everything i shouldn’t be

in the early days

of my fourteenth year

it occurred to me

that i had never broken a bone

that i was writing just to fill the page

that i was living just to pass the time

boys were boys

in cotton shorts

and girls were goddesses

i never dared to think about

death was a mile away

even when i played with fire-

sticking my hands in flames just to see

how long i could last

before i burned-

sometimes it disappointed me

but sometimes i was relieved

born and bred

a cradle catholic,

i had always

believed in god-

not enough to want to pray,

but just enough not to

cause a scene

every wednesday

i would go to church

and every wednesday

i would feel nothing at all

as a child

sitting in sunday school,

i learned

it is hard to turn nothing

into something

yet i was told

he built the world

with his own two hands,

crafting the moon and sun

and all the stars

out of his nailbeds

i was told

it took six days

to create the earth,

and the seventh day

was left for us to believe it

but it's hard to believe in god

when you don't even believe in yourself

and it's hard to love a god

that might not love you

for who you are

as i grew

i tried praying

with my clammy hands pressed together

and my sweaty knees on the floor

but i did not get a miracle

nor a saving grace

faith did not clog my pores

my veins did not flood with his mercy

so i assumed

a wreck like me could not be saved

in the early february

of my seventeenth year,

i was patted down

and searched

and stripped of my belongings-

my dignity

my pride

even my goddamn sweatshirt-

as i was entered into the inpatient ward

in the hospital,

the girl hooked on meth and heroin

told me

that life was bullshit-

"there ain't no god,"

she said

through the sores around

her mouth-

i began to believe her

so i stood beside her

and stood for nothing

secretly i spent days concocting "what ifs"

hoping to find the right hypothesis

but i could always disprove them

with this proof-

i had not gotten my miracle-

therefore,

god had not gotten his green card

as spring bloomed into summer

i gave my faith to girls

with red lipstick

and auburn hair

and i experienced heaven

when i kissed them-

it felt so good to sin

and i did not want to be redeemed

it became harder to hide

than be myself

so i crawled out of the rose bushes

and declared my being

while denying god's-

and not a single soul told me to go

in late june

of my seventeenth year,

it occurred to me

that i'd broken my mind

but it was healing

that i was writing

because i was breathing

that i was passing time

because i wanted to