I sat there,
Thinking about the simple
And the impossible.
Why am I still fighting?
Why am I still standing?
Why am I still alive?
This is all seems to unreal to me,
Just a shattered reality,
Nothing seems real to me anymore.
My memories are fading,
My dreams are breaking,
Everything seems... empty.
For years, I have been fighting,
But after all those years,
Only one thing came out in the end.
That one light bulb was flickering,
On and off.
I thought it had burnt out,
But it was just flickering,
On and off.
As I reached for the light,
A sudden sharp pain in my chest grew,
And everything went black.
Everything but you.
You still glowed, shined even.
I saw nothing but you.
In all of the emptiness,
You were still there,
Shining bright as ever.
Then it clicked me.
I know why I'm still fighting.
I know why I'm still standing.
I know why I'm still alive.
I know why I felt so empty all those years.
Can you fill this empty hole in my chest?
I think you can.
I know you can.
but you're a beauty queen,
only a year older than me,
but you'll never open up your eyes to see, but
you have a georgia jagger smile,
and in my dreams,
you're with me,
but for now you're only words on the page of poem,
that you will never read,
you're wonderful, incredible and yet i'm invisible,
the way you hold your stares,
the way you tuck your hair behind your ears,
the way you bite your lip,
the way your beauty is pure,
the way you stutter as if you're unsure,
as if you can't see how perfect,
in my eyes you are too me,
i just wished you'd notice that i'm the angel who'd give up her wings to be your anything,
if that's what you needed from me,
you're so damn dead set beautiful and nobody compares to you
is immense confusion
and often I seek
but when I try my luck
to earn fast buck
I log on
Three thousand five hundred
his labor's price
his labored prize
he hands over to his father
who knows better than to spend it
rewards of son's toil
bitter and sweet!
I wish I were dead
and not he
now who will look after me?
cries the woman
a heart failure
having robbed his man.
with no hint of tears in her eyes
she doesn't disguise
I part her with a hundred rupee.
There's a ringing in my right ear.
I hum to block it out.
The hum becomes annoying.
Neither side of the pillow is the cold side.
My lungs are the first casualty from the war in my head.
That jolt you get when you fall in your dreams and you wake up with your heart beating.
That hasn't gone away for awhile now.
It's like I'm just waiting to hit the ground.
Caught in this constant free fall of fear.
I can't seem to shake the shakes.
Found a picture from last night with a cigarette in my mouth.
I don't smoke though.
There's a rainbow somewhere and over that is where I'm looking to go.
I'm sick of sad songs.
I'm sick of happy songs.
I'm sick of silence and the low murmur of my 10 dollar box fan.
I hate everything that's on my walls.
I'd rather just pitch a tent and call it camp kill yourself. Population me.
Scribble thoughts as they come. I've been doing it for years.
I thought I would find purpose in it, but I still don't know why I write what I think.
No one else cares and I sure as hell don't.
I wish I wouldn't ask so much from the sky when I don't appreciate it as is.
Everything is wrong.
I could be as broad as the side of the barn or as specific as ice cubes in the Ramen.
Waiting for the day the Sun doesn't come up.
On top of that, there's something wrong with the lights.
You are my beat,
a part of me on permanent repeat.
Just the thought of when our eyes meet,
gives me an an elation of pure defeat.
Nothing more to do than just be,
no biased judgement on what we see.
Just our minds set eternally entwined and free,
black or white, hate or love, up or down, agree or disagree.
I would never change a thing about you, me... We.
From the external beat, to the inner workings on my heart,
you've made yourself a special place from the start.
Close, far, near, or apart,
God has painted our paths on the same piece of art.
Even when one thousand pictures cannot tell the story in your eyes,
there's no disguise, no part of you that ever lies.
My soul slowly opens, loves, and cries,
for the beat that may lead to the demise,
of all walls, opening all possibilities in the heavens and skies.
she left when i was four
no explanation or anything more
it cut me straight to the core
you may think i was too young
to understand but my heart tore
my baby sister she was two
she barely could walk without falling
down onto the floor
now I barely see her
she's growing up too fast
she doesn't remember much of that past
she remembers calling me "Sissy."
And that she loved saying "it's purple."
I remember so much more
The smell of my moms sweet perfume
how she always had these really good cookies
her hugs and her kisses
but that day when she left it hurt me so much
because a girl needs her mother
a mother cannot leave her children
but my mom she was different
she never said "Good bye."
She never taught me to fly
she didn't see Jillian become to beaut she is today
she won't be able to see my sixteenth birthday
or be there for graduation
or my wedding
but whatever at least I have my dad
and my little sister
and family and friends
at least i have you guys/girls
because i know if you were going to leave you would at least say
The old woman with the lined, wise face
Feels her eyes go heavy; her chest swells and falls
Like ripples on a shallow pond.
But this night she is seeking the deep waters;
Memories of a few men who touched her
In her most guarded places.
While they slept next to her young, throbbing
Body she honed them like a slim axe.
She always let her lover fall asleep
Before she opened herself to the Dream Lord.
She would dream of swords and feathers,
Of swimming downward into black depths
Where the ruins of a lost city
Caught her in its pull, toward its stillness,
Its eldritch glow, so unreal and
marvelled at even
As it caught her in its nets.
She always in thrall to her
At dawn the new sun comes peering
Through and whispers kisses onto
Her world now is peopled with broken
Faces she knows can become in a minute
Strange and unkind.
She tries so hard to use the broken images
To assemble a mosaic, but there are always
Pieces missing: she is always incomplete.
There is a name on one of those pieces
Which is on the tip of her tongue.
It was a transient love, like an island
Sharp as its coral, of teeth and claws, and once
She felt alive to look at the scars; the scrapes
And puncture wounds a terrible secret that
Her body has locked away in the netherworld
She time travels through the Universe of her
What is left for her but flashes of skin and
Still a name; a name that slowly turns jade upon
A name she must remember so she can go and
Beside the Fountain.
To unpack that long black bag of torments
And fears cleansed so she can rest
Descend into the Water Kingdom;
To listen to the song of the bird that comes
To beckon her home.