so in love with the world that he has broken himself to stay in it. They do not see the melted down boy who became the gold that filled his own cracks.

They see your dripping fangs and never once do they consider that it is your own blood. When you growl, they do not know you beg for help with a mouth that can not speak because the tongue has been cut out.

I want the world to see my sunshine and see it as holy, as beautiful, as something that needs preservation. I want someone to see this boy, now man, who his whole life screamed for some tenderness into a world with no air.

When will someone protect that which has been sent out with no armor, no weapons, no training? When will someone look at all that I have done, all that I have fought, and say "rest now, your turn is done. Welcome home."

[alongpause]

Ibuprofen

My childhood tastes like vague, gritty citrus and an unconvincing approximation of bubble gum

I've been getting headaches as long as I can remember

The medicine I took, my beloved ibuprofen, I took too often

I turned 10 and my birthday present was simple: you have to learn to swallow pills

And I got too good at it, I would take them dry

No one told me it was bad, I just thought it was a skill

I had trained myself to do something most people could not

I was a warrior, in this small way, because I had suffered.

But everything catches up to you, in the end

I had stomach aches so bad, they gave me nightmares

I woke up from a dream where I had been shot in the stomach to find that the pain was real

All my dreams were painted with imagery of pain, more pain

People pulling out my guts, things crawling out of my stomach through my mouth, swallowing glass and the cuts it left inside

That's what it felt like. Broken glass in my stomach. Nails inside me. Being stabbed a thousand times from the inside.

Ibuprofen burned holes in my stomach

I couldn't go to school, I was in too much pain

But the insurance company did not want to pay for the medicine I needed, surely it wasn't that bad

Every day was misery for far too long

My stomach gurgle loudly, often in front of others,

I felt so much shame,

Fat girls do not get to have bodies that make noises

Attention drawn to a fat body is negative attention

Even around the people I loved

I was always loved In Spite Of and people made it clear

Not just in this, but also in this

My pain, my constant pain, which bore more pain, which bore more pain

I am still fat. I still get headaches. I think my stomach is starting to become burnt again.

Does pain go ever, ever on?

Am I doomed to live the same things over again?

Will the things that haunt my memories become the patterns I live my life by?

If I suffer through the same things over and over,

Will I learn to endure them with grace? Will they become easier?

Or does pain only ever compound? Will things be harder every time?

Or even, could it be that things will be the same? The pain will be exactly as it was, and no worse, but seem different for the attention and clarity of the present that can never work when looking back at the past or towards the future?

My stomach hurts.

Again.