Things I've Learned From Books

"The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it." - James Bryce


Dearest Callie
one of two
elective mutes
one of two
cutters
one of three
hospital residences
she mumbles
handing me a caramel
asking if I am one of the
"food disorder girls"
and shouts out Jeopardy trivia
we look at cracks in the ceiling
in therapy
and stay mostly silent
she runs away sometimes
but always comes back

Craig
he left the hospital
he's better
healed
an artist
drawing maps
where I ought to go
and where I am
he tells me not to jump
he tells me the hospital is okay
they will let you out
when your better
they can make you better
you can make you better
if I'm not careful
he'll have sex with someone on my bed
sneaky boy

Melinda no es linda
often silent
looks at trees
she tells me how terrible high school is
how no one likes her
she ruined a party
sirens
flashing lights
and a boy
older boy
touching and hurting
she inhales pizza on the couch
flipping the cushions
avoiding authority
she bombed freshman year
we are partners in crime

Winn-dixe
forever loyal
and true
hides with me in thunderstorms

The bad influence
Lia
the lonely
she didn't want to be alone
so she stays sick with me
she tells me my caloric intake
and is jealous of vomiting
whispering hush hush words
of how great it is to be hungry
cut the blade deeper
hurt yourself more
the doctors will stitch you up
your insides will not fall out
she leaves me in a motel room
never answering her phone
ring
ring
ring
nothing
only silence
tell me how to lie to nurses
eat their food
become a ballon
then stop outside
be a thin girl with a hospital record

Emergency

Emergency
and you're alone
tear stained face
frantic writing
planning your funeral
waiting for the day
they
the all knowing they
open your diary and say

What a sick
fuck

How dare she
how dare she write
and write
and write
about her death
and how she wants daisies
instead of roses
for she'll prick her hand on the thorns
even in death
how she wants to be buried in long sleeves
and pants
even though she always loved dresses
but her arms are too
too
too much
her legs too much
how she wants the picture
where she is a little girl
hiding behind a panda bear
with little teeth
and a watch
too big
her mothers
and she looks like she's about to cry
but she doesn't
she will not cry
she will not feel
this will not break her
she is already broken
this does not matter
and how she wants the song
with the waltzing orchestra
the instrument she always wanted to play
but can't
not allowed
don't even think it
she wants the preacher to lie
say she was a good girl
don't say she drained herself of blood
hush hush about the pills
lie preacher
say she was a good girl
she died of a preexisting medical condition
she did not
kill
herself
suicide is not an option
let her drown in her tears

Scar-less

Thoughts are still haunting
even staring the real world
in the teeth
blood dripping fangs
ready to rip me apart

My eyes
weary
seeing the same problem
day in and day out
envisioning my self-destruction
slowly handing myself over
a sinister disease clutching me

Lips moving
a phantom speaking
whispers of words
sneaking in the downfall
praying for a recovery

Make me scar-less
pristine skin
the haunting memories murdered
hand me over to the short sleeves
skirts
and swimsuits
of summer

Make me thin
giving up a disorder
weighing myself daily
and jogging
desperately burning calories
skipping meals
even under supervision
sealing my mouth
refusing nourishment
if a fast death is not allowed

I shall have a slow suicide
unless I find the cure.

Toast

Shit you see in psych
is priceless

The woman whom
through delusions
convinced herself
that an unnamed man
breaks in at night
and rapes her
all while she is sleeping
soreness in the morning
and pills she refuses to take

To the man
who talks to God
frequently
blurring the lines
between crazy
and religious

The tongueless
screeching babble
hitting and throwing
calling me Satan
smashing puzzles

Bridget who disrupts
with toast
during relaxation time
breathing in and out
rattling drawers
dinging machines
her own little world
merging with ours
for a few seconds
then on it's way

I wonder if I'm someones
horror story from the ward.

Psych 3 (The Unlocked Behavior Health Unit)

Ode to the third
hospitalization

To EDNOS
to explain the puking
and the fasting
Eating
Disorder
Not
Otherwise
Specified

To specifying
for me
tell me of self-destruction
how suicidal thoughts are an out
for self-loathing
because I hate myself
more than you do
I am meaner to me
than you could ever be

To scratching
and infecting
and intervening in healing
and to weeping wounds
dressed by cheerful nurses

To Seroquel
for sleep
and mood

To Timberline Knolls
a far away rehab
and an out
which I may have to take

To my mental health
however fucked it is

Contemplation

I wish I could disturb your peace
for a few seconds
break the emotional veil
let you know I need you
now
not later
that this is a life and death
emergency

See I don't want to die
but I do
it's a choice I'm constantly making
and I can't pick
to stay
or go

Hollow

Having nothing left to live in
except hollows of memories
I retreat into myself
remembering
accidentally lovely things

A dear friend whom
after I crashed a sleepover
woke up in the morning
to play doctor with makeshift supplies
lovingly being driven to Lake Jackson
getting me to talk
speak in bits
after sitting
stone cold in the passenger seat
drinking hot chocolate on the way home
doing more good than he could ever understand

A voice teacher
having too much faith in me
nudging me on regardless of the let down
encouraging me to practice
not to get better
but because you were invested
to the point of tears
at the end of
every successful run
promising
in naivety
to study Vaughn William's
Silent Noon
more than Whitacre's
A Boy and A Girl
slowing down to impending
as you choked out the last prayer
almost overshadowed
pianissimo
"The song of love"

The time my father came to school
screaming through the choir door
forcing the director to stop sight reading
to listen to one of his own be ridiculed
the next day begging me to confess to child abuse
my lips remaining sealed
running into the night
scared for my life
sleeping on my best friend's porch
until her sister nudged me awake
and moved me to the couch
becoming a ritual
a safe haven

A cake made for an anniversary
not a notable one
maybe a month
at most two
covered in pink icing
fresh strawberries adorning the top
only to be plucked off before lunch
by the lady in waiting
not worrying about calorie concerns
a rare moment of being a functional couple
in midst our teen angst

These all hollow with age
passion for life
turns into distrust for humanity
wide-eyed wanderings
into squinted suicide attempts
after
memories
and scars
I am left without a thing.

Not even the best boys
can stay forever
doctor kits run out
as does patience
not without good reason
none being the givers fault

Voice teachers can't get you into
music school
rejection is painful
no amount of emotional involvement
can fix a botched audition

Directors do not find bruises and scars
and call the police
they kindly turn a blind eye
as if a grandparent
or neighbor
not wishing to disturb your piece

Girlfriends do not stay yours forever
they change
move on
cheat

Everything changes
except you
you are stationary
incapable of the change you need most.

Word Bank (A Clever Little Screw You)

Upon reflection of
those who have left
the quality of people
is astounding

The Canadian
baby gay
in love
or lust
a more-than-friend
with a boy
whom no one approves
all convinced
he deserves better
hassling him until death
renouncing his happiness
vanished as quickly as I did
or so it seems
phantom messages never sent
nor received

The activist
or so he calls himself
studying politics
with a minor
in being a douche bag
preaching the power of a single voice
against social injustice
and neglecting the power
held in his voice
in the demeaning tone
playing with boys
eating girls whole
and spitting out the bones
careful to work off the extra calories
hours spent at the gym
the one who meticulously plans time
can't spare a moment for a reply
too busy chasing the Canadian for a date
he will never have

The ex-girlfriend
whom I shall not boil down
for she is not worth the effort
it meant nothing
well something
but not much
a fling
a fuck buddy
in hindsight
being less than Harry
it ended quickly
muggles and wizards
refusing contact
platform 9 and 3/4 does not exist
there is no train
only baggage

The attempt
misread intentions
from a woman
too collected to be called a girl
blinded with affection
for her therapist
unable to divert her eyes
friend dates
after tears
embarrassed as hell
unable to say no
kind at first
now silent
as if we never spoke

The friend's boyfriend
whom I only met because of a man
far better than he could ever hope to be
reminding me of flaws


Those almost gone
the two
much more frightening
the people
capable of identifying
every individual in this post
those who know most
no longer dating
but will forever be close

The model
striving for perfection
regretting past relationships
burning through boys
with the nuances of the drunken vernacular
the scorning of the past tense
scorning food
hypothetical hospital beds reserved
reservations you still haven't used
reluctantly visiting me while ill
Cypress haunting you
ghosts of have been people
roaming the halls
echoing your current health
you promise you're not gone
say only a few words
but assure me
I have been missed
comforting me after hanging up
in disbelief

The has been missionary
using up all of his spare compassion
leaving only the mathematician
a botched college plan
unending love halted
leaving only a cold calculating
machine
granting me the supreme pleasure
of hearing your voice
while hospitalized
your answering machine having more
soul than your voice
the sing-song days of the musician are gone
the activist no longer fighting
the president no longer residing
of all your titles
you are my friend
until I'm not longer deluded
into changing tenses
blacking out the
memories
blacking
out
me

How cruel to not provide a word bank
I'll provide you a letter for each stanza
an A
a B
followed with a D
two J's
a M
and a S

I wonder if you'll block this out of your memory
repressed
another unpleasant atrocity
coated with black paint
blending me with other forgotten memories
repented
but never released

I Look Fucking Different

I just realized how much I aged in six months.

This was me 6 months ago. I made jokes. I laughed. I had friends. I went to college full time. I had a scholarship to college. I was involved in campus activities. I even had a girlfriend for a little bit. I had a life.

This is me two psych wards and a suicide attempt later. I look a lot less likely to break into an uncontrollable screaming fit in the last picture. Or call you crying on the phone. Or freak out because I think the neighbors are trying to talk to me through the wall. All I do now is watch people leave, cry, take pills, and go to my fucking shrink. I no longer have a life. I have a mental illness.

I want my life back. I want to be happy. I want to have friends who want to talk to me. I want to be a teenager. I'm only eighteen and I feel like my life is over.