Just yesterday
We were 12 years old
Plagued by acne and awkward physicality
Attempting to conquer middle school and everything that comes with it
******* too large for our scrawny figures
Pale skin
Freckles painting our faces
Yesterday we were 12
I swear we were just
Giggling about boys between slow dances at whatever bar mitzvah was that weekend
Smiling as they stared at awe at our changing bodies
Sticks blooming into carved wood
Futures as tall as we were hoping to become
Although I myself never made it past 5 foot 2
It was the promise that kept us going
The promise of straight teeth and symmetrical eyeliner
The desire to have boys' hands on our skin
Craving the rough callus against our delicate thighs
There were no cages back then
Our stomachs were filled to the rim with butterflies
Free to do as they please
We never thought twice
Only did
Immersing ourselves in adventures
Back before excitement moved to glass bottles and late nights with crowded rooms
Back when
It lived in our backyards and the mall down the street
The other day
We were 12 years old
But today I just feel old
Feel strange
Feel like I left a part of me back home
I am miles away from where I was at 12 years
But it feels so close in time
Feels like I can still look in the mirror
To find us in poorly applied makeup
In Ill fitting pants and hot topic t shirts
Neon pink accessories
I find it hard to believe
That these people have been gone for six years already
And that for the first time since meeting
They will be apart
We have been through it all
The good
The bad
The disappointing
The awkward and embarassing
All of these years in my life
Have already passed
So why do I feel like they are still stuck to my skin
Why do I feel like nothing has changed at all
I know
That change is inevitable
That time goes on no matter how many times we hit snooze
That we are older and that this is real life and we don't get to choose whether it's easy or not
That we have to face it head on
I know we're going down separate paths
But they have to connect somewhere
I know they will someday
Someday we will look back
And say
Yesterday we were 18
Where the **** did time go?
I don't know where it did
But until we find it
Let's just breathe
Take it in
Go slow.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
She’s got a hole on the topside of her right Nike shoe
Pink, black, white patterns ruined by her bony toe
Does she know
She’s not wearing socks?
Hair callously thrown into a disgraceful bun
Wetted from sweat or shower
I’ll never know.
Screensaver sepia toned
And donned in the center
Is a lover, perhaps,
Kissing her laughing cheek.
She’s more organized than me,
Dutifully taking notes
And yearning, craving for the professors
Pleasant spew of factual ****
She records his words
I record my thoughts
Who’s the more selfish one?
This stranger sitting diagonally in front of me
With her pink ears and lightly freckled face,
Or myself
Because I don’t even want to know her name.
Her world will forever remain a place
Untainted by myself
(Lucky her).
She’ll remain a mystery, an enigma
Stories that define who she is
Left for assumption and infinity.
She’ll never know I’m thinking
Only of her
And for absolutely no purpose
Other than practicing
Observing the small glimpses
Of people’s lives they offer you
Unknowingly
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
I'm a tiny little boat
and you're my
open sea,
i beg you
to
madly
swallow me up.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
If thy self worth
derives from the status of others,
thou art a narcissist or a sociopath.
If thy self worth
derives from bringing others down,
thou art already lower than they are.
If thy self worth
derives from petty comparisons,
thou art a vain and unsophisticated soul.
If thy self worth
derives from thy own accomplishments,
no worldly thing can restrain thy potential.
Break free of thy Ego,
learn to let it drive thee
rather than steer thee:
thus may thou thy bliss construct.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
*You have to admit
I give something
you just can not give back
I make you happy
then make you sad
I make you feel
like you should do
now you You have to admit THAT!*
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
The news will say we're suffering from excess immigration
That a rampant hoard of foreigners has fallen on our nation
But truthfully, there hasn't been a native Briton here
Since people dressed in mammoth skin and hunted with a spear
Our language is a mixture of a dozen different tongues
We munch our way through poppadoms, fajitas and fu-yungs
When cheering at a football match, we're infamously vocal
Our teams may be the finest but the players won’t be local
Genetically, a Briton is a multi-cultured stew
With Romans, Saxons, Vikings and the Celts, to name a few
Our national drink is Indian, the Germans make our beer
The TV comes from China and the table from IKEA
Potatoes from America and onions grown in Spain
A multitude of British things arrive by boat and plane
The rain that falls upon our hills has blown from over seas
And with it come migrating birds to nest in British trees
The Royal Windsor family have Greek and German genes
So think about just what it is that being British means
We're stronger with our differences, the best of humankind
Our nation, not an island but a common state of mind
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
You must be strong, intensified, like coffee.
When you pour coffee into your mouth, you become the coffee.
When the coffee goes to your brain, you increased the energy levels.
Coffee can be dark and brown, but it sure makes you happy.
Become like coffee my friend.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
driving toward the rain
going east
bridge over water
expecting peace
driving toward the rain
dragging my past
racing my demons
going fast!
before me
is a welcoming rainbow
waving for me to play
so closer I go
enjoying the thrill I feel
not fantasy, it's real
high stakes
adventures ****
driving toward the storm
is a death wish to some
but I'm different
& I'm going!
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
lately I've been breathlessly reveling in galaxies of unspoiled ocean currents filled with words from the souls of those I haven't met, plastering them in layers around the walls of my own.
lately I've opened so many curious doors an uncontrollable wind swept inside of me billowing loose sheets of paper to every direction imaginable and I'm not sure which door to close for it all to go away.
there's a sweet smell of summer mixed with heartache in my veins, a tide that comes in varying waves over the tips of my toes and fingertips wishing over and over again to surface the parts of me that aren't real.
there's a world of difference between imagining and experiencing, watching and listening, red wine and *** mixed with fruits of every possible color, the unavoidable oxymoron of my time in this place;
forgetting the things I wish to remember, remembering the things I wish to forget.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
On my First Son
By Ben Jonson
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.
Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I lose all father now! For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage,
And if no other misery, yet age?
Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say, "Here doth lie
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry."
For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such,
As what he loves may never like too much.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC