An unwanted souvenir, small stamped numbers
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
You know what it reminds me of?
Those times when like, I just stepped outta the door with like, nothin' in my pockets but air ya know?
You know I just booked it out the door, ran down the street and began my journey or whatever.
And I like never knew where I was going or even where I was sometimes.
It was fuckin' sick you know? Like I was so free, man.
And then I would try to find these canyons with these gnarly trails and try to run them barefoot just so I could feel every bump and grain of dirt or blade of grass.
It was good just to get away, you've felt that, yeah?
Like when it's just you and the world and you have all the time within it and you don't even care, it's some rad ****
You can go anywhere! It was like an endless road you know?
There aint no bunk teachers or fake *** friends holdin' you back.
You're not with anyone so you don't have to talk about the next time you're all gonna smoke or drink.
That's their endless road I guess, but I aint about that.
Just let me be free, man.
I want to end up at the ocean and smell that salty air.
I want to feel the waves tossing me around, I need to feel as if I'm at the mercy of something more powerful than me, just so I can renew the thrill of livin.
Like, it's crazy dude.
There's somethin' about that road, that forever road.
It's somethin' else.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
hear the music
It's funny, when we read.
One hears music of thought.
Light Clarinets with supporting Cello.
Five word sentences for now.
Smooth and gentle tones around.
Seeing the conductor's swaying arms.
We pick up the pace going fast.
Now violins playing quickly back and forth.
Sevens words at a time building expectation.
Nine words brings us almost to the great clash.
The heated strings of the instrument playing ever hard.
The horns gaining confidence and aggression with every second.
Cadance. Cutting into the music. Stopping. The Flow. Chopping. Arms of the conductor. cease.
Soft wind instruments singing
Trombones and Tubas lumbering in.
Cello, Lute, and percussion adding.
Whistles of the Flutes
Quickly rising
as the music picks up tempo
the conductor with more vigor
The energy rising and rising
sporadic outbursts
heading towards the
CLASH of the symbols
Now the music and words flowing with no breaks and stops always filling your ear with this continuous overwhelming yet pleasurable sound of thoughts and ideas bouncing around the walls of your skull the never ending music coming down gluing you to your seat with a cacophony of chaos that makes you read on and on until it
quickly
descends
into
complete
stillness.
Blank balloon of silence punctured by the needle of a Oboe
Sliced by a harp
The symphony of words is endless.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
I have all these voices in my head. They're very annoying.
That was hurtful
Like I care? I assume you're an extension of my own consciousness or so it has been explained to me by several therap-
They were all weenies
Oh thanks I'll let them know that your impeccable taste has just lost them the race to become the most non weenie-like therapist.
You see? These voices and I are always at a confliction yet I have this strange addiction, I seem to have my head always congested with unhealthy thoughts.
My lungs ***** with what ifs.
What if you used your fists instead of words?
My veins clogged with hypothetical tragedies.
What would you do if your little sister died? How would you seek revenge on the world?
My nerves of my crusty darkened lips, fried with expectations of what I'm supposed to do or accomplish.
You HAVE to get that A, you HAVE to get accepted, you HAVE to get that job, you HAVE to be kind, humble, understanding, smart....
My brain synapses all firing off in a spectacular sense of chaos as they are overwhelmed with thoughts of motivation, yet they will get lost in the mayhem before they will get through to me.
Learn that song on th-make sure you email the importa-she's counting on you don-
My stomach feels funny as the butterflies are disturbed by relentless thoughts of desire.
*Why do work? Think of her. Diamond hips swayin' and **** marble-cut legs stalking towards you. Think of her instead.*
What about your heart?
It beats with an irregular beat, it's jumpy and nervous.
Awww why's that?
You know why, you're the one that makes my heart ache with the pain of the unknown.
Who, us? We're not doing anything.
Shut up. You want to know what it is? That bewildered beat, that trembling tempo, caused by one thing.
The future
The future.
What an uncertain prospect.
We'll get you there, champ.
I hate them.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Lying in the back seat of the car.
Euro Van. Ugly now sure, a teen wouldn't be caught dead in one these days but I was pleasantly care-free, no sense of unnecessary dignity.
Tough fabric seats, weird grey that ***** up all the color.
Crusty once-purple stain, unidentifiable substance on the right side of the middle seat. Bag it for scientific research.
Old toy on the grey carpet-like floor, some rubber ninja purchased for 50 cents at the dispenser in the waiting area of a chinese restaurant. I got a purple one with nunchucks.
I never knew where we were, I always forgot where we were going. But the man on the moon, he followed me the whole time, I saw him always at the corner of my window, he told me I'd be home soon.
I could've been anywhere but nowhere, yet it was nowhere that I resided.
Looking up at the sky through my portal of glass, I was in space. I was in no place. Timeless forever with the blackness dotted by islands of white.
Heater blowing at my head in feet as I lay, parallel to the road I thought of flying.
Hum of the engine, nothing so blatantly non organic has ever been so comforting and soothing, like a lullaby.
Light speed hits. Light seeps in. Through the window car lights street lights plane lights.
You can hear the cheesy 80's sci-fi sound effects as the spaceship lights zoom, woozsh, and zing by the infinite panoramic lense of the ***** glass window.
My dad can't fall asleep he's driving. I can. Makes me laugh.
My sisters and dog are around me, they're all in dreamland. I'm at the border of reality and where they currently are. It's a very lax border, I'm stepping in and out of each state of consciousness
The rise and fall of our chests. Rise and fall of the freeway.
Seat belt unbuckled I'm as free as the road.
Using a jacket for a pillow, smells like my dad.
Radio fills, Jack Johnson, thanks man.
Coaxed over the border.
I'm safe. I'm certain.
I fall
Slowly
To sleep
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Long distance *****
for one theres the lack of *******
Too graphic?
You have no idea. Can't picture the conversations, hot and heavy,
heavy.
Heavy with what? Emotion, longing, the lingering feeling of an illusion appearing as reality. A reality that is wanted, by the two who conjured it, to such an extent that the fantasy fights to put itself into existence.
Long distance huh?
It's like the bread without the butter. So many combinations for each of them, so many different things they could go with instead. Yet together they're perfect in their simplicity.
It's a
natural
thing
It's like the wind without the rain, apart they're alright, maybe a little unpredictable.
But together they create the perfect storm, rising and falling side by side.
It's like the scooby doo without the scooby
it's just ****
But hey, she's worth it to me
Long distance *****
But who cares? I'm not crazy, she's worth the wait.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
This is a story about a boy named kid
This boy had something he kept hid
Kid had something deep down inside
It was a quality different from many others
One that at the time worried their mothers
And disgusted their brothers
Friends would think him weird
Father would not accept him, this is what he feared
So he kept it a secret
He kept it for so long
Cause’ what he thought what he was feeling was so wrong
This thinking was instilled in him by society
The norms of life would not accept this variety
So he went on
Proceeding with life, terror and shame weakening his knees
Shaking when he sees the police
This boy will never know peace
At first he thought he would never tell
Preachers told him that he would go to hell
But another boy came along
A boy that he trusted
A boy that he loved
He became best friends with him
And one day he decided to reveal his secret to this boy
You see, this boy was not a boy at all
There was a reason he didn't stand so tall
This boy was a girl
She truly was
She told him about how she felt trapped inside this body of hers
She wondered aloud if this type of thing normally occurs
And she was tired of hearing all these sexist, homophobic, ridiculous slurs
She felt like she didn't belong in her own skin
She was scared that if she tried to change, she wouldn't fit it
She felt that this was a punishment for a sin
She revealed all to this boy, her closest friend
The one she learned to lean on and depend
She entrusted him; she made a mistake
Pretty soon word got out
Everyone knew her secret
She had no idea the boy wouldn't keep it
Tormented throughout the rest of the day
When she asked, no one wanted to play
She received ***** looks when she walked through the halls
She felt that she was taunted by everyone and the walls
And the teachers couldn't even look at her face
This girl felt like she was a disgrace
She felt like she had no place
When she got home, in the night the sorrow of the evening made her heart nearly burst
Not only was she betrayed by her friend, but by her family as well
Her parents couldn't look at her
Her brothers ran away when she came near
This is what she had come to fear
On her face was but a single tear
This tear, was not one made of sorrow or woe
This magical concoction was not made of anger or regret
It was a tear of pity
The girl stood defiant of them all
In this battle, she knew society would be the first to fall
She understands that she came into the world at the wrong time
She realized, it wasn’t acceptance from others that she wanted to find
She needed to accept herself
To be and act like whom she was on the inside
Not to comply with the cookie cutter form the world bestowed upon her
That night while she lay in bed
She smiled at the thought in her head
The thought of the future
The thought that in the future, kids like her would be accepted by everyone
They would be allowed at sleepovers
Wouldn't be looked down upon, or look up and see a disgusted face
Would be loved the same way by their family
Wouldn't feel like an outcast
She smiled for their future
She knew she had to stay strong for them
She knew she would never be accepted by anyone else
But she knew what she must do, be true to herself
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
People say, "You're too big, why you into poetry?"
Seriously?
Honestly
This body's always to big for me
Completely
Utterly
Trapped, trying to break free
Society can't see
Beyond my skin, see the real me
Outsides hard, insides sapply
Hard to live happily
Every second scream out madly
Sometimes it hurts so badly
Times they see me for me is hardly
I wake up sorely
Yawn throughout the day boredly
Still making fun of me? I messed you up accordingly
Now wonder you were always so scareda me
I wonder why
I can't deny
Why I was given this body that lives a lie
A new appearance I might buy
Given the chance I might try
The gods I would defy
But I feel I may cry
Feel like they pushed me off the rye
Thoughts end with a sigh
They always think that I'm not the type of guy
But here I am now, my oh my
Brains begin to fry
Tongues begin to tie
All in favor of me? Aye
I'm staying this way until the day I die
Until then I continue to fly, high in the sky
This is who I am
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 9:58 AM UTC
I sit on a swing Knees high, feet planted firmly on the ground
I’m too tall for it, but I start swinging anyway I’m always too tall
Back and forth higher and higher
Higher and higher back and forth
Wind rushes my ears each time I plummet back to earth falling endlessly
I look up as I sway, see the clouds in the sky I want to reach out and touch them
See another world, away from ours beautiful world
Higher and higher back and forth
I close my eyes and imagine a world a perfect world
A world where swings are bigger and people are nicer happiness in abundance
I float away from the swing effortlessly, willfully
I let go drift towards my dream
Higher and higher back and forth
Closer to the world I long for so close
The swing snaps as I wake up nothing to stop descent
Lying broken on the ground bone and heart
I fall asleep forever
And dream of a swing a swing where my legs dangle
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
I need an outlet for these emotions to spill
Their bubbling at the surface, I've had my fill
It’s hard keeping this raw energy contained
It hurts, lately I've been living life pained.
Try to talk them out
Don’t have the courage to tell what about
Anger, regret, happiness, sad just to name a few
Out of my head they spew
Paper is the gateway from my thoughts to reality
But if anyone should read, would they question my morality?
Or reject my personality?
Load my pen up with my feelings
The words I write are healing's
A chance to relieve some pressure
Filled up too much to measure
To release is such a pleasure
To find peace, I search for that treasure
But if I leave my mind alone
Mind and reason will be overthrown
By the fists of thought, hammering at the walls with a desperate tone
Seeds of self-destruction I have sewn
All chances to stop it, I have blown
This is the only way I can survive
This solution was the only thing I could contrive
Maybe through written words I could thrive
If not, my soul would dive
Down deep into the bowels of darkness
Salvation would truly be hopeless
But for now, the abyss will just tease
Until I have no more use for writing, my heart will never be at ease
Oh this liberating ink
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC