freak of nature
"selfish" screaming in my ears
I digress violently now
Whitman bleeding out of
my ears
I cannot bow
seventeen and furious
I am the poet of the
human skin; of violins
and softly fingered clarinets
singing of the dirt under
my fingernails
self-loathing--the evil twin
of guilt--is blinding
I cannot read graphing
calculators or the
future
but both seem empty
like the box under my bed
that used to hold pieces of my
soul (or I thought it did)
now I am scattered
I would like to
hold onto your hand
(I will be less abrasive this way)
instead of purging myself
of every doubt that
has rudely accosted me
in the marrow of
my simple human
structure

I stared across the room at him.
His lips parted slightly as he wrote his name across the page.
When he grinned, his dimples deepened significantly.
His brown eyes sparkled when he glanced out the window.
When I looked at him doing things he didn't realize he did, I fell in love.
Simple gestures like the way he moved his hands when he spoke passionately about something.
The way he ran his hand through his hair when he was nervous.
The way he chewed his lip when he was deep in thought.
Simple and yet oh so important to his entire being.
Everything he is reflects in these simple gestures.

Her hair flows wildly in the wind
As she makes her way to the dark, wet sand.
Her sobs are absorbed by the crashing waves
as her body is wracked by the pain inside her.
She stumbles and falls, unable to move her limbs.
Everything in her is screaming for release.
The glint in the moonlight of her beloved
friend and cruel master increases her tears.
She braces herself for the sternness of his voice.
When he leaves she gets up and walks to the end of the earth.
Looking down, she sees the frothy end to her miserable life.
A small turn and she's falling into oblivion.
It consumes her and she tries to fight, but to no avail.
She is soothed by the crashing lullaby and soon sleeps.
The liquids meld into a pastel blossom.
For there is no more pain as she relinquishes her consciousness.