...heroine...

I am terrified to try heroine
it has nothing to do
with drug propaganda,
but rather
I am terrified I might enjoy it
too much
because numb parallels exactly
the reprieve
I need.


She is the protagonist to my plot
I am the empty page


Fury overtakes me
this state of the world is a failed one

but all I ever do is shout in my own ear
as the world keeps spinning
under my car tires
warzones firework the night-sky
under my dollar signs
all I ever wanted
was safety
a home with family
and the people running the show
to not be the hypocrite
I am.


most days
I want the answers to be easy
I want the questions to be on subjects I know
since the advent of the internet,
I have become useless.
I always lose arguments

because I can't remember my exact position
I forget that agreeing
isn't as comfortable as it appears
late at night
when my pillow attempts
to suffocate my backbend
these questions aren't easy
warzones are all around me
in the battle to fuel my car
to eat a meal
to meet an eye


apathy is simple,
I am not the heroine of this page.
my loose-fitting morals look more like
magazine clippings from Better Homes and Gardens

look more like martha stewart threw up everywhere
they are ugly sweater hugs
they are dirt swept under rugs

like chic values for the lazy
and incompetent.


I bet Jesus was lonely.
I bet there were days
he lost God's sweet serenade


I have yet to tourniquet my life
though I want the answers easy,
part of the struggle
is seeing
my part.
all that remains
is the start
of pulling her out my page