Regan Morse
10 hours ago

At seven I heard the story of Peter Pan;

Growing up wasn't part of his plan.

I wish he'd fly through my window sill,

When the stars are bright and the lakes are still.

I would ask him to take me to Neverland,

Where growing up has always been banned,

And never planned.

I'd never have to hear my parents fight,

Everything would finally be alright.

He'd take me through the sky in one big leap,

Over rivers and through mountains steep.

Second star to the right.

Straight on till morning; through the night.

To Neverland.

I'd meet the infamous Tinkerbell,

I knew we'd get on well.

I’d hear her jibber-jabber,

Among the laughter.

I could see Mermaid Lagoon,

As we sink Captain Hook's platoon.

I can join the lost boys; form a family.

Away from the land of the damned; my ruthless reality.

Meet the brave Tiger-Lily,

We could be perfectly silly.

And meet the crocodile who tried to kill time, eating a clock.

Tick tock, tick tock.

I may be able to find a treasure trove.

Maybe I can make a home in a cozy cove.

Peter and I would be as thick as thieves,

I’d make him a crown of leaves.

We will live forever.

To age, we will never surrender.

To live will be an awfully big adventure.

Too far from Peter, I'd never venture.

All you need is faith, trust and pixie dust,

Or you might just combust.

You just have to believe

and you will never have to grieve

and no one would ever leave.

I'd never have to be strong.

I'd never have to care for long.

So let us begin the journey.

To Neverland.

My timeless eternity.

My fantasy.

My delightful daydream.

My bittersweet destiny.

My dreams of Neverland have yet to cease.

And I am already in my late teens.

I wrote this last year, for class and I suppose now's a good time as ever to post it.
Dead Lock
Dead Lock
7 days ago

I used to go to bed at eight, and wake up at six.

I used to play hopscotch and leapfrog, and believe in magic tricks.

I think I've changed.

It's 2am

The back of my phone is hot

My eyes are burning and tired

My mind is wired


#sad   #sleep   #teen   #growingup   #change   #insomnia   #tired   #phone   #kid  

Did you know?
I have vines growing around my ribs now.
A tree growing in my guts where I used to hold galaxies.
Churning stardust catching between teeth,
Painting my lips.
Seeping out of my skin and into the sink.

I am a book of metaphors and paradox.
I am nothing at all.
I speak you fair with a liars tongue,
All made of silver and moondust.
Easy words.

I am celestial,
And though your starstuff still makes me sick in the mornings,
Picking your shine from my teeth
All your refuse still inside me wretched into the sink.
Though my limbs are scarred with an effort to see my own galaxies
I am through obsessing over celestial souls.

Too many boys and girls with stars in their eyes
Or Saturn's rings around their fingers
Have caught me with lunar promises and magic fallen from careless lips
Like meteor showers.
I'm rid of my stars.

Now I've been planting flowers in my ribs
The vines mingle with a web of forget-me-nots and bleeding hearts
Lavender buds sprouting from old scars
I pass the 3 am itch off as them growing
Learn to ignore it.

Feb 13

Is my least favorite word in the English language.
And maybe I'm a little biased
And that's because it's been
Resounding in the back of my head
For at least 10 years.
In between the memories
Of bent book spines
About knights, magic, the stars
And Disney tapes dancing on the screen
I latched onto a promise.
"That there is truth and love is real"
(Or so a song told me)
I dreamed days away
In pure fantasy of the way
I thought it would one day be.
I have felt the burning tether of obsession
the thrumming fools gold bonds of infatuation
fought as many mental misconceptions
And false ideas as I can.
So if this is some punishment for those
I want to see my lawyer because I've served my nickel.
You could knit me a suit
Of conventional wisdom
(About being single, being lonely)
Spilt for my benefit.
And I still wouldn't know
Which is most accurate.
"There are plenty of fish in the sea"
I agree.
"You have to love yourself before someone else can"
Well I admit I have bad self esteem
"Focus on yourself"
Ok but I'm not that kind of per-
"You'll find them when you're not looking"
Come again?
"You'll miss being single"
Fuck. Off.
I barely know what it's like not to be!
(But we don't talk about that)
I'm tired of the cycle.
It feels like I'm going in circles.
I'm tired of spending nights
Staring at the ceiling
Listening to someone
With more name recognition
Then I have, croon
About how they knew how it felt.
I try to say I shouldn't care.
The memories of a smaller me disagree.
I try to ignore it, and let it be.
My tedium of quiet sweat
A computer screen, and my hands should be enough.
(I'm lying)
The only problem is when the hormones
No longer strangle my higher orders of thought
I'm left with the minor sour taste
of shame
(Nothing experienced nothing learned
Nothing said nothing felt)
What am I doing wrong?
Do I lack testosterone?
Is it the history of mental disease?
Or is that same realization that I have
When I'm bleary eyed in
Bathroom light
And I look in the mirror;
That maybe I'm just ugly.
That there is a kernel within me
Of anger, lust, and pride
And I can't tell if I'm worried
That no one will love me despite it
Or because of it I cannot love myself.
Is there foresight or fault in my construction?
Do I still have a finger to wear a ring, because I will, or should I remove them?
Do I have a tongue
So I can speak, converse
With a lover underneath the midnight moon
Or should I extract it?
(Always spoke best with my hands, I feel sometimes)
((Oh you old romantic fool))
How can I remind my heart
That's it's only supposed to pump blood
When all I remember is that it's meant to love.
Damn old outdated chivalry.
Damn sentiment.
Damn the romantic masters who
Wove me hope in meter and verse.
This is what becomes
Of the boy dreamer staring at the window
Who's heart so often leapt
From his chest to his sleeve.
He becomes a man with a child's heart
Who is oblivious to romantic interest
And falls for those who care about him
More than he cares for himself.
I do not want to feel it again
(The warmth, the butterflies,
The shivers up my spine, the joy)
Unless it is real.
Otherwise I wish those feelings
Would die, die, die, die, die.
Eventually I'll be used to the yawning void
That has enveloped my chest.
But sometimes I hope
I pray
I chalk up stone and light candles
And pray to gods benevolent of planes unseen
That I'll understand
That I'll see
That I'll know: love.
Until then,
I'll try and undo the damage
Of 20 years of making a want
Into my need
(My everything).
And knowing that if they were to fall
I'll pick them back up
Let them lean on me
Because that is whom I have chosen to be.
Love for them
But not for me.

BE McComb
BE McComb
Feb 12

i wish my parents had
loved me enough
or just had enough
good sense

to put me on a diet when
i was nine years old

because now that i'm
older i can say with
certainty that i would
have rather grown up
thinner and slightly
worse for the wear

than grow up the
way i did
and be the way i
am now

because i ended up
distorted and
unhappy even though
they told me i was lovely

and i would rather
have had me miserable
and skinny rather than
miserable and fat

i only wish they had
told me the truth
instead of letting me
discover for myself

Copyright 2/11/17 by B. E. McComb

You look up with those big eyes
of yours, while talking about the
things you

once loved

while hiding promises you’ve
recklessly made to others. Then
secrets spill into your


And with a mischievous
gleam in your smile, you list the
ways you’ll conquer the world, all
with the

eloquence of a child.

But you still cling to everything
and nothing, as if you’ve lived for
a very

There was a young girl and her name was Carrie
All she would dream of was being a Fairy
She would come home with tears down her face
Thinking of the words said made her heart pace
To the park she would go to try and get a look
Writing and drawing in her small book
One day she as was there jumping towards the sky
When all of a sudden she heard a small cry
She looked to her feet to behold a rare sight
A small frail fairy starring up at her in fright
She picked up the being and took it back home
Up to her room where it could freely roam
As the days went on the fairy grew sad
Because of that Carrie became mad
One day the fairy had asked to go
Carrie was so mad that she roared out a ‘NO’
The fairy’s heart hurt
For Carrie had begun to treat it like dirt
Slowly the fairy thought of a way
When Carrie would leave it’d ask to come play
Carrie accepted without a clue
But before the time came she already knew
Before she had left she locked the fairy up
Away it went in a small plastic cup
Loudly the fairy screamed out for mercy
Calmly Carrie said ‘You should have loved me”
She picked up a lighter and set it aflame
Looking down at the fairy with no hint of shame
As the cup lit up and the golden flames licked out
Carrie covered her ears as the fairy began to shout
She grinned at the cup with no hint of remorse
From that moment on her life went off course
She soon became crazy and also was bitter
Mad at that fairy for not wanting to be with her
She then gave up with keeping up with her lie
And quickly decided it was her turn to die
She wrote a short letter for all those who cared
Re writing the life of which she had bared
The finale few lines spoke of her fears
But only the last two were covered in tears
These were the words that were said
Right before Carrie had shot herself in the head
I am a young girl and my name is Carrie
As I grew up I dreamed of being a fairy
People would laugh and break my joy
They didn’t realize that I wasn’t a toy
My dream soon came true in a sick twisted way
I didn’t know that I would turn around and say
That fairies aren’t real to those who don’t see
And being able to know one comes at a fee
I was one of the few who had to pay that cost
I was once found but now I am lost
I am ready to go for the clock is ticking
My heart and soul is now one for the picking
I guess it is time to reveal all kept hidden
For I was the one that had it forbidden
Because I am a young girl and my name is Carrie
And I’m leaving this world the queen of all fairies.

#truth   #growingup   #fairy   #fantasy  

Tinkertoy dreams must go back into the box now,
Bent where they don't fit.
It's time to clean up-
Put everything away.

Lincoln Log plans must be dismantled
And stacked neatly back into the carton.
They are too hard to step over
And very in the way.

Lego built fantasies must be pulled apart.
Back into the toy box with them.
Time to get your house in order
Don't cry
You're a big girl now.

I have been here 26 years
I can count all my tears
I have held in so much
For a long time
And time
Can do so much

I still have one week
But looking at my skills, I'm
Not a dancing queen

And it's weird to think
That I will be older than
Katniss Everdeen

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