kj
I've only recently returned to this site. Most of what I have posted is from high school, but I intend to post some more recent things. / / What can I say? I'm a music education major, in my early twenties, just trying to figure things out. Though my writing tends to be of the darker nature, it helps me clear my head, and collect my thoughts. Sometimes it's worth reading. / / Thanks for stopping by
Hollow words, like hollow bones can break and shatter
They can pierce the flesh, boil the blood
Seething from the open wound comes
Every ill intention
Every falsification
Staining the crisp, white linen
No amount of homeopathic remedy can remove the stain
Try chemicals
But you'll find that for any blood removed
It's replaced with the sour odor and discoloration
From whatever "oxy" product you may try
Is it worth it?
All that marketing and franchising for something that doesn't remove
But replace?
Can anything truly be removed
purely, permanently?
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
It's not so much that I fell out of love,
But rather
I learned to breathe under bridges again.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
What do you see when you look at me?
Do you see a young "cutter,"
Whose dark eyes foretell a black alley, and a joint?
Do you see a "typical teenage girl,"
Who has pills in her pocket, and a ****** in her purse?
Do you see a "social outcast,"
Who keeps to herself, and sits with a book on a Friday night?
Do you see an "artsy girl,"
Whose hopes and dreams, and lets creativity drip from her fingers?
Or do you see just a "girl,"
Whose curvy form and long hair, blend with all of the other girls.
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 10:56 AM UTC
I wrote you a letter.
I wrote you a letter on the same day I could no longer suppress my screams.
"Here I am. This is me. I've been lying to you all these years."
My fingers glided over the curved letters of your name.
One lonely tear slid from my cheek and smudged the ink.
"You're still not ready. That's ok. I can lie a little longer."
I plugged my tears, to fool you into thinking I'm truly happy.
I bit my tongue, and let the blood dilute the words I cannot bring myself to say to you.
"What's a little more pain. I'm fine. You'll never know the difference."
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 11:12 AM UTC
You hold more than a few poems,
And crude scribblings.
You hold my weaknesses,
My strengths,
My joys and sorrows.
Within your pages dwell more
Than lead and ink.
The sentences in your veins
Have more meaning
Then you could possibly hold.
You carry my voice,
My silence,
My faith,
My doubts.
You hold my thoughts,
And soul,
My heart,
And Life.
Nov 25, 2010
Nov 25, 2010 at 2:26 PM UTC
I'm not the girl who is missed.
Try as I may, I always come in second to the girl
who puts on her mask to fool the world
into thinking she is something she's not.
I locked my mask away 365 days ago.
Replacing it with
the identity that has been growing inside me
since the day I left the womb.
But the key is in sight.
Dangling on a chain
adorned by the girl who I've been losing to.
Who lies to the world adorning her permanent mask
Tempting me to reach out.
Stretching my fingers toward the object to make life easier,
To unlock my mask and fall into line
Returning back to the masquerade
Nov 25, 2010
Nov 25, 2010 at 2:21 PM UTC
....And the oppressors, and the oppressed,
will link arms
and Storm down heavens' door,
And ask
..... what have you done?
Nov 25, 2010
Nov 25, 2010 at 6:47 AM UTC
To step foot through the Realms of Reality,
and turn from the land of make-believe,
is to give yourself over to the wasteland of happily-never-after.
You'll find along the path of the yellow brick ruins,
A sleeping beauty, cast to the side not in sleep, but in death.
A witch shoves Mother Goose in an Iron Clad stove,
along with Hansel and Gretel and the gingerbread man.
The Mad Hatter sips from his blood filled teacup,
and a mermaid's tail hangs upon the fisherman's hook.
Somewhere in the distance, a pixie's light goes out for good,
and another flying chimp is stripped of its feathered wings.
Rapunzal's golden hair lies in ashes on the grave,
along with the remnants of a tattered flying carpet.
The lost boys wander aimlessly, trying to remember how to fly,
and slice their toes on the remaining shards of a magic mirror.
The scream of a toymaker echoes through the air
As he watches his wooden boy scorch in the flames before his eyes.
The sky grows darker as the second star to the right goes out,
and a dragon lies dying because Jackie Paper was ripped to shreds.
A genie slams the walls of his prison, suffocating inside his magic lamp,
and a child, no bigger then your thumb, is carried off by a jet black raven.
A half dead Briar Rabbit, steps over the carcass of a cow from the moon
and seven shaken dwarves waste away, mourning over their stone cold maiden.
A flying elephant is shot down dead, and drops from the blood red sky
And a thin lost sheep is snatched in the jaws of the big bad wolf.
A small, shaken child stumbles out of the mist and shadow,
wondering what became of his beloved Land of Make Believe..
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 9:53 AM UTC
These words don't feel right to me.
And why should they?
These words aren't mine.
They belong to the hopeless romantics
With vocabulary and experience.
The ****** novels
That become the handbook for the lustful empty.
These words don't taste right on my lips.
They are false.
Meaningless.
Wrong.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 9:49 AM UTC
Peter Pan said "take my hand, but keep your love and keep your kiss.
Slip the thimble on my finger, these feelings don't exist."
But I learned my lesson in Neverland, and the shadows that it cast.
I was too quick to trust, and the pixie dust, just never seemed to last.
So I turned my face away from the boy who feared to live.
I took my chances in the past, he had nothing more to give.
So keep my love, and keep my kiss, give the thimble in return.
He taught me something wonderful, but I have more to learn.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 9:45 AM UTC