Quickly, my vision was blurred by pathetic wetness
But my eye rejected such an emotional mess
So it pushed it into a ball and rolled it off of the
Little eyelashes that cling the lower eyelid
That ball of pitiful water must have been frightened,
or unsure if it wanted to exist or not,
Because it crept down my cheek as cautiously
As the first drops of a rainstorm fall precariously
from the heavy clouds
Numerous moments,
eternal and tremendous moments later
That bit of liquefied pit-of-the-stomach emptiness
had finally reached my jaw in a ticklish sort of way
I let my gaze wander to the floor,
curious to watch the descent of
the salty despair which saturated
the length of my face from the clinging eyelashes,
through my rounded cheeks, to my tickled jawline
Reluctantly, it let go of the minuscule hairs on my skin
and gravity pulled it down as far as it could
as gravity never ceases to do
Suddenly it was a speck hitting the floor
Upon impact, it splashed up in such a way
that the floor must have pushed up against
that hideous piece of pure emotion,
rejecting it as my eye has done
To the floor's dismay, gravity pulled that drop
of soiled ocean downward one final time.
As soon as it settled, fifty more tears
much more sure, and fearless
cascaded like an avalanche without wavering
Quickly, I was standing in a puddle.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
... like obscure fuzz is surrounding my body
its the channel on the TV
that is black and white static
with the sound of no sound
taking away my ability
to hear the cheery banter
of the normal, tranquil people
who must be here
somewhere around me.
The ever buzzing fuzzing
static anxiety takes away
my ability to see
the people and things
that used to make me smile.
And I can't hear myself think
Over the sound my heart
beating intensely in an attempt
to get the hell out of me
Out of this corpse inside
the obscure buzzing fuzzy
static electri-city
that shares a name with me.
This hostile prison
I live in. The bars made
of the absolute worst
possibilities encapsulating me
The bars of fear and the
fuzzy buzzing static
stealing my time and tearing
the breath from my lungs
It's called anxiety.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
Imagine
It isn't holding you back anymore.
Imagine
Your troubles are not troubling today.
Imagine
Warm sunshine feels lovely on your face.
Imagine
The weight is gone and you can fly.
Imagine
You wake up and feel ok
If you can imagine
you can make it happen.
The bad is in your head.
Yet good is in there too.
The choice is up to you.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
Am I too young to be this responsible,
yet worried and stressed and anxious?
I thought the crippling sense
of the entirety of life, love, death,
and all that lies in-between
does not infect a person
until her mid-life.
Here I am, creating ulcers
in my stomach and little else,
with adolescent acne on my cheeks,
a crush on the boy
in my spanish class,
and an analysis of
the inner workings
of the universe
consuming what little
thought space
I still possess.
Meanwhile those in mid-life,
with books full of
knowledge and experience,
cannot understand.
"Grow up,
be responsible,
fix the mess we left you,"
they chant every day.
Why can't they see in my eyes
that my attempts can
never
be
enough?
I can see your world
it is too big,
too complicated,
too negative,
I will not survive it at any rate.
The stress
will
eat
me
alive.
The stress
is eating
me alive.
I am too young for this.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
Time stopped, and they were freed.
It began, it occurred, it ended.
We met, we danced, I left.
He did not st-st-stutter that day.
We craved, raved, craved more.
Born numb, pure; died filthy, happy.
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
A rose is soft
A rose smells sweet
A rose has thorns
A rose grows tall
A rose is pretty
But boy, I am no rose.
I am not a fragile flower
I am not so sweet
My thorns are not so obvious
And how dare you imply
That I am as simple as a rose
For a rose will die
It cannot survive the storm
A rose will crumble
In the summer heat
I am not so weak
My skin is rough from work
Not soft like a rose
And I doubt you have ever
Brought a rose's petals
Up to your ignorant nose
A rose does not have blemishes
Or scars or character
Like I do. No a flower
Does not think for itself
I will never be like a rose for you
You call me rose
Because I am a girl
But a girl is not a flower
And this girl does not like flowers
So do not utter
The stereotypical words
You think (without much thought)
I must want to hear
If you do I will throw that rose on to the dirt and stomp on it.
I am not a rose.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
If I give you a smile
will your smile shine back?
If I give you a passing glance
will you hold my gaze?
If I dream of you for weeks
would you (at least) dream of me for days?
If I gave you a lie
would you spit it right back?
But if I give you the truth
will you reflect honesty?
If I give you these words
what would you say?
If I asked you to
could we spend a whole day?
If my hand brushes yours
will you hold it there?
If I give you my heart
would you give me yours?
Because I gave you my heart
the moment you smiled back at me.
I did…
will you?
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
Yes
I admit
You are broken
But I have a stockpile of band-aids
That I used to keep for myself
They are yours now
And yes,
You are hurt
But I have soft cherry lips
That can kiss pain away
I will share them with you
And those broken bones of yours?
I have just the thing for them;
Arms that brace injuries with an embrace
"What about my flaws?" you ask
For those, take a look into my magic mirror
That shows how perfect each flaw truly is
I cannot not forget
The dark hole you are stuck in
I know the feeling
And you can borrow my shovel
And when you need the strength
To dig yourself out,
Look into the blue of my eyes
I will help you carry on
I will do all that I can do
To put band-aids on your wounds
To kiss away the pain
To wrap up every injury
To dispel insecurities
To give you the tools you need
To help you help yourself
To give you the warm sunlight you need
In order to grow.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 7:53 PM UTC
I lost the ***** that held my world together
There is no finding it now
And yes, I looked between the cushions of the couch
I prepare to run because
Like water through a busted dam it is coming
Like the pain of a stubbed toe it arrives in a furious instant
That asks for select curse words to be shouted
But so unlike pain in my toe, it does not fade
My world comes crashing down
The clouds in the sky fall
As dust onto my outstretched fingertips
(They hope to catch a bit of my falling world)
The atmosphere caves in
The air pressure intensifies
Until it has wrapped me
In a straight-jacket and
I
Am
Paralyzed
I Search for your comforting eyes as you
Distantly ask me if I am okay I’m not
Okay but I cannot
Open my mouth
For the words to say because
I cannot move an inch to save you
Let alone myself
I couldn’t even save a
Word document right now
I try to scream but
I
Can’t
Speak
And my world is crashing down
The water from the busted dam
Hits me like a concrete wall
My useless straight-jacketed body
Is swept away
The water washes away all emotion
I
Can’t
Feel
The sound of my demise is so loud
In my ears
I cannot hear you any longer
I
Can’t
Hear
The lack of oxygen
In my brain
Turns off the light
I cannot see the stars
I
Can’t
See
Water everywhere
World crashing down
I
Am
Drowning
My heart beats too
Fast
Fast
Fast
I don’t have enough air to
Last
Last
Last
World
Crashing
Down
I
Can’t
Move
Can’t
Speak
Nor
Feel
Hear
See,
I
(Gasp)
Can’t
(Gasp)
Breathe.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
Onward we run, through the darkness of the night.
Stumbling around on uneven ground
For we are blind men, searching for the light.
Looking for that which cannot be found (the light),
Together our feet and our hearts pound.
Onward we run, through the darkness of the night.
With our compass we know which way is right
But as we’re light-less North cannot be found
For we are blind men, searching for the light.
Against the terrors of the night we fight
Our eyes white with hope that we’re forward bound.
Onward we run, through the darkness of the night.
(The way our feet pound
On the frozen ground
What a hollow sound
If we could look ‘round
Bright thought would be found)
Never ceasing is our quest for might.
Our light is the hope that answers will be found.
Onward we run, through the darkness of the night,
For we are blind men, searching for the light
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC