oh my god, how you pronounce the word "through," and i don't know what I'm imagining, but i feel you saying "true"-- it's like singing to drake, "come through, girl; you deserve rounds tonight," but hearing "come true"

i thought once to grow my hair because of this condition to aspire for a gown of the life long kind, societal negotiation of supply & demand of the fairy tale kind. a good bride has a good braid. when my first love hurt me, i cut my hair in the bathroom. i tamed to grow it. only to find the little girl inside my body, snipping chunks of her fine baby hair to my jaw line alone in the bathroom again. i cut my silk every time i want to weep. it is the only thing you have, to shed & sever, and it always comes back to you. 

My drive home
from an unsteady heart
gives me time
to think after my work is done
who will wash my dead body?

This thought makes me cry
from the belly, but I can't
lose sight of the road

Boise has me feeling insomnia &  suburban  fears of time vs. money: unsafe but bitten with anger over how to restore my  self back to order or forever allow myself to be disobedient. 

I expand

Dumbfounded found myself numb
Amongst the sanitized odor, electronic beep's and tired breaths,
My second emergency visit this year, for a girl in pain

I tell jokes to keep you light
Inside I know you're scared
You're putting on a brave face

Is this what love does
Makes you blend your words
Between the IV's, the exams  and the waiting game
Makes you pull them back like laundry on a string, backward gibberish left hung to dry
But you have allergens but you might not care
For love

Is it like anticipating a bee sting
But still entering the field of sunflowers
An imagists' dream
Pound for pound
What would Ezra say to me? 

I am drunk. And I won't text you tonight.  A reach out, I don't vulnerable easy. I hate that I feel it. Harman asked me who did who tonight. I said I had to say first.

There was this bright idea of a powerful antidote, and so I began; "did you know when i was four. i loved pink panther, tu-dum-tu-dum-tu-dumdadumdadum...." I held my arms out with suspicious eyes motioning my body back and forth against the glass wall. "one time my dad went to germany to pick up my mom who was visiting her sisters my aunts and i played pink panther on my grandma who was supposed to be watering the plants in our upstairs apartment but was instead eating our food from the fridge. i hid. i heard the door lock the kind you need one key from both sides. and there were gypsies in town which is like our circus but kids can get kidnapped if they don't know whats good for them and i believe a day and a half passed when i saw my dad's shadow unlocking the door sure i was scared at night." at this point I raised my eyebrows for suspense, "he beat the shit out of me when he found me and i ran down the stairs and i lept or is it i took a leap? i lept into my grandmas arms and all my cousins rooted for grandma but my dad grabbed my legs and they fought for me. he beat the shit out of me and i deserved it." Harman chimed in with a firm but polite, "I believe in that. Sometimes kids need a good spanking."

"yes," I was feeling agreeable, "and you know, sometimes my parents would punish me and send me to my room but i was so fulfilled in there drawing and painting and they soon realized in order to punish me they had to make me sit in the living room with them but i would stop breathing. i would make myself stop breathing the same air and you know i was known to run away and hide my tiny body until i fell asleep out of pride"

I have heard "please don't run away from me," but I have learned that means nothing. Sew my hand off if I try and ever brush elbows with that again, this is why people hide. And you don't seek.