have changed now
years later and i have these
violent, tender things
my pale, thick
legs and bruised arms
and the hollows under
my eyes are fighting
a vicious war against
the desperate, wide-eyed
pleadings of my head.
these desperate, cheering lavender flowers.
petals sprout from your fingertips
and they move across my body
in waves of longing and desire
bright blooming in the cold hollows
between my bones
where light has never shone
the way sparks fly from your
eyes sets me aflame from the
sweat of my hair, to the
crooked edges of my fingernails to the
soft sinew of my calves
you’ve created a world anew
in between the
whispers of my fears and insecurities
I'm not the only lying bitch
How many times did you tell me one thing
But you meant another
You're a manipulative witch
Using people for your own benefit
It's taken a while
But I've finally woken up
You're just a stupid phase
I mean, how could I possibly love someone
I've never met or even really spoken to
How could I love someone
That has such a vindictive heart
At least I'm remorseful for my actions
But in you there's no ounce
Of empathy, sympathy, or even kindness
At least not any that I've seen
I'm the one who is genuine
I'm the one who cared
I'm the one who loved
So am I the liar?
Or are you?
[allow] me to lick the Newness:
off your face,
away from the yapping white noise in the distance,
out of the infant smile you shed.
Lets dance the color of welded [souls]
all you who fracture under [the heavy mass
of] my emerging grin, cast the [humanity]
from your leaden chins
lets [radiate beyond our stiff] elderly shells-
stretch to the most intricate composition
of every genre of pebble [person]
Don’t stop there!
[pass] pockets of serendipity to the greyest nimbus,
the slightest twitch of grass,
the [breath] of soil.
why must we comfort Zones?
I will murder your plush practiced demeanor
to [nurse] your pallid glimmers
of certified [You].
I love how good I am at driving in the snow. It's like second nature. Skiing with 2,000 lbs. The headlamps hit snow devil whirl winds and the water crystal's light up in their obviously belligerent dance of rancorous cold. The lungs wince in remembering the soul stealing gusts that bruised me while waiting for the bus to go to school. Every yard on the block is scathed to a thin perfect sheen where snow settles in the drive ways and streets. Winters gentle reminder that the home is sweet and the world outside is raw and dangerous.
I was so worried about how the hellish wind of Lehi, Utah would bleed me this year. Leave me more exposed but the heart calloused just in time to seek deeper truths and guide my soul to a sober path.
We all gave thanks recently, letting the tryptophan calm our racing hearts and heal our mood. Spending much needed time with the beautiful families we call our own. My sisters are more then just glue that holds us all together but key stones. Do mother's ever really know?
Now with thanks on mind and heart, forgiveness and apologies weigh in. So lucky to be alive, and so lucky to have all that we're given, "this chance to be alive and breathing." What have we taken for granted? What people have we unknowingly or knowingly abused?
I have to say I'm sorry again. Not the first and hardly will be the last. My beautiful friend just know it had nothing to do with you. I want to pull away but it would be a lie to say that isn't one of the hardest things to do. Despite what underlying emotions have been persistent in me and despite whatever I feel or felt in a moment your timeless friendship means more then ever. So I say I'm sorry, and with sincerity I ask for your forgiveness.
P.S. Sorry to always be so vague and poetic all the time. My mind doesn't think any other way.
She worries about the way she looks in the morning
Is she too fat?
Does she have on enough make up so no one can see the "ugly"?
Is her hair perfect?
Do her clothes look nice?
Will she ever get a boy that likes her for who she is?
She tries so hard to look her best even though inside she's just a mess
And when she comes to school her friends will say she looks good
She wonders what they would say without all of this on her
And when she gets home, she takes it all off
Crying at the way she looks
She's just a girl trying to fit in
She's one of the girls who can't see them selves as pretty unless they look fake
She's just a girl who can't be herself
When she looks absolutely beautiful with just her
He gets teased
Maybe because he doesn't dress like them
He doesn't talk like them
He doesn't do the things boys do
He doesn't break girls hearts because he's never had one
Those girls don't like guys like him
because he is different
He is quiet
He keeps to himself
He wants to shout but he's afraid he will be judged
When he is just being more hurt by not talking
He goes home and thinks about ending it all
But is too scared
So he keeps pushing forward and doesn't give a damn
Even though inside his body is rotting and he has a pain in his chest
He doesn't cry, he screams
And then he closes up again
He just wants to pretend
What a perfect life would be without all this
So they close their eyes and dream about the perfect life.
How gloomy a day such as this
with obscure clouds that hang in the air
paying no attention to the sun that
wants to peek its head through.
What dense, opaque weather
filling up the atmosphere like a
laddle filling up a bowl
of grey, creamy soup.
It must taste disgusting.
May be I love you.
Or maybe I just love the idea,
Of pressing hard into you,
On cold nights,
When the room’s dark,
and all you can see,
is our panting and labored breathe.
The stink of sweat and clenched fists.
Or maybe I just love the idea,
of drunken mistakes,
on unmade beds,
when whole worlds on fire,
and all you can smell,
is the sweet pitch and sap of smoldering clothes .
The stink of sweat and clenched fists above it all.
Or maybe I just love the idea,
of old age spent alone,
on creaky porches,
when all my senses have faded,
and I can’t love anymore of this world.
Is the end always found alone, in places like this?
The stink of sweat and clenched fists above it all, fighting to the end.
Or maybe all of these things,
but then again,
maybe I love you.