Be my muse,
I'll translate you into binary
and back again.
Lying on the ground,
blue carpet between your ears,
synthesized sounds convey through spaghetti,
hearing aides grow old with us.
Child sized vowels fall off their bicycles,
from between your lips.
Keep me busy; when I'm comfortable, I get lazy.
Your shirts are overlaid grids,
the holes, coordinates.
Always a poet, only occasionally writing,
I hedge my bets and roll die
with insults open to interpretation.
I don't like your words,
I don't need your hyena smiles
I don't want your degrading remarks.
But I know your skeleton,
your tendons, cartilage and marrow filler.
I understand how you move,
the coconut oiling your joints.
Be a textbook reference,
help me cut apart the paperchain people I’ve made,
I want to portray them realistically.
Shade their features with scrawled adjectives,
resolving to care about typography.
White school glue takes too long to dry
to have hopes of staving off entropy.
Scribble highways into dusty prairies,
be the cartographer that misplaces my world.
Beads of rain explode against my face as I run.
I look back for you through the trees.
My eyes darting frantically amongst the green wonderland.
I stop and remove the drenched hair slapped against my check.
Trying to calm my breath, I listen.
All I hear are heavy rain drops bombarding the earth.
Then, "C &
The thunder yells at us.
Out you fly... eyes wide with excitement.
Together we rip through the trees as wild animals.
I feel your eyes upon me.
I already know what you're thinking.
I extend my arm as you grab my hand.
We share a stare,
I see a reflection of the adrenaline rush.
Giggling innocently we run as fast as our feet can carry us.
Our arms extended,
Our shirts rustling in the wind,
We are one with mother nature.
We are her daughters,
She binds us.
You will always be my sister.
I know an infant
who came into this world
with a smile on her face
on the eleventh hour
of the eleventh day
of the eleventh month
bringing joy and happiness
to a day of sadness
and there were no tears
no screaming or confusion
and a look of wonder could be seen in her eyes
she was ready to start this wonderful world.
I know a child
who was the class clown
always ready to crack a new joke
or turn someone's frown upside down
she wished her baby fat would soon go away
but shrugged it off
'cause she knew it would some day
tears were only shed over scraped knees
and mom's soothing words
would set her at ease
no insecurities, no worries
she had her whole life ahead of her.
I know a teenager
who was no longer the class clown
but instead a shy girl
with very few friends still hanging around
she thought she was fat
(even though she was at average weight)
and felt different from the others
still laughing, still smiling
and the tears didn't fall
'til she was alone in her bedroom
but she stayed strong through it all
hoping that life would soon be better.
I know a young adult
who sits alone in class
stressed about choosing a career
for a future that she doesn't want to be a part of
she starves because she's fat
(even though she's below average weight)
wearing long sleeved shirts to hide the scars
that trail up and down her arms
friends mistake her fake smiles as happiness
oblivious to the desperation in her laugh
the façade wears off when she gets home
and her broken heart splits in half
while she wishes that her life would end.
But the thing is...
I know that infant
as if she was born yesterday
and I know that child
as if I saw her on the street an hour ago
and I know that teenager
as if I passed her in the halls today
and I know that young adult
as if she is someone I'll meet tomorrow
They are my past
and my future
they are the person I was
the person I am
and the person I will be
That girl is me and always will be
unless I find the strength to change reality.
Here comes this all too common runny nose
Regardless of the warmth the wind blows
It drip all day
To my dismay
I just wanted to enjoy the sun
Maybe even go for a run
...who am I kidding, Im lazy as shit
I don't even find shirts that fit
I sit inside all hours
Up in my ivory tower
Never even ponder going outside
Until a cold leaves me stuck inside
girl scout cookies
ed sheeran lyrics
winter park crew
breakfast for dinner
big bang theory quotes
cape cod sailboats
the smell of books
time with friends
the great gatsby
walk the moon
bombay bicycle club
life of pi
I feel it creeping
the urge to bleed
to drink scotch
to wear tight leather pants
and tee shirts or ripped tops
or some dress that leaves little to the imagination
with a corset and a garter underneath
matched with towering heels or thigh high boots
I want to skip town
to kiss new men and ladies
to rouge my lips and cheeks
to cut my hair short
or grow it so long
to cut my arms deep
and buy a motorcycle
and date a guy who smokes
who swirls gin
who always takes charge
has no problem making decisions
and outwardly looks down on me
who calls me young and naive
and loves me that way
and says i'm sexier for my innocence and youth
and is much older
and flaunts that he could leave
who pulls my hair hard
and picks me up with ease
and kisses my neck
with smoke rich on his tongue
and likes me better in flats so he can feel even taller and stronger
and who keeps an arm around me when we go out
so that everyone knows i'm his girl
and loves to kiss me on the subway and relishes in the looks we get
and looks at other women
But he loves me
and knows what i'm worth
even if he wont say it
he needs to miss me when I leave him
when I skip town again
he will miss my voice
the sweet words I use
the way I move
what I do when the lights are out
and how he let out some sexual deviant from within me
And the simplicity of my love you's
how nothing in our relationship was a show
I want to break outwardly
to make these mistakes
to stop clinging so much
to the past
to ideals of true love
to my virginity
and everything i'm told to want
I want to wear black instead of pastels
and bleach my hair white
and make the boys want me
for once, let them want me
I feel the urge creeping
but instead I will stay home
slippers on my feet
Earl Grey in my hands
record scratching out some Fleetwood
with my sweet flowery clothing clinging to nothing
I'll do my yoga
clean my room
and finish all my homework
I'll call my boyfriend who loves me dearly
who I think I love, though others tell me that is not so
because I want for a different life
though I deny that he needs to become my life
I'll write some poem about human nature
and tell my perfect boyfriend not to smoke
I won't tell him how hot smoking is
I will spend time with my parents
do some more yoga
take my anti depressants
do the exercises my therapist told me to do
and wish I could change my life
I want to fall into the room with you,
pulling at our jeans and tee shirts
until we’re in nothing but our
white cotton underwear.
I want to forget about light switches,
cell phones, and my breathing.
I want you to have trouble with my bra,
fingers clumsy with the clasp.
You’ll mutter Jesus Christ,
and I’ll smile against your lips.
I want you to tangle your hands, in my curls
and I’ll spread my palms across your back,
mapping from your shoulders to your ass.
I want to run my hands down your
chest and see if your stomach tenses
when my fingers meet your boxer band.
I want to know the noises you’d make,
and see your face, when we fall together
into your twin bed, in nothing.
If you are not depressed
Than i am not impressed
With your intellect
Nor the deceptive specks
That may have been missed
In perpetual happiness
For happy minutes
Treat life kindly
Even when it grimaces
Once it finishes
And the penance
Upon rivers of tears
And new beginnings
Merely passing through
The black and blue
And lasting the innings
To loosely elected
From little blessings
That test the water
Guessing the color
It may be dark here
In the covers
Of the comforts
From the red shirts
And when feeling down
Its our own hand
That pulls us out
Than the doubts
We are still around
To scribble these
Scurrying sounds down
In tattered papers from storms
Formed of conformity
And informing peeps
That it is okay to feel shitty
As long as you
Don't take anyone with you
Or fish for pity
To feel it through
Just being true
But more importantly you
Moving beyond the crutches
Beyond the clutches
Of others than ourselves
But still giving them hell
Be about it
Live in health
As hell is a state of mind
Made of fear in kind
To pale the rites of our time
To sty our ascension to the skies
And god is real
But not what you think it is
And you create the scenes
Then shed them away
Responsible for the things
You do and say
And feel some empathy
The beautiful pain is here to stay
The greatest heights
To the deepest lows
The demon lies
But the angel just goes
And the broom
Where the dirt goes
Ill never know
What tomorrow holds
Thumbing my nose
On that which is outside
Of my control
And i'm full
Of all that which
Makes me whole
And the coals
The love is strong
But hearts get sore
To the point where
They don't feel anymore
And in their boredom
They become assholes
The wind blows
So grumble me this
And grumble me that
Watch me pull a jack ass
Outta my hat
Watch me caress
A kitten on my lap
And stab you
But i love you
I have never walked this path alone
at this time of night. Midnight.
Exactly how it should be.
The uneven slabs of stone catching me off guard.
Squares of brick, red and gray and littered with autumn leaves.
Bike wheels glued to the Earth,
progressing with grace and ease
and hair flowing one strand at a time
in the breeze.
Buildings with staircases that lead
to towers of finite knowledge, but the top floor is
Save for the voices behind me, beyond
the jungle of bare trees and lawns of fallen death.
Fear death from above.
I will never understand why they talk
so loudly. No intonation, no change in pitch.
Only a deafening roar of a hundred voices speaking out against the same Earth.
For they say that human nature lies outside the self.
There are columns that hold up the educated,
mad at work. The lights are not bright,
but it’s enough yellow-orange to understand
where you are situated in this world.
“Let us both take the obscure route, for we are both obscure.
But he says we’re all nice! All of us our nice!
He judges by the level of obscurity,
so it’s a good thing that we are both obscure.”
They wear the smallest shirts with the smallest sleeves and the smallest pants
and they witness the landscape before them.
Paint a smile on
Slip it on,
like a pair of shoes
or a handbag.
Hang it in the closet
with your shirts
You can wear it again