glassea - Hello Poetry

where i am, there aren't many people who understand the clean start you bring. if i could i would pluck you from the sky, walk you through my life. say, "this is where i saw you first. this is where i turned my prayers to you instead of god." say, "this is where i stared at the pale insides of my wrists before i matched our glows." say, "this is where i realized you are the closest i will ever get to a culture i'll never know." if i could i would polish you to perfection and push you to the heavens. i'd cover you with my mother's silk scarves, drop them one by one. dear moon, old friend; thank you for this hard reboot. i'll pay you in red envelopes the next time we meet.

0

Feb 16, 2018

Feb 16, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC

to the moon, on lunar new year

where i am, there aren't many people who understand the clean start you bring. if i could i would pluck you from the sky, walk you through my life. say, "this is where i saw you first. this is where i turned my prayers to you instead of god." say, "this is where i stared at the pale insides of my wrists before i matched our glows." say, "this is where i realized you are the closest i will ever get to a culture i'll never know." if i could i would polish you to perfection and push you to the heavens. i'd cover you with my mother's silk scarves, drop them one by one. dear moon, old friend; thank you for this hard reboot. i'll pay you in red envelopes the next time we meet.

25

i fell in love through song, through a girl like me loving a girl like you. i fell in love not in a heartbeat, not in a breath. these things take time. i take time. i fell in love through a song i played on repeat three days ago. i fell in love with you through words i cannot hear.

0

Jul 29, 2017

Jul 29, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC

learning to love a girl

i fell in love through song, through a girl like me loving a girl like you. i fell in love not in a heartbeat, not in a breath. these things take time. i take time. i fell in love through a song i played on repeat three days ago. i fell in love with you through words i cannot hear.

11

say cowboy. say hot dog. say ice cream. say baseball. see, the step into the sound booth is an awkward height, about 6 inches off the ground, and i find myself raised on a pedestal, sealed in for you to inspect, watching you and an audiologist through a glass window, watching you decide my future as you face away from me so i cannot read your lips and you cannot see me shouting stop. say airplane, say sidewalk, say you might hear static in your right ear but i know i will only hear a tone, an electronic beep going on and on and on say conducive hearing loss say sensoneurial damage say surgery say it might be permanent this time, like it hasn't been permanent for the last ten years, say there's a new technique say we can fix this, say negative impact on social life, say poor classroom performance, say we just want what's best for you, say try hearing aids try CIs try cued speech, say you need to be fixed. it's been a decade since i first entered that sound booth, noises not echoing off these walls that take a little more from me with every test. it's been a decade since my hearing slipped away and i am done mourning it but i don't think you are. persistence is a valuable trait but stop trying, stop putting me under with an x on my right cheek so the surgeons know how to lay me out on the operating table, stop refusing to turn on the captions because i need the practice, stop talking to me without tapping me first, stop screaming at me when i mishear. i am done mourning my hearing and i don't know if i ever grieved in the first place but you are still stuck in the stage of denial, hoping against hope for some ******* miracle. i don't want a miracle, i don't want anything god can give me because i am not lacking, i am whole, i already am the miracle you were looking for and i don't need to be fixed. but you don’t believe that, do you? so the audiologist can open the heavy soundproof door but i am still trapped inside this box, the walls swallowing my words as you decide my future for me because no one wants to listen to those who cannot hear. say stop sign, say hairbrush, say push the button when you hear the beep and i hold it down with my thumb, gripping the clicker like the handle of a gun until you tell me to let go. but i hear deserts stretching away from me, flat sci-fi dreamscapes where there is only one sound and i can hear it too. say tinnitus, say psychosomatic because you don't believe that i might hear infinity where you tell me i shouldn't. say hole in the eardrum say the surgery might have accelerated the deterioration, say we can try again but i gave up ten years ago and i think you should too, and i'm here in this sound booth screaming for you to stop but you will not look at me, will not even attempt communication. no one wants to listen to those who cannot hear.

0

Jul 9, 2017

Jul 9, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC

the audiologist's waiting room

say cowboy. say hot dog. say ice cream. say baseball. see, the step into the sound booth is an awkward height, about 6 inches off the ground, and i find myself raised on a pedestal, sealed in for you to inspect, watching you and an audiologist through a glass window, watching you decide my future as you face away from me so i cannot read your lips and you cannot see me shouting stop. say airplane, say sidewalk, say you might hear static in your right ear but i know i will only hear a tone, an electronic beep going on and on and on say conducive hearing loss say sensoneurial damage say surgery say it might be permanent this time, like it hasn't been permanent for the last ten years, say there's a new technique say we can fix this, say negative impact on social life, say poor classroom performance, say we just want what's best for you, say try hearing aids try CIs try cued speech, say you need to be fixed. it's been a decade since i first entered that sound booth, noises not echoing off these walls that take a little more from me with every test. it's been a decade since my hearing slipped away and i am done mourning it but i don't think you are. persistence is a valuable trait but stop trying, stop putting me under with an x on my right cheek so the surgeons know how to lay me out on the operating table, stop refusing to turn on the captions because i need the practice, stop talking to me without tapping me first, stop screaming at me when i mishear. i am done mourning my hearing and i don't know if i ever grieved in the first place but you are still stuck in the stage of denial, hoping against hope for some ******* miracle. i don't want a miracle, i don't want anything god can give me because i am not lacking, i am whole, i already am the miracle you were looking for and i don't need to be fixed. but you don’t believe that, do you? so the audiologist can open the heavy soundproof door but i am still trapped inside this box, the walls swallowing my words as you decide my future for me because no one wants to listen to those who cannot hear. say stop sign, say hairbrush, say push the button when you hear the beep and i hold it down with my thumb, gripping the clicker like the handle of a gun until you tell me to let go. but i hear deserts stretching away from me, flat sci-fi dreamscapes where there is only one sound and i can hear it too. say tinnitus, say psychosomatic because you don't believe that i might hear infinity where you tell me i shouldn't. say hole in the eardrum say the surgery might have accelerated the deterioration, say we can try again but i gave up ten years ago and i think you should too, and i'm here in this sound booth screaming for you to stop but you will not look at me, will not even attempt communication. no one wants to listen to those who cannot hear.

60

the sun and moon collided, burning desperate tragedies. but i think you and i might have been the real casualties.

0

Nov 29, 2016

Nov 29, 2016 at 12:41 AM UTC

war, away from the battlefield

the sun and moon collided, burning desperate tragedies. but i think you and i might have been the real casualties.

4

knowledge is power, but the truth is terrible and great.

0

Jun 21, 2016

Jun 21, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC

oracle

knowledge is power, but the truth is terrible and great.

2

I WANT TO BE REMEMBERED. i want my name to echo through the ages, ringing into the ground. i want my image memorialized in someone’s eyes. i want sinking ships named after me, my name whispered as some prayer to the past. and if that means i have to destroy the world: so be it.

0

Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC

a villain, and her motives

I WANT TO BE REMEMBERED. i want my name to echo through the ages, ringing into the ground. i want my image memorialized in someone’s eyes. i want sinking ships named after me, my name whispered as some prayer to the past. and if that means i have to destroy the world: so be it.

3

all i know of life comes from dog-eared novels and dusty encyclopedias and half-caught dreams like the shadows of leaves dancing on closed blinds - other people's views. so whisper me savage truths. don't think that falsehoods will spare us. tell me: is what i know real, or a lie?

0

May 21, 2016

May 21, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC

whisper me savage truths

all i know of life comes from dog-eared novels and dusty encyclopedias and half-caught dreams like the shadows of leaves dancing on closed blinds - other people's views. so whisper me savage truths. don't think that falsehoods will spare us. tell me: is what i know real, or a lie?

12

STEP ONE: PROVE TRUE FOR N = 0. the first time you caught me i had a rock in my hand, fingers dug into ridges and pools. it didn't fit my hand as well as my fingers through yours, but i longed for the blackblue bruises i could leave behind. ephemeral. permanent. i wanted it so i made it work. STEP TWO: LET N = K. the rock is still on my bookshelf, hidden behind the things i want you to see. now i substitute. walls aren't as good as corners that turn away from you. my hands aren't as good as the fists of strangers. STEP THREE: SHOW TRUE FOR N = K + 1. boil over, epileptic - you think this is rock bottom. i don't tell you how i've been lower before, how i turned eight and almost stepped into your path as you drove away. i don't tell you how i want to SLAM my hands over my ears though i don't need to because you don't talk to me and i won't listen. i don't tell you how i can't cry unless i'm angry. STEP FOUR: CONCLUSION. when i tell you the only truth i know you spit on it and push me aside. i suppose a rock is softer.

0

May 10, 2016

May 10, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC

mathematical induction, applied to you and i

STEP ONE: PROVE TRUE FOR N = 0. the first time you caught me i had a rock in my hand, fingers dug into ridges and pools. it didn't fit my hand as well as my fingers through yours, but i longed for the blackblue bruises i could leave behind. ephemeral. permanent. i wanted it so i made it work. STEP TWO: LET N = K. the rock is still on my bookshelf, hidden behind the things i want you to see. now i substitute. walls aren't as good as corners that turn away from you. my hands aren't as good as the fists of strangers. STEP THREE: SHOW TRUE FOR N = K + 1. boil over, epileptic - you think this is rock bottom. i don't tell you how i've been lower before, how i turned eight and almost stepped into your path as you drove away. i don't tell you how i want to SLAM my hands over my ears though i don't need to because you don't talk to me and i won't listen. i don't tell you how i can't cry unless i'm angry. STEP FOUR: CONCLUSION. when i tell you the only truth i know you spit on it and push me aside. i suppose a rock is softer.

56

i saw you the other day. walking downtown, laughing at your dog as she lunged for pigeons too stupid to run. and i thought, oh. i don't have wings, but when it comes to you i've always been too stupid to run.

0

Apr 27, 2016

Apr 27, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC

29

i saw you the other day. walking downtown, laughing at your dog as she lunged for pigeons too stupid to run. and i thought, oh. i don't have wings, but when it comes to you i've always been too stupid to run.

12

she dies on a friday. gets buried on sunday. it's bright and beautiful and she thinks she should've loved it but you can't see the sky from underground. the mourners are insincere with false words, false grief. they're the ones who killed her and now the ones to bury her. the script is elegant and flowing, something she would have hated. she always wanted to be cremated. it takes up less space. the gravestone reads: MY AUTONOMY.

0

Apr 24, 2016

Apr 24, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC

ripping

she dies on a friday. gets buried on sunday. it's bright and beautiful and she thinks she should've loved it but you can't see the sky from underground. the mourners are insincere with false words, false grief. they're the ones who killed her and now the ones to bury her. the script is elegant and flowing, something she would have hated. she always wanted to be cremated. it takes up less space. the gravestone reads: MY AUTONOMY.

16