people like to compare love to big things,
to the movement of the ocean
or the shine of the moon.
love is never a rain puddle or pebble,
it’s always bigger than us,
bigger than we ever consider.
because like oceans and the moon,
it makes us feel small,
and we have to be okay with that,
because if we weren’t,
the ocean would still coat the earth,
the moon would still light the night sky,
and we would still feel child-like in the
face of love.
can i sit you down and tell you a little story
of two moons and the green star
and it said, and i quote
"you're quite remote, boring, and bloated you old buffoon" to the larger moon
on a night of stillness and misery
the moon, in hesitation, dropped from the gallows
and howled at the lone wolf smugly glaring
scoping out its flesh stained territory
the other moon, the peculiarly small magenta moon
cried out in reply "how dare you speak with such perfunctory persistence, you haggled old wench"
and the green star vomited up its breakfast
already dead, it began to disintegrate quite drastically
what a narcissist the green star was!
what a sociopath!
had it no sympathy?
so whenever you see a faintly flickering pee wee green star in the sky, whatever you do...
don't wish upon it!
it will strike you with its selfish lies!
strike you down dead!
Pleasant it was the bright night sky,
Destined it was the stars all here.
Fearful he was the moon flew by
And as we turned, oh me oh my,
It turned with us with face of fear.
Nothing it was could ever die
Beneath the stars for we could fly
Farther than one could want to hear.
Fearful he was the moon flew by
With us, so strange, we saw him cry
We went to him and hushed his tear,
Nothing it was could ever die.
Returned home, my boy slept so shy,
Watching we sang soft for his ear,
"Fearful He Was The Moon Flew By"
Pleasant it was the bright night sky
Destined it was the stars all here
Fearful he was the moon flew by
Nothing it was could ever die
I might never see you again.
I don't have a car, so I can't drive.
I have school and work, so free time is scarce.
But the night I spent with you,
Running barefoot on the turf field kicking and laughing
Kissing you before we went back to your place
Holding hands as we walked off the field and to your dorm
Turning on Entourage, not watching a single scene,
But basking in the adult content,
I was happy and I knew you were too.
I had not met someone like you in a long time
Someone who is dorky and funny like me.
I don't know the next time we'll meet,
I don't know if we will still be single.
I might never see you again,
But I'm glad I met you, if only once.
One day, when I awoke,
I remembered a nightmare I had that previous night.
I was at a school, a haunted school,
With a group of girls I didn't know.
They were there to release the spirits of three sisters
Who were trapped there by a mysterious phantom.
The first girl was named Clara,
She had hazelnut hair, hazelnut eyes,
A heart that could only be described as infinite.
She was the oldest of the three.
The second girl was named Nora,
She had a sense for adventure and heroics,
Her eyes only looked forward,
And would sacrifice herself to save her friends.
She was the middle of the three.
The third girl was named Mary,
She had a tame body and never really spoke up,
What she had in shyness she made up with her smile,
And she liked to sing and dance.
She was the youngest of the three.
We climbed up the fire escape behind the school,
The ladder was sticky,
We couldn't tell what it was because it was so dark
No one had thought to bring a flashlight.
We reached an unlocked door
That Nora keenly opened up.
Bella scolded her to be more careful,
But surprisingly Mary was the first to enter
And she hid behind the door to let us through.
It was me, then Nora, then Clara
As we entered a brightly lit hallway
With a door all the way at the end.
And so we walked.
Nora jumped ahead of me,
While Clara stayed behind with Mary
Who regretted her jump start.
So we walked down the hall quietly
With Nora making giggles here and there,
I would look over my shoulder every now and then
To make sure Mary and Clara were fine.
Mary held her hands behind her back
And was looking at her feet,
Clara was looking ahead with her hands together in front
She titled her head, and smiled.
For someone whose sister is lost
She seemed quite content with the people she was with.
Eventually, we reached the door
Which looked like a plain old door,
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary about it.
Nora haphazardly opened it only ajar
Because Mary shouted to stop.
Nora looked back with a questioned stare.
Clara took it upon herself to slowly open the door
And make sure everything was safe.
I just stood there breathless.
Clara called us over one by one
To the strangest wooded area.
A wooded area in a school
It was covered with black trees, dead orange grass,
And a purple sky with a yellow full moon.
There were no visible creatures,
Yet I felt like we were being watched.
We walked through the crusty grass
Whispering where we should go.
Nora pointed her finger to the distance.
Clara, Nora, and Mary marched ahead of me
All determined to move forward,
Although Mary let Nora and Clara walk in front of her.
At this point I realized
I was like a ghost to these girls,
I seemed more like a wish
And more and more
Like a wish to save them.
We entered a clearing
And saw the large faceless dark phantom
Breathing cold air.
The girls and I stood stiff
And the phantom took it upon himself
To come to us.
He stood in front of the girls,
All three of them were crying bloody tears.
The phantoms pat the girls on the head,
Comforting them genuinely.
He took them into his darkness,
And they disappeared from my sight.
The other day in therapy we talked about my fears.
She asked me why I was afraid of the dark.
At the time I didn't know, I've always been ,
But I've given it some thought and I've noticed
The dark holds untold secrets
It is something you cannot run from
When it comes, it is usually unexpected
And it envelopes you
Until you become enclosed in everything else you're afraid of
The dark holds your freedom
And refuses to return it to you
At night dark becomes powerful
Because there is no escape
No amount of light is bright enough to snuff out the dark.
The dark holds you
In an intricate web of danger and exposure to things unseen
Worst of all,
The dark holds me
And I, do not enjoy being held by things.
The figures through the leaves
And the light through the smoke
Lanterns carried by thieves
Wicked quiet young folk
It’s in their blood to rob
The world made it so clear
For the countless endless mob
To bring countless endless fear
Amongst the silent night
Within the heartless dust
There the crocs will bite
And blood will run from us
Collapsed here on the ground
Lions who lost their pride
Not a single one found
They are trying to hide
The time of End is near
The thieves quake the core
It seems that we do fear
The world lives no more
Here comes the devil, breathing down my neck.
He makes life hard and he makes me sweat.
Taunts me all day, tortures me all night.
I can't live like this, I hate life.
I could be happy and I would smile.
If he'd just let me breathe, just for a little while.
But he wont, he'd rather just tear me apart.
Some creatures don't have hearts.
Happiness and love are now missing.
And if you be quiet you'll notice he's listening.
I've seen the devil and I believe
I was damned on the day I was conceived.
You tell cute couples stories o your first date
But seem to forget you were still married to my father at that point
You said he wouldn't move in but I guess you lied
But I also guess you'll never own up to that
You will stay adamant in the thought that he still doesn't live here
But the toy car on my dads old night stand
Begs to differ
And what the hell was he doing with me on Father's Day?
He's not my father
We won't be my father
He's not even my step father
There is a man sleeping where he shouldn't be
Where he should be allowed to be
You say you don't have much time to take things slow
But does that mean fucking everytime I leave the house
Not knowing when ill be back
Came home too early
Found someone new and I lost the old me.
I miss that little girl that's locked up screaming to be free.
Find that little girl and hug her tight.
She's weeping, trying to keep her head up high.
HA HA HA. HAHA.
Those laughter rang in her ears since she was five, when the kids in kindergarten called her ugly.
Until now, it still haunts her.
Those words slowly became the monsters that she have came to love.
Because they become her shield.
How can she love herself when she loves the monsters in her head more?
When she can't bring herself to run away from them.
When she listens to them and shut out the ones she holds dear to.
And these people who actually LOVES. HER. BACK.
And before she can love another, she needs to love herself. FIRST.
She. Is me. I, am her.
I have been mourning for these monsters for a while now.
I realized I need to kill them before they kill me.
Before they make me kill that little girl that is crying but is trying to fight her way back.
These monsters have been a part of me that I have been holding on.
I used to hide behind them whenever I feel insecure.
They helped me build a wall to cower and cry behind.
They helped me disconnect myself from the world.
So that the rest of the world can feel comfortable.
Being disconnected gives you time to think.
Loneliness breeds thoughts.
Guess the fuck what?
No more of that bullshit.
My impression is here so stay.
My footprints will forever be marked behind me,
whether I like it or not.
And I think that I need a small spot for my footprints.
I crave for understanding and support.
I crave for genuine embraces.
I will explore.
And maybe you,
someday, one day.
My thirst for genuine affections
are driving me insane
but is inhibited my angst.
How do I explain to my mother that her only daughter,
her only child is one confused mess.
I like girls. I like boys.
I might not like girls. I might not like boys.
Maybe I like both.
Maybe I am just blind…to gender.
One way or another, I have come to accept that it doesn't really matter. Whichever way, I go, it's okay.
I want to stop apologizing for cussin’ around.
Because to me they are motherfucking appropriate.
I am fucking tired of having to be sorry for being me.
I am fucking tired of having to be censored.
Just because some people think that
my orientation is an abomination to the population,
blaming people like me for the demoralization of the institution just because they are the ones without proper education.
But fuck that, this is my identification.
I will never know when the time is right,
so I'm putting the hourglass into someone else’s hand.
I guess I will let time do its job.
For now, I am happy with our
awkward little conversations.
You deserve to know that I am just flattered of your existence.
And y’know what?
I think you do a fucking good job at that.
I want you to exist beside me.
To hold my hand in public
and not care about offending anyone by doing so because it shouldn't.
For now, I am holding on to the hope
that maybe you will accept me one day.
I feel things that I don’t understand when I’m with you.
Fucking kiss me out in the streets.
When our eyes met,
fireworks lit up in my chest but at night
those monsters put them out like rain
I trip over these feelings but hold them back because
of my fear of rejection.
Because I want to be good at being good to you.
Taking out these monsters may all need a lot work but I got time.