12.5.11

Better than me
Is that what you are?
Better than me,
Is what you should be.

Your knees wobble, it’s all I see.
Your voice quivers, giving me shivers.
As I cringe,
I need you to be, better then me.

My walls are crumbled
As your words grow jumbled,
I stand there with you,
In front of the crowd.

Every noise
Seems so loud
As you face
My fear with grace.

WE are the dear
Caught in a headlight,
I feel the cold
Of the lonesome night.

I feel the sweat drip
Down my face,
I feel a disgrace
As I quicken my pace.

But i need you to see
You are better than me.

___________________­____


This is inspired by the bravery that it takes to stand infront of a crowd and show something you have created. It highlights that public speaking, at least infront of highschoolers, is a big fear and weakness of mine. It also highlights the empathy and solidarity I feel with people who feel the same way as I do when they stand up there, next to that microphone.

The wind whipped around my face,
Blowing your hair into your eyes.
The corner of your mouth curved
Into a slight smile as I grasp your hand.
Lush pine trees bow down torwards us,
As if intensely interested
In how this single moment will happen.
I tenderly take hold of your hand,
Looking into your eyes.
The world dims around me
As my fingers are intertwined with yours.
I can feel the blood flowing in you
As the world slows down.

Like a new river forging it's first steps, or a flower first taking bud, the end result is never clear.
It cuts through you. Carving out canyons, gorges, through what is you.
This thing will start to erode you, and it will create eddies. Stagnant moments of spinning in pointless circles surrounded by all the **** emotions bring. The drift wood of the heart.
Soon you will escape and see the new petals of flowers uncurling, nurtured by the Sun and the eddies you were so sure you would drown in.
These flowers will line the shore of your river. Of the canyons chiseled into the corners of your smile. The paths of this river will twine and twirl through everything. Breaking apart and spreading like the roots of a tree. Endlessly growing and flowing. Reconnecting in days. Years. Feet or miles. Only to trickle apart once more.
As all rivers must, so will this flower lined flow have rapids. Small ones. Large ones. Waterfalls too. Tossing and turning up the water in white froth. Dropping off the edge of cliffs. Falls you never though you could survive. But you will.

And eventually your flowers will die. Your river will end. In fruit, or nectar turned to honey. In dried petals on the shore. Or maybe a pond. A lake or reservoir. You will be swirling in pointless patterns again. Stuck. Hoping to finally be washed ashore. To dry off, laying on the thistles and dandy lions and cattails surrounding your lake.
You will not though. You will keep swirling and swirling and then you will come to understand that these weeds, these thistles and dandelions and cattails may not be the pretty flowers on the banks of your river, but the have beauty all their own.

And as is the nature of water. Of lakes and ponds; of flowers and trees, as is the nature of love; a new river will break free and spill from your sullen body of water. It will begin again. Carving new canyons. Following old. And it will grow new flowers on its shores.

Among them will be thistles.

My back slides down the lockers until I hit the floor. I look at the girl across the narrow hallway from me. My feet are almost touching hers. When I noticed i swiftly folded my legs in. She read the script, her voice soft and somewhat silky, matching the long light brown hair falling over her shoulders onto her chest. She continued reading, laughing as she tried to do a British accent. I smiled with her, forgetting the rest of our group was there. Lost in the beam of light floating down through the window to caress her cheek. I could see myself dating her. She is beautiful. Theres no chance I thought, yet she is talking to me, we are in a group. I blushed when I realized i had zoned out to the thought. They had said it was my turn to read. I didn’t want to try and make my tongue work, not in front of her. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the swirls in the ray of light, so gracefully lighting up her ivory skin. Maybe I like her. Its been months since I have actually liked someone. She would never though... Still I enjoyed the moment and began to read.

Through my ears, through my mind,
Buzzing music takes its time.
Slipping through, flowing by,
All of the lyrics, hanging in the sky.
Musical fog, fills my ears, fills my mind.
Cascading memories,
Changing into jumbled fears,
Filling my eyes with humble tears,
Dripping down my cold cheek.
All the words. My knees go weak.
Quiet sobs fill my ears,
Overwhelm my mind.
The dancing flames look so kind,
The touch of metal, so hot I find,
Painless burns, halting time,
And the bitter thoughts vanish so quick.
My body aches, feels sick,
My eyes shut
Until buzzing music takes its time,
through my ears and through my mind.