I pressed my left heel down to get it into the strap of my sparkled sandal--bought from the cheap version of the rich girl store; I got them more than half off.
I'm a fraud.
Sliding my foot into the shoe,
the way I've done so many times before,
I lose my balance.
And there goes the first one.
I knew the nails were coming off;
I'm not all that wealthy.
I have to wait until the last minute to cough up fifteen bucks to get these things re-done.
I thought it just popped the nail straight off,
but it throbs and is begging for me to pay it some attention.
I peer down at where the once perfectly manicured nail (baby blue tips and all) had sat upon my index finger.
It has left a bloody mess--jagged and imperfect.
I can see my real nail drawn up next to my cuticle like a smile.
Placed on top is a half moon of hardened acrylic until it breaks off near the soft doughy point of my freshly exposed fingertip.
The blood lines the rim and trickles it's way down
curving its way around the smile;
highlighting the crescent of my own fingernail.
I say wanting someone to hear me.
a little louder.
I just want to complain lately.
I want a little attention for the suffering I put my own self through.
As I wait it throbs more.
I wipe the blood away just to watch it refill.
I walk down the stairs,
and they take care of me.
They give me my oohs and ahhs and owes,
put some ointment on a paper towel because we don't have bandaids,
wrap it with tape,
and I'm off to sew my dress back together for dinner.
My sister's dress;
my sister's dress that she got from a nearby neighbor
who stuffed it in a trash bag and left it there for us to take.
Maybe I will get a discount.
Sometimes I feel
That people are like messages
In a bottle
We choose to bottle it up
As we go though the rough tides
It gets protected
The hard glass
Creates a barrier
Against the reader
It's difficult to pry open
The message in
But all messages
Secretly long to be read
Some get lost in the saltiness
Of the sea
And some are lucky
To find someone
Interested in hearing
So they try
Their very best
To break that glass
Hear their message
The message in the bottle
Is not alone
It wants to be read
It can't say a thing
Trapped In its little glass shell
Its mysteries just waiting
To be uncovered.
Baby, free me from the
terror of waking up and finding
Not you near me again
and the denial of your existence
Is choking and suffocating me because
I simply can't say no
to a thought that drives me thinking
Of you, again and again,
what a hopeless dreamer I am,
I know you'll never keep in your
heart someone like me,
but baby, free me.
there is the world so much i think i have felt it
have felt by it
and by it felt
so much it
who in droves presses ugly Spring against me
who in heards comes dying and immortal
who in sleeping flowers laughs most
by sting invisible
impulses each rotund death
of lungs upon heaps of dying
to go out and wear more gladly it
it girls laughing
it boys sweating to be first
it arcuate of hips
it thundering of industry
it of millions tinly each
each more than last
each next than other
each the other than the next
i think and i have seen by it
and have i?
way north over the barn where goes the winter
when in neatish crimson hulking pricks comes
first small coming
then steadily gargantuan
in deep veins of failing gold
only to brittle
only to fold and tousle
only to rubble and quake
and i have thought
and i have read
and i have felt so proud to get at the meanings of poems
) but ever have i known it?
i have not been my feet to push of it a million splendors
i have not been my throat to scream so loud my body shook
i have not been amongst its people
i have not tasted
i have not been by the skinny bank of a winding stream in the middle of Summer when the cool water tickles across the span of each toe the wholeness of being
i have not kissed so long to love
i have not breathed so long to speak
what then can i say?
but do i say it?
i say it by hands between quick thighs
uncurling hurting bruises of hot sharpness
i say it in the hunched play of a girl's wetness
i say it in the calm stroke of a withered dog's scalp
i say in quiet moments as in loud moments
i speak(and i always speak)
and i think i have the world so much by it felt as to know it
and i think i do not know it
and i think it is not so much
and i think i have not felt it
Hey my little
sweetheart, delightful kinda thang
With eyes like mine, I'm glad we share
those twinkles in 'em
I just wanna say that I kinda
Miss having you around and so
I wish upon the stars I see all
the time so I may see you
once more and we'll talk
and have fun and
have the best day ever!
When I'm 15,
I want to be happy and free.
I want to do what I want to do
and not give a goddamn fuck what others say
because it's been too long
I've been pleasing others while desperately wanting to be truly who I am,
trying to tie my lips and not say what I have in mind,
afraid of what others might think,
and afraid that I won't be able to rebut their hurtful, insensitive remarks
I want to free,
because that's all that really matters
what I think is kept in here
and doing what I please
is what pleases me.
I want to be amazing,
a change of new skin,
a new beginning,
a new me,
with a smarter brain and more wit,
to challenge the foes and
give no shit,
this is who I'd like to be
and starting from being fifteen,
I will be a new person.
I often ponder
Of my being isolated
In this world of 7 billion
I often wander
Alone I often wander around
In this vast world
I often feel out of love
Of friends and those special ones
In this lovely world
I often feel I could fly
Out of this defensively closed society
In this wide world
I often get a feeling
Of sadness when I can't share happiness
In this jealous world
I often get an emotion
Of joy when I succeed in befriending someone
In this hostile world
In the end of the poem I come to the essence
Of this world as not being so mean as it appears
In this first thought
I re-read what I titled this poem as
And say out loud that
I'm Not Alone
I know all the words to this song
I wish you knew them too
Then maybe you'd have some sort of idea
Of what I could mean to you
I sing this song when I'm alone
I pretend that I'm singing to you
I wish that my voice sounded like an angel's
So that it could be worthy of you
Those ears don't deserve the trash they speak
You shouldn't have to hear all their garbage
I've never glimpsed a soul so sweet
Yours is one that I won't let them tarnish
I am as bitter as the cud of the cow
As the blackest of coffee from the impurest ground
But you amaze me with every word that you say
You shine a light on my life that I've never dreamt I could have found
And I've fallen so hard
You're all I think about now
yeah So I here it rains diamonds in Uranus
I've seen a thosand showers of diamonds
from the sparkle in your eyes
yeah your right
my fingers say words my mouth just cant say
but isnt that the American Way
that new money
that one dude says he smashed you
tells me storys bout you
but I know in the back of your head your thinking
do I fuck better
and the answer is
all I wanna say is
cuz you old news