sometimes, when you are a man

i'm forgetting my soul at the bottom of a purse
with red lipstick and a grey notebook
that's quiet enough to make me wonder
what it would say if i got around
to opening it.

my thoughts slide back down into a pile of
"gothic cathedrals tend to have rib vaults
and pointed arches.
romanesque cathedrals usually have groin vaults
and rounded arches."
"lady macbeth goes crazy because she focuses so hard
on distinguishing imagination from reality
that when her imagination becomes her reality
she doesn't realize it."
"i hate myself for loving you.
and by you i mean 5 seconds of summer.
i swear.
all my indie street cred is out the window."
"hitchcock usually gets credit for creating the accordian zoom
because of his application of it in vertigo.
this is significant because it is used a means
of character development and revelation."
and it all gets lost.

i'm drawing in the chipped parts of my
black fingernails like they'll redeem me.
it doesn't mean anything.
it doesn't mean anything.

i'm used to holding myself together like the arms
around my torso can keep the world
from falling.
my arms are around my torso but the world
is falling.


--erin



you wear stretchy pants in your room.
it's for fun.

a girl on my floor is engaged and i haven't even had a boyfriend but this mostly doesn't have anything to do with that.

my bookshelf is overflowing with good intentions
and my eyes are overflowing with misperceptions
and my mind is telling me to pay attention
and my heart is telling me about imperfection

because i'm watching with shaking hands.
i'm asking if i understand.
i'm learning about myself and
and i'm learning that i'm made of sand.

and i'm a sand girl
with a sand castle
and the ocean is brushing my hair out of my face
like mama always did,

with her fingers slotting through the strands.
with my fingers slotting through the sands.
and you can tell my mind it's supposed to expand,
but it'll tell you about my hands
and how they aren't as soft as they're supposed to be.

my thoughts are written out on my ribcage
and my skin is as quiet as a blank page
"you'll understand when you're older" isn't a stage
and they'll tell me to act my age,
but i'm falling asleep to the lullaby that played when i turned the key.

sand girls and boys
line up and down the road
and we're asking what we're doing.
we're older.
we're wiser.
we'll lie to our sisters when they ask us,

because they'll understand when they're older.
they'll understand when they're colder.
they'll understand when their shoulder
shrugs off the questions of their sisters.

because my bookshelf is overflowing with good intentions,
and my eyes are overflowing with misperceptions
and the wind is taking me apart as i get older.
the wind is taking me apart as i get colder.
the wind is taking me apart and my hands aren't as soft as they used to be.
and the wind is taking me apart as i get older.


--erin

runaway is one word run away is two words

when i was little, i tried to run away.
i just wanted someone to ask me where i was going.

no one did.
i wasn't sure, myself.

now everyone is asking where i'm going
and i'm not sure, myself.

i'm asking where i'm going
and i'm not sure, myself.

i used to hold onto faith like it was the life preserver
and now it's becoming the water.

the leaves are falling without my tears
and i can't decide if that's a good thing or not.

questions are calling out from underneath my bed
and they don't know if they want answers

or if they just want to see me break.
i'm not sure, myself.

i don't know when it became so important,
but i just want to know how many coffins

have bloodstains.
i'm not sure, myself.

it's like something is screaming at me,
asking where i belong.

it might be me or my head or my heart
but they are sure things and i

am not

and i can't answer
because i'm not sure where the choices ended

and the expectations began.
the water i'm falling into

is either trying to carry me or drown me.
it isn't sure, itself.

i used to walk the line between right and wrong.
i walked it for so long that i didn't notice

that there was no line.
i'm sure of that, myself.

i've been staring at the stars,
asking them what my name was supposed to be,

and watching the red on my sleeve that my heart left
after it crawled back into my chest.

i've been asking the stars how many coffins have bloodstains.
they aren't sure, themselves.



--erin

a mostly pointless list of mostly pointless superpowers written by a mostly pointless girl with a mostly pointless major and mostly pointless blue eyes that cry mostly pointless tears when she's mostly pointlessly sad

• the ability to make water lukewarm
• the ability to gain weight at above average speed (but you have to do that whole diet and exercise crap to get rid of it)
• the ability to punch really hard but really slowly
• the ability to run in slow motion 
• the ability to turn anything into a tv remote (but you can't change it back)
• the ability to doggy paddle twice as quickly
• the ability to move at the speed of light (but only when you're already in space. good luck finding a rocketship. if draco couldn't find one, neither can you. no pigfarts for you. pff)
• the ability to screenshot just by blinking
• the ability to fall asleep exactly 38 minutes after you go to bed
• the ability to eat two chocolate cakes in the space of an hour
• the ability to insert punctuation into other people's texts
• the ability to attract baseballs with your face
• the ability to name that actor in that movie without consulting imdb
• the ability to turn any noodles into top ramen
• the ability to make green things orange
• the ability to be open about things
• the ability to fall in love
• the ability to not care about getting hurt
• the ability to run away from feelings
• the ability to make leopard print into cheetah print
• the ability to make a really successful baking soda and vinegar volcano
• the ability to make cardboard into printer paper
• the ability to ask the supposedly nonexistent "stupid question"
• the ability to finish half of the things you start
• like this list

--erin

wizdomme

things that didn't make my paper about the definition of wisdom for my shakespeare class:

wisdom is a heart that beats instead of breaking
understanding before reacting
living before falling
falling before running
running before crawling
crawling before crying
wisdom bleeds
wisdom hears and
wisdom hurts
belief in yourself
belief in everything but yourself
wisdom is remembering pain
knowing you don't know everything
trying to learn everything
loving without reservation
loving with only reservation
watching the spaces between your fingertips
closing the spaces between your hearts
dropping barriers
putting them up
knowing yourself
forgetting yourself
forgetting everyone else
crying until the tears forget why they're there
showing vulnerability
hiding vulnerability
sharing your soul
keeping it to yourself



i still don't know what wisdom is
where to find it
how to gain it
if i'm supposed to apply it
or live in shaking ignorance






tell me if wisdom is accepting pain
or avoiding it



--erin