The tears are flowing from my eyes
I wonder if you hear my cries
Such a long time has gone by
Yet I recall the day perfectly in my mind
Your body was cold as you whispered good-bye
Yet, your deathly appearance made me hide
Finally, I got the courage to speak on that dark date
But, when I grabbed your hand, I was far too late
Your hands had grown cold
Your glow no longer gold
Your eyes, so vibrant in the life I never thought you'd lose
Had finally went dull, they had been dying since noon
I screamed to the heavens, head in my hands
My knees buckled, the inability to stand
Forever I will hate my darkened heart
All because its fear refused to let me say good bye at the start

I have a funeral to go to.
I missed the last one.
They're all dying off, one by one.
Had to happen eventually, I guess.
Everyone has to die sometime, you know?
Everyone and everything.
No matter how much it hurts,
and no matter who killed them.
Everything ends.

I think the biblical flood washed the love out of the world. I think God decided we didn't deserve something so pure, so he washed it off the face of the earth and left us here to try and fill its void, to remember the world with all the cracks full of love and wonder why we can't seem to keep anything standing. The world is dusty now, covered in rubble from all the things that we built, hoping love would hold them strong. We hoped for love, we dreamed of it.

falling
            hurt

                              just

         like

                               I
                                         knew
                                                      it
                           would.

(I think I've lost the ability to start things, so please forgive this poem for not having an attention grabbing genesis)
I've been twiddling my thumbs for almost eight months now
Putting off all that I care about
(And especially everything that I don't. Here's lookin' at you, AP World History)
Sitting around amassing a booklet of words to use in the future for novels and whatnot
But only using them in essays so I seem smarter than I am
(For example, susurrus means 'a whispering or rustling sound; a murmur')
Hoarding anything affiliated with Ben Folds because he makes me feel things on occasion
(I currently have 189 songs of his on my iTunes library; No one understands me.)
Making dick jokes at lunch while masking the thoughts of substance ricocheting around in my head
(Also your mom jokes because no one would think that you're crying internally about the uncertainty of the afterlife whilst making lewd stabs at their mother's integrity(and vagina. Ba dum tss.))
Apparently craving the lingering feel of another's touch
(I had a dream a few weeks back that Ben Folds licked my hand; My stomach folded (hahahah, folded) in on itself.)
Thinking that my feelings of misanthropy and apathy and everything else I can't find the words for yet are mine alone because everyone else is too stupid to have thought them themselves
(Even though I know that I'm not particularly special and I should stop being so elitist and stupid)

But I've finally found a light at the end of the table in the last place I'd expect--
(I meant to say tunnel, but hey, the source of said light does sit at my lunch table.)
A cherubic Presbyterian boy with an aversion to all things perverse,
(Which includes my sailor's tongue and occasional tendencies to want to put it on a member of my own sex, thought he doesn't know about that)
A spec of cleanliness on the grimy waistcoat of humanity who makes me want to be the best I can be
(Today when I saw him, I only swore once; I was very proud of myself)
But maybe I'm just jumping the gun
Because what would a good Christian boy want with a heathen like me who isn't even sure she believes in God?
Maybe his prolonged contingencies were merely contingent and I'm just overreacting because of my few and far between incidences of human contact.
(Seriously. Don't touch me.)
Maybe I just want someone to talk to for hours about everything and nothing at all.
(What with me being relatively antisocial, it's hard to find people with similar mindsets.)
Maybe I just want someone to funnel my adolescent attention to
(Because teen movies have taught me that one obviously can't be happy without having a crush on someone at any given time.)
Or maybe it's just because the way the Bible quote on the back of his t-shirt conflicted so humorously with the way he shook his hips to a J-Lo song on "Just Dance."
(Seriously, though, it was hilarious. I was dying.)
Or the way our fingers brushed when we were catching frogs
Or the way he blushed when I stepped out in my bikini
(I went to a pool party today.)
Or the way he held me momentarily in the delirious confusion of the flashing strobe lights
Or the way he got one point higher on his research paper than me a month ago
(He was excited; I was upset.)
Or the way that he does everything nearly to perfection.
I could go on..
But I don't know.
Maybe I'll get over him in a week and slip back into myself.
Because, like I said, what would a good Christian boy want with a heathen like me?

they told me
                      “poetry is dead”
in hopes that when I found it I might leave it in its grave
in hopes that journeys might not begin
in hopes that I was

and, dying, I found it between
where the azalea knots its white crown and drops
between a hole in sunlight and the moon, where
between the living and the dead
a broken vase of its ashes sift

I'm reading a book
About life and death and stars
And everything in between
Like love and hospitals
And all I can do
Is sit here and cry
Because it is beautiful

The living and the dying
Is translated into words that I understand
Heartbreaking phrases
And hysterically awkward conversations
And it's all there:
Life
Death
Love
Hospitals
Kisses in Amsterdam
Love in Indiana
Life

The pain subsides
Slowly dying
Thorn in my side
Tears cleanse
Broken dreams
So many times
Wither within
Again
Trying to hide
Where are you now
You tarnished me
One too many times
I'll wash clean of you
This one last time

We are as simple as rain and a tree
No double looks, no second glances, nothing to see
You are magnificent, you just don’t know it
I come every once in a while to make you show it
I seep into your veins, and watch you grow
Only to come and kill you, later, as snow
You stick true to your ground, growing and dying alike
I come down and ruin people’s lives

We are as simple as rain and a tree
Just nature at it’s finest, nothing to see
You provide your warmth, your body, your love to everyone else
And I will be here to nurture, and watch you sprout
I will come when you need me, leave when you don’t
Only to see that you still don’t know
You stick true to your ground, growing and dying alike
But you don’t know yourself, and it’s killing you inside

We are as simple as rain and a tree
Living in misery, yet nothing to see
You are beautiful and your essence shows it
I try to tell you, but you just don’t know it
I will be here until the end of time
You will stay, and I will watch you die
You stayed true to your friends, and the people you loved
But you neglected yourself and perished in doubt
That day I cried like no one else

We were as simple as rain and a tree
I loved you and you loved me

I've been living in this STERILE world
card board, cut out lawns
one, two, three...
what the fuck am I supposed to do?
who the fuck am I supposed to be?

Everyday there's a fight inside my mind,
my mental state fights my body
and my body fights me
and they say "you're strong, just let it be."
but I'm dying inside just to keep what's left
the money is all here
but I feel like a theft
and I swear to God I am getting further from my soul everyday
cause the truth is I grew up fighting
and now nothing is that way

It's the spirit inside
for the tough times we endure
the spirit that carries us through
and keeps us secure

and no one woulda believed the fucked up I endured
cause I act like Martha Stewart
and so self assured

Martha I love you,
but fuck you.
This shit aint for me.
Martha I love you,
but I'm telling you
I just gotta be free.