Why do people get so mad when I tell them I want to die.
We all end up dying.
But it so happens that I'd rather go sooner than later.
I'd rather rot now than rot later.
The pain triggers my heart.
Like an untreated wound.
I thought we had so much spark
Until you left me right there in the dark.
Everyone had so much to say.
Like why did I lose my virginity so young.
I lost two of the most important things to me.
My virginity and the boy who took it.
Five months later I lost my baby.
I sat eye to eye with a counselor who told me everything was going to be just fine.
It never was and in my heart I truly believed it would never be fine.
So I stopped going and I stopped writing.
Instead I made bracelets out of rope hoping it would hide the scars on my wrist that I would soon create.
Then I remembered how abusive my father was and how many scars he left.
So I began to hate scars.
The pain was tearing me apart so I wrote a couple of poems.
The pain got worse and my thoughts got radical.
I always went to the bathroom every time I had a suicide thought.
I would cry my eyes out and look in the mirror and wonder how did I become so broken and dumb.
I never told my parents about this because I knew they would worry.
I didn't want them to think I was a joke.
A sick messed up joke.
I wanted to take my life.
Kill myself.
Damn, let me just say it.
I wanted to commit suicide.
I thought of it as picking every petal of every flower in this world.
I came to the conclusion that flowers are beautiful.
And so am I.
Wait, so is my life.
So I even though I still have these thoughts.
Im strong enough.
Im stronger than a
BLADE
OVERDOSE
DROWNING
ROPE
MEDICINE
COUNSELING
DEATH.
im stronger than death.
I still shed a tear every once in a while
Most things still remind me of you
Some of the silly faces you'd make have rubbed off on me
I can't listen to your favorite song without breaking down
I enclosed the physical memories in a box in my closet
Though you still cross my mind every night
Some of the memories make me smile
I'm grateful to have enjoyed them with you
Others make me weep
Like the time you opened your heart and let me in
Most days I miss you
But I've learned what it means to keep going
I am moving on
"Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much, that he died every night to let her breathe."
How interesting that story is.
Though I don't really know
If the plot Is realistic enough
To pertain to my
Plain life.
But I can tell you a tale
Of a damsel in distress
Waking up groggy
Looking for her dress.
Glancing at her greasy hair
In a mirror that had a tendency to stare.
A story of a girl who died everyday
Waiting for a kiss to bring her alive.
A kiss that happened a few times and some
But she'd still go home and cry
When she would again, feel numb.
She doesn't remember a time
When she wasn't a piece of meat.
A time when she could talk to a guy
And not expect it to end in
Who will go down when they meet.
She is so used and doesn't have the strength
To say no anymore, or make them wait.
She's waiting now for someone new to come around
And take her breath away.
Will big hands and a pair of lips
That kiss her in just that way.
It all begins again.
Because we are a resonance,
our echoes will reach far in time.
Whether it's our first impression,
our life,
or simply when we're dying,
it all begins again.
Look upon the road
In which foreboding
Abhorrence is foretold
And then in
A bright white flash
It was gone... lost
Below time.
Foreboding its existence
Denying its inquisitiveness
I simply imply
That when you die
Will you be remembered
Or swept below time
Hollow breath
Shallow heart
Shaking bones
I know my time has come
Take me now
In your arms so comforting
For after everyone has left me
You are always the one still waiting
I Met God This Morning.
He Was Sitting At A Bus Stop. I Sat Down Beside Him. I Was Convinced He Was Was Part Of Some Devine Intervention, Thinking If He Could Find Silence So Close To The Street, He'd Finally Be Able To Say He'd Seen A Miracle.
But I Wasn't So Sure i Had Seen Anything Because I Wasn't Raised On A Diet Of Bread And Wine, Oh Excuse Me, Body And Blood, Wasn't Cannibalized By The Holy Spirt. Now Don't Get Me Wrong, I'm Not The Sanctimonious Sacrilegious Type. But I've Placed My Hand, To Enough HeartBeats To Know We're Placed Here For A Reason.
And Then I Met Him Again, In A Convenience Store On The Corner Of Locust. He Kissed The Palm Of My Hand, And Told Me To Pray More Often.
But I Wasn't Prone To Midnight Awakenings, My Tongue Didn't Speak The Same Language The Almighty Savior Did. Everyone Called Him Father, But I Was Told We Were Better Off Without Daddy Around. Hadn't Learned The Right Hymns, My Lungs Not Strong Enough To Hold A Breath Deep Enough For The Two Of Us.
And Then I Saw Him Again. Working A 100 Hour Week, On No Sleep. This Time He Was A Single Mother Of Three, Whose Hands Had Stitched More Wounds Then They Could Care To Count. They Didn't Call It An Emergency Room, For Nothing. Two Hundred Thousand Dollars In Debt Over School Loans, And Still Had The Capacity To Smile. Thats How I Knew It Was Him.
I Wasn't Baptized In Anything Except For Maybe Hell Fire And Brimstone, Seven Shades Of Sin, Out Of Wedlock, With No Shot Gun Wedding Procession. I Didn't Have A Pastor To Preach Me Into Submission. Wasn't Thumbing Any Bibles, No Prequel To My Older Than New Testament. They Called It Faith, But I Wasn't Prepared To Walk Down Any Pitch Black Hallways In Hopes Of A Light Switch.
And Then We, He And I, Crossed Paths, For What Seemed Like Should Have Been The Last Time, He Was Quiet And Collected This Time. Made Weak From His Seventh Round Of Chemotherapy. His Body Was Decaying Around Him. His Spirt Was Practically Screaming To Be Let Out Of The Cage That Was His Ribs. He Passed Me A Note, & All It Said Was “I'll Remember You.”
No One Ever Fed Me A Concoction Of Deity, And Diet. Religion Wasn't A Silver Spoon In My Mouth. Afterlife Sounded Like A Bad Daytime Soap Opera.
But I Know The Creator. She Left Hearts On Notes In New York City Subway Stations. She Tattooed Your Name Onto The Bottom Of Her Foot, So Wherever They Took Her, You'd Be There Too. She Wore Her Heart On Her Sleeve, And Thats Why She Forgot It In So Many Places. She Was Obsessed With Shorelines, And Sunshine. And Shes Convinced We're All Natural Disasters, Happening Naturally, Falling Into Each Other, Against One Another, Like Dry Lightening Storms, Recklessly Stupid, And Always Too Young.
I Know God.
He Was Holding The Umbrella, And Told Me That No One Can Tell The Difference Between Tears And Rain Drops Anyway. He Was There The Day I Almost Drowned, He Pulled Me Out Of The Lake, And Held My Hand Until My Mother Came.
So Maybe I Wasn't The Church Pew Type, Hadn't Spent Hours At Sunday Service, Passing Around Empty Collection Plates, While Plates Else Where In The World Sat Empty. Didn't Know Scripture Like The Back Of My Hand, Two Freckles, Like Constellations, And Five Knuckles Hungry To Be Broken,
But I Know God.
I Know Him Like An Old Friend.
He Kisses My Forehead, When The Monsters Inside The Contours Of My Skull Got Too Loud.
He Holds My Skeleton, In The Early Hours Of The Morning, When I Was Desperate To Leave It Behind.
I Think Some People Might Have Called All Of These A Religious Experience.
But All I Know Is He Was There When I Was Born.
In The Room.
And I Swear His Voice Was The First One I Heard.
I love you because
of the way your eyes shine
when the light hits the blue
and sparkles when you wink at me.
I love you because
the smell of you
calms me down and sticks
to me when I spend too
much time with you.
I love you because
you say you think too much,
but the things that you think
are beyond your years.
I love you because
you're my shining knight
the one who protects me
when I've fallen into the dark.
I love you because
the words you write
take my breath away
every time I read your works.
I love you because
your smile is infectious
and makes me smile
every time I think of you.
I love you because
we made plans to
own a big house
with lots of books
just for me.
I love you because
you said you would
never leave
you said to take your hand
and hold it tight.
I love you because
your voice is intoxicating
to hear you speak
is a life's pleasure.
I love you because
that night in the car
you held me close
and played with my hair.
I love you because
you never fail
to make me laugh
when I've failed.
I love you because
you tell me not to
say you are perfect
even though I think you are.
I love you because
you tried to get me out
of my comfort zone
and make me less awkward.
I love you because
you said we were
a perfect match
and balanced each other out.
I'm trying so hard to hate you.
Father's Way: Tell me a story, Dad
What power we possess,
when the innocent demand,
at the time of cozy bed and sandman,
"Tell me a story,"
To gentle the monsters
in the closet of their heads,
grant them a peace naive that's lost after
they learn the D words, disappointment, death,
Till then, promises unfettered, the best yet to come.
The story, you, grantor, they, grantees,
Scent their dreams,
perfume their dreams,
sprinkle their safety net, blanky, rag doll:
- scent with mom's hairspray and dad's special smell,
musk, balsam, gasoline and body odor
- scent with cherrywood falsehoods to caress,
till morning's burnished glory ascends,
thru window, tenderize the cheeks of my babes,
prep them for the truths to be learned that day.
In tones most imploring,
glances fawning,
tis us, they do deceive,
for adult arrogance demands
in God we Trust, that they,
will believe our words,
will indeed, make them rest
till new day's slow and subtle dawning
Tis the same tomfoolery that leads us
to drink repeatedly from the trough of
best laid plans and self-deception
You believed your own narrative
will be the one he scripted,
while standing day-dreaming,
sweating on subway platform,
admiring beaches and beauties
from station walls lifted,
waiting for the train
that only eventually comes,
that train, that station, whose smell reminds you
of mom's hairspray and dad's special smell,
musk, balsam and motor oil, and body odor,
a cocaine reminder of dreams yet uncrystallized,
and stories your father told, unrealized,
tho train has come, they have not
Write me a narrative, Dad,
and please advise
if tinker or tailor will be my trade,
fix my details, dear pater, par example,
pick my institution of higher learning,
my future alma mater, on my day of birth,
promise me gentility, no harm no foul, mirth,
All the days of my life.
Please advise if I shall be a
wife abuser, communist, or a damn
junkie poet/user,
word rich and pocket poor,
stealing ideas from everyone,
red blooded or blue~green,
a true believer, a born again,
an agnostic, my own truths, to disabuse
tell me father, will I die warmed,
surrounded by generations of my progeny
or in pauper's grave, a life long ward of
one true mate, in loco parentis all of my days,
a child, a dependent, of noster paternal state?
Please Pop, pick wise,
the life and lies, the faces and disguises,
I will need employ to achieve success
in the eyes of my reading beholders,
who own the liens on my soul
because of the promises I believed,
when you sang me
glowing lullabies of my future days,
how everyone would love my stories,
my poems, someday...
June 11, 2011
Updated on Father's Day 2013
Right now, I need someone
I need someone to hold.
I need someone to keep safe.
To keep another safe makes me
Safe.
Feeling another's head lean,
Brush up against my cheek.
Noticing the tickle of an eyelash
Gliding, whimsically over my skin.
I don't feel secure
I don't feel lost.
I'm trapped in a limbo:
Peace holding me in stasis,
Sorrow reaching for my heels.
I need someone to hold
I need someone to keep safe.
No.
Not someone.
You.
Don't think I don't need you.
I need you in the morning
I need you at the sunset
You, more than anyone.
More than a father's love
More than a mother's
And when you ask "Why?"
I think it's obvious:
You're everything
I want to be.
In your dreams I see
My own desires
My own needs
Your eyes hold a glow so intense
I wonder that the stars shine
Through their petty jealousy.
If you still don't understand
I'll say it one more time:
You're everything
I want for me.
