"I know how you feel"
I tell him but
I have to scream because
He can't hear me through all the pages.
They don't understand
Because they're young and shiny and they
Don't carry a picture of someone
In the pocket by their heart
Like they're casting a spell or
Feeling someone next to them in the dark
Just as they pull away.
I know how it feels
To have a pebble
that shines like a diamond that you
can't help but kiss
and to black out with dreams
of what you should have done
or said to change the story
you now play in your head.
"I know how you feel"
I scream as I scratch at the mirror
like I scratch at my skin but
I don't hear myself because
he can't hear me through
all of the pages.
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
Seven steps away
An eternity to an ant
But not long for me
I linger at my table
Because my hands smell like bleach
But I've always had
trouble with that.
It could be that they're pretty
Like some kind of picture
But I look like
Some kind of muppet
so at least I'm usually in a good mood.
Now I smell like bleach
But at when least my feet
Touch the ground I know
There isn't a place lower
I could go
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC
No
Stop
Wait for the light
Go
Run
Enjoy the fresh air in your hair while it lasts
Because soon the earth is going to choke
And then the sun won't look as bright
Or the leaves as green.
Please
Thank you
Smile at the clerk
Wait your turn
Don't talk to strangers but
Hope that you will get lucky and
Some will talk to you
Because it get's lonely up here sometimes.
Breathe
Fall
Don't let the grass stain
Your clothes when you
Tumble down a hill
Because losing yourself in the green
Flinging pieces of you with each turn
Is the best that you can hope for
Until you have to pick them up again.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 9:09 PM UTC
Maybe it's true now
Like it was true way back then,
You'll never quite meet the president
And you'll end up back home again.
Sometimes in the distance,
You can hear the horsemen ride.
Maybe we could fight to our death,
Maybe we could run and hide.
So send your sons on to the battlefield
Send your daughters to a rich man's bed,
At least it won't be empty, the sword they weild
And we all fall down.
Don't you like to remember the good ol' days ,
When the sun burned in the sky?
When your girls liked to live by their husband's hand,
And the good boys went off to die?
Oh you may not meet your maker ,
'Cause he's left his home in the sky,
So I guess it's just the few of us
Meant to live, pay in, and die.
So send your little boys to the battlefields
Send your daughters to a rich man's bed
Go ahead, let us pay for you,
And we all fall down.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
The years are catching up to her
You can tell
Because she doesn't walk quite as fast
Or have the same smirk on her face
Like she did before she met life.
Although she swears she's just getting older
You can tell she's not just older
She's a little sadder too
Because when she sings
It's not as bright
When she looks at her children
Wishing she could do better
You want to look at them
And wish too
That maybe you could make it better
She loves Christmas
Giving gifts and forgetting stress
Although the dining room table
Is half empty
Leaving only her and her children
Half of a life left to live
You can see that she is scared
But when she looks out the window and smiles,
You just want to tell her
You have life left in you, too.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 7:44 PM UTC
Her eyes fell to the floor
His hands were twisted
And he looked away
And she folded her arms
And I drank my soda
And regretted even coming
She got mad at him
And he looked lost
And looked at me past her shoulder
And I shrugged
And drank my soda
And pretended I was invisible
Even though she yelled at him
And he looked so sad
I didn't know what to do
So I fiddled with my keys
And pet the dog
Because my soda was gone.
A few weeks later on the car ride home
She cried and smoked her cigarette
And asked me how she managed to lose him
And I thought of that night
And how lost he looked
And told her I didn't know.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
He asked me if I believed in god today
And I smiled
And stirred my coffee
And shrugged off the question
And avoided his gaze.
I walked home today
Twisting the ring on my finger
Listening to the music in the distance
Someone's playing a piano on the street
And I sat next to an old man and listened.
He drew on his pant leg with a marker
And looked wistfully at the sky
Holes in his hat and
No shoes on his feet
And I asked him if he believed in god
He looked at me
With a wrinkled face that had seen many lives
And pointed to the girl on the piano
And smiled at me
And said "This is god", and nothing more
So there I sat
With an old man and a little girl on the piano
And my feet were hot
So I gave him my shoes
And bid him adieu
So I walked back home
And looked him in the eyes
And said I met god
And he looked at me
And we went on with our lives
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC