Leaving a trail behind me of journals
People are tossing in the garbage
Or reading
Or placing in their bookshelf
It's better than ***** dishes in the sink
It's sinking in that I'm leaving soon
Another whirlwind behind me I'm sure
Reminds me of all the fragmented books
I've wrote that want to be together
Consolidate so my words can keep up with me

Sand is the tangible symbol of time
At least twice a month
I get it in my scalp and in between my toes
Scratching at it later
Gnawing at my worries
Freedom percieved by a split mind
Is not freedom at all
water dangling from the sky
In the desert
Clouds refraining to cry
but they really, really, want to

More emptiness
A vulnerable phenomenon
Tempts the soul
Reverts to coping habits
Or more emptiness
And Become one with
MerKaBa

one day
between sheets and tea
i will tell you of the way
i dreamed of you with me

there will be laughs and tears
and potholes and fears
but you will look at me
and i'll just let it all be

i'm glad i have you to worry about and take care of
i'm glad to have me to worry about and take care of you

i'm glad i have you to make me swoon
i'm glad you have me to do cute things for

i'm glad i have you to take clothes from
i'm glad you have me to share your coziness with

i'm glad i have you to hold hands with
i'm glad you have me to hold you close

i'm glad i have you to make me feel special
i'm glad you have me to remind you that you are special

i'm glad i have you to care about
i'm glad you have me to care for you

i'm glad i love you
i'm glad you love me

just when i needed it to be
still, calm

it decided to have some crazy
spaz attack
spread from head to toe

i made a hasty excuse
stumbled down the stairs,
through the hallway
and collapsed on my bed,
trying not to wake the others

i curled up and shook
for what seemed like forever
and tried to convince myself
that i could control my own body

i wobbled up the stairs
and slipped back into bed with you

Falling into love
Like being tenderly punched
Does not make much sense

I'm fairly sure I don't need a degree
to tell you what's wrong with me.

It's a pretty long list,
I'm pretty messed up, huh?

I don't need to hire a doctor
to tell me I hate myself and why.
I can name each and every reason why.

I don't need a doctor
to tell me I'm traumatized from my past.
My nightmares assure me well enough.

I don't want to talk about it,
I don't want your medicine.
I'm not alright and that's okay.

I as much as I hate to admit it,* I honestly love him more than the sun.



Although...

+

+

+

+

+
I absolutely despise the sun with fiery loathing...



So I suppose that leaves him in the **"I really hate you" slot...

I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it.

I wasn't mad because I got a bad grade, I was mad because what if I wasn't strong enough to look past his opinion and keep writing? What if that one negative comment made me quit altogether and never share a single word again?

What if he ruined my future because he couldn't look past his idea of what a poem should be?

A poem does not have to rhyme or end with closure or even make sense to everyone who reads it.

A poem simply has to reach part of someone's soul who had no idea that these were the words they had been waiting to hear and these were the words that were meant to save them.

This is what a poem is, not a grade from a teacher or a rhyme in a book. A poem is a method of coping and a way to understand the world with ease.

I wrote a poem for my English class and my teacher said he didn't like it. But I am stronger than he thinks, and I will continue to write poems that he does not like and I will continue to love them in spite of his opinion.