Like a child, too young to have learned her shapes,
I picked up a piece.
I pounded him into the hole, hoping he’d fit.
I pounded,
And pounded,
And pounded.
Eventually I realized he was too round.

I found a second piece.
I pounded at him,
Smashed and twisted him too,
Hoping he’d fit into the hole in my heart.
Eventually, I realized he was too square.

There was a third piece.
I picked him up and pounded at him.
I smashed,
And pounded,
And twisted,
And pounded,
And pushed,
And pounded.
Eventually, the effort exhausted me,
And I threw a tantrum.

When the tears dried,
I looked at the hole in my heart,
And I looked at the pieces.
Eventually, I realized the only piece who would fit
Was tucked in my pocket,
Was hidden from view,
Was round with sharp edges,
Was imperfect in shape, yet a perfect fit.

I looked at the hole in my heart,
Eventually I realized the piece missing…
Was Me.

And that makes me wonder if I’m still me, only tweaked. That I’m still the girl you knew and loved, just a little bit different. Of course, it’s possible that I’m not just tweaked, and that my entire engine has been replaced with a new, no, no, just a different engine. You swapped out parts, I swapped out the entire transmission. Or maybe I just have a few new parts. I can’t tell.

Ok, so, despite not knowing enough about myself and my changes, I’ve confirmed that you’ve tweaked. And those changes you made didn’t alter my view of you, but somehow my view has been altered. I’m so disconnected from the ways that used to be way too connected to you. But I’m still connected in other ways, strange ways. It’s like whatever part of myself I tweaked isn’t connect to where you’ve been tweaked. We only replaced the parts that didn’t touch each other’s parts.

Maybe you did tweak those parts in yourself though and I just can’t tell. Maybe my altered view is skewed because of whatever I changed inside myself. I blinded myself of your fundamentally altered state through tweaks in myself. But why would I do that? Why would I want to see you in the same light after all this time? Why would I tweak to change myself, but also tweak to think that you’re the same? That just doesn’t make sense.

Does anything make sense though? Any part of life? I think it’s mere chaos. Tweaking happens, but this life remains in constant chaos. The insanity has tried to change us and in many ways it has achieved it’s goal. Our tweaking isn’t by choice. Maybe we are the only constant and the world is in chaos so try as we might to be what we want, the world chooses.

we are Tweaked, but not by choice.

As I lay here, alone and full of desire,
I wonder if you’re as cold and lonely as me,
Alone in bed, longing to hold me,
To touch my skin and kiss my cheek.

As I lay here, I wonder if your bed is as cold and empty as mine.

Your fingers tips on my hips,
And I’ve got that sweat-filled,
hormones-raging,
orgasmically blissful
feeling.

A Goodbye hug in your driveway
And I’ve got that heartache,
hold-back-tears,
sorrowful
feeling.

You’re more amazing than I ever realized
and I’m just waiting for you to feel it too.

On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed.

It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatball,
Rolled out of the door.

It rolled in the garden,
And under a bush,
And then my poor meatball,
Was nothing but mush.

The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be,
And then the next summer,
It grew into a tree.

The tree was all covered,
All covered with moss,
And on it grew meatballs,
And tomato sauce.

So if you eat spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
Hold on to your meatball,
Whenever you sneeze.

And because tonight…
I didn’t spend a cent.

Because tonight was just wonderful.

In it’s hot pink strapless bra and lacy panties,
It’s a reminder of all that it can no longer be.
A reminder that it knows better now,
But longs to forget the lesson.

Tossing and turning in its bed,
It fails to recognize time, space or location.
In the abyss there is nothing to hold on to,
Nothing to believe in.

It blinks, momentarily human, then continues to stare.
It is hollow and void of feeling or expression.
The reflection’s hand reach up, grazes it’s face,
It cannot feel the touch, it is numb.

The arm raises again, the fingertips on its lips.
And I swear, I just raised my arm to my face
But I felt… Nothing.
Numb to the world now. Am I nothing?

“Thank God today was sunny at least!” I think, as he swears at me from two houses away.

I can discern a ‘yeah, you…’ and a ‘fuckin!’ and maybe even a ‘why don’t you just go fuck…’ I refrain from walking back with clenched fists and a possible thrown punch.

There have been two times in my life when I really thought I could hit someone. This is one of those two. But, ironically, it’s not out of anger. It’s to release the energy stored up in my body that can’t explain in words why I don’t care about him.

Because I do not care about him. Well, what I mean is that I care for him just as much as I care for the guy who sells me drugs. I care, but I just don’t care. It’s a baffling feeling really, to be told “I love you” from a guy you barely care about. I definitely didn’t believe him when he said those three stupid words, but he said them, and I sat there and did nothing about it.

Today, he finally saw through my mask. He finally realized that I was stringing him along. What he didn’t know was that calling me out was going to hurt him a helluva lot more than it was going to hurt me.

I mean, really, he was my toy. He was maybe the most fun toy I’ve found so far. It was way too easy to catch him, lure him in and manipulate him. When I said jump, he asked how high. It was just that easy.

I didn’t mean to do it. Honestly, I never intended on hurting or using anyone. I’m not that kind of person, at least I didn’t think I was. But as my eyes glared at my feet and I found myself muttering things under my breath, I fully realized what I had become through my ignorance of my own mechanics. I was a user.

I used him for companionship. I used him for sex. I used him because it was easier than not using him. I should have told him I wasn’t interested in him from day one. I could have prevented this if I had understood myself better.

I walked on. Past the man raking leaves in his yard, across the four lane road, alongside the rotting apartment buildings and as I approached that old tattered school building, I smiled.

I smiled because I realized the kind of power I held in my hot little head at that exact moment. I realized the ways in which I could mold and shape the people around me, the way I could beat men’s egos and tear up their hearts.

And as I climbed into that truck meeting me halfway across town, I smiled at my mom and said, “I should have known better than to let him pick me up.”

Three options: door one, door two, door leave.

The tossing and turning
leave me with a yearning,
Love him, Leave him,
Go out on a limb.

When it rained, it poured,
the old man snored.
I went to bed
the boys bumped my head

Now I’ll never see morning.