wake up
breath in and out
take in the new day like a leaf absorbs the morning dew
it's time to go
yesterday's errors are erased when the clock strikes twelve
you are new
you are a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon of coulda-woulda-shoulda
ready to take flight and make brand new beautiful mistakes
you've never had a day quite like today before
you'll never have a day quite like today again
so embrace it
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 9:03 PM UTC
Glue my eyes closed,
Board up the windows to my soul.
Sew my eyelids together,
Ignore my heart's growing hole.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 1:01 AM UTC
I'm putting tape over my ears so I don't hear cruelty,
I'm putting tape over my nose so I don't smell my own fear,
I'm putting tape over my eyes so I don't see a joke in the mirror,
I'm putting tape over my mouth so I don't say what people don't want to hear.
I'm taping my arms to my sides to avoid gesturing,
To articulate points that are certainly wrong,
I am taping my legs to avoid the shame
Of walking in the rain to the same sad song.
I am taping my body,
I am taping my mind,
I am through being honest,
Done with being kind.
It's selfish to die,
It's painful to live,
My solution is tape,
So I can't take or give.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC
I'm in a class,
We sit in chairs.
The teacher talks,
They listen and stare.
And I'm unfocused.
My pen is scratching,
My mind is clear,
The class is there,
And I am here.
And I should focus.
Oh, ****
It's quiet.
Have I been caught?
This is something that I should not
Be doing
But I can't help it,
I'm trying to get it,
But my mind is flying,
And I'm sick of trying and
My brain is crying for
More than I'm offered and
**** IT!
I just can't focus.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
Heart pounding
Hands shaking
b r e a t h e
Palms sweating
Still faking
b r e a t h e
Brain frying
Lips drying
Still trying
b r e a t h e...b r e a t h e...b r e--
...I can't breathe.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
I have a very close best friend
But I hope we aren't friends for life
They trudge with me every day
And keep me cold at night
My friend is really clingy
They want me to stay alone
Fridays, for most, are for partying
But I'm with my friend at home
My friend is really cruel to me
They call me nasty names
They say no one would like the genuine me
At least nobody sane
My friend has lots of other friends,
And if they're yours as well,
All I can say is that I'm sorry you're trapped
On this merry-go-round from Hell.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
I'm drowning.
Sinking deeper and deeper into a black and murky water.
I am alone.
I am stuck.
I try to swim up, not because I want to, but because I must.
I must keep swimming,
Because there are people on land that need me, that want me, that demand me to live and breathe and strive for better things.
Sometimes I wonder if I want to live and breathe and strive for better things.
It'd be so much easier to just let go,
And give in to the black and murky waves,
To simply accept that I'll never again be a person on the shore.
I'm still splashing at the waves, now with a rising panic,
And I can hear my heart pounding,
And I can feel the blood rushing to my head with the intensity of a freight train.
Because now the waves in the once placid waters have jagged edges,
Razor edges that draw blood,
And I see the black and murky waters turn red with my life force.
And the rational part of my brain recognizes that none of this is real,
That my wounds and the water and my panic are a figment of my troubled mind.
But my heart knows with a sickening certainty that even if I do not die today,
I will forever carry the burden of scars from wounds that never really happened.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
This probably isn't what they are called,
And I can't think of the elusive word,
But...I really like bike bells.
You know the ones!
The little diddlydoos on the handlebars of a ten-year-old's bike.
The ones that go
*bbbBBBB
RRRRRrrrrr
iiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIII
NNNNnnnnnn
ggggggGGGGGG!*
God, they're my favorite.
Because, you see...here's the thing:
When you were a ten-year-old,
Riding a bike to some friend's house your mom didn't approve of,
Did you ever bbBBrrIInnGG the bike bell on your bike when you were upset?
Of course not!
Bike bells are a child's way of telling the world,
"Guys! GUYS! I had a really good day!"
And it makes me happy to know some little kid is so joyful they can't help but bbBBrrRRiiIInnNNggGG all the way down the street.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 9:20 PM UTC
I looked in the mirror this morning,
And there was a little tiny change,
An older look to my eyes,
My smile was foreign and strange.
My posture was straighter and taller,
My cheeks were thinner and slim.
I'm changing right before my eyes,
And every day I'm at the whim
of Whoever decides what I'll be
When I'm an adult someday.
When make believe no longer appeals to me,
And I've forgotten how to play.
So what I want to say to this elusive Whoever,
what I want to ask of this woman,
Is "Are all these changes the real me?
And is the real me who I am?"
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
Once there was a carnival.
It was exuberant and joyful,
With elephants and lions befriending the penguins and sea otters,
And little fairy-like acrobats leaping and zooming across tightropes,
As if they were walking on solid ground.
There was a faint smell of funnel cake and cotton candy and popcorn,
And the sound of people chatting animatedly about,
"Wasn't that act precious" or "oh, darling, look at that penguin! Isn't he cute?"
And then I got a little older.
And the carnival was still joyful, but something had changed.
The carnival had this joyful facade but it was hiding a darker exterior.
The elephants and lions were growing old, and the ringmaster,
Displeased with their best efforts,
Had started to hurt them.
The fairy-like acrobats had gotten injured over the years,
And wobbled a little bit here and there, with hints of hesitation
Perspiring on their foreheads.
The funnel cake and cotton candy and popcorn smell lingered still,
But it was almost as if people had grown tired of the taste,
And in the heat of the summer day,
The food had started to grow stale.
And then I got old.
The carnival had closed now.
Overgrown with weeds,
Stalls and tents covered in graffiti and muck,
It was now a gathering spot for children to make believe,
That they were the fairy acrobats who had once been so agile and captivating,
Or the animals that had struck terror and awe into toddler's hearts.
The carnival was gone,
but the children would run home to their grandmas and grandpas,
and they would tell them the story of how the lion was this close to biting off their nose,
and how one time the acrobat honestly did a front flip from a horse on to a bear onto a lion, and they were honest to God telling the absolute truth no matter what their spouse would say in the room next door.
The carnival was gone, but the stories would go on in a bittersweet never ending circle of intrigue and mystery and magic.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC