Grey lady of the mist
Hold me tight tonight
Through the darkness
Through the trees
When the lights go out
And demons begin their fun
When gets imagination is dangerous
And words get volatile
Hush my cries
With your starry eyes
Caress me with frigid hands
Hold me close when it all caves in

My breath is stale
my eyes weary
but my brain turns
in sync with my stomach
my mind make a list
of things I need to do
I need to apologize to that person
I hurt two years ago
I need to come out to my mom
(and society, maybe)
I need to tell that teacher I’m sorry
I need to sleep
but I can’t
and I won’t
be I’m just weak

Only been two people
have ever seen through my smile
the first a teacher
also the kindest man I know
a girl in 9th grade
she talked to me
these two
never called me crazy
or said I was weak
because they had gone
through the same thing
we were united by pain
because nobody deserves
to be this way

He said the kindest things
when know one else believed
he never gets angry
just disappointed
which is worse somehow
trust is a well built factor
I hope it stays this way

leaves fall like rain
dancing in the wind
cover yourself
make a cloak of them
then run
let the leaves trail behind you
let them fall off
let them go
you don’t have to hold onto things forever

These words are my veins on the page
I’ve pulled them out with a pen
taking care not to break them or bleed them
just for this poem

These metaphors are my skin
simply a sheet to hide the true meaning
I’ve made sure not to damage the layers
just for this poem

These similes are my hair
woven into different shapes
I got the whole hair, by the roots
just for this poem

This ink is my blood and tears
a mixture so fine it never bleeds on the page
I’ve mixed them both together
just for this poem

Just for this poem
I will give give my body
just for the last drop of ink
I will give you all my blood

My imagination is temperamental
constantly brewing new ideas
sometimes this ends
in volatile circumstances
and I’m shut out
sometimes I have
to remind my imagination to calm down
but the anxiety doesn’t agree

I hoped  
that tomorrow it would be better
but it wasn’t
I still spent 2 hours crying in the bathroom,
not being able to move, breath,
or understand the silent tears on my face
I still spent hours weaving
narratives that never did happen.
I still couldn't answer what I’d do in 15 years

Hope where are you,
I thought you were a light in the dark
A flare in a vast ocean, a sign of life
instead you are nothing,
you do not sit by me when I still spend hours crying
you do not sit by me as I imagine a worse tomorrow
you are somewhere else entirely, and I am alone.

The debt I owe
cannot be paid
with service or money
it cannot be paid
with food or gifts

The debt I owe
is own owed by many
wether to one person
or a community,
wether from a strange place
or a familiar one

It is a debt that can
only be paid forward
to the next one who requires it
only when the debt
is passed forward
is it paid

to bleed, to cry
what is the difference
for they both do a vital task
draw attention to an injury
in need of treatment

As I found empty space beside me
I reached for loneliness
I found a hand
but no solace I receive
instead the cold
and ****** hand of the other me
when we embraced I felt a chill
not from wind or water
instead it rippled through my mind
making itself at home
forgetting the boundaries
I had set before
yet still hand and hand we walk me and the other

to lay among the grass and flowers
is to speak their language

I miss the way
she smiled
I miss the way
she laughed
but the old me is gone
and she’s never coming back

lovely
drop dead gorgeous
she hustled though the crowd
no confidence to be had
always insecure
I compliment her everyday
still no confidence sprouts
always multitasking
never finding piece
a girl rushing to find meaning

I’m just trying to push
the hurt out through my veins

I’m just trying to
bleed and bruise my way out

I’m just wondering if
I can make my pain physical and valid

I roll the words I say to you around in my mouth,
Making sure I will feel good about them later
But of course, I don’t.
Later I will curse my words, and wish I spent them more wisely.
There is always more to say to you.
I want to tell you how I used to make sandcastles out of plastic cups,
I want to tell you how everyday I wonder if the person next to me is depressed
I want to tell you what book I’m reading.
I want to tell you I’m lesbian.
To tell you though I would have to spend a lot of words

Dear victim
you aren’t useless
no matter what they said
you aren’t ugly
no matter what they screamed
you aren’t stupid
no matter how they taunted
you aren’t small
you voice matters
no matter what abuse
they screamed
whatever happened
you are not slight
they are

the words I meant to say
are crumbling.
Come get them before they're blown to ash

Time is a human construct
made with years
of reinforcement from clocks
time is the way we see life
seconds
              minutes
hours
               days
weeks
            months
years
             decades
constructs are only measurements
but these define your life

Do you throw
your smile around
for just anything,
or only
for something outstanding?

I have paraphrased
my struggle on this page.
To find some meaning

Just a small quiet girl
holding onto ragtag dreams
stitched together
with patches
of memories
just a small girl
never mind her
such big dreams
that will never come true
I’m just a small little girl...

when your heart is thumping
out of your chest
leaving brusies wher the thumps
falls on your chest
and your wearing the peices
it can't hold on your sleeve
you begin to wonder if this love,
this heartbreak will define this year
if the sorry they tell
will come to ring in your ears
an echo to cooling of the choles
will the sorry come to burn in your throat
with a sting you can't shallow
like the depression pills you take dry

What do you do up there
on your podium so high?

Do you ever falter, or cry
at the witnesses story?
Or do you just listen
to all the details,
may they be ghastly, fearful, or gory?

Do you feel for the accused
or ever sympathize,
with a ******
who gouged out his own fathers eyes?

Yes, what happens
in your mind
in that podium so high?
Is it a of chess
when the witenesses atest?

Do you care for us,
do you sympathize, or
do you live up in the sky
in your podium
so high

energy cannot be created or destoryed,
is violence bound by that as well?
or is it a chain of
equal and oppisite reactions passed*
from person to person.
abstract in glances and words,
but becoming tangible in a fist or a kick.

please let my agression stay abstract.

History remembers love
as something that happen
I happened
you happened
us, never happened

I'm sorry,
if it hurts too much
pretend it's a magic trick
is what my note will say.
For I am sorry
about the destruction I will leave.
I will leave with a flourish of apologies
and a crash of unveiled lies
I will not leave quietly,
for that I'm truly sorry.

Late to the party
punctual to class
not goody two shoes
but still do not laugh
don’t take risks
because parents are strict
always worried about the box
will I fit inside
they want me normal
but
       I’m
              just
                      STRANGE

How can tehy not hear him?
he cries every night
a mad smudgy cry
How can they not hear?'

How can thet not see
his poker face?
he's putting up emtions
to keep others displaced.
How can they not see?

He never stops his cry
even when you check
How can you be so blind?
How can you not react?

So shy
hands hide
climbing up your sleeves

So shy
love hides
losing itself in me

So shy
don’t cry
hold it all in

So shy
goodbye
will you remember me?

Nothing is ever easy
if you don’t celebrate small
before the end arrives

A serious suicide attempt
earns you six sessions
that should have been administered before
I tried to hurt myself

For a while you thought you were the only one on the bus
A lonely passenger on a bus with no stops
And no driver
darkness around you
A bump jolts the bus
A foot off the seat you will see them
other passengers too absorbed in their own music
to see the things in front of them
Will you raise the shades and see the light of the outside
Will you hit the pause button for a moment and enjoy this with me?

i miss you,
not because you left,
but because we don't talk how we used to
I enjoyed being uncomfortable with you

Do you care for me?
that question
puts a weight on my lungs,
and sends my head reeling for an answer.
One I don’t find, instead
tears of confusion pull me to sleep.

I find myself doubting,
getting lost in moments between words.
My hands shake
in time with my heart.
Sometimes I let things fall
because I hate the tremors.
Sometimes they rattle through,
my whole body.

Please, one question
do you care?
or am I desperate and lost?

I cried in the middle of class
just because I can’t fit in
I can’t fit the mold
I’m too odd
I’m a square in a triangles place
cutting parts of me out
just to fit the mold
the pain is not the worth
the momentary reward
but what choice do I have

I will not say
love is like a flower
or a sunset
I will not compare you
to morning dew
or a bluebird
for you are rough bark
with new budding flowers
or the smell after it rains
you are like summer late nights,
which make me high on stars
and the moonlight through the trees

You are yourself, always
and that is all I could ever ask for

The letters I wrote you
they’re left unsaid
most of them living in my head
will you ever read them?

The letters I wrote you
of pain and hardship
of me all alone
what did I write, those late nights?

The letters I wrote you
who were they for?
were they for you or me?

When you talk to me,
for a second
I am so much less complicated,
my thoughts so much less clouded.
Your eyes are warm and lined
It's going to be ok, they tell me,
And if it isn’t I’ll be right there with you to face it

Have you seen me
or am I transparent
am I here
or just a shadow
fading with each day

if you saw me
what did you seen
did you see a vision of lies?
or a simple truth?
did you perceive the good
or the bad

what did you see?
should it matter to me?

A dog is dead in Portland Oregon on the highway.
No one does anything after all it’s not their dog.
The owner, a boy, will only have the name tag to cry over.
The lost
A woman dies after ten years in the senior home.
The staff bury her with a plain tombstone.
No family comes to weep over her grave.
The forgotten
A teacher hides their students under the desks and in cabinets.
There is nowhere for them to hide.
They are shot five times in the abdomend.
The willing sacrifice.
A young man stands at a walkway, which overlooks a highway.
He secures a paper to the bridge.
He jumps.  
The fighters
Do you hear the people screaming?
Close your eyes and listen.
Listen.

Everyone is so cold
so used to the terrible
that it no longer registers
how did we get so numb
so distant
why is violence a norm
why do the important incidents
never get reported
how did we get so messed up

I love you,
no matter how much I hate you.
Its just that simple,
just that complicated,
and just that amazing.

Dear Teacher
I know you want no recognition
for your kindness,
but for all you did
you deserve
the poetry
and the praise
because when no one else cared,
you did.
my debt is immeasurable
thank you.

Me and happiness
are not holding hands yet
no,
we are more like an awkward couple
walking our fingers towards each other

When we were children
we danced in imagination for hours
never having a firm grip on reality
but loosely holding some strands
no one stopped us
we ran wild
claiming the woods as our own
marking it with sitting logs
and home made paths
enduring the snow and mud
never will I forget our smultronställe

Do not lie about the toll
I know full well it price
you will not take my life
but instead my soul
do not laugh
because you will never have it all
it lives in broken
and happy memories
in the poems I write
so you will never have my soul
at least for one more night