Text

when the
dusty professor
speaks in his
dry and cracked
voice i
bend over my
notebook and
spit out my
thoughts in
little sharp
chunks like
pieces of glass
slash yourself
with your
words and
bleed red ink

class is over
gather up
my back
bent over by
its weight
nobody looks
at me
i'm invisible
another ordinary
girl with an
ordinary mind
and ordinary thoughts

get in the
car and turn
it on
the heater
on
the rain spilling
indifferently
outside
the windows
fog up as if i
were with
a boy
a boy with
night sky eyes
and a soft mouth

take out my
kit
the blades
neatly lined
up
no iodine or
bandages here
take the first
cut and watch
the blood spill
listlessly
down staining
the interior
a dull red
gray and white
faces outside
pass by
umbrella's out
hunched over against
the cruel wind
december showing
off her silver hair

they can't see
inside
the blood is everywhere
and my lip is
bitten through
and i don't know
where i am
am i at school
still it feels as if
i had been
behind the grocery
store
cutting and binging

take a knife
to my face and
smile while
carving on my
skin as if i were
a steak
which is all too
fattening
watch the people
scurry outside
like black and white
mice
what would they
say if i they
knew i were here
ensconced in
my grey car
dissecting myself
as if i were
a lab experiment
baby pig
with its belly
sliced open
each flap of
skin carefully
pinned

put away the
blades safely
stored in a box
leave the blood
dripping
drying
congealing in my
mouth

sylvia plath is my
idol her
words flow over
me like rain
a rain made of
of blood
the smell of
death in the air
she stuck her head
in an oven and
its never been the
same since then

put on a black
sweater that hides
everything except
for my hands
which are pale and
cranberry stained
carefully lick away
the red dots

stop by at the
store on the way
home have
to shop before
i go home to
my empty
apartment where
my whispers
echo back at
me

walking up
and down the
aisles hands
clenched on the
handle of my
silver cart
pass by the
glossy magazines
where models
with bedroom
eyes stare
boldly out
thin bodies on
display
hunger etched
in every face

reading the
black and white
nutrition labels
fleshless finger
trembling over
the numbers

three cartons
of plain fat
free yogurt
and a bottle
of vitamins

apples and
strawberries
are looked at
smilingly by
the little hitler
inside my heart
the one that
pokes me
with her sharp
nails every
time i open
my mouth

buy a new
pack of razors
have to shave
my legs with
blood specked
fingers
smooth satin

carry one plastic
bag to the car
and drive off with
silvery exhaust
trailing behind
this is my life

no clever words
will come
i am a odd shaped
package and
i don't fit in
the box where
all little girls go
hack parts of me
off and i will fit
hunch my body
embrace the
red hued pain
and go on in
my life

i'm through