so high
the air
cuts at my lungs
and
my head spins
and
my heart beats faster
and
I'm taking very
short
breaths
and
bright
lights
dot
across
my
vision
and
I
can't
do
anything
but
write
lines,
wo­rds,
l
e
  t
   t
    e
     r
      s.

s
o.

h
i
  g
   h.

t
o
  o.

h
i
  g
    h.

and
       the
             black bird
                               sits.

Bombs
Dropping
On
Heavy
Hearts
Forgotten
   And blown away
        In
            The cold
                 Icey
                      Air.

Dust on my
Charcoal
Canvas.
Just brush it off
A night of peace
A galaxy of blown stars.
An attempt at an imperfect perfection.

But I wipe it away, anyway.
My constellation is too dangerous
for Anyone Else.

So I **** my night heaven with light pollution,
And diminish my stars.
And I'm just a canvas
A Blank,
          Empty,
                    Canvas.
Now, look what we've done.

They say that you can do whatever you want
If you just believe.
But what they don't tell you
Is what you'll need.
Hopes are nothing
If you don't reach them.
I may seem
Pessimistic
But it's true.
How did you get
Here?
With what you have.
How did you get it?
With the same thing keeping you from getting
Your Dreams.
Your Hopes.
Your Wishes.
Good luck, friend.
Good luck.

I've always been Afraid of Love,
With good reason to.
Love defeats Hate
And Hate powers Destruction.
Love Dies and Hurts People.
They say,
Love Heals Wounds
But
Love makes Wounds,
Too.
He was Different-
It Felt.
But now he's Not-
It Feels.

I like using glue when I am sad.
I like painting my arms with the white, sticky substance.
I like letting it dry.
I like seeing the white turn clear.
I like feeling how hard and sure my arms feel when they are coated in this shield.
I like touching how it wrinkles when I move my arms.
I like tugging it off like dead skin.
I like ripping off large pieces at a time.
I like collecting the scraps I pull off in a pile.
I like pretending that I'm peeling off every flaw of mine.
I like acting as if, when I'm done removing it, everything will be better.
I like noticing how difficult it is to grab onto the dried glue.
I like how it pains to remove it.
I like how red my arms are.
I like using glue when I am sad.
Because sometimes removing sadness does hurt.

Blue;
Almost black.
Like a lake in mid-November;
Waves lapping at the shore--
A white page.

Black waves on a rough,
Sharp,
Paper.
You're alone.
The world is empty.
It's just you,
The world,
And the black-blue ink waves.
Lapping,
Lapping, on the white
Page.
The white,
Empty,
Page.

Is it bad?
If I'm happy when you're not here?
Is it bad?
If I don't want you near?
Is it bad?
If I don't care?
Is it bad?
That you don' t play fair?
Please tell me,
Would it be bad?
If I didn't love you?
Anymore?

Sometimes memories leak from the corners of my eyes
And slip down my cheeks.
Just like the rain from Skies.

I have Lost My Writing.
I have Lost My Soul.
I have Lost My Hope.
You said you Found Me,
But You didn't.
Please don't let me Loose You.

My Poems aren't for You
My Poems aren't for Them
My Poems aren't for Someone
but a Something
a Me
not a You

I cried myself a river. (I dug myself a hole.)
I built myself a bridge. (I found myself a ladder.)
I was told to cross. (I was told to climb.)
I walked halfway. (I climbed halfway.)
Now I Jump.

Pebbles of Thought make ripples in my Mind.
A clear blue lake, my Mind is.
Pebbles they drop,
                                drop,
                                          drop.
Maybe today I'll go pebble skipping.

Love is Poison
is Poison Love
Poison Love is
Love Poison is
is Love Poison
Poison is Love

Scars
On legs

Scars
On arms

Scars
On wrists

Scars
On minds

and Scars
On Hearts

Tears,
Words,
Stories,
Memories;
Sometimes--
They run from my eyes,
And down my cheeks,
And off my chin,
And fall on their face.
On the cold
Cement.
Their story Over,
But not Forgotten.
They tell tales
A Broken
Can't speak.
Stories no one should recount.
More powerful than laughter;
Stronger than steel.

Not everything is ever as it seems.

She's always Writing.
Always in her notebook.
She could be Pretty.
But
She never looks at People.
Always her face straight.
Her deep blue eyes glazed over.
Always in Another World.
People always Laugh and Whisper.
They Don't Understand.
They Don't Know.

She's always Watching.
Always out the window.
She is Pretty.
People stare.
She's Afraid,
But
Always keeps her face straight.
Her deep blue eyes glazed over.
Always in Another World.
People don't Laugh and Whisper,
Anymore.
They Don't Understand.
They Don't Know.

I used to think I was Cold.
Distant, Untouchable.
I used to think I didn't care what they said--
Until they did.

I forgot it's too late.
I know I was wrong.
But hey,
              I'm not sorry.

I started out young,
And dumb--
Blinded by These Bright Lights.

My last tumble down the rabbit hole:
I swore; Never Again
But You came,
And I broke.

I met you and Alice pushed me down,
                                                           down,
                                                           ­  Down,
                                                           ­    down.

I was the Mad hatter;
But I didn't notice.
Blinded by These Bright Lights.
You Left.

Alice awakens me from my dream
And I'm left sorry--
Sorry,
For the things I haven't seen.

Watching
watching over the world
  with an icy blue gaze
   raking it through and through

When I'm not Writing
I'm Dying.
And lately You don't Care.

Hey.
You    
          Here?
                                                ­                                                                 ­   Yes.
Do you ever miss
          Who I
     Used to be?
                                                             ­           I have to accept who you are
                                                             ­                        Regardless.
You didn't answer
       My question.
                                                       ­                              I don't miss anything.
Ok.

I miss
          Who
    I used
To be.