sometimes i wonder how
people can say they know you
take me for example
do you know that my favorite
color is black because it reminds me of night
and that anything is possible?
do you know that i love the ocean because
it reminds me of the last day i spent with you?
do you know that i like to sit by my window at night,
and watch the stars and wonder what is going on in the world?
do you know that i have the biggest heart of anyone you will
ever meet, in your lifetime?
do you know that, most nights, i fall asleep on a notebook full
of my most personal thoughts and poems- and not pillows?
do you know that my handwriting is messy because i have too many words
stringed together from 26 letters of the alphabet, to write carefully?
so, what i do not understand is how
you can say you know me when you
aren't even aware of the little things
that make me myself
(1.57am | j.g.)
Girls are beautiful.
Elegant with elongated legs and ongoing words.
Nonsense and long nights.
Girls are beautiful.
Soft lips and holdable bodices.
Meaningless talk and strong minds.
Girls are beautiful.
Walking past a mirror is painful
Looking into the mirror is a death sentence.
Wrist stained red from trickling crimson beads
"F-A-T" carved into your thighs with a symphony of other gashes.
Words of hate flow with the breath of every bully
Trying to get you to buckle and crack under the pressure.
Lock your door and muffle your screams
the end is year, yet this is just the beginning.
Longing closure you butcher your wrist;
with lacerations for every despicable word.
You paint your nails, and curl your hair.
You write a note and grab a belt.
You blow a kiss and remove the chair.
Dangling within mid air.
and then there are those days
when one minute your smiling
enjoying the gleeful moments,
wishing the day could never end
and then the next minute
you become a gloomy stew of sadness and pain
crying out for someone to hear you,
someone to relate to.
you begin to break down,
piece by piece
you remember the flaws
and you want it all to end
you dont want to do it
but its the only thing you know to do
though no one knows your internal sadness
they soon wont be able to fix whats been done
they all come together
as a deadly force
that can and will take my life
and they call this
Do not tell me that I am beautiful
Do not even tell me I am pretty
Because your words will ensnare my heart
and burn like napalm
because how can you tell me those lies
they hurt almost more than the arsenic I feel when you don't breathe a word
and maybe if you say those words enough
I will loose myself in your smile
and believe you
but then they will only stick like honey
and blister my core
then the moment you leave
I'll be worse off than before
this is a shout out to the kids who haven’t cracked a smile since last summer.
To the kids who’s wrists turned to cutting boards
and stomachs intentionally went empty.
This is the anthem for saturday nights spent on the couch just asking yourself “why”
For hours spent thinking that it’s your fault your parents split and theres nothing you can do.
For the kids who drag a blade across their wrist and carve grand canyons into their wrists although its still not the same.
A song for the kids who crack their knuckles as a distraction from the glares they get from across the classroom in fifth period science.
A harmony to the kids who are trying so hard to fit in but cant seem to get the hold of the right words to stick on their tongue so instead the wrong words slip out of their mouthes and roll into a ball of embarrassment.
A five star dinner served to his four friends which left him three years later and two years later he was just one kid by himself fending off the monsters we call classmates all alone.
Another sleeping pill for the boy who prays with his eyes shut but cant sleep because his eyes have already been closed for hours.
A brace for the broken and the weak as the week drags on to the point where every word that ends in the letter y makes you want to pull your hair out.
A poem dedicated to the kids who cant fend for themselves in the jungle.
Its a hard existence.
But we can make it through.
His heart is free to roam
To fall into their cracks
Losing Self to find himself
Unconscious of words
And three hours later
words deprived of meaning
thoughts stranded in translation
feelings imprisoned without sentencing
a stroke of life...un coup de vie
an existence brutally stricken
incapable of verbal expression
communication frustration...no relief
nuances from mundane to sublime
lost in an endless syntax maze
and sure, some actions speak louder
but unspoken words of love and support
fall like an acid rain of futility on the heart
Sad enough when inflicted by fate
tragic as a self-induced metaphor
The muting of squandered opportunities
will keep you disconnected and haunt your future
Aphasics have no say in this matter
What's your excuse?
The blue water in the pool
Is it really blue?green?grey?
My eyes are deceiving me
The deceiving pool
Is mocking my courage as
I am standing here
Felling at the top of the world..
Brave myself for my first Olympic swim
At the corner of the poolside
Absolutely my beautiful, courageous,
and most of all, honest coach,
Who keeps reminding me of this swim of a lifetime
Who consistely tells of my swimming legs, body, hands
An Olympic swimmer you are!!
She says that all the time,
as if she is planting the words in my head
Fidgeting, I First test the water with my toes,
1, 2, 3... a silent prayer to Almighty..
Let’s take a shot!
finally I take the plunge,
Completely submerging while holding my breath,
Eventually, we all fall or dive into the unknown,
Sometimes fully prepared,
Submerging for few seconds..
I have stopped to think..
Force myself to emerge
catching my breath again...
Heard a whistle and a clap
Bravo! You made it champion!
My coach smiled...
made her proud!
OLYMPIC 2016 Brazil here I come...
So what if I am crazy, like I would need to know.
People say the words I write and cry are cursed.
How would they know that? They don't even know me....
Maybe they are right. I only write for the loss of love and peace.
I have done things that the two lords of the world would not approve of.
The lies, the tears and the lost hope for a brighter day.
I just want it to end.
I am called crazy from my own mother, she says i'm a sinner.
I want to be dead... Cold, limp, still.
I am the beast I wanted to be, now that I am.... I am Horrid.
I can never change back. NEVER!
I am all alone...
The alone one I can trust and trusts me is my old cat named Fatboy.
Sometime I swear hes telling me to stop doing the sins and cursing the lords.