I never really let myself look back at it,
you know, since I transformed into this person,
since my heart relearned its beat,
and my eyes regained their sight,
and my mouth relearned a speech that could stand up for
the brain that's had to muster every ounce of confusion,
every spec of pain,
every seed of anger,
and release it until the look in my tearless and fearless eyes
gained light again.
I never wanted to lose you.
I just had to if I wanted to come back from the dead,
from the grave I made in my hollow bed,
formed with baby green sheets and a pillow for my headstone.
That was your choice.
I just walked away from a world that would never care.
Sometimes... I just really hate when you're the inspiration behind
the fingertips clicking on the keyboard,
when you're the reason why I let myself bleed into a poem,
when you're the motive in a desperate attempt for me to have something for myself.
And then I remember... that's how I escape the way I'd wrap
around your conniving little finger until it turned to blade.
I always find it interesting to see how fleeting my existence can be.
It's like a game, isn't it?
The drunken texts, the awkwardly un-awkward hugs, the hellos and goodbyes
that turn into absolutely nothing.
It's funny how I'm the one who can be normal.
The hardest thing I've ever had to do is accept that you aren't you,
that almost everything you do is a charade,
you parade about wanting pity and remorse,
you love the sadness as much as you hate it,
you hate the deception as much as you crave it,
and I simply cannot do that.
Maybe I haven't fully accepted it yet.
I wonder when I'll be invisible again.
Pin my arms to their furthest range,
so they’ll forever outstretch to everyone else.
Strum me unendingly. Listen to the hum.
I always do what’s asked.
I can’t wait for the day my insides tear
to the point of steady separation.
Then maybe they’ll stop pulling at me,
and I can tug at my own heart strings.
That was the moment of clarity
after all this time,
six simple words can do that.
And if I wasn’t,
I’d be dead in one form or another.
In a time warped world
where you’re standing over my grave,
would you tell me that again?
I’d dare you.
coming from someone who used to respect it,
coming from someone who used to know,
coming from someone who used to care,
coming from someone who should understand,
coming from someone who was there at the bottom…
couldn’t be more filthy.
It never ceases to amaze me how far you’ve fallen
since the day our eyes first met.
You are the definition of a self fulfilling prophecy.
But I promise you this,
with a forever guarantee -
I will never turn into you.
Are my eyes closed,
or is the atmosphere black?
After the hundredth collapse,
I’m back on my feet,
no crutch to lean to
or hand to hold.
The sensation of each heel strike,
each toe press the floor,
could delay to a hole,
for all I know.
Unsure and unsafe,
Undone and unreal,
I don’t see the strength
they see in me.
So, sometimes I wonder,
Should I stop moving forward?
Is this aimless?
I have none of that.
Still I keep going
in hope that eventually
my fingers will find
the light switch.
The light knocking
on my window
from the rain's tiny fist
may be the single,
in Mother Earth's
long and sobering life.
Did you hear that?
It was the sound
over glass arteries
and porcelain veins,
where the chambers
meet for inhalation,
walls are never thin.
becomes a quiver
as they fade into the distance.
My eyes are the series of letters you skim,
My hands are miniature font that stares miss.
My skin is a struggle for external boldness.
My mind is a simple afterthought.
My muscles recount lifetimes of information,
each tendon a lesson that presses me forward.
My organs hold treasures of memory jewels,
my vessels an account of their worth.
My legs are the diction of unknown adventures.
My smile is their punctuation and grammar.
My heart is a fact of lesser importance,
my ink its wounded citation.
I’m always here if you should need,
but the few who do so quickly forget.
Someday, my lines will be embraced in the full
and delicately handled with interest.
Read between, above, beneath,
Analyze every washed-out curve.
Study my circles, my twists, my ridges,
and make me into a book.
Another middle-of-the-night charade,
a delicate pas de deux with my bed sheets.
I forced my eyes open,
for the images on their lids
became too much
for the heart lodged in my throat
Let me breathe.
I'll surrender to the night,
to the slow passing of time.
Just let my lungs take in clean air
And press out every image I just witnessed.
My eyes are softly drifting again,
so shake me awake,
and give me a fight,
for fear of falling back asleep.
Take my hand,
and I’ll take theirs.
Let me drink the strength I need
to soak their tears away.
Into my veins may every drop go,
straight to the pulsing muscle
that keeps my skin from greying,
pumping out to every crevice of my body,
piercing every cell.
Bruise my flesh,
and puncture my pride,
as long as I can breathe
vitality into them,
just to keep their eyes alive
and open to a vastly better world.
Take away what I have known,
for they don’t need to endure
the shallow, harsh, sliest of demons
bewitching the brightness ahead.
Just never let them see it.
could grow arms
your aching bones
to a staggering tremble
of flooding emotions
and weeping flesh
was a sturdy staircase
that allowed you
to your safest haven
from your relentless
I could purge
your every wound
It's yet another day
for yet another year
to ban another tear
from the contours of my cheek,
And yet another fray
from yet another war
for the dagger through my core,
just wanting to be bleak.
And every day
I make myself happy.
I swallow the weak.
Today is no different.
Here's to pressing on,
this place brings about a complacency
that isn’t familiar to my brain,
a delicate calmness,
that the slightest abstraction
from this consistently inconsistent dwelling
will shift my mind to a place undesired.
I need this silence.
And by silence,
I mean the swishing of a small waterfall a few feet away,
the peck of a duck as its feathers are cleaned,
the splash of these creatures under the sunset,
the quiet buzz of the street nearby,
the flutter of a bird in the distance,
and the hum of an overhead airplane.
A breeze lightly runs its fingers through my hair,
and the rustling of the leaves in the trees
“You are at peace here.”
honesty is the best policy.
honesty is an art
that is nearly extinct to our culture.
Ignorance isn't bliss,
and meaningless phrases,
of each minute detail,
Praise with obsession,
shamelessly stab –
Just give this some ease,
and throw me away.
Swollen eye sockets,
all work and no sleep,
Ten seconds of rest
before dawn comes again,
slashing inspiration -
See ya, I quit,
I only do wrong.
Bag my head,
and cut only a slit for my lungs to breathe.
Maybe purposely blinding myself
will murder the sights that remind me.
You think I don't know
what it's like to hate someone
but miss them with everything inside of you
and realize that you don't actually hate them at all?
You think I don't understand the concept
of a contradicted soul?
But, you see,
the difference between me and you
is that the person I miss is worth so much more
than I think he'll ever understand,
and, if I had to,
I'd spend the rest of my life convincing him so.
But that will never happen,
since I'm not really here.
She looked at me,
and the words came tumbling out with ease –
that if I don’t have a man in my life by age 30,
my life will surely be miserable. –
What has this world done to us?
Where is our independence?
These are the saddest words I’ve ever heard a child utter,
not because they are true,
but because she believes they are.
I don't want you to tell me I'm hot.
I just want you to care.
I don't want you to talk about my body.
I just want you to see inside.
I don't want to hear about her.
I just want to be comfortable again.
I don't want you to take advantage.
I just want you to miss me.
In this free fall
floating around me
is nothing but what has been
and what could be.
A thousand words I never said
are enticing whispers in my ear.
Too many screamers crying,
“You are worthless!”
But my soul bears a strong shield.
They can’t get to my heart anymore;
I know my worth.
The lies swirl in the mist around me,
a cloudy gaze of nevermore.
And I’m just comfortable in this free fall
to a place I don’t know.
So wherever this takes me,
can it please be adventurous?
I need some of that in my life,
a spontaneous mix of alive and thrilling.
So, when I land,
let’s just run.
Never stop and don’t look back
unless I run head on to past.
What am I supposed to face right now?
Where are you taking me?
I ache for the moment I land on two feet
and dash to the day of knowledge.