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I remember the day I became a boy
From the small little kid I was
That transformation changed my life
For the better or worse
Who knows

It happened on the playground
While playing freeze tag
He grabbed my hand to run
But just a little too tight
And my heart went BADUMP

****** my hand back, froze on the spot
And he stopped running too
"What's wrong" he asked "are you ok?"
I wasn't feeling sick and I could count 1-10
But my heart was all confused

From then on I could never go back
To being some random kid
From now on I was a boy
With feelings, emotions and love
Soon to be a man.
When you have your first crush
I just don’t belong here,
I don’t understand myself at all.
I don’t want to be here
But I don’t want to leave you till its time…
So if I manage to stay here tonight
Will you please just tell me that it will be alright?
Because I don’t want to be here,
I’m about ready to give up this fight.

I stare at the pictures of us tonight
As these tears stream down my face,
It’s getting harder to breath
And this pain in my chest is taking it out of me.
I see the face of you and someone I don’t like
She’s staring back at me, with a smile I cannot find;
But tonight, I can’t bear to pick up the phone
I can’t even tell you…I’m not alright, I want to go.

I'm terrified you will finally turn away from me,
The long silences increase my anxieties…
I don’t want to hurt you,
I don’t want to bother you again tonight
Because we’re going in circles
And I don’t want you to see the mess that I’m truly in…
So please understand if I try to push you away once again
I just know you can do so much better!
it's not going to make sense
none of it will make sense
until you meet the right person
then every star will align
and if you didn't have any stars in your sky
they will put them there to shine bright
life gets a light shown into it
when the right person crosses your path
even if its just for a minute
there's something tragic
when someone makes you feel everything
then they leave
and there's nothing left to be felt
but there's the traces of stardust
still brushed along your skin
where they touched you
and that right there, will give you the world
and the strength
to keep going along everyday
just as if they didn't exist
Love to some is a metaphorical creature
it moves in the night possessing those who sleep with another,
it lives inside everyone whether it be platonic or not.
This metaphor of an iridescent emotion is not a force to reckon with,
it breaks people into two,
controls them driving them completely insane,
it hurts the innocent putting their self confidence to shame.

Love to some is a burden,
it burns your insides to oblivion.
"mother it hurts" she isn't there to help because this internal pain isn't something that Jim could fix.
In fact Jim will make it worse.

love to some is a quick release,
a fix,
a drug,
a metaphorical object mental illness that wont leave their mind body and soul.

love my dear quick run and hide,
some of them want to use you .
What they use you for is either the worst thing in the world,
or the best thing in the entire universe.

However love for me?
is non-exsistent
Happy Valentines day i guess, i mean this isn't the happiest poem externally but you can find internal happiness within most things.
© Arabella (14/02/17)
Dad, there are so many things I never got to tell you
I wish you knew how much I loved you, and how badly I needed you to stay
Now your brains are on the floor
and all my memories of you are stained
The clock is still ticking in my head,
but for you, it's stopped
There is no more for you, here

I'm sorry I wasn't able to see your pain clearly

I wished so hard upon every star I'd seen that you would be okay
Every candle I blew out as I became older, I used all my wishes on you

And I feel gypped
Like it was all a waste of breath
A waste of time to try
if you were just bound to give up and die
But what's the use in being angry?
Every time I feel anything, it eventually fades to numbness
I haven't been able to keep you out of my dreams, and I wish you would stop haunting me

I'm not your little girl anymore
No, you gave that up when you left this world
And your blood has left a smear across my eyes
That's all I can see
All that I know
And I just need for the pain to slow down

But I never want it to stop,
because when the pain stops, the love stops
And I will always
love you
"So I'll probably **** myself,"
I said to you,
"But not until I'm 21 and can stain my lips red
And drink for real
And get so drunk I'll dance right off a cliff.
The rocks at the bottom will hug me so tight I'll split right open.
And then I'll never be able to hide any of it
It'll all be there for you to see.
Bleeding out."
You looked at me and all you said was
"I suspect that the way I feel now, at summer’s end, is about how I’ll feel at the end of my life, assuming I have time and mind enough to reflect: bewildered by how unexpectedly everything turned out, regretful about all the things I didn’t get around to, clutching the handful of friends and funny stories I’ve amassed, and wondering where it all went. And I’ll probably still be evading the same truth I’m evading now:
that the life I ended up with, much as I complain about it, was
pretty much
  the one I chose. And my dissatisfactions with it are really with my own character, with my hesitation and timidity."

Tim Keider^

just an ordinary Sunday newspaper feature,
on the summer's fast approaching
summing up,
an essay,
that you read and exclaim
what's that you say,
who ya kidding?

are our brains cross-wired?
am I so prototypical
that my scheming privates are presented with
better clarity, superior style, and

and you just don't know what's worse

a) that we shared the similarity of dissatisfaction
with our lives,
that a season of unexpected leisure unexpectedly
(an unforced error, I'll call it)
a  soul train review that time accident-afforded and
summer sweet lushness conduced

b) is it that you say it so much better

only one diff kid,
entire we deux,
that makes me major league,
and you still, a sorta minor,
with a career ahead

I am at
trend end
of my life,
skiing breakneck at the steepest part of the
downward ***** of time
leading to the flatline gate
knockdown finale

but I still can't let us off the hook,
as I write this
open outcry

did life's press offer us
convergent excuses,
the connivence of convenience
that let us write our own
sad, sneering, almost denying tale
that our lives were
"pretty much"
the one chosen

will that truthfully ever going to be
a genuine smithy's mark
a twenty four caratexcellence of
sufficiency satisfactory?

the question cannot be begged off,
when Father Time is breathing down your neck,
accepting one's character flaws,
acknowledging, not even querying,
if I am a failed diamond,
I, the cutter,
could not shape my facets
flawless, or even well enough

point passed,
now why me worry
about hesitating,
so no evasion,
instead ****** head-on 

the life chosen
was oft the product of
wrong fork chosen,
lazy and safe courses that
cuckolded me into a
blindsided acceptance

last verse I swear!

going outside to
come back in

let this declining season,
be not
seen as an ending
but a fresh bloom of a flower,
an all-year-long bloom
that opens up every morning
of every day,
readying us both
for the
and to
open to  
setting the pushed, not pulled,
record straight

"good enough"
is no longer
good enough
when  answering

my life, was it any good?
was it what I desired?

when I took the wrong fork
almost every time,
though purposely chosen,
was it cowardice complete,
laziness course of least resistance?

for if that's the case,

no matter how late we linger at this bad food table,
of inactive actions,
choices taken but not accepted,
I need to change
the diet
that creates
who I am
and eat truth,
and keep it down

August 30 ~ 31, 2015
 Sep 2015 OblertPumpernikle
Fresher than the sky after a rainy day, us was found strongly subdued in intrigue and properly shawled in ****.
Higher than hippies can ever attain yet the ocean envies our deepness, back breaking as if our love were a tile floor that doubled as a bed at night, yet we are still comfortable. Still striving for the placement next to the historics and enjoying the wait, the ascent toward remembrance and the ascent from stupidity as we learn each other like Spanish class.
Let me know you, let me feel your energy. Why? Well, why not? I'm an alienated settler, so I suppose I need closeness? Or better yet,
I need you.
Why are you looking around? Move the stranger in front of you so that you can see my finger pointing at you. Yes, you, I need you. I'm interested, curvy swaying hips that deserve my caress, **** luscious lips that deserve my attention, she's a love-starved apparition that's deserving of the meal that I feel I can provide.
We are instruments, feel the beat of my drum, ba-da-da-dum-di-dum-di-dum, the sound my heart makes when you talk to me. The sound I hear when I know I'm ****** to make a fool or myself in front of you. My love, we are satire beings, embodying principles that we formed in a sheepish state when our fantasies were formed and our dreamy hopes became lost wishes.
I thought I knew love, but I didn’t know you, so what I knew was the fact that truth and lie could be twins at times. Right and wrong could be cousins.
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