i'm so mad at you that i can feel it in my palms.

it comes out from where i have suppressed it down and radiates out through everything and sprawls in my palms, lazy and uninvited. max says that i am just a little girl who believes in fairy tales, and maybe i am, maybe i am that kind of girl. maybe that's why i get so mad and understand so little and spend the day in bed under the goosedown duvet with the fan on and the windows open to the 100 degree day and burn there, and wake up surprised that my body has not shut down or turned off or simply burned itself away.

lacking the assurance to say anything, i just hoped quietly that i meant what you said, not what what you showed me. more than third wheel, second bedfellow, last to know, possession forgot in a closed up apartment with new locks. something to be stolen. some thing. my palms hate you. i've only been very good at one or two things, and i always thought you were good at anything you thought through. beyond you to lie or to cheat or to crush me down like a can, but there i was, flattened- how funny it is that things that come on slow always feel like they've hit you all at once. to know better and tell yourself it was all a mistake, that you dont know anything at all, if everything could just go back to okay, to like before. like in out of the ams, except i think bukowski ended up better off, but who knows. i know i should have stayed away, said no, i know i should have been okay alone, i know i should have had the wherewithall to anticipate a better time, i know now and i knew then, and i didn't care, i was lonely and upset, and couldn't even blame you, i had to point my sharp fingernail into my chest and look down and know that i was the only one gouging myself under the chin. i couldn't stop, i thought if i stopped i would never get away, as though time would stop too, as though time would not eventually flatten me and you and everything down flatter and thinner and farther away than disaster all our hands could have wreaked

i actually didn't think much at all

oh of all the stupid things i could be doing