gasping quietly,
stumbling on his feet,
down the hall
tears burn his eyes,
cheeks hot,
face set aflame,
he turns the corner
and slams the door.
headphones jammed into his ears,
cranked up high, he does not want to hear,
the sounds of their shouts.
he is aware as he keeps quiet,
crumpling to his knees,
mouth open in a silent scream.
he is a screaming boy on his knees,
set on mute.
he feels heavy,
a weight sitting upon his shoulders,
everything negative,
all at once whispering their cruel thoughts to his ears.
headphones jammed into his ears,
cranked up high, he does not want to see,
their disapproving glares.
his fingers curling,
hands pulling into his sides,
they will not go away.
those little voices telling him,
everything negative,
about existence.
headphones jammed into his ears,
cranked up high, he does not want to hear,
their disappointed voices
he is suddenly very small,
insignificant,
the feeling weighs heavier,
than his backpack.
it weighs on his chest.
suddenly he is weightless,
launched off the bed to the waiting floor,
he falls with a crash,
woken from his worst nightmare.
headphones jammed into his ears,
cranked up high,
he can still hear their disapproving tones,
he can still see their disappointed stares.
as he wakes from his worst nightmare.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
There once was a girl
who loved more than enough,
she loved books,
running, playing,
laughing, dancing,
writing, she loved life
with all her heart.
But she did not receive enough love
in return.
She received berating commands,
harsh, disapproving looks,
not enough love for a little girl.
There is now a girl
who loves not at all.
not her books, running,
certainly not playing, laughing,
dancing, or writing.
She works to the bone,
hoping, wishing, praying,
for the love she no longer has,
but craves.
The way flowers crave the sun,
a diva craves the spotlight,
a child attention.
With pleading eyes,
and a proud smile,
she presents herself,
but yet,
the looks remain,
the commands more stern,
her smile falls,
her eyes darken.
The love does not come,
she must learn to love for herself,
but how does one attempt this
persistent fate,
when they are not shown it?
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
There is a certain feeling that erupts in my stomach when I push it off. The deadline is passed but I can’t bring myself to do the work. I italicdon’titalic want to do. So I italicdon’titalic. I’m ashamed, the shame sits on my shoulders, making me slump forward, heavy with it. It hangs on my eyelids, they droop and sag wanting to close and block it all out. It’s heavy in my lap when I sit down, it’s like a twenty pound backpack when I stand up. It sits on the corners of my lips dragging my mouth into a frown. But yet I can’t get rid of it. I hate the way it makes me feel, but I keep getting in my own way.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
it starts slowly,
brought on by something simple
like a television show.
and then it spirals,
downward,
upward,
out of control.
no longer crying over a television show,
I am standing now, hands grabbing at my chest,
the neck of my shirt.
I am gasping quietly,
beginning to breathe heavier,outh wide open,
stumbling down the hall towards my room.
tears burn my eyes,
my cheeks hot,
my face is on fire,
I turn the corner and close the door.
my headphones jammed into my ears,
cranked up high,
for I do not want to hear,
the sounds of my own unhappiness.
I am still aware that I keep quiet,
crumpling to my knees,
mouth open in a silent scream,
my features contort,
I am a screaming girl on her knees,
on mute.
no one hears a thing as my throat aches,
to scream,
to wail,
loud and clear,
for all to hear.
I am sad all of the sudden,
it hits like a ton of bricks,
an avalanche,
it frightens me.
I feel heavy,
a weight sitting upon me,
I cannot rid myself of it.
everything negative,
all at once whispering their cruel thoughts to me.
as I tip over,
my fingers curling,
hands pulling into my sides,
mouth still open in a silent scream,
I cannot make them go away.
those little voices telling me,
everything negative,
in my life,
about my existence.
I am suddenly very small,
insignificant,
I cannot shake this feeling.
it weighs on my chest,
as I rise,
and climb into bed.
laying flat on my back,
I wipe away the tears,
I realize,
this is what scares me most.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
my hands run circles around my body
sliding roughly over the surface of myself
feeling the warmth of my being under my skin
fingertips digging into myself
s my hands roam the surface of my being
my stomach, neck, hair, legs, behind, arm, ******* sides, hips
I watch myself in the mirror as I do this
the feeling of my rough skin sliding across itself
hands to body
a reminder that I am here
I am alive
and I hurt
I ache
but I am still warm
so I am still alive
and breathing.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
have you ever felt so content in the quiet that you couldn't find the will to open your mouth?
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
you can't hold others to the same standards that you hold yourself. you'll be disappointed.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
generation me,
the selfie generation,
lazy,
selfish,
going nowhere,
mean,
reckless.
but what the 'great generation' and those who came before us don't understand,
is that we are a generation all our own,
akin to the hippies,
and radical youngsters in the 60s,
fighting against our parents in our own way.
we are owning ourselves and our bodies.
we are breaking free from their grasps
through our sexuality
our selfies
our words and our actions.
we are a generation who is owning ourselves and how we feel
we are revolutionary ourselves.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Months go by and the
seasons change, but the lust for
you remains the same.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
we are the me generation, and we own that title.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC