loveyourchaos:

Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase

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 psycho therapist 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
when they care more about what they give
than what they get.
 
The pharmacist said, “Klonopin, 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 poems.”

4841:

“I can gurantee a haircut will never tell you anything about someone’s gender, who they love or how they fuck.”

loveyourchaos:

Andrea Gibson, Birthday