in the second grade
I wrote you a love letter
on lined yellow paper
in my very best cursive
with my special blue pen
and signed my name
at the bottom of the page
with a heart and xo's
then folded up the letter
into a little yellow plane
and threw it as hard as I could
expecting it to glide through the air
but the little yellow plane
crashed before if reached you
and my paper plane
was crumpled and crushed
like I swore my heart was
when I had a crush on you
back in the second grade
in the seventh grade
I wrote you a poem
on lined white paper
in curved loopy scribbles
with my favorite pen
and signed my name
at the bottom of the page
with a lip gloss kiss
then I folded up the poem
so it would fit in your locker
and hid it inside
then waited patiently
for you to open it
then ran to the bathroom and cried
when you finally did
and laughed at my poem
and threw it away
like I wanted to do to my heart
when you broke it
back in the seventh grade
in the eleventh grade
I wrote you a letter
on my white lined arm
in angry bold letters
with my sharpest blade
but didn't sign my name
at the bottom of my arm
I instead slashed a red x
on my pale scarred wrist
and kissed it with
then waited patiently
for the red to trickle down
my white lined arm
and the world to go black
and for my heart to stop beating
the way that it finally did
when I stopped loving you
in the eleventh grade
Because I'm never given peace.
They grab ahold of my heartstrings
And tie them in knots
Around my lungs.
I think im suffocating
So they pull back my flesh
That seemed too tight against weary bones.
But my tongue swells
Like a corpses
And my words are
Trapped by choking sounds.
The construction of the human face,
is the way it is for a reason.
He gave us eyes to see,
a nose to smell,
ears to listen,
a mouth to speak,
a tongue to taste.
He gave her ears,
yet she refuses to use them properly
He gave me a mouth,
but I don't know why I talk half the time,
because she refuses to listen.
Her body language indicates that she is aware,
but her eyes,
they glaze over in a way that makes my soul thrash about.
like pollen in the spring wind,
floats to her,
goes in one ear,
and straight out the other.
my tears scar my skin and
Like a shower,
it never seems to end.
I am not your mask,
you can not parade around through me.
You say that
"Some people don't realize it,
until someone else tells them."
I've told you,
yet you cover your ears like in your youth.
You tell me to fly,
but when I try to jump,
you pinch my wings?
How can I learn
if you won't let me tumble?
I am not you,
so stop comparing us.
We may share a similar face,
but this body and mind is not yours.
I am no puppet,
you can not control me.
You're deft not because you can't hear,
but because you refuse to understand.
You are not empathetic.
You refuse to see me through my eyes.
God gave you ears for a reason,
It's about time you learned to use them --
A crack in the road that is covered in snow forces my car to halt, like a prisoner trying to pick a vault.
White dust swirls around causing barely any sound.
However, a low hum dances around my ears as I hide away my tears.
I remember every wrinkles and line on your face. You had great fashion taste!
I hope they have bingo where you're flying. Please stop crying.
Never forgotten and always in my mind.
You were simply one of a kind.
Through the turn of a page
The weary show rage
As the hero sits caged
Believing it all seems staged
With that they’d have a point
And not one to anoint.
Yet it all continues on,
Exec’s wait for the final curtain to dawn
But they aren’t going down with the ship
Instead they’re causing it to tip
As they push through senseless crap
A merchandising trap.
Getting rich fast,
Knowing it wont last
All it takes is one M B bomb
For them to see it’s wrong
So simply stop attending
All this stupid feces they’re filming
Slowly and syrupy, sticky and thick,
Quick as a viper, sweetly toxic and sick.
Dancing and deadly and lurking around,
Always all at once or nowhere to be found.
Quicksand and a thirst begging to be quenched,
It’s all over your brain and your world doesn’t make sense.
It sits on your chest and pours out your eyes,
Your friends become enemies and truths become lies.
God grows dim and the devil grows loud,
Yelling in your ears until your head starts to pound.
Please make it stop, I didn’t ask for this,
This tornado of torment, this chemically-inbalanced kiss.
Your world is on a switch and the happy turns off,
Instead of shining and smiling, your soul starts to cough.
Cringing and cold and cuddled in fear,
You pray for a day that the end comes near.
Not the end of this, just the end overall.
Just so this forever-feeling will stall.
The stars become car headlights and you think to run,
In front of them in hopes this life will be done.
But instead you go to bed and pray for a day
You don’t have to cry yourself to sleep and this all goes away.
You scream in your dreams, you drown in the light,
You’re not safe in the sun or alone at night.
Depression sucks, it really fucking sucks,
Some happy bastards have all the luck.
maybe I should be optimistic
maybe if I said everything I thought instead of staring she wouldn't think I'm a creep
maybe if I wrote her name a hundred more times I'd be able to start my homework
maybe if I think real hard she’ll telepathically hear my hi
maybe if I threw paint on me before I left my house she’d notice me
maybe I'm good without her, Jesus never had a girl
maybe I'm not Jesus
maybe I should just walk up to her and kiss her like in the movies
maybe I'd get arrested
maybe I should quit with the maybe’s
maybe good guys do finish last
maybe I'm cool with that (seriously?)
maybe I'll stop thinking about her
we shared a camel
after my thumb stopped you
I took the first drag
before I handed it to you
you trusted my spit enough to share
and my road look enough
for me to be there,
in your new Olds Eighty-eight
had just come back,
I was on my way,
I did not ask if that was why
your right hand had only two fingers
and a thumb, though you told me
of trying to close an APC hatch
and the AK-47 round that kept you
from doing magic tricks
when our smoke was half gone, we passed
the dying neon of a long dead bar
safe from its stench in your new smelling car
was then you asked
if I had “anything else to smoke”
a line from our riddled anthem,
we sang like nursery rhyme
I had what I had stuffed in my socks
since thumbs attracted cops as well
as wounded warriors in shiny new rides
I piggy lit the joint with the fag before
I crushed it in your fresh ash tray
now we were sharing our deepest breaths
and whatever else we could not forget
the weed was gone by the time
we reached the last city lights
and we, in our flying chariot,
zipped into the black desert night, it
was then your demons began to howl
maybe it was a full moon that called them out
to ride on its beams into the starry sky
where they could dance with other devils
and gods who had forsaken them, and you
I did not understand your moans, your tears
or the song you played on the eight track
that chanted about freedom which could not be bought or sold
or to whom you spoke when you wailed
you were sorry, sorry again and again,
I only knew they were ghosts
spirits kept at bay by the light of day
but there to haunt you in the dark
“Reggie, Big Mike and Cleveland”
all silent as you begged them
to forgive you for some simmering sin
I could not understand,
(not then in the desert dark,
though one day I would beseech other ghosts
to let me off the hook as well)
your cries did stop when you turned
onto a rutted desert road,
where you put the pedal to the floor
and the rocks pocked the undercarriage
like machine gun fire
and popped out the eight track
a half mile from highway 54
I lit another camel in the synovial silence
your tears kept streaming down your face
but you no longer called out to the ghosts, perhaps
left behind you on that black highway
I don’t know if they spoke to you
when I handed you the smoke, you did
look around, as if someone was there
before reaching over to open my door…
I did not ask why you were leaving me
with the moon and the stars and the sand,
so far from the lights and sound, or why
I could not feel my feet when
they touched the ground, the last thing
I saw was your dust filling the rumbling air
and the orange glow of the camel
flying through the blue night
Palms together, the cold air settles slowly but with purpose and clothes me in goosebumps. I haven’t worn a watch in years, don’t need to know what time it is, know my heart is about to stop. The wallcreepers are on the move, feathers flee into the mist.
The wind seeks my attention, wants to dry the tears as I huddle but I won’t fight the strain. This mountain is familiar and I count cracks upon the skin on my wrists, assessing age that of a tree, rings now too many. Smirking while in search of the great white titan, taller than any sequoia.
The sun is prowling, scouting for a Tricity born tellurian playing hide and seek for yet another day. I jump and for a solid moment I feel an emptiness, an ethereal weight, I gasp and try again, gasp, try… sigh…
I wish that when my
break cable snapped,
(you know, the one you fixed for me with your falsetto expertise)
in a downpour of slashing rain,
I skid through the stale green light, turning red, like the leaves now on the trees.
I would be unable to stop, because of your spite
(you had it out for me all along)
I can picture it,
slow motion and horror,
gliding across pavement
until I become a physics problem:
"If Sally is riding her bicycle at a velocity of _, and a vehicle strikes her at a speed of _,
how far will she fly through the air until splatting like an egg?"
I would feel satisfied
as you hung from a noose of guilt
just as you indulge in the power
of squandering the love city we built.