aya-baker-1 - Hello Poetry

i will have entered my eighteenth year knowing that it will be my fourth year of sorrow. there is a riptide coming for me and i can see it from the pier. this poem will have so many periods in the hopes that it will be a flimsy defence against the churning obsidian mass that is coming, coming, coming. advancing like a predator. everything is different from before; there is a dewy mist that settles on my arms. oh, my poor arms, uncovered and riddled with goosebumps, not even a cardigan. tell me how i can stop this despair from getting me. did i mean to say getting to me? stop this despair, stop this- i am so tired, but there are no seats on the pier.

0

Nov 30, 2014

Nov 30, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC

remains

i will have entered my eighteenth year knowing that it will be my fourth year of sorrow. there is a riptide coming for me and i can see it from the pier. this poem will have so many periods in the hopes that it will be a flimsy defence against the churning obsidian mass that is coming, coming, coming. advancing like a predator. everything is different from before; there is a dewy mist that settles on my arms. oh, my poor arms, uncovered and riddled with goosebumps, not even a cardigan. tell me how i can stop this despair from getting me. did i mean to say getting to me? stop this despair, stop this- i am so tired, but there are no seats on the pier.

20

my insides unfurl and the dripping mess that follows- i touch up, with just a li’l bit of saline solution and oh, isn’t it pretty like you wanted me to be all along like i could never be all along it’s a dusty kind of pink, lilac or lavender, i was never good at colours, i just knew their names enough so i could spin them into my poems (the ones you hated because they were so full of run-on sentences and pain there was my texas twang and my desecration of all things religious to make the metaphor fit) i needed colour, more life than i could afford it was the dowry you never accepted. i’m so sorry. i keep reliving the past, what once had been what could have been

0

Nov 30, 2014

Nov 30, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC

officer, it's a crime scene

my insides unfurl and the dripping mess that follows- i touch up, with just a li’l bit of saline solution and oh, isn’t it pretty like you wanted me to be all along like i could never be all along it’s a dusty kind of pink, lilac or lavender, i was never good at colours, i just knew their names enough so i could spin them into my poems (the ones you hated because they were so full of run-on sentences and pain there was my texas twang and my desecration of all things religious to make the metaphor fit) i needed colour, more life than i could afford it was the dowry you never accepted. i’m so sorry. i keep reliving the past, what once had been what could have been

22

i feel the skin sloughing off my bones; knobby, they are. my skin feels ephemeral, more now than it has ever been. i am losing weight like i am losing you. my hands wither before me: all my years they served the purpose of creating art as best as i could but now they look like dead roses. my ribs puncture my skin like throns. my husk is decaying, dying, dredging up memories of the youth i never had. could it possibly be that i don't want to die?

0

Nov 7, 2014

Nov 7, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC

age

i feel the skin sloughing off my bones; knobby, they are. my skin feels ephemeral, more now than it has ever been. i am losing weight like i am losing you. my hands wither before me: all my years they served the purpose of creating art as best as i could but now they look like dead roses. my ribs puncture my skin like throns. my husk is decaying, dying, dredging up memories of the youth i never had. could it possibly be that i don't want to die?

15

i could drown myself - find solace in the underworld of sirens and the ironic clarity the sea has been known to provide, for all that it has murky waters- but my demons know how to swim. they'd hoist me up to ensure precious lungfuls of air would be rammed down my throat. survival is subtle ****** i am immortalized in the moment before the surface tension breaks.

0

Nov 7, 2014

Nov 7, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC

Untitled

i could drown myself - find solace in the underworld of sirens and the ironic clarity the sea has been known to provide, for all that it has murky waters- but my demons know how to swim. they'd hoist me up to ensure precious lungfuls of air would be rammed down my throat. survival is subtle ****** i am immortalized in the moment before the surface tension breaks.

12

my lungs are put through the shredder: such a harsh word. shred. all I am trying to do is to make confetti.

0

Nov 7, 2014

Nov 7, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC

we have fun at parties

my lungs are put through the shredder: such a harsh word. shred. all I am trying to do is to make confetti.

5

i feel you weave fear in me: a sharp pinprick, an unsettling feeling, then the thread enters. sow it such that the two fabrics become indiscernible from each other; they are part of the whole now. they are whole now. only snip when this occurs. you wouldn't want a messy piece left dangling on your lap. that would be awfully clumsy of you.

0

Nov 7, 2014

Nov 7, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC

My Mother Scares Me

i feel you weave fear in me: a sharp pinprick, an unsettling feeling, then the thread enters. sow it such that the two fabrics become indiscernible from each other; they are part of the whole now. they are whole now. only snip when this occurs. you wouldn't want a messy piece left dangling on your lap. that would be awfully clumsy of you.

10

i do not trust my mind anymore the sockets of my eyes contain a thousand burning suns and the voicebox in my throat traps white noise but the cranium i possess is merely a container of pandora's worst nightmare

0

Oct 23, 2014

Oct 23, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC

shrieking shack

i do not trust my mind anymore the sockets of my eyes contain a thousand burning suns and the voicebox in my throat traps white noise but the cranium i possess is merely a container of pandora's worst nightmare

8

there are fire drills in my school we practice evacuation routes to prepare for the threat of a burning, raging fire but what about the similar, all-consuming, scorching blaze in my mind is there a way out for me?

0

Oct 19, 2014

Oct 19, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC

protocol

there are fire drills in my school we practice evacuation routes to prepare for the threat of a burning, raging fire but what about the similar, all-consuming, scorching blaze in my mind is there a way out for me?

8

copper tang in my mouth when you walk by knee acting up just before you call you're a regular thunderstorm and my body, as always, is attuned to yours if i **** you on these sheets will you just melt away? will I be left with just your bones to cradle and cry into- tears hitting the husk of what you used to occupy? blitzkrieg, that's what you are an army couldn't fight you off so how am I supposed to save myself I've forgotten that I can't won't your ghost is a phantom menace. your memories haunt my thoughts and the wisp that follows it around, trails after it- the scent of death; the touch of a broken promise.

0

Aug 11, 2014

Aug 11, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC

i **** you, and

copper tang in my mouth when you walk by knee acting up just before you call you're a regular thunderstorm and my body, as always, is attuned to yours if i **** you on these sheets will you just melt away? will I be left with just your bones to cradle and cry into- tears hitting the husk of what you used to occupy? blitzkrieg, that's what you are an army couldn't fight you off so how am I supposed to save myself I've forgotten that I can't won't your ghost is a phantom menace. your memories haunt my thoughts and the wisp that follows it around, trails after it- the scent of death; the touch of a broken promise.

23

I am used to the folds of the fire burning hot on my skin, the light it gives a mockery of the darkness I surround myself in. I am used to covering myself up in the tidal waves of my sadness- these tsunamis are my solace, the way I drown is my comfort. I am used to how it feels like being alone and sad and alone and sad; these two words so simple, so relatable but not by you. You are not used to the black holes that form your sanctuary, as much four walls as any room is stars are not distant pinpricks you restrain yourself from reaching for. You are not used to.

0

Aug 11, 2014

Aug 11, 2014 at 8:06 AM UTC

always; whenever

I am used to the folds of the fire burning hot on my skin, the light it gives a mockery of the darkness I surround myself in. I am used to covering myself up in the tidal waves of my sadness- these tsunamis are my solace, the way I drown is my comfort. I am used to how it feels like being alone and sad and alone and sad; these two words so simple, so relatable but not by you. You are not used to the black holes that form your sanctuary, as much four walls as any room is stars are not distant pinpricks you restrain yourself from reaching for. You are not used to.

23