Ashley

Ashley Mar 2014

Untitled

i think a lot about how
things that happen to people make
them different, change their
ways and point of view.

i think about the boy
whose dad died in the eighth grade
from cancer. i think about
how someone who was a ****
at heart turned to words
and found himself again, found his
father in verses about aged trees
and kicking footballs so high,
they're weightless for a
little while.

i think about my former best
friend whose dad left her mom
when she was little, and it hurt
her so much that she took her fists
to friends and enemies alike. i think
about how she used a sharp tongue
to drag others down with her, to shrink
them and make her feel better about
herself; i don't blame her for that.

i think about the girl who is so
afraid she'll never meet somebody
again who will love her that she stays;
she stays with a boy who does not love her
or care enough to tell her how beautiful
she is every single day.

i think about the boy so hidden
behind weight he desperately lost
and the mountain that his superstar best
friend's voice has created
that when he finally got his spotlight,
he tattooed it across his forehead so
everyone knew that he is greater,
that he should be recognized.

i think about you and how
somewhere along the way, between
one of your best friend's tragic accident
and the year i didn't get to know you,
you gave yourself up
so unflinchingly to god and his
words
and yet you bathe in a pool of temptation
because the people surrounding you have
been all but blood since birth.

i think about myself
and how i picked myself up
and glued myself together after
three years, surrounded by debt
and a lack of the most important
thing to living, consumed by betrayal
and the death of a beloved,
drowning in you and feelings i didn't
know could be so strong,
all while encased in a bulging skin poisoned
with (self) hate and withering
with blackness.

i think about how people become who they
are, how we struggle to survive,
how we find ourselves. i think
about it so much that often i wish i could
understand every reason, every decision,
that it was okay to ask.
life is tricky, but everyone
has a cheat to make it through
each wretched level
of existence.

Ashley Mar 2014

inverse princess

i'm trying to map my way
to happiness, to reach that feeling
of euphoria, of bliss,
and not follow it up with a
"i'm never going to get this feeling back"
thought.
it's like i know there's this bundle
of energy inside of me, waiting to
be tapped into; i can feel it
sometimes, when there's something
so funny i can't breathe, and my legs
collapse at the same time my lungs
do. but even then there's this
mantra in my head, this "oh my god
do they think my laugh is horrible
i wheeze like an old lady just like
that boy told me once in the fifth grade
and it's not attractive, and it's not like i've
got a lot going for me now, not with
a hundred pounds too many
and these hideous patches of
irritated red across my whole face"
and i can't hold on to the buzz
of joy and pleasure and living;
it's like getting high for the first time
and crashing back into reality with
sickeningly crystal clear vision,
and then you feel like everything you
do is this act, this mask that weighs
twenty pounds and hurts
so much that when you take it off,
it's like crawling into yourself
and falling unconscious for the next
15 hours.
and i'm trying, i'm trying to
reach this inexhaustible
source of happiness and golden light
but it's like everyone else has found
the key to happiness and peace
and life, and i'm drowning in the middle
of the night in the moats outside the gate
because i can't ******* swim and
there's monsters coming in from
every angle. and i just
accept it, because it seems like
despite all the effort i put in, there's
this bitter ***** that's seeping through
and she's angry, she hates everything
and she wants to ruin it for
everyone else if she can, and behind
her is the little girl cowering that
wants to believe in fairy tales and
saving people and flying
and Peter Pan and God,
and she's whispering
"Look, it's right over there,
let's just fly over that wall!"
and she can't see that life
isn't that simple, you can't skip
the middle bits to get to happiness;
you don't get the laughs without tears
and the better bones without a few
breaks and stronger hearts only
come around when you've gone
through enough that you
feel it turn to dust behind your
ribs, when it first beats to life
again at the sight of the blue
eyes sitting in front of you
in english, or the shiny black hair
that swings across your desk
smelling like lavender and cigarette
smoke and you want to be okay,
you want everything to be okay
but you still can't pass the **** gate
and there's no key to be seen
so you're left hollow and
desperate, filling yourself with
anything that makes you feel,
food and music and words and jewels
and things from your past, holding
on until your knuckles are pouring
blood like a waterfall.
you get so full that all the oceans
and seas and bays and lakes
lap against the walls of you and
push while sufficiently weighing you
down and slamming you to a
stop and you're lazy and you can't
get up, can't get out of bed without 12
hours of sleep even though you're
only getting five on good nights and
you can't even get ready in the mornings
until you can clock the time left in at
10 minutes, and life is ticking around
you in milliseconds while you're
pushing through, and you can see
the light at the end of the tunnel because
you've pushed through so much already
and you're only 16 milliseconds in,
there's at least 50 more to go and that's
a whole lifetime.
and you wonder "what if that lifetime
isn't enough? what if i need 70 milliseconds
ore than 16 and i only get 23 milliseconds
for my whole life? what if i die right now,
cardiac arrest, or i step out into
a car going 180 miles-per-hour,
or i just go to sleep and don't wake up,
not even when prince charming kisses me?
what if i die before i ever get past
that golden gate? what if i never get
to bathe in the glow of that ball
of glee sitting behind those
ivy covered walls?
what do i do
if i die and never grasp
the true concept of day to day
happiness?
what if i'm like this
forever?"

Ashley Mar 2014

regrets

i've been thinking a lot about regrets lately.

i know it's because time is running out,
i know it's because i'll never see you
again. i know it's because there's
a forest fire raging green
through these tired smiles.
i know it's because those baby blues
have been drooping heavier
each day and yet no one seems to see.
i know it's because each time
i look at you, i'm paralyzed with
could-have's and maybe's.
i know it's because each time you
open your mouth, i think
"this is the last time i'll hear him
sing, talk, laugh, tell stories,
mumble and scream and be happy."
i know it's because each of those
seventeen muscles it takes to smile
at you in hopes you'll smile back
weigh a ton apiece. i know
it's because you don't know where you
want to go to college and i keep hoping
you'll end up where i want to be, even if
it means i run away should i see you there.
i know it's because i wear more perfume
every day in hopes it might send
signals to your brain and cause a
change of mind, a change of heart.
i know it's because i hear you
in every lyric and i'm poisoned by
these scenarios and worlds of paradise
i dream up in the middle of flipping a page,
writing notes, reading the same page
thirty times in a row until the words are
reduced to stains across every page.
i know it's because i watch you move
and see grace where you see bumbling,
steady feet. i know it's because i
can picture meeting you again years in the future.

i've been thinking about regrets and there
are a thousand, each one another pound
pushing me forward, as if
i can redeem myself by walking a million
miles. but my biggest is when i convinced
my heart that telling you would have
consequences that i could not bear.

My head's spinning too much to finish this. 55 days left.

Ashley Mar 2014

hanging my hopes

Little star, shines so bright,
guides us through these frozen nights.
Little star, glittering,
someday you will reign supreme.
Little star, kind and sweet,
lighting sparklers on the street.
Little star, lean and tall,
you hold us together, don't let us fall.
Little star, the bravest knight,
holding steady after every fight.
Little star, mighty and true,
you can't see how I think the world of you.
Little star, handsome and bold,
you strum so pretty with hands so cold.
Little star, destined to be great,
You gotta explode; don't be late.
Little star, do not fear strife,
for you will be larger than life.

Ashley Mar 2014

everywhere to me

these ***** white tiles,
slick with someone's hot
pink nail polish. the caress of a piano key,
the strum of the guitar resting upon your knee,
the ashes of those walls you once demolished.
these hallowed halls, laughter bouncing
across those cinder blocks. by the office
desk, i must confess,
a Cheshire smile suspended. textbooks
stained with that starry name, eyelashes clutched in the hands
of the clock. the bracelet burning against my pulse, Facebook
and those pictures by the dock.
this gym stage has ****** you in, while
the volleyball net whistles show tunes.
embedded in lined paper, explosions of blue behind
closed eyes, kneeling before the kitchen sink,
dancing at prom where, in the shadows, ghosts slink.
white trucks are soiled, and go karts too.
singing is yours - it'll have to do. in my heart of
glass, in silver bleachers where i quivered
like grass. there in cloudy days, or when the sun slants
just so, or in the buzz of my anxious phone.
i can't watch grease or hairspray ever again,
even the Bible is full of sin. church pews
moan, wailing for you. microphones plead to
be touched by kindness, and candles burn, gentle
and steady.

i see you in everything. Casper can't hold
a candle to your transparency. i see you in the white hot
part of the flame, i saw you in my first fireworks on
new year's eve. i feel you thrumming through my veins,
and i hear you in my favorite lyrics. i will
always wonder where you are, if you're okay. i hear
you in the static of the radio, in harmonies of a choir, in her
dreadfully happy face.
i can see you in everything.

Ashley Mar 2014

woes of a sixteen year old

here's the thing:

I.
i don't want to drive.
i hate it; i hate the idea of trying to reign in
this metal machine and forcing it to drag me from place to place,
choking out fumes and polluting life and being in charge
of my own destiny. i need to be able to hide behind "my mom can't
take me" as an escape clause, and you can't do that with a license.

II.
what's the point of living when there's more
seasons of teen wolf on the way, weeks worth of movies
i've never seen, millions of books that i may never
get to read, dozens of which currently reside on my own
bookshelf? if i could win the lottery tomorrow, college would be
for fun, and not for a career. i'd buy a movie theater and move it to my
new mansion, where i would hold free screenings because it's nice.
i'd watch every single thing on netflix and have a pantry designated
solely for nutella. what's the point of growing up when everything i want
is right here?

III.
in theory, new york city is the place i want to go. but i want to live
in the rich end, where the buildings and people are. the idea
of a ratty apartment -- literally -- is more than i can bear.
once, my dad killed a mouse and i cringed away from its lifeless body
inside a ziploc bag. how could i coexist with rats? leave out plates of my food
in hopes that they might not try and steal what i already had? why would i go
live in the city of dreams anyway, when my only one is to forget
about you?

IV.
look, high school is ****** enough. having to go to college in just two years?
why even bother? yes, please let me start over somewhere else
where i'll be completely out of depth and clueless all over again,
not to mention desperately lonely. sounds gloriously enchanted.
and yes, please let me waste THOUSANDS of dollars
on education for (at least) four years
despite the fact that i'm not good enough at anything i enjoy, nor
do i enjoy anything that would keep me rich and set for life. besides,
what's the point if you aren't there?

V.
is the wizarding world of harry potter hiring? can i just work there?
no? i don't know how to get a job. i don't know where to get a job.
i don't even want a job, just the paycheck, but you have to work to get paid.
i'd really like to sit around with unlimited money supplies
and go to all the concerts i want with a limo to
drive me around the world and private jets to shoot me
from country to country. unfortunately, or fortunately, i wasn't born rich.
i might have fared well with a removable silver spoon in my mouth,
but i wouldn't have become who i am now.

VI.
seriously, i know i'm young, but this prince charming and true love stuff
is nothing but lies, right? you can keep trying to fool me and trick me
into thinking otherwise, but it's unrealistic. i mean, there isn't a soul
alive who would willingly sit and watch tangled with me
or write me a love-anything. c'mon.
i'm a teenager, not the impressionable youth
you take me to be.

VII.
what the hell am i even doing here? do all teenagers feel like this?
i don't have a single talent to offer this world, or any person,
and i'm so self destructive that it's no wonder
i haven't accidentally caused the end
of everything around me. my room is a mess;
i can't be bothered to do my hair or hang up my clothes,
and i barely take care of myself.
and you want me to become an adult?
to grow up and make something of this
****** up world? i can barely keep my shoes tied.
i can't even drive yet. and i spend my days crying
over boybands and people i don't even know.

here's the thing:

VIII.
i'm selfish. i'm smart but incredibly naive. and
i know i'm disillusioned right now. i also know that it'll (hopefully)
end up alright in the end, and i'll smile at my younger self writing these
poems because younger me "didn't have a clue."
but right now, it feels like endless learning for a whole bunch of nothing.
but there is a part of me that's infinitely hopeful, or maybe infinitely
moronic. i don't know yet.
so here's looking to this generation, one full of ****** up kids
with ****** up ancestors. let's try and make the future better
and make the most of now, because it will never
come back.

Ashley Mar 2014

i'm trying not to write about you anymore

some part of me will always want you.
it's not a statement.
there is always going to be one solitary
flower in the attic of my heart, withered
but still clinging to that one ray of sunlight
peeking through the wooden slats
barring the windows from viewing life.
and this is it; this is the summary of every poem,
every single one. i can't let you go.
i can't and i don't want to and yet in less than 3 months,
i'll never see you again. and god, thinking about it empties me
and pours out every ounce of my soul, until i'm standing
in my own essence, not able to do anything but blink.
then i think about seeing you again, in some cruel twist
of fate, or maybe at satan's hand - because god knows i'm not
good enough to be blessed - and i see you again, and you're so
beautiful, so vibrant and thriving and everything i dream and hope
you become. and i look at you and i cry, and i choke on my own breath,
and i grin until my insides spill out in front of me. and as i bleed out, you're there
ten thousand feet away and you don't understand, you never could
understand. but i see you, and time freezes, and everything inside of me bursts
back to life and rushes forward, seizing me with paralyzing fear
and an intense surge of happiness that cuts me open
at the very core, so thickly that everything i locked away comes toppling
over me, until i'm weighed down with every emotion slipping off of my
fingertips. and there's a thousand different places, a million
different ways it all plays out, but you're always handsome and so very much
exactly as you are now, and all it does is make me want to crawl into a corner,
forget my name and let everything drag me below waves of memories.
no matter how i think of you, no matter where and when and if i see you
ever again, it's too much to bear. too much to think of, too much to let
sit on my shoulder filled with expectations and disillusionment.
god, even then, part of me will want all of you.
but i still won't deserve it. i still won't deserve you.
i will never rack up enough good karma to earn you.
maybe it's for the best you'll be gone. because then i won't have
to think about you. out of sight, out of mind, right?
that's my lifeboat right now. because you'll sing to me,
jokingly and like you do to everyone,
and i'll just stand there immobile. it's like walking on glass whenever
we're near, and i never know what to do. how do i joke with you
when i see you as this mountain i'll never climb, this idol that
i'm praying to on my ****** knees? out of sight,
out of mind. it'll be over soon. it has to be, or i might go insane.
i love you so much i can't breathe, and yet i've convinced myself i'm not in
love with you so many times now that surely it has to be
true by now. oh my god what will i do without you
when you're so much and you're everything and you're my entire
high school experience even though we stopped being close a long time
ago and even though maybe we never were anything serious in your eyes
i still define myself by your laughter and that ******* voice
of liquid gold how can i sit and watch you leave me here when i want to leave
too and i want to be far away and i need to get out oh my god don't leave
me here it's terrifying and lonely without a familiar face that is the only
one who i've ever related to so fully and still managed to plant myself in the opposite end of the galaxy you reside in please come back why do you have
to leave why does everyone leave
i need you don't
go
please