Thoughts On Everyday Life
Andrea Gibson - The Nutritionist
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The nutritionist said I should eat root vegetables.
Said if I could get down thirteen turnips a day
I would be grounded, rooted.
Said my head would not keep flying away
to where the darkness lives.

The psychic told me my heart carries too much weight.
Said for twenty dollars she’d tell me what to do.
I handed her the twenty. She said, “Stop worrying, darling.
You will find a good man soon.”

The first psychotherapist told me to spend
three hours each day sitting in a dark closet
with my eyes closed and ears plugged.
I tried it once but couldn’t stop thinking
about how gay it was to be sitting in the closet.

The yogi told me to stretch everything but the truth.
Said to focus on the out breath, Said everyone finds happiness
if they can care more about what they give
than what they get.

The pharmacist said, “Lexapro, Lamicatl, Lithium, Xanax.”

The doctor said an anti-psychotic might help me
forget what the trauma said.

The trauma said, “Don’t write this poem.
Nobody wants to hear you cry
about the grief inside your bones.”

But my bones said, “Tyler Clementi dove
into the Hudson River convinced
he was entirely alone.”

My bones said, “Write the poem.”

The lamplight. Considering the river bed. 
To the chandelier of your fate hanging by a thread.
To everyday you could not get out of bed.
To the bulls eye of your wrist
To anyone who has ever wanted to die.

I have been told, sometimes, the most healing thing we can do
is remind ourselves over and over and over:
“Other people feel this too.”

The tomorrow that is coming, gone
And it has not gotten better
When you are half finished writing that letter 
to your mother that says “I swear to God I tried
But when I thought I hit bottom, it started hitting back”
There is no bruise like the bruise loneliness kicks into the spine

So let me tell you I know there are days 
it looks like the whole world is dancing in the streets 
when you break down like the doors of their looted buildings

You are not alone 
and wondering who will be convicted of the crime 
of insisting you keep loading your grief into the chamber of your shame

You are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy
I have never met a heavy heart 
that wasn’t a phone booth with a red cape inside
Some people will never understand 
the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside
Some days my smile looks like the gutter of a falling house

But my hands are always holding tight to the ripcord of believing
A life can be rich like the soil
Can make food of decay
Can turn wound into highway
Pick me up in a truck with that bumper sticker that says 
“It is no measure of good health to be well adjusted to a sick society.”

I have never trusted anyone 
with the pulled back bow of my spine 
the way I trusted ones who come undone at the throat
Screaming for their pulses to find the fight to pound

Four nights before Tyler Clementi jumped from the George Washington Bridge 
I was sitting in a hotel room in my own town
Calculating exactly what I had to swallow 
to keep a bottle of sleeping pills down

What I know about living is the pain is never just ours
Every time I hurt I know the wound is an echo
So I keep a listening to the moment that grief becomes a window
When I can see what I couldn’t see before,
through the glass of my most battered dream

I watched a dandelion lose its mind in the wind
and when it did, it scattered a thousand seeds.

So the next time I tell you how easily I come out of my skin, 
don’t try to put me back in,
Just say “Here we are, together at the window aching for it to all get better
but knowing a chance, there is a chance out hearts have only just skinned their knees.
Knowing there is a chance the worst day might still be coming —
let me say right now for the record, I’m still gonna be here
asking this world to dance, even if it keeps stepping on my holy feet
you — you stay here with me, okay?
You stay here with me.
Raising your bright against the bitter dark
Your bright longing
Your brilliant fists of loss”

Friends, if the only thing we have to gain in staying is each other,
My God that’s plenty
My God that’s enough
My God that is so so much for the light to give

Each of us at each other’s backs whispering over and over and over

“Live”

“Live”

“Live”

There are massive stacks of bad choices in my backyard
Buddy Wakefield
You are the first morning thought, the last evening sigh, and every goddamn thing in between.
(via these-greatexpectations)

I screamed at myself in the subway

for writing poems about you still.
I made a scene. I think about you almost
each morning, and roughly every five days, I still

believe you’re there.

Jon Sands (via rarararambles)
I don’t miss you anymore. At least that’s what I tell myself to keep sane.
Me (via simplicity-babe)
When you are twenty years old, you will realize that sometimes you fight, with absolutely everything you have, and lose.
Alex Dang, Brenna Twohy & Eirean Bradley - “Nearest Exit”

buttonpoetry:

Alex Dang, Brenna Twohy & Eirean Bradley - “Nearest Exit”

"When you are twenty years old, you will realize that sometimes you fight, with absolutely everything you have, and lose."

Performing for the Portland Poetry Slam at the 2013 National Poetry Slam.

jfcortes:

I have a tattoo across my chest that says Beware of the heart

There is nothing more painful to the wind that destroying a dandelion every time they try to kiss

There is nothing more painful to a soul that loves you than holding the source of your pain

Last night I shattered my favorite mug…

Your way with words is amazing. :)

Thank you :) 

Our Past

Every night I can hear the sadness that hides in your laughter 

and feel the cold at the bottom of your embrace

When we kiss, I can taste the hate

wrapped around your tongue 

ready to explode inside of the first person brave enough to get close to you

So every night I find myself standing at your door 

with my own wounded heart and a box full of band-aids. 

Ready to pick up the pieces of your broken past,

holding my heart out as a punching bag for your fears. 

I bring my insecurities and a flashlight 

to look for the answers we have both been looking for 

and every night I find my gospel underneath your clothes

I wrap my faith around your blankets

and I let me truth slide along your thighs

For a few hours my past waits patiently around the corner

while we try to erase your past underneath torn clothes

We are both looking for redemption behind close doors

But the touch of your skin leaves blisters that I don’t want other people to see

and holding you in my arms is a sin I know the angels have been keeping track of

Still

Every night I dive into the mysteries of your uncertain future

Because when I see you, I see the preview to the best chapter of my life

and I wonder if you even remember my last name 

Loving you is the only thing in my life I have ever learned how to do 

So when I close your door, I stand outside in silence 

trying to hold on to the sound of your voice,

I breath in whats left go your smell.

While you turn on the TV and you wash your sheets