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May 21 · 81
Astronauts: float beyond my view.
Lovers: Say things that are not true.
But astronauts: they meant something to you.
So for me, they do too.
May 21 · 77
To my ginger friends
How lovely is the freckle upon the fire child,
How beautiful are these sun kisses.
What a summer that transpires under blue eyes,
What virtuous hands to clasp mine in camaraderie.
To all the sparks, the red heads, the gingers, the orange licks of heat:
Continue to burn, for it is amazing to see.
I’ve known a few redheads in my time, and they truly are wild and lovely.
May 14 · 59
The birds
What a chill touch
Madame Morning has,
But what lovely chords struck by my muse: the robin, or, the effervescent chickadee!
And look, over by the birch tree,
A charcoal fox prances in dappled light,
While raven wing darts between a delicate line of sight.
What fervor portrayed in the trembling day!
What majesty!
How subtle is the music sung by broken silence,
How divine!
For within the beating chest of the Morn’ there lies a precious balance,
Between those that sleep, the precarious quiet, and-
The gentle sun, praising the awakened chickadee!
The brave amber breasted robin!
They sing for me amongst budding greens, and rest upon a window sill,
Reminding me once again:
Mine lady of the woods
has beauty wherever one may look!
I woke up this morning to bird song, a fox outside, and the sun on my face- it was so pleasant I had to write about it. You never know how much you missed birds until they leave for the winter!
When lonely, I wish for solitude
For I am alone most when with others.
The others with their wicked smiles and bloodied teeth-
The hidden malice underneath,
My friend has left for wild wolves
And I am the one to be culled.
Let me retreat to the outside,
Where silence pervades and my mind quiets.
Let me find solace in the wreckage of begotten riots
Riots against the carnivorous pack-
The midnight shadows residing in the back.
Leave me to be human in the dark
Leave me to hunt with you, though far apart.
Leave me to be alone
Let me dispel the lonely feast
Upon my tender demeanor, ever sweet
Consumed by the malicious extroverted beast.
Inspired by the mean hearted cliques found at some parties I’ve been to, and also my own experiences with feeling the most alone when surrounded by other people.
May 13 · 71
The reckless thoughts of youth:
Never shall I deny them to you.
Live life as you see prudent
But live it with me included.
May 8 · 63
Dreams are fragile
Dropped an opportunity
It shattered against my concrete reality
It wasn’t my fault- it just slipped
The wind took it
God whispered a fire, and my hands were lit
Either way
I lost this
A fragment of my dreams
The golden prospect
The road to my future- cleaned, clear, and preened
Hope is glass
And to my dismay
It falls quite fast
it cracks
Before you can blink.
Recently felt very crushed by a missed opportunity, it’s the worst when there isn’t  anything you could have done differently.
May 4 · 178
This is perseverance
I live for dandelions
That bloom between the cracks
Blinding strikes of happiness
Thriving in desecration

Have you ever seen a field of them?
Reclaiming where they may
It nary ceases to amaze
They always seem to say:

“Life continues”
If a flower can retake concrete, then I can make it through too.
May 4 · 129
Mr. Blue Eyes
Blue eyed rogue
Child of the night
Macabre actor:
Dramaturgy is your life
I am but a shadow on this wall
Curious yellow eyes reflecting light in my skull
As I watch the people dance
You at the center of them all
Amazing the sheep
With a lions roar
Yet another poem about Mr. Freeman, AKA Mr. Blue Eyes. He took me dancing one night- me his introverted and catlike Cinderella. And him, the king of beasts.
Father, thank you for the liquor
The whiskey that tastes like my absent grandfathers candy
The hottest atomic fireball
Cinnamon and sweet, liquid sunburn to make my adulthood at 17 complete
Mother says I’m not allowed to become an alcoholic
And I won’t
Her baby girl knows how to survive a teetering edge-
She taught me how by pushing me to it
I promise mom
Dad calls me lazy, selfish and jokingly a lush
But I’ve never been those things
Despite what you think
Despite the dangerous flavor of a good drink

What do you want me to say
That I don’t like it?
That I haven’t tried
Beer, gin, champagne, whiskey, bourbon, wine and *****?
That my childhood was still a childhood when I never knew where I stood
Where any moment we could’ve been homeless
Where I could’ve lost my footing?
I was never allowed to live that dream
Ah me, I’ve struggled with poverty since I was 3
But you refuse to see.

No, mother, you can stay in the fantasy
I won’t burst your bubble
But me?
I’ll take my ****** reality,
and a sublime fire whiskey
On the rocks please
May 3 · 68
Hello Mirror
Mirror self, confidante
I speak to you as if my reflection could hold up to lengthy conversation
But you’re as fragile as I am
Gleaming glass, tempered with crying
I ask you once again
What did I do, to hurt you to where I cannot make amends
Reflection, I beg you
With your tear streaked face and ****** mistakes
The dark wisps of our hair to be our rotting frames
In ever many mirror eternities
How can I fix you
Repair myself
We are but fractured parts
Of something that may have been beautiful once
But with our shattered hearts, where do we go from here?
Blue blue eyes
Glacier like, that sky grey
And I’m aware of the cliche
Of that statement
But to be truthful it was the moment I noticed their color
That I was finally in your arms and my heart rate fluttered.

Over a year of twice a week
Swaying in place and shooting a furtive gaze
Trying to be unaware
Of how heavy the weight of the air sat on my chest.
All along, never did I notice, the favored subject of so many poets;
The blue blue eyes.
“Over a year of twice a week”, for context I shared a class with this man where I would see him twice a week. Over a year of this and I ended up falling for him. This ones for you Mr. Freeman. You really do have beautiful eyes.
The fine cuts on my legs
Glisten faintly like distilled dew
Enchanted by the torture inflicted by you
Small red droplets hang off the lines
Like rain fall on spider silk
The color dark enough to remind me of things I’ve killed
Birds and squirrels and bugs too
But included are my feelings, and my past that I couldn’t let continue

The jagged yet graceful pain looks like cracks
On my fragile, human glass
Reminds me of my broken mind
Twitching, flinching, all the time
But it hurts, and it’s sublime
A grim reminder that I’m still alive

Delicate scars lace my shoulder
Thin marks bedeck my legs
Anywhere that I could decorate
Without being noticed by anyone other
Then my own regrets
Many people struggle with self harm, and now that I’ve moved on to a better state of mind I feel comfortable sharing this. A small excerpt from a larger poem written in the depths of past sadness. To anyone who relates to this: I know it seems cliche and said a thousand times before, but it will be okay. It may not be right now, or anytime soon, but it will be. You are stronger then you know, keep holding out. I know you are there and I acknowledge your struggle- you will make it. Just give yourself time.
May 3 · 76
Scorched Poems
May I finally
Share insignificant poetry?
Long years suppressed, the quiet satisfaction reading my best-
Hidden magnum opus’,
Unshared, I never dared
Expose a blackened mouth,
To peers and lost lovers, so dear, who would poke at me
For I needed to be prodded tenderly
Wounds were still sore
Poetry being gauze,
The words as burning daylight
Falling from a young tongue
Calling for applause
A strong voice has now grown
Needing no notice to be great
For I create charcoal coated prose
Despite other’s hate
Many a friend has looked down on poetry, and I found myself hesitating to write due to this. But, I write poetry for myself, and no longer care what they think.
May 2 · 127
For K.L.
Brusque and iron clad
Smile hidden within the layers of a nomad
Monumental hands, calloused, clasp Mine
Insignificant, delicate, small
And when they would twine together
My thumb would be stroked by a gentle finger
He’d hold the connection to his heart in silence
And I knew more then that grasp bound us
An excerpt from a poem written for a past lover, posted here for posterity.
Apr 30 · 282
Mine eyes heavy
Twins aching in the skull
Indeed pretty
Yet of exhaustion they are full
Quick quatrain I made when tired.
Apr 30 · 84
Sonnet to My Crow
Behold, a crow caw tears cold air,
ripping breezes to shreds tattered,
will Time **** her black bones fair?
He tries, but Her cries mattered.
Matters to whom, one can ask.
The Lady by her dim window unclear,
Using a clammy night for mask,
the docile heart, her beating, biding fear.
Ebony wings turn quietly…
Upon an evening dreary and sad,
fairest, My Crow, shrieks piercingly
and the Lady’s *****: glad.
For crow’s wails lament morbidly-
Screaming to and with the far too lonely.
My first attempt at iambic pentameter and a Shakespearian style sonnet. Written about the crow that flies by my window.

— The End —