the intro i never had

my name is lexi.

i was a 3.998 high school student who is currently failing two of my college classes. and i'm not planning on doing anything about it this week.

i used to lure them boys in and kiss 'em right in my sandbox, and i'm worried my seduction skills haven't changed all that much in the last fourteen years.

i'm afraid of tomorrow. because winter breathes in all of my secrets and the sun's tired of knocking on my window if i'm never going to open the blinds. but i won't come out because the bed is warm and the world is sad.

i don't shower every day even though my therapist thinks i need to fight my depression. the boxing gloves are too heavy for my hands and punches remind me of assault charges and police cars. the reminders weigh heavy on my forearms and honey, you'll learn i'm not so innocent after all.

i've outgrown pen names and pe lockers, but i'm still no good at small talk and i don't understand what's so fuckin' great about the weather. i'm never dating a forecaster.

i'm nothing more than a list of confessions waiting to be captured on a police report.

my parents think i'm stonewall jackson
but they can't see i'm building my brick wall higher every day.
i'm fueling the flame and i'm feeding the wolf.
i'm ignoring the recipe and i'm boiling revenge on the stove.
one brick for wednesday morning and another for urban outfitters.
half a brick for the half-truth.
the faucets won't turn and the medicine cabinet is empty.

two bricks,
three bricks,
four bricks for her.
take them, take them.

five bricks for the phone call.
six bricks for the silence.
wrong place, wrong time.
brick by brick by brick.

the cold shoulder's reheated in the microwave
but the tears are frozen in the ice box.
i'm digging red out of my fingernails with the kitchen knife.
more concrete. more plaster.
I'm screaming, "higher. higher! HIGHER!"

i can't prove whether the grass is greener on the other side. but if it is, it's because of all that fertilizer shit.

so pray for me when they lower my casket into the ground. and if you like me, pray before then. and remind me to recycle too.

because i've heard it's a spiritual progression.
the ones that recycle
are the ones that get to heaven.

maybe i'll stop counting the calories and start keeping my kisses,
starting with every line on my hand
and every freckle on my arm
and every time my mother smiled
and every school lunch she packed.

because it's not the calories killing me.
it's the counting.