This rain is cold and it just started to pour but I must brave it
I look in the back seat for some sort of protection

     I can't help but grin as I uncover a large dark blue umbrella.

I step out of the warmth of my car and start the trek across campus.

this umbrella is an old one
I remember this umbrella at the bus stop in elementary school.

                                                                    I stare at my feet as I walk
                                                                    left
                                                                                                       right
                                                                     left
                                                                                                       right
                                                                                                   and suddenly I am back in elementary school
                                                                                                                                     at the bus stop in the rain
                                                                         with an umbrella big enough to shelter me and all my friends

                                                     on days when it rained bad mom would let me use her big blue umbrella
                                                                                                                            it always made me think of her

                                                                                                     think of my mom at work safe from the rain
                                                                                                                think of her coming home after school
                                                                                                    making her first drink and going to her room

                                                                she did so much just for us to get by
                                                                    I always knew the little things
                                                                            like giving me her umbrella
                                                                were all she could manage

                                                                  I step in a particularly deep puddle

and now I am a college student again
thinking of my mom at home safe from the rain
while I scurry across campus in the middle of the night

back then she couldn't handle much more than an umbrella and a kiss on the head

when you're depressed everything is overwhelming you know?

but since then I've grown and she's come out of that shadow

but now I fear she is getting  that same overwhelmed mentality

and I'm not there this time to make it better


How was I better equipped to take care of my mom at the age of 12 then I am now?

When human beings were created
I wonder how emotions came into play

did our mysterious origins start
with a group of soulless people killing each other?

when did our happiness become a factor?
who was the first one to 'love'?

who in their right mind thought that relationships were a good thing?
who decided that caring for ones family was what should happen?

as the time ticks on and I learn to laugh at the cruelty of emotion
I also come to understand that

being able to love is both a
gift
    and a
curse
that we must deal with everyday

Religion
is a private experience.
I will be the first to admit
that we all do it differently,
which is why it increases
the emotions involved with
Politics
that shouldn't be this serious
I will acknowledge that
these laws affect my future
but I would rather not have
an opinion on my fate
if it meant saving this
Broken Family
from your hidden tempermant,
that I know is not this bad
you just aren't feeling well
and don't know how to cope with
the pain of your cancerous burdens

But when do we stop making excuses
for your morning ritual of coffee,
fox news, the tears of my family,
and the lost love of a generation.

I fall asleep at the zoo,
        and wake up on the other side of the glass.
All of the snake-like eyes staring at me through my translucent shield demand a show,
         and even though I've performed my entire life,
this pane of glass separating us makes it so much more real.

It's as if I can feel the weight of their penetrating gazes,
        I can see the glass start to crack under the pressure,
            I can feel myself start to forget the words
                 I misstep, and this "same old song and dance"
                        turns into "the mistake of my lifetime"

I want to do this for the rest of my life,
but how do I know that turning it into a profession
won't make it it into something I hate?

Whether it was the right decision or not,
           I have based my entire life on hope

I know that it is better to depend upon it,
           then not to have it at all.

I also know that if I learned anything from my mistakes,
            it would be that you must have hope.

The minute you forget about it,
          is the minute you condemn yourself.

You are so much more then your current situation,
          and you must always remember to carry your
                                                                                                 hope
like a beacon to safe harbors.

I would like to introduce you to
this little thing called
no.

I understand that you've forgotten
how to say that word,
but I feel it's time to relearn it.

We always promised that
we would never be the "yes" girls
that a chase is what boys want
but you've forgotten

Now I'm the one taking you
for those "tests"
and your the one regretting
all of these decisions

I won't tell you not to,
because I know the impulse
and I've never been one
to not practice what I preach.

Just know that I refrain,
even if I don't want to.

and know that I love you,
even if I don't show it all the time.

Know that your not alone(AVPM)
even if you couldn't feel lonlier.

Know that I've been down your road,
and that I regret the ending.

it's not to late, and your never out of options.

don't back yourself into a corner because you feel you have to.

you are loved, and needed.
<3

heavy breathing
       and foggy windows
              this is truly a teenage romance

but when I'm with you
           I feel real
              and you really feel me

I'm not doing anything to stop you
      and you certainly lost control
                  4 items of clothing ago

truthfully I lost control
       3 items ago
               and I no longer care to think
                                                                              about any of this

you say "hello"
                                                                   I say "goodbye"
                    at least that's how the lyrics go
                                                                   but really I just always said "yes"
and you always laughed
                    and then walked all over me
but "good girls like bad guys"
                               so goes the song
                                                                    and really aren't all my relationships
                                                                                 just bad pop songs?

many years ago
someone told me
that I would need
to deal with
my problems..

so I developed routines,
and rituals,
habits if you will,
that calmed me.

and now the chief things
that made me happy
when all I want to do is scream
are moving across the continent

and the people who told me
to calm down in the first place
are too lost to help me
find a new solace.

so where does that leave me?
but alone,
and crazier then ever...

Sensing a Curious Melting in the Region of My Heart,
     I pause, and evaluate my circumstances.
You are the opposite of who I imagined this happening with,
     You are not the Nerd who I always envisioned.
Instead you are strong, and not Nerdy at all.

"this melting could just be heart burn"
       The side of me that is on constant guard whispers

but the other side of me, the side that desires nothing more then to be   held...
                it, well it SCREAMS "its love!!!"

and despite my better judgment, hope is inserted into my mind....

Curled up in an old quilt,
Staring intently at the ceiling
As if it holds the answers to sleep.

Rolling and turning,
Becoming ensnared in your blanket,
In your protection from the cold.

Toss the thing off in protest and punishment
Wait as the chill sets in
Forgive the blanket (it doesn’t know any better).

Start counting sheep
Everyone says it works
You quickly find out it doesn’t.

Your back to staring at the ceiling
And begging for sleep to grace your presence
Asking for the peace of Slumber.

I scare myself,
with how I feel.
          The fact that I still
          have these urges,
          terrifies me beyond all else.

It's an addiction.

If you've never done it,
you won't understand
but to me it's the cheapest drug.
              The only down-side
              is the regret of seeing,
              the scars later,
        but of course
        the Scars are nothing
        compared to the rush of a,

fresh cut....


And now the poem I intended to write,
as an escape from doing something
I know I shouldn't,
has turned into something,
all together different.....

If your sure,
We can take the next step.
But if we fall apart in the process,
Remember me always,
As the person I was,
In the beginning,
Not the Monster Waiting
at
                                The End.

Kid you make me,
        absolutely crazy sometimes....
              (and that's not always a bad thing)
Kid you make me,
        wish I were dead sometimes.....
Kid you make me,
       so happy I feel like I'm floating.......
Kid you make me,
       acutely aware of how far my morals have slipped.....
                 (in fact you help them slip further)
Kid you make me,
       so many conflicting emotions,
              that I don't know what to do.
                     My friends tell me to get rid of you,
               but I'm not so sure that I could survive....
       But I have to decide whether
the good things you make me,
                                          are worth all the bad.....

Is it bad,
   that no matter
     how hard I try
       to forget you,
         You are still
            in the back of
          my mind,
       while he's in front
    of me, and I say
things I don't mean?

I look Up at you,
     We're laughing and smiling
and suddenly you lean
                                               Down,
       [and cage me In]
                                My Back
                Against the Wall
You,
Against my Front

                Your hands are everywhere
     Your mouth is keeping me alive

I'm Surrounded

     We're not even inside yet
but I understand the impatience of your hands at my hips.
     by the time we make it to the door,
I've managed to
     leave
                      a
          bread
                               trail
        of
                     clothing
                                            behind
                    us
and your mouth has managed to
             find
          a
                        trail
                  leading
       lower
                           and
                                       lower
                on
                               my
                                             body
There's a speed bump
    at my collar bone
          so you stop for a moment
At this point my mind,
     refuses to focus,
          all I know is you:
       Your mouth,
                          skin,
                              hair,
                                   hands.
I can't get enough of You.
       You can't get enough of Me.
I feel
      Devoured
You say
      Love
And We
           Crash

The things we did,
Will always remain a secret.

Don't let the fact,
That we did it in the first place,
Give you a big head.

You see I'm desperate,
And you were available,
And that probably make me a whore.

But hey....
Maybe I am.

Maybe I should stop,
Denying my nature,
And accept that I am no better,

Then the girl on the corner,
With the sad eyes,
And the smeared lipstick.