"The problem is..."
"that it is'nt us who see people differently from you,
but you see things different from us. We are not the problem you are.
You see the basest humans when we paint majestic creatures,
we tell stories of superheroes with no faults,
we expect our boyfriends to mirror night skies in their comfort,
and speak like Kerouac. Kiss our scars like white girl tumblr pictures."
"People like you," he says;
"...Dont ever kill yourselves. You're used to the disappointment. Your used to kissing your boyfriends sweaty upper lips and smelling...just that. You clean up the puke on bathroom floors without complaining because you know what people look like from the inside. That's why your art will never be good. Thats why today in class when I asked you to paint a human body cut open, you drew a colorless man with his organs splaying out of him, and goddamn" he laughs..
"I have to fold petals into my boyfriends armpits just to stand the sight of him
our fucking is'nt fucking,
its lovemaking. Supposedly.
When I tell this story later,
I'll leave out the spit and saliva and how the human body
aint that pretty, especially gay sex. Even 6 ft 3 chiseled muscle of it, ill write metaphors about his eyes and similes to his fists,
you will tell us about the humaness of his breath and how
it annoyingly kept you up at night,
you will speak of storms but not of the ones in his eyes.
The ones in your belly
when he farts during sex and you will
describe every putrid detail, like the fact that waking up in the morning aint so pretty,
morning breath is something we dreamers leave out in movies. And, it must be exhausting
living here seeing things how they really are, but atleast when you expect disappointment, theres room for surprise.
People like me expect the good and are disappointed when its pissed on."
Eternal Resting Peace Mr. Mandela
You were the rebel, the prisoner, the fighter for a people without rights, a people who fought valiantly and with hopes and visions of equality. Such a pity, the greater population of the world lived in ignorance and denial of the existence of the endless fight and plight of a people. War in the streets, the blood and bodies of men, women and children was common sight witnessed and price paid to gain basic rights of human. After over a quarter of a century and pressures building to gain your freedom; unconditionally, you arose like the phoenix and emerged to greet sunlight. A continuing mission of freedom and liberation of a people oppressed, remained upper most in the heart and mind of one who would not rest. You emerged from the darkness, seeing the walls of apartheid standing, standing strong against your beliefs and be architect of it's destruction. Who could foresee that the island with bars housing a man with resolve would foster a journey of a prisoner to wise and great leader of a people?
The clouds are rolling in;
And it covers up the skies;
Let's me breath and fill my soul;
As it calms what's inside;
There is nothing it compares to;
Where is this new mirage?
You'll find few feelings like this;
Like the strumming of guitars:
You'll escape from all anxiety;
Take vanity in aim;
And hold on to a memory;
That won't happen again.
Its creeping at my minds edge;
The shallows are reeling in;
Talons pull and tear my sanity;
As my heart beat is wearing thin;
Its as constant as my breathing;
Whispering in the back of my mind;
That I would be calmer;
If a blade is what I'd find;
The anxiety is crippling;
As it rises in my throat;
I try my best to push it down;
But it pushes till I can't cope;
I don't know why I'm nervous;
Cannot even meet the eye;
As the eyes are the windows to the soul;
And I don't want him seeing mine;
Its like snapping of my rib cage;
Why are my hands shaking?
Why is the world turning dark?
Why is it I'm not breathing?
All I need is the sound of breathing;
There's no judging in the night;
Listen to your heart like thunder;
And we live in darkness under light…
To my dear —,
I couldnt sleep last night or focus at all today because I feel it's actually over between us.
I'm not bitter or angry or disappointed anymore because I truly believe and know what we had was real.
Even if it was a long shot away.
With every odd
and with every statistic against us.
We still fought hard,
we fought gallantly.
— if in some distant place in the near or far future we get a chance to actually see each other with our new lives..
I know deep down inside
I will smile at you with the same
smile I always had when I did see you.
will continue to race and beat stronger with joy and I'll remember how we spent our days together, learning from each other,
learning about each other,
confiding our deepest secrets together
and growing in more and more in love.
Your love was my best love,
for it somehow awakened my
soul that was in a deep slumber
and you made me reach for more everyday.
Oh, I remember the first day,
the very first day..
You ignited a fire deep inside my heart that burned with true
to my mind and soul.
That's what you've given me
and that's what
I wish I could of gave back to you.
I wish you all the best now and in the future,
I hope you become everything I know you can be. You are one
I am glad I had the privilege to be in your life.
I'm sorry my passion and my inability to choose to settle drove us apart,
you will always be in my memories,
our days.. though short will be with me always.
I hope you find someone who makes you
that can and will give you everything you want. You deserve nothing but the very absolute best and I want you for me,
as my last favor to believe in what I've told you.
To carry on each day stronger than the last.
Even though I won't know where you are,
or what you're doing...
I'll always know you'll be okay.
I love you,
and I really wish I could say this again and have the next morning with you but here it goes:
I'll be seeing you,
I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places..
I'll be seeing you.
- Yours Now, Later and Always, Tony
No one understands something fully
Until they feel it on their own.
He told me I "could stand to lose 10 pounds"-
Didn't know I've already done that.
I know seeing a fat girl starve herself
Is something worthy of a comedy show.
Maybe I should sell tickets.
I don't know why I expect sympathy.
Yet I try to tell a few,
Because I want someone who knows
And can help me be strong,
Maybe I can strengthen them too!
But the only hands offered to me
Are shallow and ingenuine.
They say it caused my depression,
Or maybe depression caused it,
Tell me to take antidepressants
(Which will make me fat).
I only want to be pretty -
To be able to ice skate,
To ride a bike (and look good),
To wear my favorite dresses
Without looking like someone
You would see in a meme.
Most of all,
I'd like people to stop saying
To get over my rich girl's problem
And just say they can relate.
What do they see when they look at me?
This question rattles around inside my head,
As I stare at my reflection on silvered glass,
A perfectly reversed copy that I can only dread.
Is it the reversal that keeps me from seeing what they see?
The smile that angles too much, now angled the wrong way.
Does that small change hide the howls that scream when I look away?
Do the lenses in front of my tired eyes hide the tears that have fallen?
Do my crossed arms hide the heartache that has become too solemn?
What do they see when they look at me?
It can't be what I see, for they would not stay.
My eyes roam my body, picking out flaws with the ease of a plastic surgeon,
While my mind does the same to my psyche, more intense than a psychologist.
Self-hate session done for today, it only took an hour this time.
What do they see when they look at me?
Eyes closed, I try to build an image in my mind of what they've told me they see.
It looks so similar, same clothes, same hair, but it's not quite me.
Not-Me smiles, but it's not my broken smile.
This charms with sardonic sincerity, promises a wicked sense of humor and a clever wit.
Not-Me stretches, but it doesn't highlight his sharpness.
This highlights the hollow of his collarbone, light catching the curves and angles to perfection.
Not-Me laughs, but it's not loud and obnoxious.
This bursts out in sheer delight, eyes crinkling in joy, ringing with mirth.
Not-Me walks forward, but it's not my gangly lurch.
This flows with determination, long strides that speak of a hidden strength.
He is not broken by his past, he is stronger for it.
He is not haunted by old memories, he is wiser for them.
He is not burdened from loss, he is compassionate from it.
Is this what they see when they look at me?
Is this why they don't shy away?
The reflecting glass pierces my darkness,
My breath shuddering as Not-Me is cast back at me,
Strong and whole in his glass frame,
I reach out to him, wishing only embrace him into me.
I am Me, and I am Not-Me.
I am broken, which makes me strong.
I am haunted, which makes me wise.
I am burdened, which makes me compassionate.
What do I see when I look at me?
Is it Me?
I want you to take as long as you need to decide what you really really want.
I want you to make your decisions without pressure from me .
I want you to know that you don't have to fit in your size zero anymore.
You will always be special to me and I will love you unconditionally.
I will love you to my dying day and I've never cared what others thought of me.
I know you know that but I wanted the one who wrote a nasty poem to know.
Not a poet and know it and know what's in your pure and unprejudiced heart.
You are sweetest and the most interesting and fun lady I've ever met and you
still are the only one I want to read to, have snowball fights with and sit by a
warm fire to to stop the chills, spend endless hours talking to, the one with the
gorgeous smile that brightens my day, the one who I love seeing walking in
without an appointment, the one I always put calls on hold for, the one who's voice
makes my heart race when I always answer your calls, the one with the musical laugh
that I can't get enough of. You are the one I want to be in my life even if we are
just friends. You gorgeous one are worth waiting for and growing old waiting for.
All I want for Christmas is your happiness now and forever Betty Ponder.
Never ever forget this, you are the only one I'd eat tofu with and for AND
you are the only one I will ever call a beautiful storm that blew me away.
And whoever thought it’d reach this point?
I am so empty.
I need someone to fill me up, this cavity in my chest.
Nothing I write makes sense,
Nothing I write is honest,
not even this,
why would it when I haven’t been able to feel
anything real in the past twelve months?
I used to be so emotional that I hated myself for it.
Feeling so much beauty for the world
that it felt like my chest would burst.
Having so much love to give that no one wanted to receive
that it felt like my heart would spill over.
And now nothing makes sense anymore.
I’ve stopped living in the grey areas of life,
I’ve been seeing things in black and white.
And everything I write or think is shit.
It’s not real, it’s not real and I
want to rip up this crappy poem
and scream my fucking head off until I can feel
something besides the crinkled edges of paper
on my palms.
I would rather be a little girl
with shards of glass living inside her
not being able to breathe without her ribs
feeling like they might shatter,
than be this zombie immune to pain
shuffling daily through life’s routines,
not caring for the homeless,
not caring for the senile,
not giving two fucks about the
that were killed or are starving in wherever-fucking-country
on the news last night.
I used to think apathy was the secret to life.
That it would be better to feel absolutely nothing
than have to live with the pain of feeling absolutely everything.
But I’d rather write something that nobody likes;
embarrassing cringe-worthy words full of promise that sound like
they were penned by an mentally unstable naive five year old,
than a viral masterpiece that sounds like it was written by
the next Sylvia Plath, devoid of meaning or feeling
besides writing for the sake of writing.
FUCK. FUCKING SHIT.
Where has it all gone?
So there is real life
And then there's fantasy
And somewhere in the middle
I get it, I think
At least I think I see
But still I wish that you could better explain it to me
I'm caught up in coincidence
Lost in metonymy
Every metaphor I come across
An extension of my being
I'm so lost
A battle that I can't define
Rooted in believing
A date with fate I can't avoid
But have no business seeing
I remember telling my best friend of how I once saw god
He clammed up and got real quiet
Waiting for me to go on
But there was no more to say
And on that day
I knew what it meant to be free
It was frightening
And deeply affected me
My life ever since has been a spiritual tragedy
I don't know how to fix it
I'm not sure what to think
It scares the shit out of people when I tell them
That God is all I see
With each deep mark
I make on my skin
You said that it kills you
On the inside
My insides died along time ago
And that's why the marks
No longer cause me sorrow
Though I don't like seeing
The way your eyes dim
When I tell you that the tally marks
Have increased in quantity
So maybe I'll stop
So I don't cause you pain
Or maybe I'll hide it from you
Like the way I do with everyone else