over the last two weeks,

have you experienced

Little interest or pleasure in doing things?
Feeling down, depressed, or hopeless?
Trouble falling or staying asleep, or sleeping too much?
Feeling tired or having little energy?
Poor appetite or overeating?
Feeling bad about yourself – or that you are a failure or have let yourself or your family down?
Trouble concentrating on things, such as reading the newspaper or watching television?
Moving or speaking so slowly that other people could have noticed? Or the opposite – being so fidgety or restless that you have been moving around a lot more than usual?
Thoughts that you would be better off dead, or of hurting yourself?
well, More Than Half The Days, certainly. i’m not sure i can say Nearly Every Day,
i’m still alive,
aren’t i?
Nearly Every Day Nearly Every Day Nearly Every Day Nearly Every Day Nearly Every Day


More Than Half The Days, certainly. i’m not sure i can say Nearly Every Day,
i’m still alive,
aren’t i?
Nearly Every Day Nearly Every Day
i’ve been through this all before.
i’ve seen rock bottom
and i’ve seen it again
and i’ve bid it adieu
and i’ve greeted it
and angrily
and joyously
and while sobbing into my arm
and stoically
and vacantly.
you could say we’re very close acquaintances.
not friends!
i don’t put this on friends!
once or twice, sure, fine,
we’ve all done it,
why not,
by the ninth breakdown, you don’t even have anyone to pull away from.
in an amazing feat of triumph of cowardice,
the intricate net of love, support, beauty, and glory has been
shred apart by
the bumbling fool.
How difficult have these problems made it for you at work, home, or with other people?

the gospel of the lamb, live from the slaughterhouse

the gospel of the lamb, live from the slaughterhouse
the early days of murder and savagery
confined and veiled,
the pain filling the walls,
heavy and soft, childlike.
(a rose glow, a silver glint)
she is a child, she is light.
(a white mist,a blur)

too late, too loud for her decry.
the knife to her throat,
skinning her strip by strip.
slowly, precisely, but all at once.

her wisdom, limited, but existent, will disintegrate with her brain matter,
all that is her ruthlessly ripped from existence.

i should have lived when i had the chance, she thinks, her stomach a well for her tears.

she is sinking.

the guillotine is lowering, but she sinks farther.

the lamb cries,
the well is full.
the lamb gurgles,
but does not notice.
the lamb cries for herself, because nobody else will.

i am a light and i am no i m i am  iam iam i am iam i

stupid fucking lamb, you waited too long to live, and now you are dead.

the grass plots of spring

nothing’s quite filled the hole in my soul
like sitting out on our blankets in the warm, damp grass.
talking and laughing and lying on our stomachs and our words’.
the simple magic of adolescence.
i need to find inhabitable softness again.
the bliss of simplicity but the deafening crackling
of relational electricity.

reflecting on the teenage girl’s longing

the teenage girl’s adoration and idolization of a smaller body is multifaceted,
not simply a craving for physical ‘perfection’.
the grieving of youth
of yourself
the sudden attention on you as you are transforming
uncomfortable alone, and now you are forced into a spotlight?
the smaller your body the less people can see you.
men will not leer and women will not sneer
and you can be comfortable in a shadow. behind.
you are the shadow of your present self.

your body is no longer your own.
it is the future of the population’s.
it is unfamiliar to the one person who has been with it constantly.
we are not comfortable with showing weakness.
it’s how we survive.
so we hide,
and how do we hide?
we hide in silence and in smallness.
our brains are not yet evolved enough to conceptualize our pain,
it is isolating and devastating but we must cover it.
we need control over something; nothing is ours.
physical appearance can be visibly altered by our actions,
ours alone.
we do not eat or we overeat or we overexercise or we rot.
we just want to be small.
we want to be little.