I'm sorry it's dramatized
because I am a poet
I'm sorry if I
bleed out my eyes
because I am a poet
I'm sorry if I
see winter in the summer sky
because I am a poet

My generation
will walk on
shattered glass of the past
without flinching
because we’ve been taught
it’s the norm
we’re all lost
because the path was
broken before we came

depression just hugs me
in all the right places
like a dress that you've tailored

it hugs me because after I've had
two panic attacks and a cry
I want to thank the giver of these wonderful gifts

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

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.

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?

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

the word die used to
just slid, simply,
with nothing to hide.
Now the word die
sits in my throat,
like a pill half swallowed.
I'm not sure whether to bring it down or up.

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.

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.

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

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

Why do you stand me?
after every self-deprecating sentence
email, and comment
What do you see in me?

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

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

love is about the quiet moments
the moments between breathing and speaking
it is about just holding someone
not talking
not speaking
just holding them

But it is also about the things you don't say
the shame that pours across your face
as you look at your loved one
the chasm that the things we don't say make
is the one that will cut deepest.

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

in the hollow of my bones you rattle
striking panic in my brain
but from collapsing I must refrain
a finger strokes my wrist
my hands shake
as I realize my pulse is there
and I could destroy it

Words aren’t people

my pen can’t fill
the void of a friend

run
from the fox
from the world
never stop running
because when you do
the predator will catch you
so watch your back
don’t stop running
and never give up
the fox is inevitable
but to keep fighting
is courage in the face of that

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

If nothin else therapy
reminds me that I am still
a broken piece of a bowl,
that needs someone else to fix it

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

She dances
with such ferocity
She puts her soul on display
and doesn’t let people
discredit it
where does such confidence arise

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

I cannot settle
I must constantly
question the situation
wondering how long it will last
how long before my parents
find out I’m a poet
find out I’m not straight
how long will I have this website
or will it disappear too

Do you ever need the space between words
to breath?
Do you ever feel like how many spaces
in certain places can say it all,
how many dots
how the commas interact?
do you ever feel like
space is more than a pause
like it’s the only thing
holding the words together
and without it every writer would crumble

Love is like an ember
Burning in the fire
It’s something that's remembered
Something that’s transpired

Too many remember now
What I wished them to forget
Now I make myself a vow
That I must soon onset

The vow is this
To forget the one you love
For we will not soon kiss
I shall rise above

I know that it is over
But I wish you the best in life
Be as lucky as a four leaf clover
I hope you can feel the knife

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

Sometimes there are
so many words
I put my pen to paper
and they don’t stop
my brain is screaming
for sleep
yet my mind is too busy
words are swirling
forming sentences
and sometimes paragraphs
of words

i take my ant-depressaints dry
the move down my throat
unwillingly
chalkly in my mouth
and sticky in my throat
sticking there.
taking it dry is a punishment for taking the pill at all

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

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

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...

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

Do not cry
Do not worry you didn’t do enough
I am free from the burden that I carried every where
Or maybe I looked to my wrists
And realized that there were no shackles
Only the ones I drew there

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?

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

i like how you keep the word 'suicide'
locked up as if its for my own good

its a fun way to remind me, that i am a broken peice of furniture
that could crack under the weight of any one thing

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

footprints on the beach
they intersow the sand
if people are smart
that is all they’ll leave behind  
no bottle caps on the shore
no bags in the trees
among the branches and leaves
no plastic inside fish
no matter who you are
you can make this wish true

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.

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?

she choked on the petals
while the rest of us
savored their sickly sweet taste

no one loves you when you're choking
on your own breath
the look at the rope binding you
and believe it is beyond them
to begin unraveling them