Why do you get to care?
you weren’t there
when I was scared
when I was tired
when I screamed
or couldn’t move
So why do you get to be here now?
up on your horse
you don’t get to ride up
and offer your hand
while I’m in the mud.
maybe I don’t want saving,
maybe the mud is good, cool,
maybe I like the feeling
that I’m finally exactly what I accuse myself of being

How can tehy not hear him?
he cries every night
a mad smudgy cry
How can they not hear?'

How can thet not see
his poker face?
he's putting up emtions
to keep others displaced.
How can they not see?

He never stops his cry
even when you check
How can you be so blind?
How can you not react?

I'm sorry it's dramatized
because I am a poet
I'm sorry if I
bleed out my eyes
because I am a poet
I'm sorry if I
see winter in the summer sky
because I am a poet

you hunger,
you hunt and stalk.
sloth, loss, despair
you know it all.

but you want most
you lust after power and purpose.
you want and wait,
never doing.

you stalk,
never pouncing,
unless the prey moves to you
you are stagnant

yes, yes, my friend
you can wait,
and watch
you will always crave though
because you will never do

you are monotonoous,
but only from afar
you glimmer like a spark
and fall in graceful archs

you coat the logs and leaves
you sprinkle on the eaves
you fall together like a weave.
on my scarf you salt and pepper

you are a cruel predator
blinding confusing, you grab your prey
the maze create is flawless,
you are truly a deadly thing

you are snow.
you are a wolf in sheeps clothing

My momentum
sweeps me in an arch
I can almost touch the sky,
I can almost feel her again.
She is a butterfly,
passing, with her stained glass wings.
She is too far,
I’m plummeting
away, away from the sky,
down heels dragging
My wings are clipped,
with you just out of reach.

What do you do up there
on your podium so high?

Do you ever falter, or cry
at the witnesses story?
Or do you just listen
to all the details,
may they be ghastly, fearful, or gory?

Do you feel for the accused
or ever sympathize,
with a ******
who gouged out his own fathers eyes?

Yes, what happens
in your mind
in that podium so high?
Is it a of chess
when the witenesses atest?

Do you care for us,
do you sympathize, or
do you live up in the sky
in your podium
so high

the thaw of the ice
is a sad goodbye,
a parting gift from winter
to spring.
the gift of growth,
of flowers pushing their way up
to inform us:
spring has begun

the moments,
the time it takes to get somewhere,
are like cracks in a sidewalk.
plants grow in the impossible here,
pushing there way to the sun

Tears roll
D
     O
           W
                  N
my face
goodbyes roll
                  O
             U
        T
my mouth
and my arms
W               P
        R   A
around my friends

Do you care for me?
that question
puts a weight on my lungs,
and sends my head reeling for an answer.
One I don’t find, instead
tears of confusion pull me to sleep.

I find myself doubting,
getting lost in moments between words.
My hands shake
in time with my heart.
Sometimes I let things fall
because I hate the tremors.
Sometimes they rattle through,
my whole body.

Please, one question
do you care?
or am I desperate and lost?

energy cannot be created or destoryed,
is violence bound by that as well?
or is it a chain of
equal and oppisite reactions passed*
from person to person.
abstract in glances and words,
but becoming tangible in a fist or a kick.

please let my agression stay abstract.

I'm sorry,
if it hurts too much
pretend it's a magic trick
is what my note will say.
For I am sorry
about the destruction I will leave.
I will leave with a flourish of apologies
and a crash of unveiled lies
I will not leave quietly,
for that I'm truly sorry.

I will not say
love is like a flower
or a sunset
I will not compare you
to morning dew
or a bluebird
for you are rough bark
with new budding flowers
or the smell after it rains
you are like summer late nights,
which make me high on stars
and the moonlight through the trees

You are yourself, always
and that is all I could ever ask for

every time you glance over a "fine"
every time you're cold and unsupportive
when you ask the easy questions
when you see pain in someones eyes
and do nothing
every time....

you're gambling with a life
so ask the hard questions
see past the masks and lies
throw down the rope
or tie the noose
it's your call this time

I feel your presence behind me,
dragging me down
I see you in my quiet eyes
framed with a deep purple

I fear your whisper
a song of loneliness, laced with lies
as I move through the hours

You sneak up in the daylight,
grabbing wind in my lungs
you never seem to let go

I’m constantly at your mercy
fearful of your defiance
I’m prey and you are predator
and the hunt is almost over

to bleed, to cry
what is the difference
for they both do a vital task
draw attention to an injury
in need of treatment

Have you seen me
or am I transparent
am I here
or just a shadow
fading with each day

if you saw me
what did you seen
did you see a vision of lies?
or a simple truth?
did you perceive the good
or the bad

what did you see?
should it matter to me?

Hue in the sky’s
silhouette trees
brighten the darkness
and open my eyes
to a new sunrise

The letters I wrote you
they’re left unsaid
most of them living in my head
will you ever read them?

The letters I wrote you
of pain and hardship
of me all alone
what did I write, those late nights?

The letters I wrote you
who were they for?
were they for you or me?

The stork is ready
to begin the hunt
but there is a string
around my neck
holding me still
I grab the fish near me
but I cannot swallow
for the string is to tight
my ambition is the fish
but they are far away
and the string is so short

Words aren’t people

my pen can’t fill
the void of a friend

The sun beat down
on a land of plenty
but storms came
scarring the landscape
and burning the life away
disorder rained as king
with the new king
came numbness so deep
that not even the birds sang

Two worlds collided on December 20th
two worlds that were separate
and supposed to stay that way
they met
they didn’t scream
or explode
but I still couldn’t breath
while the had a conversation
about the school system

I felt happy
for the first time
in a long time
I was at best buddies
frosting cookies
talking
then suddenly
I realized I felt happy
happy is a language between strangers
happy is singing songs
out of tune and not caring
happy is knowing
that you’re loved
happy is the unexpected
you cannot set a trap for it

memories I cannot understand
with emtions lost to time
perfectly hidden
in these memories
are the secret to my childhood

my hair lies in wads
littering my bed
clinging to my clothes
my hair is running short
when will I stop ripping

the hero
I know
may not know recognition
or fame
they may be poor
or lonely and lost
yet they still bend down
to help the ones in need'
my hero
has never stood taller

One day they’ll
see me
on the podiums
by chance
one day they’ll
see me doing
my own dance
and one day
I’ll believe in the stars
but today’s not that

I’m still a liar
I still lie to you
it doesn’t matter
when, why, or who
I’m still working
on trusting others
but I’m really just
learning to trust myself

My friend told me
the death brings life meaning
and I told her
that’s why we hustle for the win
because every one might be our last

I fall over something
my head hits the wall
the thought in my brain
turn sideways
and lose their balance
I’m stuck on the ground
suddenly I remember
people are watching
so stand back up
and walk away
without any direction
what a public display of pain

I wore pigtails
in kindergarten
because every one thought
I was a boy
I wore dresses in 1st grade
pigtails weren’t enough
in 2d I wore pants
only with floral patterns though
otherwise they asked
in 8th grade a classmate joked
that I look like a boy
I laughed
but lost a piece of young me

Is 102 poems since September too many?
am I prolific
or so insane I need the poems?
in September I called poems a drug
I may have been exactly right

I am not special
you were and you lost it
so I’m here to help you
pick up the pieces
even if that means losing my own

Do you ever need the space between words
to breath?
Do you ever feel like how many spaces
in certain places can say it all,
how many dots
how the commas interact?
do you ever feel like
space is more than a pause
like it’s the only thing
holding the words together
and without it every writer would crumble

Lonely and alone are different
but right now I am alone and lonely

It is cold
but everyone’s cold
struggling with
their prime drug
wether that be
love or fame
success or failure
illness or health
yessir we all have one
even if  we can’t admit it
and mine is multifaceted
wow I’m still only thirteen

I cannot settle
I must constantly
question the situation
wondering how long it will last
how long before my parents
find out I’m a poet
find out I’m not straight
how long will I have this website
or will it disappear too

My breath is stale
my eyes weary
but my brain turns
in sync with my stomach
my mind make a list
of things I need to do
I need to apologize to that person
I hurt two years ago
I need to come out to my mom
(and society, maybe)
I need to tell that teacher I’m sorry
I need to sleep
but I can’t
and I won’t
be I’m just weak

Sometimes there are
so many words
I put my pen to paper
and they don’t stop
my brain is screaming
for sleep
yet my mind is too busy
words are swirling
forming sentences
and sometimes paragraphs
of words

My generation
will walk on
shattered glass of the past
without flinching
because we’ve been taught
it’s the norm
we’re all lost
because the path was
broken before we came

Clouds are swirling
and trees sway
clouded heart
and confused brain
but yet I’m not really in pain
because it all feels the same

Time is a human construct
made with years
of reinforcement from clocks
time is the way we see life
seconds
              minutes
hours
               days
weeks
            months
years
             decades
constructs are only measurements
but these define your life

My imagination is temperamental
constantly brewing new ideas
sometimes this ends
in volatile circumstances
and I’m shut out
sometimes I have
to remind my imagination to calm down
but the anxiety doesn’t agree

My hands shake
and all I do is stare at them
the people around me
unaware of its significant
my gaze is unfocusing
because my imagination is taking over
which is never a good thing

Anxiety is wondering
finding the worst scenario
and elaborating on it
anxiety is a fast growing plant
climbing up walls
and erasing everything else
anxiety is erratic
going from saying something
to college applications
anxiety is living in the future
forgetting what is right here and now