aarya - Hello Poetry

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up. I splashed myself with cold water, and walked over to my dollhouse kitchen to make a cup of hot green tea in my favorite green ceramic mug. I cut myself avocados, laid them across my toast, and sprinkled it with pepper. My brother was still asleep, his covers crumpled under half his body and a leg hanging off the edge. He was dreaming of his favorite thing about the previous day, and that made me smile, as I tucked him back under the protection of his blanket. The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not once, but many times. Not with one person, but with multiple. I fell in love with my mom and the way she looked like the happiest woman in the world when she laughed at us, and how from sitting behind her in the car it looked as if she was always smiling because her cheekbones were so high. I fell in love with the way she wiped her eyes with the top of her wrist, as the steam and aroma from the hot food she cooked, floated upwards. I fell in love with my dad and the way he walked through the backyard, moving his hands around as he played out important discussions in his head. I fell in love with my brother and the way he tried to talk to us about CNN news at over the dinner table every night. I fell in love with the way he would impatiently say my name as his eyes lit up, wanting to tell me something that excited him, or that he found funny. I fell in love with a little girl I caught dancing with her sister outside 85, on the way back from my math class. I fell in love with the curly-haired boy in my English class my freshman year, who sheepishly told me he switched back and forth from British and American accents from time to time, because it was just something that was a part of him. I fell in love with my best friend and the way she got so passionate about the importance of history and what she learned from her AP history class, over a Skype call after midnight. I fell in love with everyone I ever met, and saw them as entire galaxies, complex and burning bright yet simple at the same time. Because people are beautiful. People are beautiful. The morning after I killed myself, I recognized kindness. I recognized it when there were more than one million words in the English language to choose from, but every time, my neighbors chose the kindest ones. I recognized it in the mother I saw sitting outside the café on a bench, running her elegant fingers through her teenage daughter’s hair, who was telling her about her worries. I recognized it when a homeless lady gave another homeless man all the money she had made that day, simply because he had a daughter to feed. I found kindness in my friend when she ran to the Starbucks across the street to comfort a woman she did not know who was crying after her autistic son had a tantrum. The morning after I killed myself, I took a walk. I sauntered along the street, and I saw the bright green leaves of the sugar gum trees, that in a few months would turn gold and orange. The birds were chirping their warbling melodies, and the cool air was feeding my lungs. The sun was still rising, and the sky had a little bit of orange in one corner, and a little bit of pink in another. I sat down on the bleachers of my school, and waited for the sunrise to unfold. The morning after I killed myself, I held my beautiful grandma’s hands. I felt how small and cold they were, but what warmth they still preserved as her fingers tightly held mine. My fingers grazed the top of fists, the bumpy veins giving them a delicate texture. I saw the four golden bangles she had never taken off of her left wrist, and I wondered how many dishes those hands had washed, how many clothes they had folded, and how many meals they had made. The morning after I killed myself, I watched a live symphony. I sat dazed, in view of the wine-red instruments in front of me, from the contented mold of my chair. I listened to the beautiful wavelengths of sound being produced right in front of me, the music creating my sanctuary. The conductor created the loudest expression of music on stage, despite making no sound. His arms waved as wildly as the sea, but was no less graceful than an ebbing tide. I looked at the depth of the basses, the elegance of the cellos, the poise of the violins, and the dignity of the viola. The fingers of the cellists slid up and down, the strings undulating with every phrase. A pulse was beating within my own veins, and as long the piece lasted, I was the music. The morning after I killed myself, I looked in the mirror. I saw my almond-shaped eyes, and how my eyelashes outlined them perfectly. I saw the vertebrae of my spine, and how they looked like a line of marbles, across my back. I saw the curls on the top of my head that I’d hated when I was younger, because they stuck out as if I had my own atmosphere around my head. I saw my knuckles, and how they separated into mountains and valleys. I saw the beauty mark on my left ankle, and the dimple that formed when I smiled. I looked in the mirror, and I finally fell in love with what I saw. The morning after I killed myself, I tried to get back. I tried to talk sense into a girl who had made a horrible mistake. I told her about the avocados, and the valleys and mountains that appeared every time she crumpled her fists. I told her about how beautiful her mom was when she laughed, and how warm it felt to hold her grandma’s hands. I told her about how her brother said he always dreamt about his favorite thing about the previous day, and how her friends had so much kindness in them. I told her about the green leaves scattered over the ground, and the pink parts of sunsets. I told her about the orchestra where she would find peace, and the shy boy who switched accents. May your tea be just the right temperature when you take a sip, and may you happen to glance through the window just when the rays of light are falling perfectly. May you lock eyes with someone just as they send you a warm smile, and may you turn on the radio just as your favorite song starts. May you love the ink pen you pick up, as it glides across paper smoothly, and may you pick up a novel to read that changes your thoughts on something important.

0

Oct 1, 2015

Oct 1, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC

The Morning After

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up. I splashed myself with cold water, and walked over to my dollhouse kitchen to make a cup of hot green tea in my favorite green ceramic mug. I cut myself avocados, laid them across my toast, and sprinkled it with pepper. My brother was still asleep, his covers crumpled under half his body and a leg hanging off the edge. He was dreaming of his favorite thing about the previous day, and that made me smile, as I tucked him back under the protection of his blanket. The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not once, but many times. Not with one person, but with multiple. I fell in love with my mom and the way she looked like the happiest woman in the world when she laughed at us, and how from sitting behind her in the car it looked as if she was always smiling because her cheekbones were so high. I fell in love with the way she wiped her eyes with the top of her wrist, as the steam and aroma from the hot food she cooked, floated upwards. I fell in love with my dad and the way he walked through the backyard, moving his hands around as he played out important discussions in his head. I fell in love with my brother and the way he tried to talk to us about CNN news at over the dinner table every night. I fell in love with the way he would impatiently say my name as his eyes lit up, wanting to tell me something that excited him, or that he found funny. I fell in love with a little girl I caught dancing with her sister outside 85, on the way back from my math class. I fell in love with the curly-haired boy in my English class my freshman year, who sheepishly told me he switched back and forth from British and American accents from time to time, because it was just something that was a part of him. I fell in love with my best friend and the way she got so passionate about the importance of history and what she learned from her AP history class, over a Skype call after midnight. I fell in love with everyone I ever met, and saw them as entire galaxies, complex and burning bright yet simple at the same time. Because people are beautiful. People are beautiful. The morning after I killed myself, I recognized kindness. I recognized it when there were more than one million words in the English language to choose from, but every time, my neighbors chose the kindest ones. I recognized it in the mother I saw sitting outside the café on a bench, running her elegant fingers through her teenage daughter’s hair, who was telling her about her worries. I recognized it when a homeless lady gave another homeless man all the money she had made that day, simply because he had a daughter to feed. I found kindness in my friend when she ran to the Starbucks across the street to comfort a woman she did not know who was crying after her autistic son had a tantrum. The morning after I killed myself, I took a walk. I sauntered along the street, and I saw the bright green leaves of the sugar gum trees, that in a few months would turn gold and orange. The birds were chirping their warbling melodies, and the cool air was feeding my lungs. The sun was still rising, and the sky had a little bit of orange in one corner, and a little bit of pink in another. I sat down on the bleachers of my school, and waited for the sunrise to unfold. The morning after I killed myself, I held my beautiful grandma’s hands. I felt how small and cold they were, but what warmth they still preserved as her fingers tightly held mine. My fingers grazed the top of fists, the bumpy veins giving them a delicate texture. I saw the four golden bangles she had never taken off of her left wrist, and I wondered how many dishes those hands had washed, how many clothes they had folded, and how many meals they had made. The morning after I killed myself, I watched a live symphony. I sat dazed, in view of the wine-red instruments in front of me, from the contented mold of my chair. I listened to the beautiful wavelengths of sound being produced right in front of me, the music creating my sanctuary. The conductor created the loudest expression of music on stage, despite making no sound. His arms waved as wildly as the sea, but was no less graceful than an ebbing tide. I looked at the depth of the basses, the elegance of the cellos, the poise of the violins, and the dignity of the viola. The fingers of the cellists slid up and down, the strings undulating with every phrase. A pulse was beating within my own veins, and as long the piece lasted, I was the music. The morning after I killed myself, I looked in the mirror. I saw my almond-shaped eyes, and how my eyelashes outlined them perfectly. I saw the vertebrae of my spine, and how they looked like a line of marbles, across my back. I saw the curls on the top of my head that I’d hated when I was younger, because they stuck out as if I had my own atmosphere around my head. I saw my knuckles, and how they separated into mountains and valleys. I saw the beauty mark on my left ankle, and the dimple that formed when I smiled. I looked in the mirror, and I finally fell in love with what I saw. The morning after I killed myself, I tried to get back. I tried to talk sense into a girl who had made a horrible mistake. I told her about the avocados, and the valleys and mountains that appeared every time she crumpled her fists. I told her about how beautiful her mom was when she laughed, and how warm it felt to hold her grandma’s hands. I told her about how her brother said he always dreamt about his favorite thing about the previous day, and how her friends had so much kindness in them. I told her about the green leaves scattered over the ground, and the pink parts of sunsets. I told her about the orchestra where she would find peace, and the shy boy who switched accents. May your tea be just the right temperature when you take a sip, and may you happen to glance through the window just when the rays of light are falling perfectly. May you lock eyes with someone just as they send you a warm smile, and may you turn on the radio just as your favorite song starts. May you love the ink pen you pick up, as it glides across paper smoothly, and may you pick up a novel to read that changes your thoughts on something important.

17

I just feel so limited It's 11 pm and I want to go for a drive But my parents just won't take me I want to go for a drive at 11pm In my france france france sweatshirt, hair loose and all and I want to stick my head out of the window And I want to feel the cold air pass me by and go through my bones And I want my hair to fly in the **** wind and I want to listen to mainstream music and some feel good music And I want the sky to be pitch black, with stars And I want to pass trees and solely trees and smell the leaves and the pine cones and I want to see the city from down below, as the street lights light up the town in golden arrays And pass a restaurant with some music Maybe even some random people loitering in a corner of a smoke shop with purple lights and cigarette smoke crowding everywhere And I want to just look at them And think about them And what they did to get there And I want to see a couple holding their hands and walking down the street Even though its 11 pm And I hope they're just happy And I want to hold my dads big warm hand while I do all of these things Because I got shotgun And I want my brother to sit quietly in the back, and my dad to hum some Indian song While I do all of these things And I want to go to an aquarium and stare at jellyfish Lavender jellyfish and bright electric blue jellyfish And pink and orange jellyfish And I want to smell the AIR And I want more of me to grow than the part in my brain that controls calculus and SAT I want to grow physically and mentally and spiritually There's a whole world out there A whole WORLD! And I'm in my room My mother is in the kitchen thinking I'm doing SAT, and my dad is working and stressing over his job, and my brother is in his room writing his first interactive program and I'm in my room, knowing i'm supposed to be doing SAT, but all I can think about is how there's a whole messy majestic gigantic WORLD out there And I am sitting here doing calculus and SAT And it seems like its all for nothing For only myself And I know I'm not necessarily supposed to be this altruistic human being I'm supposed to want things for myself I'm supposed to be selfish in how I study and where I put my time but thats just not enough for me I want to spend all day planting poppies and sunflowers And in the night I just want to stare into infinity at the sky And I want to cut my hair shoulder length, dye the bottom blue, get another piercing, decorate my hands with henna, and walk around in vintage crop tops and flowy pants and matte black michael kors sandals And I want to stop watching TV and going on facebook and having superficial banter and disgusting small talk And I want to do yoga for the right reasons Because yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self, and I don’t want to do it solely because I want nice arms or a bendy back or a nice **** I mean even though its okay to want those things but I just want more I want everything to be just raw and I want people to expose themselves and I want to expose myself and I want my parents to just LISTEN to what I want And recognize the fact that this is the third night in the row that their daughter has outwardly displayed to them that there's chaos in her mind because she just can't handle doing and being absolutely nothing anymore And I want to read about human rights and global warming and how when a chef is cooking for a ton of people, he uses utensils to remind himself what to do next and I want to read about forensics and how mass spectrography and chromatography help detect if someone is poisoned or not And I really don't want to do SAT Not because its hard or boring, or even because it seems useless but because it just seems so ******* useless and irrelevant And I want to stop living the life I want to live on a **** website Because its opened my mind so much but I want to SEE sunflowers instead of looking at pictures of them and I want to SEE elephants and kittens instead of just looking at them and I want to feel a connection with a human being rather than just imagining what it would be like and I don't mean romantic relationships, no But I just want to stop being so ignorant And I want to know everything And really all I want to go is forget that I have to study tomorrow I just want to go on a car ride And stick my head out of the window, like a dog Because I am happy, like a dog Just why am I LIMITING myself? For what??? I want to talk to people I want them to teach me something Because people are nature Tamille Some people are delicate flowers Some people are raging thunderstorms Some people are disarrayed forests Some will leave me breathless, some will knock me down And some will be gardens and some will be SUNSETS and I want them all to teach me something And I want to speak my mind and look HIM whoever he may be In the eye and and I want to stop being so small And I may be insignificant but I'm an infinity Because all galaxies are infinite I read that there are as many atoms in a single molecule of DNA as there are stars in a typical galaxy each of us are our own UNIVERSE And thats why we burn too brightly sometimes and thats why we collide sometimes and thats why we collapse inwards sometimes and thats why we explode sometimes and start anew And I want my soul to project outwards I want whatever of me that is trapped in my bones to just spill out And I want someone to feel all the love and happiness I have in me from across the room And I want to stop being so closed up and insecure and timid I think you're a towering mountain Tamille Or thunder I wouldn't say you're lightning But I'd say my mom is a delicate flower and my dad is a powerful river and my brother is a colorful sky and I want to be a forest I just want to stick my head out of a car window, like a happy dog Because I am happy I don't want to be young and scared even though I know its okay to be scared But I want to stop swallowing my words and stop being so paralyzed Because I can do whatever I want I must set fire to my old self I must start anew. Why am I so scared for WHAT For what Okay so what do I do now I think saying all that was a good start Here's whats not going to happen I'm not going to wake up late tomorrow or not too late And I'll go for a walk To the pecks And I'll play with the chickens And I'll read with the chickens I'm just burning right now And now it seems silly to sleep Tamille, when I come to LA for winter break We will go out on drives at 11pm, even 2 am For the sake of living And we will walk alongside the beach at preposterous hours of the day Simply for the sake of living And we won't be phonies Because thats silly And we must try not to be phonies Just for the sake of living But of course I can't just be this spontaneous extemporaneous person online I need to be like that Offline more than anything because I just need to talk to people more And I need to see the jellyfish and I watch them with their tentacles floating upwards and downwards and just there in what is to them, an abyss Maybe we're like jellyfish in an abyss Like how humans just watch jellyfish in containers Maybe we're the jellyfish I need to be a good memory to people Because we remember more than we think we do So I must try my best to be a positive remembrance I can teach someone something I can teach a random stranger something I can teach my mom something I can teach my 85 year old neighbor something I can teach you something It feels wrong to say all that and then go to bed So I think I'll just walk outside and stare into infinity once more And then ask my dad if we can go on a car ride one more time And then I'll come back in my room and read about global warming Or maybe I'll read about global warming outside Because a child educated only at school, is an uneducated child And I hope you read all this because out of everyone I chose you to tell it to you And i hope your response isn't just "go do all that then" I hope you read all the many messages And now I will log off of facebook I hope you also wake up in the morning and make it a great day Not "hope you have a good day" But rather Make it a great day

0

Oct 1, 2015

Oct 1, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC

A Late Night Incantation (work in progress)

I just feel so limited It's 11 pm and I want to go for a drive But my parents just won't take me I want to go for a drive at 11pm In my france france france sweatshirt, hair loose and all and I want to stick my head out of the window And I want to feel the cold air pass me by and go through my bones And I want my hair to fly in the **** wind and I want to listen to mainstream music and some feel good music And I want the sky to be pitch black, with stars And I want to pass trees and solely trees and smell the leaves and the pine cones and I want to see the city from down below, as the street lights light up the town in golden arrays And pass a restaurant with some music Maybe even some random people loitering in a corner of a smoke shop with purple lights and cigarette smoke crowding everywhere And I want to just look at them And think about them And what they did to get there And I want to see a couple holding their hands and walking down the street Even though its 11 pm And I hope they're just happy And I want to hold my dads big warm hand while I do all of these things Because I got shotgun And I want my brother to sit quietly in the back, and my dad to hum some Indian song While I do all of these things And I want to go to an aquarium and stare at jellyfish Lavender jellyfish and bright electric blue jellyfish And pink and orange jellyfish And I want to smell the AIR And I want more of me to grow than the part in my brain that controls calculus and SAT I want to grow physically and mentally and spiritually There's a whole world out there A whole WORLD! And I'm in my room My mother is in the kitchen thinking I'm doing SAT, and my dad is working and stressing over his job, and my brother is in his room writing his first interactive program and I'm in my room, knowing i'm supposed to be doing SAT, but all I can think about is how there's a whole messy majestic gigantic WORLD out there And I am sitting here doing calculus and SAT And it seems like its all for nothing For only myself And I know I'm not necessarily supposed to be this altruistic human being I'm supposed to want things for myself I'm supposed to be selfish in how I study and where I put my time but thats just not enough for me I want to spend all day planting poppies and sunflowers And in the night I just want to stare into infinity at the sky And I want to cut my hair shoulder length, dye the bottom blue, get another piercing, decorate my hands with henna, and walk around in vintage crop tops and flowy pants and matte black michael kors sandals And I want to stop watching TV and going on facebook and having superficial banter and disgusting small talk And I want to do yoga for the right reasons Because yoga is the journey of the self, through the self, to the self, and I don’t want to do it solely because I want nice arms or a bendy back or a nice **** I mean even though its okay to want those things but I just want more I want everything to be just raw and I want people to expose themselves and I want to expose myself and I want my parents to just LISTEN to what I want And recognize the fact that this is the third night in the row that their daughter has outwardly displayed to them that there's chaos in her mind because she just can't handle doing and being absolutely nothing anymore And I want to read about human rights and global warming and how when a chef is cooking for a ton of people, he uses utensils to remind himself what to do next and I want to read about forensics and how mass spectrography and chromatography help detect if someone is poisoned or not And I really don't want to do SAT Not because its hard or boring, or even because it seems useless but because it just seems so ******* useless and irrelevant And I want to stop living the life I want to live on a **** website Because its opened my mind so much but I want to SEE sunflowers instead of looking at pictures of them and I want to SEE elephants and kittens instead of just looking at them and I want to feel a connection with a human being rather than just imagining what it would be like and I don't mean romantic relationships, no But I just want to stop being so ignorant And I want to know everything And really all I want to go is forget that I have to study tomorrow I just want to go on a car ride And stick my head out of the window, like a dog Because I am happy, like a dog Just why am I LIMITING myself? For what??? I want to talk to people I want them to teach me something Because people are nature Tamille Some people are delicate flowers Some people are raging thunderstorms Some people are disarrayed forests Some will leave me breathless, some will knock me down And some will be gardens and some will be SUNSETS and I want them all to teach me something And I want to speak my mind and look HIM whoever he may be In the eye and and I want to stop being so small And I may be insignificant but I'm an infinity Because all galaxies are infinite I read that there are as many atoms in a single molecule of DNA as there are stars in a typical galaxy each of us are our own UNIVERSE And thats why we burn too brightly sometimes and thats why we collide sometimes and thats why we collapse inwards sometimes and thats why we explode sometimes and start anew And I want my soul to project outwards I want whatever of me that is trapped in my bones to just spill out And I want someone to feel all the love and happiness I have in me from across the room And I want to stop being so closed up and insecure and timid I think you're a towering mountain Tamille Or thunder I wouldn't say you're lightning But I'd say my mom is a delicate flower and my dad is a powerful river and my brother is a colorful sky and I want to be a forest I just want to stick my head out of a car window, like a happy dog Because I am happy I don't want to be young and scared even though I know its okay to be scared But I want to stop swallowing my words and stop being so paralyzed Because I can do whatever I want I must set fire to my old self I must start anew. Why am I so scared for WHAT For what Okay so what do I do now I think saying all that was a good start Here's whats not going to happen I'm not going to wake up late tomorrow or not too late And I'll go for a walk To the pecks And I'll play with the chickens And I'll read with the chickens I'm just burning right now And now it seems silly to sleep Tamille, when I come to LA for winter break We will go out on drives at 11pm, even 2 am For the sake of living And we will walk alongside the beach at preposterous hours of the day Simply for the sake of living And we won't be phonies Because thats silly And we must try not to be phonies Just for the sake of living But of course I can't just be this spontaneous extemporaneous person online I need to be like that Offline more than anything because I just need to talk to people more And I need to see the jellyfish and I watch them with their tentacles floating upwards and downwards and just there in what is to them, an abyss Maybe we're like jellyfish in an abyss Like how humans just watch jellyfish in containers Maybe we're the jellyfish I need to be a good memory to people Because we remember more than we think we do So I must try my best to be a positive remembrance I can teach someone something I can teach a random stranger something I can teach my mom something I can teach my 85 year old neighbor something I can teach you something It feels wrong to say all that and then go to bed So I think I'll just walk outside and stare into infinity once more And then ask my dad if we can go on a car ride one more time And then I'll come back in my room and read about global warming Or maybe I'll read about global warming outside Because a child educated only at school, is an uneducated child And I hope you read all this because out of everyone I chose you to tell it to you And i hope your response isn't just "go do all that then" I hope you read all the many messages And now I will log off of facebook I hope you also wake up in the morning and make it a great day Not "hope you have a good day" But rather Make it a great day

166

At night they gather on the roof Frolicking around while I dream in bed Watching closely, yet still aloof I think they're only in my head. They always stay near in hand And all my poetry they have read Their presence is always grand I think they're only in my head. The six of them have hearts of gold And the blood flowing is even red Yet their type is still untold I think they're only in my head. At night they gather on the roof I think they're only in my head.

0

Mar 15, 2015

Mar 15, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC

Monsters

At night they gather on the roof Frolicking around while I dream in bed Watching closely, yet still aloof I think they're only in my head. They always stay near in hand And all my poetry they have read Their presence is always grand I think they're only in my head. The six of them have hearts of gold And the blood flowing is even red Yet their type is still untold I think they're only in my head. At night they gather on the roof I think they're only in my head.

14

So this is basically a rant and things I can't really tell people. To all the friends, who I thought I needed- I just realized that I don't. Because I am done with worrying about what to think and what to say to you. Done with debating what it is. And done with **** people. To all of my friends who I think I still need- I don't. Restraining myself from telling you about my every day Isn't easy But now sending myself emails has become too habitual I found a substitute for you. To both of my parents, thank you. I don't agree with anything you say But up till now you were always right (usually) So I don't know who is wrong this time Sorry for all the problems I have caused To my little brother- you did get meaner. And I wish that you could be one of the people who don't mock me It's okay though But know that I will never be "fun" again. sorry To the girl who thinks this is for her: It's not. To the girl who thinks it isn't for her: It is. I'll still always be there for you Because it is you that I do need

0

Feb 8, 2014

Feb 8, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC

A letter to those who cared (a **** poem)

So this is basically a rant and things I can't really tell people. To all the friends, who I thought I needed- I just realized that I don't. Because I am done with worrying about what to think and what to say to you. Done with debating what it is. And done with **** people. To all of my friends who I think I still need- I don't. Restraining myself from telling you about my every day Isn't easy But now sending myself emails has become too habitual I found a substitute for you. To both of my parents, thank you. I don't agree with anything you say But up till now you were always right (usually) So I don't know who is wrong this time Sorry for all the problems I have caused To my little brother- you did get meaner. And I wish that you could be one of the people who don't mock me It's okay though But know that I will never be "fun" again. sorry To the girl who thinks this is for her: It's not. To the girl who thinks it isn't for her: It is. I'll still always be there for you Because it is you that I do need

39

*I only took the rat poison Because I thought there were rats inside of me And sprayed the inside of my mouth with pesticide Because I could feel the bugs crawling up and down my throat That day I tried to drown myself Was only because I thought If my demons knew how to swim Escape would be easy When I opened up my arms I only wanted to free the nightmares I took thirty- six sleeping pills Because I thought it would Hush the voices in my mind The whole gallon of gasoline Was not intended Just enough ( A few ounces or so) So the fire inside of me would burn out And the cup of charcoal Because I realized I wanted everything back*

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC

Abscondment

*I only took the rat poison Because I thought there were rats inside of me And sprayed the inside of my mouth with pesticide Because I could feel the bugs crawling up and down my throat That day I tried to drown myself Was only because I thought If my demons knew how to swim Escape would be easy When I opened up my arms I only wanted to free the nightmares I took thirty- six sleeping pills Because I thought it would Hush the voices in my mind The whole gallon of gasoline Was not intended Just enough ( A few ounces or so) So the fire inside of me would burn out And the cup of charcoal Because I realized I wanted everything back*

20

I really wish Someone would tell me how to feel right now

0

Feb 5, 2014

Feb 5, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC

But wishes are a waste of precious time

I really wish Someone would tell me how to feel right now

3

I am flesh and bone No blood in between I am a blade of grass So delicate and green I am indescribable As the water I am the sun Every minute, burning hotter I am as dead as stone Gray and lame I am so alive Rich red blood Coursing through my veins I am cold like the snow Icy, and frozen Yet I am melting Mellow in motion I am so strong Try and break down my walls It is built thick And ensured to never fall I am so weak My barriers are cracking I can't hold it any longer My fortress is tumbling My soul is dry Like the page of a book I am an artist Always misunderstood

0

Feb 5, 2014

Feb 5, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC

Misunderstood

I am flesh and bone No blood in between I am a blade of grass So delicate and green I am indescribable As the water I am the sun Every minute, burning hotter I am as dead as stone Gray and lame I am so alive Rich red blood Coursing through my veins I am cold like the snow Icy, and frozen Yet I am melting Mellow in motion I am so strong Try and break down my walls It is built thick And ensured to never fall I am so weak My barriers are cracking I can't hold it any longer My fortress is tumbling My soul is dry Like the page of a book I am an artist Always misunderstood

29

I just realized that you are a *****

0

Feb 5, 2014

Feb 5, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC

Acuminous

I just realized that you are a *****

2

What does it mean? To live To exist To feel the solidness Of this breath The firmness The rhythm The pureness of air Things you regret To many people It is only air going in going out A cycle to keep living From the nose Or the mouth But what most of us Do not know It is more than just a breath It is forever going Infinite When we don't realize its there It is not only a symbol of life But there's another meaning Hidden Within each breath Lies simplicity It will never be ridden Somehow This was overlooked And for now It is just a breath Air going in going out Even when you rest Scientific knowledge That is all people see As long as we have breath What more could we need But tell me What does it really mean To live To exist To touch To feel To smell To taste To hear Tell me What more is real

0

Jan 30, 2014

Jan 30, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC

Breath

What does it mean? To live To exist To feel the solidness Of this breath The firmness The rhythm The pureness of air Things you regret To many people It is only air going in going out A cycle to keep living From the nose Or the mouth But what most of us Do not know It is more than just a breath It is forever going Infinite When we don't realize its there It is not only a symbol of life But there's another meaning Hidden Within each breath Lies simplicity It will never be ridden Somehow This was overlooked And for now It is just a breath Air going in going out Even when you rest Scientific knowledge That is all people see As long as we have breath What more could we need But tell me What does it really mean To live To exist To touch To feel To smell To taste To hear Tell me What more is real

51

a. you are first because we had a great friendship but i should have realized that wasn't something you cared enough about to preserve b. you really are ****** up but i know that you would have laughed if i told you that like you do to everything i've never been so sad until i saw your scarred arms but i wish you would realize how amazing you are c. our hallway hugs are meaningless but i still care about you d. i remember how scared i was at the time at the thought of losing you but no matter how much you lied it was worth it e. i guess we never really were friends no matter how hard i tried but thanks for the memories f. sixth grade was good so was seventh but from then on things really just weren't the same g. im still waiting for you to apologize and perhaps sometime we can talk again h. i still remember you from elementary school i don't know where you are anymore but i will never forget your name i. you once told me to come to your house in san francisco you pointed your hands above your head and said it had a pink roof j. i still call you my best friend only because its been so long but who knows what really is going on

0

Jan 26, 2014

Jan 26, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC

A poem for each of the friends I don't have (anymore)

a. you are first because we had a great friendship but i should have realized that wasn't something you cared enough about to preserve b. you really are ****** up but i know that you would have laughed if i told you that like you do to everything i've never been so sad until i saw your scarred arms but i wish you would realize how amazing you are c. our hallway hugs are meaningless but i still care about you d. i remember how scared i was at the time at the thought of losing you but no matter how much you lied it was worth it e. i guess we never really were friends no matter how hard i tried but thanks for the memories f. sixth grade was good so was seventh but from then on things really just weren't the same g. im still waiting for you to apologize and perhaps sometime we can talk again h. i still remember you from elementary school i don't know where you are anymore but i will never forget your name i. you once told me to come to your house in san francisco you pointed your hands above your head and said it had a pink roof j. i still call you my best friend only because its been so long but who knows what really is going on

50