This rain is cold and it just started to pour but I must brave it
I look in the back seat for some sort of protection

     I can't help but grin as I uncover a large dark blue umbrella.

I step out of the warmth of my car and start the trek across campus.

this umbrella is an old one
I remember this umbrella at the bus stop in elementary school.

                                                               ­     I stare at my feet as I walk
                                                            ­        left
                                                    ­                                                   right
                                                           ­          left
                                                                ­                                       right
                                                           ­                                        and suddenly I am back in elementary school
                                                                ­                                                                 ­    at the bus stop in the rain
                                                                ­         with an umbrella big enough to shelter me and all my friends

                                                     on days when it rained bad mom would let me use her big blue umbrella
                                                        ­                                                                 ­   it always made me think of her

                                                            ­                                         think of my mom at work safe from the rain
                                                            ­                                                    think of her coming home after school
                                                                ­                                    making her first drink and going to her room

                                                           ­     she did so much just for us to get by
                                                              ­      I always knew the little things
                                                          ­                  like giving me her umbrella
                                                        ­        were all she could manage

                                                         ­         I step in a particularly deep puddle

and now I am a college student again
thinking of my mom at home safe from the rain
while I scurry across campus in the middle of the night

back then she couldn't handle much more than an umbrella and a kiss on the head

when you're depressed everything is overwhelming you know?

Now I'm the depressed one, and nothing in the world sounds better then my mom giving me her umbrella and dropping a kiss on my head.....

You say,
No.
I can tell you want to say,
Yes.

But your the Good Boy,
and I'm just the *****
from down The Street.

You said You Loved
Me.
You said You Saw
Me.

But once again Your not Man
enough to stay with Me
in front of Your "Friends".

So now I'm
Alone.
And your in a
Group.

And I have to spread My Legs
Just to get noticed,
But not once has anyone seen me cry.

I hear whispered words of defeat
      in a voice made of
         Whiskey
             and
         Blunt Smoke
The voice slurs it's words together into
    an unbroken chain of pessimism
Slowly these chains
    that have been conjured from
       thin air
    start to curl around my legs locking them in place
As the voice slows down and becomes
    more concise
        my bindings rise up
Now you see me,
     wrapped head-to-toe
          not moving
I am surrounded by my own doubts,
     Weighted down with my own
     choices
I open my mouth,
    Intending to use my Words
       like Blades
    and cut through these chains
when I realize the voice is my own
    and I am trapped in a cage of
       my own devising

These four walls stand guard on all sides,
yet I can still hear the screaming coming from the outside
So my guards take a step closer,
Closer
But that’s even worse
because I can still hear every ones voices,
I just can’t run
But my army, sensing my distress,
are still determined to protect;
So they take one more step inward
and now I can touch all four at the same time.
I swear the air is thicker
I swear my heart is cracking
And my guards eager to help come closer
Closer
And now I’m suffocating
I’m gasping for breath
They come closer
Closer
And now I’m on the floor curled into a ball
I cant breath
My body is crumbling under the pressure
And now it all fades to black….

Who would've thought that
You are still held responsible
For the way you behave
In times of great sorrow

Who would have thought that
The death of a great man
Would also bring about
The death of two great friendships

Boy did I **** up....




                                                      ­                         Oh man I ****** up


                Regret is a living breathing thing
                
No one told me I was doing wrong
Not even when I got so bad they all left

                                         And now that they are gone, now that they have left me here,
                           Now I just think of how much a summer of grief can lead to a lifetime of regret

Falling fast
Hoping this sinking feeling doesn't last
Longing for your arms
Remembering his sweet charm
And his lips on my ear,
"You don't know anyone here,
Let me show you around"
Those that say the sweetest turn out to be hounds,
Have no idea.

The fact that I can't get you out of my head aside,
     I think You just wanted to be in love
          And all I wanted was the physical side,
               I just wanted a no strings attached benifriend.

Of course you complicate things with "love"

                                And of course I try to fool myself with ***...

Met the Devil at the Crossroads
   And talked all night
I told him my troubles
    And he said he would make it right

"The stress and the worry,
      I can make it all fade"

"All I would need is your soul,
     Just this one small trade."

I heard what he offered
     And the dark things he whispered

The things we did,
Will always remain a secret.

Don't let the fact,
That we did it in the first place,
Give you a big head.

You see I'm desperate,
And you were available,
And that probably make me a *****.

But hey....
Maybe I am.

Maybe I should stop,
Denying my nature,
And accept that I am no better,

Then the ******* the corner,
With the sad eyes,
And the smeared lipstick.

If your sure,
We can take the next step.
But if we fall apart in the process,
Remember me always,
As the person I was,
In the beginning,
Not the Monster Waiting
at
                                The End.

My heart screams at me
     "DON'T LET LIFE PASS YOU BY!"
but my battered soul sits huddled in the corner
      telling me that I don't deserve
love
                                       or happiness
that these things that give me hope
will end up being a mistake
that will lead to even more pain in my life

But I'm tired of being scared
      and denying myself
           all of the good things in life

So I'm jumping into this
      with my eyes open
           and hoping I can survive this one

many years ago
someone told me
that I would need
to deal with
my problems..

so I developed routines,
and rituals,
habits if you will,
that calmed me.

and now the chief things
that made me happy
when all I want to do is scream
are moving across the continent

and the people who told me
to calm down in the first place
are too lost to help me
find a new solace.

so where does that leave me?
but alone,
and crazier then ever...

Whether it was the right decision or not,
           I have based my entire life on hope

I know that it is better to depend upon it,
           then not to have it at all.

I also know that if I learned anything from my mistakes,
            it would be that you must have hope.

The minute you forget about it,
          is the minute you condemn yourself.

You are so much more then your current situation,
          and you must always remember to carry your
                                                                                                 hope
like a beacon to safe harbors.

I would like to introduce you to
this little thing called
no.

I understand that you've forgotten
how to say that word,
but I feel it's time to relearn it.

We always promised that
we would never be the "yes" girls
that a chase is what boys want
but you've forgotten

Now I'm the one taking you
for those "tests"
and your the one regretting
all of these decisions

I wait quietly
For the moment
When I am finally by
     Myself
And am able
To release this
     Monster

From the confines of
     Society
And myself

When I am finally able
To let flow
This beautiful
     Crimson
Release

When I can complete
The pattern
     Of  Scars

To match my insides
To match my
     Heart
And my sick twisted
     Mind

So the artist
That expresses herself
With a
     Blade
Continues to
     Create
          Art from flesh
     Peace from pain

I reach for the stars
          and try to be unique
     I want to achieve the fame
               and honor I deserve
          I hope and pray
                    that someone will notice me
          I wish
               for a good future
     I think
          I'm not good enough
I live life
     in constant waiting
                        for something that will never happen

for a year,
I have learned to accept
new additions,
to my family.

I have learned to appreciate
Mom, my life, and you.

You have taught me,
diplomacy,
in the face of Mom's hormones.

You have helped me,
learn to be happier,
and to not let myself sink.

You have made me laugh,
at nothing.

As far as Step Dad's go,
I never thought I would have one.
(Well one that I could call "dad"
anyway.)

But I figure,
your pretty much,
the winning lotto ticket,
in the step-dad lottery.

I Love You Dad....

Is it bad,
   that no matter
     how hard I try
       to forget you,
         You are still
            in the back of
          my mind,
       while he's in front
    of me, and I say
things I don't mean?

A friend asked me how I always managed to stay so happy
                    And my immediate thought was 'they think I'm happy?'

So I start to think how I can be so depressed
               Yet appear so happy
While pondering this misconception
           My thoughts stumble and stutter to a stop
                                         I seem to have a road block in my mind
                                urging me to turn around and never look back
                      So obviously I surge forward and find
            A wall that I have built in my head that is clearly labeled
"THINGS TO PRETEND AREN'T HAPPENING: BEWARE"
       This strikes my interest even more.

So I step forward....

As soon as I near the wall it starts to rumble and shake
I reach forward and lay a hand on the wall
                           The stones
                                   start
                                               to
                              fall
                         And the sturdy wall
                         Starts
                                                   to
                           Crumble

and the memories surge forward
A tidal wave of suppressed stress, and pain

Is this what it's like to drown?

How much of my life don't I remember?
How much of those forgotten things can I actually handle?

Is this what it's like to drown?

These memories range from minor to major
And I have no time to sort through them
As they continue to assault me
I can't breathe

Is this what it's like to drown?

I hear a voice say 'hey are you okay? You don't have to answer me.'

I look at my friend who asked such a simple question
      and received such a complex response
             and manage to gasp out

'This is what it's like to drown'

I look Up at you,
     We're laughing and smiling
and suddenly you lean
                                               Down,
       [and cage me In]
                                My Back
                Against the Wall
You,
Against my Front

                Your hands are everywhere
     Your mouth is keeping me alive

I'm Surrounded

     We're not even inside yet
but I understand the impatience of your hands at my hips.
     by the time we make it to the door,
I've managed to
     leave
                      a
          bread
                   ­            trail
        of
                     clothing
                                            behind
     ­               us
and your mouth has managed to
             find
          a
                        trail
                  ­leading
       lower
                           and
                                       lower
                on
                               my
                                             body
There's a speed bump
    at my collar bone
          so you stop for a moment
At this point my mind,
     refuses to focus,
          all I know is you:
       Your mouth,
                          skin,
                          ­    hair,
                                   hands.
I can't get enough of You.
       You can't get enough of Me.
I feel
      Devoured
You say
      Love
And We
           *Crash

Kid you make me,
        absolutely crazy sometimes....
              (and that's not always a bad thing)
Kid you make me,
        wish I were dead sometimes.....
Kid you make me,
       so happy I feel like I'm floating.......
Kid you make me,
       acutely aware of how far my morals have slipped.....
                 (in fact you help them slip further)
Kid you make me,
       so many conflicting emotions,
              that I don't know what to do.
                     My friends tell me to get rid of you,
               but I'm not so sure that I could survive....
       But I have to decide whether
the good things you make me,
                                          are worth all the bad.....

When human beings were created
I wonder how emotions came into play

did our mysterious origins start
with a group of soulless people killing each other?

when did our happiness become a factor?
who was the first one to 'love'?

who in their right mind thought that relationships were a good thing?
who decided that caring for ones family was what should happen?

as the time ticks on and I learn to laugh at the cruelty of emotion
I also come to understand that

being able to love is both a
gift
    and a
curse
that we must deal with everyday

my face reflected,
in the blue depths of his eyes.
falling into him...

you say "hello"
                                                                   I say "goodbye"
                    at least that's how the lyrics go
                                                                   but really I just always said "yes"
and you always laughed
                    and then walked all over me
but "good girls like bad guys"
                               so goes the song
                                                                    and really aren't all my relationships
                                                                                 just bad pop songs?

Breath in,
     Breath out,
          and push It all down
Keep moving and never stop
Make it through this day
     just to start it all over the next.
The Cycle goes on and on,
     and nothing ever gets better....

Because the problem with living for tomorrow is,
that you never remember today.
When you let your only goal be to
                                         'just make it through'
You miss a lot.
                     You Lose a lot
People, places, and things all drift away today
      and all I see is that 'Happier Tomorrow'

Curled up in an old quilt,
Staring intently at the ceiling
As if it holds the answers to sleep.

Rolling and turning,
Becoming ensnared in your blanket,
In your protection from the cold.

Toss the thing off in protest and punishment
Wait as the chill sets in
Forgive the blanket (it doesn’t know any better).

Start counting sheep
Everyone says it works
You quickly find out it doesn’t.

Your back to staring at the ceiling
And begging for sleep to grace your presence
Asking for the peace of Slumber.

Religion
is a private experience.
I will be the first to admit
that we all do it differently,
which is why it increases
the emotions involved with
Politics
that shouldn't be this serious
I will acknowledge that
these laws affect my future
but I would rather not have
an opinion on my fate
if it meant saving this
Broken Family
from your hidden tempermant,
that I know is not this bad
you just aren't feeling well
and don't know how to cope with
the pain of your cancerous burdens

But when do we stop making excuses
for your morning ritual of coffee,
fox news, the tears of my family,
and the lost love of a generation.

Sensing a Curious Melting in the Region of My Heart,
     I pause, and evaluate my circumstances.
You are the opposite of who I imagined this happening with,
     You are not the Nerd who I always envisioned.
Instead you are strong, and not Nerdy at all.

"this melting could just be heart burn"
       The side of me that is on constant guard whispers

but the other side of me, the side that desires nothing more then to be   held...
                it, well it SCREAMS "its love!!!"

and despite my better judgment, hope is inserted into my mind....

There once was a girl who
Had an insecurity complex
The size  



                          Of the Grand Canyon


She lived with these feelings
         And feigned confidence when she could
But sometimes
                          Well sometimes
                                                      She just couldn't
Sometimes she couldn't stop the thoughts

That everything was her fault

That she could've done something more

That she could fix the world

Which sometimes made it all worse

playing Hard To Get
     get's Him Hard.
          But I liked Him
               BECAUSE,
                    He didn't play games,
               Or maybe I liked Him
          because I KNEW he was going
     to turn out to be The Same
as everyone else.
     I should have known better.
          I shouldn't have given Faith,
                that I knew would undoubtedly,
          be flaunted and returned to me,
     without any Respect
for my Jest of a Heart.

The Prelude begins with:

The vibrations,
     Of a cell phone alarm put on snooze.
          Creating a slow start.
The buzz,
     Of a hair dryer.
          Making me speed up.
The deep thump,
     Of feet .
          The accompanying cadence,
               Of creaky floors.
The reeds squeaking,
     Of my bed,
          and the door.
The cymbals slap-slap,
     Of feet
         hitting the floor.

And now the song get’s going with:

The roar,
     Of students on the way to class.
The bright melody,
     Of laughter.
The slow harmony,
     Of inside jokes.
The percussion,
     Of pencils tapping
          and pages turning.
The brass line,
     Of teacher’s voices.
The bass drum,
     Of snores
          In math class.

Now for variations on the theme:

The triple forte,
     Of lunch,
          And final bells.
The frenzied trills,
     Of finishing homework.
The rushed bridge,
     Of practices,
          With the same melody.

And finally the finale:

The decrescendo,
     Of the ride home.
The ritardando,
     Of the walk inside.
The final burst,
     Of sound
          As the day is retold.
The squeak,
     Of the bed
          As I lay down.
The yell,
     Of good night.
The cut-off,
     Of my eyes finally closing.

I fall asleep at the zoo,
        and wake up on the other side of the glass.
All of the snake-like eyes staring at me through my translucent shield demand a show,
         and even though I've performed my entire life,
this pane of glass separating us makes it so much more real.

It's as if I can feel the weight of their penetrating gazes,
        I can see the glass start to crack under the pressure,
            I can feel myself start to forget the words
                 I misstep, and this "same old song and dance"
                        turns into "the mistake of my lifetime"

I want to do this for the rest of my life,
but how do I know that turning it into a profession
won't make it it into something I hate?

As a kid you just want to grow up
Even when the adults tell you not to
Independence and adulthood is your focus

When they warned us away from growing up
they forgot to mention a few things:

No one said being an adult would feel like drowning,
like a slow suffocation you do to yourself

You do what you have to in order to survive.

You keep breathing in the things that drown you,
because what else are you going to do with them

But with each breath you sink lower and lower.

With each breath you learn something new about yourself

With each breath you are forced to take under this water made of
               bills,                    
                   and jobs,                              
                         a lot of responility
                                   and not much sleep
                        
                    
you drown a little more

and resign your self to the slow death of adulthood

I won't tell you not to,
because I know the impulse
and I've never been one
to not practice what I preach.

Just know that I refrain,
even if I don't want to.

and know that I love you,
even if I don't show it all the time.

Know that your not alone(AVPM)
even if you couldn't feel lonlier.

Know that I've been down your road,
and that I regret the ending.

it's not too late, and you're never out of options.

don't back yourself into a corner because you feel you have to.

you are loved, and needed.
<3

being in the presence of a person who must know everything

is drastically different than being by myself,
     because I want nothing more than to obliviously exist
            to only know what I have to

I have a hard enough time processing what happened years ago

and it just amazes me that you, who has been through so much,
      who has seen and done and survived all these things I can't even imagine
              that you still ask questions. that you still don't hide from these things.

You make me feel like a coward with all of your questions

But you also make me realize that maybe
       I should start hunting my own monsters actively
            maybe I should ask more questions

and maybe the answer to your ever pressing question
of how oil and vinegar became such fast friends
is that we needed someone completely opposite
                                                        to keep ourselves afloat

I scare myself,
with how I feel.
          The fact that I still
          have these urges,
          terrifies me beyond all else.

It's an addiction.

If you've never done it,
you won't understand
but to me it's the cheapest drug.
              The only down-side
              is the regret of seeing,
              the scars later,
        but of course
        the Scars are nothing
        compared to the rush of a,

fresh cut....


And now the poem I intended to write,
as an escape from doing something
I know I shouldn't,
has turned into something,
all together different.....

heavy breathing
       and foggy windows
              this is truly a teenage romance

but when I'm with you
           I feel real
              and you really feel me

I'm not doing anything to stop you
      and you certainly lost control
                  4 items of clothing ago

truthfully I lost control
       3 items ago
               and I no longer care to think
                                                                              about any of this