Bad Company
For S
Chain-smoking Newport 100s
Quit the booze and the drugs
6 months ago
Moved to Queens
for love or something like it.
I found it
much more intensely
that I ever anticipated
Still profoundly perplexed
by the same certainty of existence
by the sound of my own voice
popping against the receiver
the fact that it
has a volume
has a weight
and a depth
and an intensity;
that I can use it to cut deep
holes into you, myself
that it can stroke you like a delicate
cotton ball.
Amazing! I'm no longer a size 3
where did the time go?
Will the rest of my life
be a struggle against
a stupid bottle of cheap vodka
and a three dollar vial of benzos?
Not for nothing
but I love you a lot
Your voice
on the telephone
was scratchy
and scared
as mine,
your existence
was all I needed
to know
to know
that I wasn't all
alone in this tangling uncertainty
even if I never saw you again
When there were avenues.
We walked them
My arms were at my sides.
My hands were in my pockets.
You made me so fucking nervous,
I wanted to turn right back around
to the safety of my phone bills
and over drafts,
your eyes cut deep into my oblivion,
made inquiries, I was terrified to answer
since I was always too disgusted to ask
myself
I am trying to capture the newness
I am trying to describe
First time tension on an elevator
I am trying to make you feel
The sweat on the back of my neck
The goose bumps on my legs
As I try to resurrect the ghost
of the person I met who is not you
entirely
the you I met that made me want to sob endlessly
because I imagined the horror that would follow
the way my hands would feel in dreams
the way my body would cringe in sleep
the way I'd cry rain bucket tears that would soak the
down comforters
The way I figured you'd take all my words wrong,
all my poems would be blasphemy,
the way I'd tie myself in knots that would
grow into deep tangled ropes in my gut
I pictured never seeing you again
And it made me want to drown
because you didn't understand,
I don't want to be happy
I just want to be with you.
But now I know
Your face is the only
magnifying glass I've got
I'd let you get in real close
to look at all the soft spots and
the scars and the bruises and the
fissures and the burns
if you promised not to get
the scalpel and make new incisions
just let them heal
on their own
I'd let you have all of it
but you'd have to promise
to keep it all:
All the embarrassment
and the toothaches
and the nausea
and the blunt head traumas
and the cigarette ash
and the burn scraps
and the screaming mother
and the dull parts too
It's worth it because
you're worth it
I want to share my misery with you
I will take your unhappiness inside of me
like an old friend. I will suck it through a straw
rinse your mouth out with my throat
churn it around and spit out sapphires
I will make a secret place where
we are finally safe because
I don't want to be happy
I just want to be with you.
- Zoe Alexandra
I Think it's the Broken Mirror (but it's really me)
And I can see that now
That you were right
When you said
Bad luck is what you make of it
Used to think that if I
Fell in love
I wouldn't be able to write anymore
Now I realize our fights
Could fill up public libraries
I am not getting any thinner
Wish for magic cures and panaceas
While you sleep and wish me
Out of your dreams
(and maybe your reality)
I know that I am going to die
The hard way
I never make anything easy
On myself
(or anyone else for that matter)
Asthmatic cough
After inhaling a box
Of cigarettes
Now I am totally broke
Without a backbone
Or a safe word
Or a safe place
Or a sure friend
Sure I have friends
But friends have their own
Insecurities and phone bills
And all my 1st grade apologies
Begin and end the same
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry
I love you
and as I got older graduated to
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry
I'll suck your dick
I'll lick the floor with my tongue
Nothing makes any sense
And my mother suggests I seek
Professional help
Which is not such a bad idea
But when I need a doctor
I have not a cent to my name
And I can see that now
That you were right
When you said
Bad luck is what you make of it
And I don't know how
To confront you
And I don't know
To which level you despise me
Excuse me,
on a scale of 1-10, how much
Do you hate me?
Sorry, 100 is not a valid answer.
Mostly, I fall short of your expectations
And fault myself
I could be childish and
Carve 666 into my wrist
And listen to Morrissey
And drown in bottles of Dubra
Or I could just write a poem about it
I suppose I'm too old for true angst
After 17, it becomes adult anxiety
I'm on my last cigarette and my last seven dollars
and I read somewhere that the number one source
of spousal arguments is financial
and I want to give up the ghost but I'm too scared
this ache feels like a hangnail in my mind.
- Zoe Alexandra
Sweat Lodge
I can dress up so pretty
Like a real soap star actress
Bouffant hair minus the
Perfectly sculpted body
I can think to myself
Good Job, you really
Put yourself together
You almost look human
But nobody's watching
does it even matter?
If a tree falls and it doesn't
make a sound…
You know the rest
And what you don't know
Could fill
Kitchen sinks
And bathrooms
Who knew at twenty-three
I'd be scrubbing soap scum
And grease from a cast iron sink
Who knew I'd find myself
In Jackson Heights, New York
In love with a boy who will
Only love me back if I
Reach a goal weight of 100 lbs.
It's nice when the sick meets the unwell
I imagine it
as I breathe it
One neurosis meets another
They promise each other everything
Except plane rides and train rides
They imagine they'll never quit smoking
Once I quit for ten hours…
Now there are 2 critics in the house
(not just one)
But there is no canned laughter
And I am cockshy
And a little too jaded
To admit that your comments
Eat me up inside
But the outside's still fat
(it is)
Well at least you beat anorexia, honey
That joke's not funny
Or is it
Do I take myself too seriously
Why can't I just laugh about being
A fat ass
Why can't I just slather
Hostess cupcakes all over my face
And tits
And tell you that's what it looks
Like when you do a money shot
On a fat bitch
Why can't I write poems
About kittens and raindrops
Like normal girls
My mother used to pinch
my stomach
tight between her thumb and
forefinger
felt her nail digging into my flesh
like the moment before a fatal stab wound
cottage cheese
you have to lose the cottage cheese
that's all
then you're a ten
But I never felt like a ten
Thought sequins and marabou fur
Would make me feel beautiful
So I danced on some poles
And bought myself a ten bag of yayo
I never did things on the straight and narrow
Maybe because I always thought I was too wide
Hips like a doorframe
Even my boyfriend pinches my hip
In disgust
Some men are into that
Maybe in Spanish Harlem
Somehow I was always taught
to equate fat with:
Unlovable
Lazy
Damaged
Low class
Or I could just
Be the funny fat girl
Or the Nottie
You know
The fat chick
Who's friends with
All the Hotties
That gets you,
The average
Self-effacing guy
His in
Talks to him first
Makes jokes
He'll always
Look real deep into you eyes
And laugh
A real laugh
A meaningful
Heartfelt laugh
And he'll say
I wish I could just be with you
You're so funny
You've got the best personality
But when a fat girl hears that
She knows
Best personality translates to
I WOULDN'T DATE YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE FAT
I'D RATHER LIVES MY ENTIRE LIFE
WITH A VAPID UNSTIMULATING
BLONDE WITH A RUNNER'S BODY
And I know this well enough
My personality has got to
Be killer
I have to weave words
That cut deep holes
Into solid oak
I have to spin stories
That make grown men
Fly off their chairs
I have to sing louder
And brighter than any other girl
Just to keep up with the scrawnys.
- Zoe Alexandra
Today on the F-Train
Today on the F train
You said
Baby, you don't write anymore
You said
When I met you,
You were a writer
Now, you don't write
And I couldn't fault you there
Maybe sometimes you do see
Me better than I see myself
Inside my head there is always
A little whisper
A tiny slightly breathy whisper
Saying you're way too fucking fat
You talk way too much
You are such a pain in the ass
to everyone you know
and I know it's selfish to even feel that way
to take up that much space
even in my own head
space which could be used to build
linear equations, to conceal alien life,
to make a shelter for homeless animals
and yet I am always inside this small space
digging my heel into my own leg
stepping on the backs of my own shoes
tripping myself in the street
I want to tell you
I do write
I do
All the scribbles
All the cross outs
On scraps of paper
I do write my own name
Over and over in loopy cursive
And sometimes yours
But I loose track of time
And all of a sudden the bulk of it
Is gone.
- Zoe Alexandra
Once I Held You Closer
It's not much different than before
I am just as alone as I was before
Now I'm alone
with you
Here's the part of the story where
She moves in
And he promises her everything
Under the sun
The stars
The motherfucking
Brooklyn Bridge
If she wants it
It's hers
Once I was able to write
In first person
Now it's too personal
When I sleep in
The other room
Because I know
You're angry
I'm irate
We're both mad
And the apartment
Is crawling with secrets
Your skin feels foreign under
My fingers
Your face feels unfamiliar
I don't know the person
I've become when
You're around
Here's the part
Where he goes to
Work and they argue
About some obtuse
Idea or something like it
And he goes to work
And he makes contact with
The other side:
Her limbs are long and thin
as rope
her breasts are exploding from
see-through tops
her skirt is pulling itself
onto the tile
her pussy is begging for
a taste
over the bathroom sink
just like it used to be
You taste her lips
Fill your whole
fucking mouth with it
(it's that good)
Just what you wished for
Only this time
It's different
Because someone's waiting
For you at home
Her voice is soft and scared'
And she'd tell you anything
you wanted to know
don't go….
Once I was able to write
In first person
Now it's too personal
When I sleep in
The other room
Because I know
You're angry
I'm irate
We're both mad
And the apartment
Is crawling with secrets
Your skin feels foreign under
My fingers
Your face feels unfamiliar
I don't know the person
I've become when
You're around
- Zoe Alexandra
Diminishing in Love
I was so scared to write that
I swear
I was fucking petrified
My body is a body
You'd rather not touch
My skin is swarming with maggots
And you pull your hand away
Slowly
In aversion
Once I was seventeen
I swear to God
I was obscene
Mean size 4 and a half
Maybe
I was tight-lipped
And you would've
Loved to touch me
My skin was absolute
Fucking poison
But I could've been
Your RX
Because truthfully
I had no fucking clue
What I had
I would've let you lick me
Up and down
As if to seal the envelope
My fate
I would've moaned
Just right
Just a little
Just enough to
Make your dick
Rock hard in your pants
I wouldn't of known
The way my legs looked
Spread right open
Like the pages of an
Unwritten novel
I would've let you
Press down
The keys
Type in all italics
No parenthesis
All over my rib cage
I was seriously
Green
And that shit can't be faked
You would've known
And you wouldn't of been able to
Take your eyes off of it
You would've of been able to
Pull the wool over my eyes
Like a veil
Keep me prisoner
I swear I would never have screamed
even if you held
a knife to my gut
rock paper shoot
cum all over my face
I would've kept on smiling
Like a starlet
Like the girl who
never knew her worth
Still Don't Know
- Zoe Alexandra
Hate Ashbury//Luv You
Supposed to write
a poem about San Francisco
but I've never been there
determined to research it
but came out essentially
hopeless
Levi Strauss
The Gold Rush
Haight-Ashbury and all those fucking hippies
Spanish influence
It all feels so unfamiliar
I feel like less of a writer than before.
Write what you know
But I don't know anything
All I know is your face is blank
And I am marking all the questions
in with thick knuckled fingers,
trying to make sense of your temperament
Not sure if I should leave Queens
If you want me to shut the fuck up
If you want me at all
Who am I to you
but a girl you said you loved yesterday
Today could be different
It's your 31st birthday and my debit card got declined
And I feel like a piece of shit
Try to make some dumb face
that used to make you laugh
but forced laughter is worse anyway
I'd rather get punched in the teeth
Pour maple syrup red sludge from my mouth and nose
all over my white shirt
To tell you how bad it feels to be me
when you won't look at me,
look up from your coffee
look up at me on the train
back home to your apartment
where you'll fall right to sleep
Curled up like a Cupie doll
And I will stare at you,
feel so ashamed,
love you with every strand
of my fake ass hair
every fiber of my gums
every iota of my pupils
and what's inside my chest
love you so thoroughly I'd
Take whatever shit you threw my way
but you don't know
how I feel
You don't know
'cause you didn't ask
and I didn't say
and I didn't push your lips
into mine to make you see
the fractures and femors
behind my face
Write what you know
But I don't know anything
All I can see is
You're my real birthday present
a week late
wish I could be yours
wish I could pull all the poison out from
the lining of my cheeks like a snake
gut out the ducts with a paring knife
be the perfect stuffed cat,
the perfect 10 and a half you deserve
But I am painfully human and you'll have to understand
that my oversights slap me every time they meet your glance
If I could I'd be Cheetora for you
or any kind of cat you wanted,
curl up at your feet and purr like
an explosive attack,
Thundercats Ho! (for you)
Do whatever you want me to
If I could be a size 2
I'd let you wear me
black and blue,
I'd let you rearrange my
anatomy
make me flush with your
body
lay on top of you like a feather
San Francisco is far away
and I've got phone bills
and debt
and the electricity's
out at my house
and I can't bear to think
of how far it'd be by plane,
how my ears would pop
and my head would ring,
there's not enough jokes to get me through that
not enough songs to sing
and all I've got there is one cousin
and a friend of a friend
and all of this just makes me feel more
alone
I've ever been
Write what you know
But I don't know anything
Trying to write a poem about San Francisco
And all I can think of is your face
glows like shooting stars
electrical tape
bold in my psyche
Hands that feel faultless around my waist
Hands that feel like they were meant to be there
(But never were before)
I adore you
It's your 31st birthday and you're sound asleep
While I watch you
While I love you
From 10 feet away.
- Zoe Alexandra
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