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Jul 2016 · 653
We Are Human by DJ Pichler
Bailey Jul 2016
For the sleepless days, the energy-less nights,
for our day-mares, for the night-dreams,
for our nightmares, for our day-dreams,
for the sleepless nights, for the energy-less days.
We ponder why we are here.
Why do we feel what we feel?
The things that keep us up till 3 am.
The ones that make us fall asleep at 12 pm.
For our demons that tell us sweet lies,
that keep us thinking "what if?"
For the angel that tells us that everything will be ok,
for when we win out against the demon.
For when we are truly happy.
For our good days, for our bad days.
For the days where we can't tell our motive.
For the days when we don't know how to go about.
For all of this, we are human.
These are why we call ourselves human.
We over come, we bite it,
we are human.
a friend wrote this
Jul 2016 · 427
Dreams
Bailey Jul 2016
rolling,
giggling,
laughing
'til
it
hurts
.
Pet
soft
hair,
stroke
soft
cheek,
kiss
chapped
lips

White
fluffy
sighs
.
Navy
deep
cuddles
.
These
things
I
only
wan­t
with
you
.
<3
dreams
Jul 2016 · 734
I'm In Love
Bailey Jul 2016
"Why do you always walk around like you're in love, when you aren't at all?"

"I am in love.
I'm in love with the flowers I pet,
I'm in love with the smiles of the awful people in this town,
I'm in love with the sun on my neck,
the ground under my feet,
the fact that I've been alive for this long,
the fact that I could die at any second and I'd still laugh at a pun.
I'm in love with pain, because it let's me know I'm alive.
I'm in love with thrill, because it makes me feel invincible and fragile at the same time.
I'm in love with every skin cell I've ever touched.
I'm in love with the way the world changes without me.
I'm in love with the eclectic bodies I see.
I'm in love with naivety and wisdom.
I'm in love with domesticity and wilderness.
I'm so in love with my surroundings, I can't help but show it."
Jul 2016 · 659
Today
Bailey Jul 2016
I'm at the park on a beautiful, white-sunny day.
I'm with my loved ones, I see them playing in the sand.
My eyes get that lovely ache from the bright sun,
and I am warm, dry, and sleepy.
The wind tousles my hair softly,
I have dandelions in my pocket.
My head is hot and my feet are not.
I could stay this way for the rest of my days.

New bench, new scene.
Cooler wind, more green.
I smile at the leaves and yes, they smile back.
Ducks in the stream go quack quack quack.
Under my **** it says "NATE + MANDIE FOREVER".
Somewhere I wonder if they're still together.
Bailey Jun 2016
The painting hanging above me,
it embodies the soul of a child.
I painted it with my hands.
The paint dried while I wept inside
at each drop of mortal sand.
My brother had nearly died three days before,
and suddenly,
all was possible.
Nothing was safe.
But I can do anything,
and the painting
is beautiful.
I am not an artist,
I am a messenger.
And my pain is lovely to human
re-ti-nas.
So I smear it around,
I make it go bye-bye
to say hello to the world
of art and critics.
Thank you.
Jun 2016 · 2.9k
You Know What I Mean
Bailey Jun 2016
Shoe fries, JoJos
Scalloped potatoes, Mashed potatoes
Baked potatoes, Hashbrowns, Tatertots
Latkas, Potato soup, French fries, Home fries
Diced potatoes, Potato chips, Curly fries
Potato pies, Riced potatoes, Spudnuts
Potato salad, Poutine
Bailey Jun 2016
Mmm ***** little plastic pink chair
fit my tender tendencies.
Baby worm
fit on my leaf house,
made it just for you my love.
Scratch the stickers
off my shiny, scuffed shoes.
Cry fat tears at pretty things with me?
'M real good at doing it alone.
I-MAG-INE.
I-
MAG-
INE-
like I still do?
That's so fine if you don't do it too.
Fake lipstick I feel you
spreading your fake color on my lips.
And it's so much more real
than the real thing.
M-U-TED
M-
U-
TED-
colors
and me?
Yes, yes and it's good.
Don't cry for me, Outsidee,
when I see my end
I am in the beginning.
Always in me
is a different world
than you live in.
You watch me stare and pet my surroundings,
skipping or sulking.
You do not see the world?
Mhm, that's okay,
it makes me giggle and cry.
Lightly swirl your fingers
around my bellybutton, a little while?
In the fan-cooled night.
In the stick-one-leg-out night.
With taped cartoons in the back
to send me into a dreamland?
As long as you don't bring me back,
and take me away
from my mattress commercials,
I'm so good.
I'm so good.
Bailey Jun 2016
The Dispatch: "Are you still proud to be a ******* American?"
(Referring to the recent killing of Christina Grimmie and fifty other innocents.)

Me: "What???
First of all, I never said I was "proud" to be American.
Second, I don't think of myself as an American, I just see me as MYSELF.
Third, I was correcting you for being biased about ALL Americans, based on some awful Americans.
Lastly, just because I am between the Canadian and Mexican borders does not give you or anyone else the right to view me as/imply that I am similar to a sorry excuse for a human being who MURDERED someone.
You do not know anything about me, you do not know what kind of person I am. You do not know my neighbor across the street, you did not know the man that shot and killed Christina Grimmie. You do not know the next name of the person who will commit homicide in YOUR country.
Killing is, I believe, the worst crime that anyone can commit...but it happens everywhere. It doesn't matter what the statistics are, a life is a life.
Christina Grimmie was born just like you were; was a human just as you are. She was these things just as an unknown person is, somewhere else in the world who might regrettably lose their life to the hand of another.
It's true that you don't know me, so you don't know if I am or ever will be like the handful of murderers that I unfortunately share a country with. But you should not label me as such a dreadful, DREADFUL thing.
Don't be prejudice against anyone, no matter where they come from. I sincerely hope that no other people are hurt by your nasty words--especially in times of tragedy."
Bailey Jun 2016
I know that where ever you are, you're okay. I love you, good night forever.
Jun 2016 · 469
Goodbye A.R.D. (Part 3)
Bailey Jun 2016
We're separated, in a crowd.
We didn't used to be.
Glued at the hip,
fingertips
were best friends
on our hands.
That promise ring on your finger
was the best sight.
I remember I was shaking when I put it on.
You showed all of your friends.
I knew that one day I'd make you my wife.
We arrived at the gathering,
and you saw a friend
and left me for dead.
I clung to my only friend that was there,
near to tears because
this was not my thing
and the air was not there.
It was being used by the other kids,
so that they could laugh
under the cloud of
offensive songs.
You came around once,
and I had been worried about you
because this was also not your scene.
I imagined you shaking as bad as me.
Your expression shocked me.
It was fine,
even a little annoyed
that I had taken your time.
I am not important to you anymore.
The you I knew would have helped me,
stayed with me.
You left with your friend again
and I did not see you until the end,
when you looked antsy and told me we needed to go
because Diana--
your mom--
was freaking out.
I...was angry.
I said no. You could go without me.
You looked at me as if to say,
stop kidding, I don't have time for this.
I wanted to cry at myself for being mean to you
but you were being...
bratty.
Something I never would have used to describe you before.
"Fine then just give my mom directions!"
I agreed and followed you to her car,
where you promptly yelled in her face.
In all my ten years of knowing you,
you had never acted this way.
Come, calm down, be my pretty kitty again,
it's okay.

You didn't calm down.
You stomped away,
and had an angry edge to your voice
for the rest of the night.
When you left for home,
you kissed me on the cheek.
But I felt hollow.
My baby,
have you changed so much
that you don't know me anymore?
You can't come home to me anymore?
I'm so sorry.
If I did this to you
to us,
I am sorry.
I love you with a cluster of pieces
in my heart.
Goodbye, Amber RaeAnn Denny.
Love always, Bailey.
Jun 2016 · 366
Goodbye A.R.D. (Part 2)
Bailey Jun 2016
We're us, when we're secluded.
You rode home with me,
so that I could have someone there for me
when I went to that stupid party.
It was my first one.
We got to my house,
and I showed you around,
because before, I had only been to yours.
Your cute, sweet home
with the garden in the back
that we nestled into
while kissing under the sun.
You moved into a different one last year, I guess.
I undressed in front of you,
to put comfier clothes on.
You averted your eyes as if
that night
three years ago
didn't happen.
The one where
we snuck upstairs
away from the birthday party,
and caressed each other
in the blue night.
I hurriedly put the rest of my clothes on
because maybe in that moment
I forgot too.
We headed into the kitchen
where we planned to bake a cake.
You did most of the work
and I watched you
in love all over again
with your concentrated face
as you took this cake
way too seriously,
as if it were one of your drawings.
I said I'd pour that batter right on top of you,
and you objected.
I said then we could save water
(I had planned to shower),
you said:
"are you asking me to take a shower with you?"
with that face that just kills me.
I stuttered, spitted,
"N-no! I just..."
"Because" you said, going back to whisking, "all you'd have to do is ask".
My face, my everything
was hot.
Breathy objections flew out of my mouth,
just nonsense.
"You'd get in trouble,"
you laughed.
"Yeah,"
I said.
We packed up and walked over to the location.
You did not hold my hand.
I did not expect you too.
Jun 2016 · 363
Good Bye A.R.D. (Part 1)
Bailey Jun 2016
We're friends, in the light.
You hug me playfully and scruffle my hair.
Maybe a kiss on the cheek.
But then the lights go down in the house,
and we listen to the performers sing.
Our hands touch like they used to.
You poke my nose and blow raspberries on my face.
I breathe playfully into your ear, like a puppy.
And you stroke my hair as I get sleepy.
I'm more awake when we get into the fight:
"I'm gonna pick your nose!"
"No, I'm gonna get yours!"
We giggle and get hushed.
We hoot and holler toward the stage at the end of each song.
I long to touch you, to kiss those lips I kissed for two years.
I know exactly how they'd feel.
Small and smooth, never chapped like mine.
I press your glasses
up the bridge of your nose
because I know you hate that.
We are kids again.
Before our first kiss, first dance.
There are nearly ten
green glowing exit signs around us,
and I just need
to waltz with you
under them
like we used to.
You mention his name a lot,
and I shift uncomfortably
with ***** envy
just like 9th grade, right?
When you told me I didn't need one
after the kids told me about you and that guy.
I cried for days.
When the show ended,
we went to the bathroom together
and you complained about your hair.
We drifted outside, into the twilight,
and sang some songs.
One of them, which we harmonized beautifully on,
was "I can't help falling in love with you..."
and I followed you all around the front of the building,
swaying and letting some notes fly by
into the warm wind.
You do not love me like you used to.
Bailey Jun 2016
After so many times of falling,
of getting back up and trying,
I fell down again today
and couldn't help but crying.
My face was pushed into the carpet,
I held back a stream of tears but
I couldn't stop it.
My arms were so sore,
and I cried tears of anger,
for looking in the mirror in horror,
and trying hard to stay clear.
Then I got so mad,
at my body and my past,
that I pressed back up, tears and all,
and did two more---fast.
I sat on my knees when I was finished,
I finally cried but I finally did it.
I will not be unhealthy. I will do this the healthy way forever.
Bailey Jun 2016
Just so you know, I kind of
-really-
adore you
.
Jun 2016 · 1.1k
Hungry
Bailey Jun 2016
Tears stain
mother's cheeks
as she
struggles
to fill
her child's
tummy.
She skips
another meal
and
feeds,
nourishes,
protects.
She hears
the moans
and cries
her
baby
exerts.
The dark
circles under
their eyes.
So tired
of being
hungry.
Hungry.
All other
thoughts
vanish.
Hungry.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifte­en
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fi­fteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.­
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
milli­on.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
mi­llion.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen
million.
Fifteen­
million.
Fifteen
million.
Over fifteen million children go hungry. Click here to find out how you can help--at no expense to you.

http://www.childhungerendshere.com/end-child-hunger-in-the-US/

Do you usually buy Chef Boyardee, P.F. Changs, Marie Callendars, Hunts, Orville Redenbacher's, PAM, ReddiWhip, Snack Pack, Blue Bonnet, Wesson, Healthy Choice, Peter Pan, Rosarita, Van Camps, Wolf Brand Chili, ACT II, Tenessee Pride, Libby's, or Parkay? You can help!
Even if you don't buy these foods, you can repost this poem, and share the link I've provided.
I was once a hungry child, my mother skipped meals for me and--in the hardest times--stole for me. Please help these children and parents. Child hunger ends here.
Jun 2016 · 351
Dear Memories (haiku)
Bailey Jun 2016
I have to leave now
WHY ARE CHOKING ME NOW???
Jesus, let me *out
Bailey Jun 2016
His strong hands gripped me everywhere, he knew my sensitive places.
My eyes shone due to my intense obedience and humiliation.
I started to perspire in an excitable way.
My legs began to shake.
I could feel his affection through his endless kiss.
I felt intimidated.
He loved me.

I can still feel his indomitable hands around me, he knows my vulnerable spots.
My eyes glisten from my potent passiveness and embarrassment.
I break out in nervous sweats.
My legs are trembling.
I can feel his devotion in an infinite smack.
I feel terrorized.
He's attached to me.
Jun 2016 · 480
Death #2
Bailey Jun 2016
Death isn't something that happens.
It's something that has happened.
It has happened, and then it happened, and then it happened again. After I die it will have happened.
good day
Jun 2016 · 1.2k
Six and Four
Bailey Jun 2016
I was taught to add and subtract at the age of four. My twenty year old mother would sit me down on the grass while waiting for my aunt to get out of high school, and teach me my numbers on her big, scarred hands. I was five when I realized something that would change me for the rest of my life. The number six and the number four are both just one away from being a solid five.
At six years old, my classmate and I were given our daily snacks. My friend had gotten six crackers, while I got four. I asked, “may I have a *******?” She reminded me that I had already gotten my napkin-full of crackers. “But if you give me one, we will both have five.” She bugged her eyes at me.
“I wanna have more,” she said. I shook my head at her, and ate my four crackers.
I wanted to participate in my elementary school’s food drive when I was ten years old, and in fifth grade. I was motivated to make a change for families in need of canned food. When I went home and asked my mom for cans, she explained to me that the cans that my schoolmates were donating would probably end up in our pantry, because we get our food from the local foodbank. I looked up at our pantry. I saw some dusty cans in the back that hadn’t been touched, and multiple cans next to them. I then remembered when we didn’t have even one can, and thought of the families who didn’t have even one can right then. And then I thought: But we have six, and they have four...
A homeless man and I both had five the day I bought him a sandwich when I was fourteen.
My best friend had four when she was sexually abused, and I gave up one when I shoved past the school security guards and got her to the hospital at the age of fifteen.
The year I turned sixteen I figured I had six when I realized there was an unfairness at my school. I gave my fellow students one when I convinced the principal to make a change about it, after being sent to him for disturbing the class with my speech.
I gave up one of my six when I turned seventeen and wrote the inspiring story of my brother’s car crash, for all of the people with four in their broken hearts.
As long as I have six, I will continue to give one. I won’t stop until everyone has five, and the world is one big ten.
Bailey May 2016
I sit here now typing away at my beloved laptop
that I got for Christmas.
Something I never in a million years thought I would have.
I sit here because I was assigned to write.
Write about what? I'm not sure.
There wasn't a prompt,
just some Langston Hughes poem.
But I'm not thinking about that poem.
I'm thinking about other schoolwork and tomorrow
and faded memories of an old friend
leading me down a cold, black street.
I'm thinking about the burger I ate that night and
about how I'll never wake up on time at this rate.
My high school career in a nutshell I guess.
Being assigned things and half-assing them.
Then painting or writing poetry afterward
when the papers have already been turned in.
Rarely able to put myself into my assignments.
I tucked my mother in ten minutes ago and I should be asleep but
this assignment matters
even though it does not.
It does not matter to me
in it's original form
as a microscopic detail
in my big portrait of life.
Assignment-
grade-
percentage-
GPA-
graduation-
college-
gr­aduation again-
more college-
career-
money-
food-
survival-
.
Of course I have passions,
but my teachers do not see them
do not experience them
because they cannot assign me to
do what I want
express what I want
learn what I want
for a grade like
I am doing here.
So I cannot bring my passions to high school
but who cares?
All I have ever cared about
since kindergarten
when I decided not to drop out
was getting to a university.
I have dealt with
busy work and bullies
stress and standardized tests
and missing six hours, five days a week
of my life
to try and get to this place.
A place where
I wouldn't have to ask for a pink crayon
to draw an udder
on my udderless cow.
I could just go buy a pink crayon
and redraw the whole cow myself if I wanted to.
College for me was
the place where I could finally learn
information relevant to what I wanted to pursue in life.
The things that I am learning in high school
are fine I guess...
intriguing most of the time.
But I know deep down I know
that for twelve years I've just been
moseying along.
Getting average grades only so I could reach
this place
where I could be free to learn about things that obtain to me.
Where I digested information
and didn't spit it back out for a grade.
Where education is optional and
my assignments would lead me
to something more.
More.
I don't think I did this assignment right,
but this assignment doesn't matter
even though
it does.
for AP Language and Composition
Bailey May 2016
In high school, at my school
if it's a beauty race, I'm losing.

If puberty has gotten to me,
I'm ******* out of reproducing.

They own plain, pretty faces
while I do not.

Whatever, shut up
I'll just adopt.
Bailey May 2016
When I fall in love again
I want someone
who can hold my hair back
while I throw up my thoughts
and open a window so they'll fly away
and get caught in a tree
that we'll one day sit under
where they'll propose
and let me propose back
because I am a wobbly one
who likes the concept of balance
and stability.
Someone who will sleep on top of my body
and believe me when I say
I love the pressure
and the lack of oxygen
to my brain helps ease my chronic nightmares
--then wake up and be silent
because morning breath
is too much of a bully
to let my mouth say good morning.
Someone who pines for second hand embarrassment
enough to love when I
sing and dance around the grocery store
and get us kicked out
only to go across the street
for food that I'll either
barely touch or
shove in my face.
When we go to order
or pay at a place,
they'll understand that
they have to talk for me
so I don't get scared and cry.
I want someone
who'll shut up and be my muse
and let me make them
thousands of presents everyday
but also stress about Christmas and birthdays,
and I want someone who'll let me baby them
then have them turn around and
know that when I flop down like
a wanton cat
I'm getting some tummy rubs.
I want someone who'll
let me buy organic veggies
and not question me
when I sneak candy around my friends.
Someone who'll get that
I can't say 'I love you' in passing,
only when I look at them
and love bubbles over the brim of me,
and spills into their ears.
Someone who'll let me
stop the kissing
to run my tongue
across the sharp edges of their teeth,
and in the moment, let me kiss
what ever I want to kiss,
whether it be an elbow
or somewhere below.
Someone who can keep up
with my mania
and my hysteria,
who'll hide the sharp objects,
not because I'd use them,
but because they make my bones ice cold.
Someone who'll let me worry over them,
study them,
sing to them,
analyze them,
and crush on them.
Someone who'll let me lightly punch them,
and then cry sorry
cry sorry
cry sorry.
Someone who'll be interested in me,
want to know me
and
let me know them
and let me ask
a
million
questions?
When I find this someone,
I will flip my body over my soul's head
like a tee-shirt,
turn it right-side-in,
and hand it to them.
May 2016 · 318
Difference Threshold
Bailey May 2016
God, if you're out there,
give me the strength that
your fallen creation used against me
when I was just a child

I'm just a child

Make me strong enough
to pry his fingers from my brain
the next night I feel death breathe
down my neck

The next time a demon
crawls in my ear
and reminds me
of my mortality

God if you're out there
take away what I was born with

God if you're real
why did you provide me with this terror?

God if you care
please make me strong like the Healthies

I was just a child
and you were my everything
I was devoted to you
gave my life to you
for fourteen years

Now it's been three years
since I've talked to you
since I've realized,
you're not there.
Or if you are,
you must not care.

Is my mind...
too far for repair?
I don't understand
what I did to deserve this
if there is even a reason.
If you even made reasons.

If reasons are real.
If anything is real.
If you are real.
I don't know what's real.

God, if you're out there,
give me strength.
I don't mean to offend anyone, this is just my personal experience that I've had with God and my childhood insanity that may or may not creep into my upcoming adult years.
May 2016 · 805
Star Gazer
Bailey May 2016
I am a star gazer, too.
I gaze at him, in all of his starry forms.
The form that is a glint in the sky,
so far up, that no one can bring him down
while he works on what gives him another form--
the super-star.
A label that is rightful to him,
given to him because of
his shiny, ethereal words.
And lastly, and more importantly,
he is a sea star.
Being thrown around in this big, stupid ocean.
He clings to his rocks but sometimes
the waves are too rough
and a piece of him is brutally torn off,
as he has told me, happened recently.
Have no fear, Star.
Because everyone knows that sea stars regenerate quickly.
You will forever be,
floating,
shining,
growing,
Star Gazer.
A poem for a great poet, that deserves some love. All my hugs to you in your time of healing.
Bailey May 2016
I've been so healthy.
Three meals a day
keeping them down,
keeping on track.
Don't let me go back there...
don't let me go back

Yes, I'm still eating--
away at my brain.
Feeling gross and
feeling fat.
Don't let me go back there!
Don't let me go back...

I love my hair,
I love my nails,
I hate this extra weight.
I value my heart,
but not my stomach
stop thinking before it's too late!

Worry and worry
I'm counting again
every bite and
every snack..
Please!
Don't let me go back there!
don't let me go back!

I keep feeling
I'm going to puke
and that maybe
I should act--
NO!
Don't let me go back there!
Don't let me go back!

I've been exercising and
that's good.
But slow results
make me sad.
Don't let me go back there...
don't let me go back.
It's been almost 2 years and I've tried so, so hard to turn my weight into a joke like maybe I could laugh it off but... it's not working. So I started an exercise plan and it's been a week but all I can remember are the quick results I used to get from not eating and all I can think about is what I used to do and how happy I was. But I know it's not good for my health and I'm not going to start again. It's still so hard for me not to shame myself and so hard for me to accept myself because I'm scared that if I accept myself I'll let myself get so huge. I'm such a wreck.
May 2016 · 210
Strangers (10W)
Bailey May 2016
Why do I want to hug strangers all the time?
May 2016 · 467
California Family
Bailey May 2016
I just cry and cry sometimes not to be near them.
Those pictures, those old, old pictures just get to me so bad.
And I'm a sobbing mess on my bed.
My grumpy grandma Debbie.
My goofy grampa Tony.
My precious big cousin Jestin.
My baby, oh god my baby... 3 year old Conor.
My family, who helped my mother and I so much
in our rough times.
Took me in and
really really loved me.
In their little old beat up house that I love so much.
"Mermaid" tuna sandwiches made from grampa,
and sloppy joe's with plastic cheese from grandma
were delicacies.
Blowing bubbles with Jestin, digging that huge hole with Jestin, and laying on the back step with my eyes closed in the sun, were my most favorite things.
Still would be.
Thousands of miles cannot weaken
the magnetic pull that I will always feel toward them.
I will see you soon, until then I'll try to keep my eyes dry for you. I love you bunches! <3<3<3<3
May 2016 · 429
The Things I Carry
Bailey May 2016
I carry around a backpack, with the necessities.

Wooden sticks that make themselves known.
Different realities, encoded in letters.
Little metal discs that are exchangeable.
Pages of the past that are also in my brain.
A rectangle that sends my voice where ever I want it to.


I carry myself in a nervous way.

Hands close to my heart or over my stomach, holding myself together.
Shoulders forward, making myself small.
Shaky, apologetic whispers under my breath.


I carry impactful memories.

My brother's traumatized voice on April 19th.
My seventeenth birthday on April 21st.
Some embarrassing moments.
Some frightening moments.
Some good moments.


I carry titles that others give me.

Bailey
Bwee
Beeb
Bails
Martin
Miss
Ma'am
her
him
them
daughter
sister
brother
friend
******
junior
­teenager
drama queen
student 2014123
Pretty-Pretty.


I carry on.
May 2016 · 411
Quarters and Love (song)
Bailey May 2016
If I had a quarter for every single time that I held my tongue instead of speaking my mind,
then I could have a mansion.

A big ol' mansion, with shiny things inside
that I'd never touch, scared they'd break, oh I'd
have a butler who I'd feel guilty for,
making food and answering the door.
My face would be on some magazine
for gluttonous people who try to stay lean.

Would my music exist?
Would I exist?
My friends would warn me,
but I'd insist
that the money was worth it,
that my patience deserved it.

If I had a quarter for every single time that I held my tongue instead of speaking my mind,
then I could have a mansion.

A big ol' mansion, with zero friends inside
comfy bed but I'd cry every night.
No mom to sing my heart out to,
no Marie to say "be good to you".
My chef would make boring food
with no onions or peeples to chew.

Would my paintings exist?
Would I exist?
Without my mother's encouragement,
would this be it?

If I had a quarter for every single time that I held my tongue instead of speaking my mind,
then I would give them all back.

A little ol' house, with my loved ones inside
that's all I need to stay alive.
I may have been kicked while I was down,
doesn't mean that I can't stick around.
I've learned from my quiet days
that you shouldn't speak up without something to say.

So my art exists.
So my heart exists.
All my people are lovely,
I'm so thankful they love me.
And maybe now,
I will think out loud,
after all, you're listening
and I'm still around.
https://soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/quarters-and-love
May 2016 · 276
ingredients
Bailey May 2016
i
only
consist
of
nostalgia,
empathy
and
fear
May 2016 · 382
Good And Bad
Bailey May 2016
For a species that I love so much,
they just can't seem to hate enough.
But I won't quit,
I'm not a quitter--
this withered heart
will never bitter.
I'd rather live with love and pain,
than get the chance to say I'm sane.

I couldn't keep my sanity,
while studying humanity.
At least that's the excuse I make
when episodes are hard to take.

I never had, I think,
the chance--
I swear I'd blink and
sounds would swirl inside my ears.
Paranoia induced tears but
I've been watching people lately,
wondering just what is 'crazy'?

Sometimes I think it's not just me,
they too can't find reality.
But even more they waste their lives,
while I sit back and cherish  mine.
Ignore each other and poke at screens--
do they wonder what life means?
I do.
Constantly.
And maybe that is why I'm me,
and me.
May 2016 · 561
A.R.D. + B.L.A.M.
Bailey May 2016
Once upon a time, I fell in love.
I fell in love with stormy gray eyes and russet brown hair.
I remember in third grade when she got her first pair of glasses.
I remember in sixth grade when she got her first pair of *****.
And the mean kids said they were golf *****.
I fell in love with a loud, obnoxious laugh and brutal honesty.
I remember in seventh grade, we had wood shop, and I spent more time in the corner with her than I did with my "boyfriend".
I remember our inside jokes, her little notes.
I kept every single one of them.
I remember the first time I slapped her back, because she always slapped me, due to her ADHD.
I remember telling her I liked girls, to see if she was alright with it.
I thought she'd never love me like that.
I remember in eighth grade, when she told me she was jealous of my girlfriend.
I remember our first dance, under the light of a green glowing exit sign.
And our first kiss...
I remember at the school dance, my mom made me wear that dress but it looked so nice pressed against hers.
I remember telling her goodbye, lying to her because I made a promise to someone else.
But not long after, we were together again, in her stepfather's car.
I remember he hated me, very much.
I remember she didn't care, as she sneaked me to the side of the house and let me put hickeys all over her neck.
Her pillow smelled like strawberry shampoo.
I remember taking her to lunch, and giving her my grandmother's ring.
I remember carving our names into that tree.
And Lauren's birthday party, where we were closer than ever before...
I remember after that, when the girls came upstairs, her pants were on inside out and our faces were red.
I remember ninth grade, she had always been the only one who had ever fully supported me, in all my years and phases...but I said goodbye again.
Torn away by that same girl I felt obligated to, felt I owed my life to.
I remember her tears.
I remember her poems.
I kept every single one of them.
I remember dating others.
I remember missing her.
Then we came together again, it was the best time of my life.
I remember leaving again---I hate myself for that.
I remember her tears and poems.
I kept every single one of them.
I remember tenth grade, I was with him for so long, but I still missed her.
I remember nearly leaving him, when I wrote her that book...
Our love story.
It is eleventh grade, and I have always loved her.
I will always love her, mourn her, write for her.
But she will never know,
She can never know.
Because I won't be able to live if I ever break her heart again.
College is coming fast, who is to say I could give her what she wanted?
I can't chance it, I won't be selfish.
If keeping her safe is loving her from a distance, then that is what I'll do.
I know I will never love like I loved her, ever again.
What we had can never be recreated.
I will never be fully happy.
She is the one.
But possession is the opposite of love.
I will not interfere with her life again.
Not only that, but the lies I have told my friends and family over the years, about not loving her, still eat at me.
Me and my stupid pride.
I dream about her all the time, talk to her everyday.
I wish I could spend the rest of my life with her, and just be happy.
Feel protected, loved, and supported.
But I don't deserve her.
I will remember her even as I lay dying, with someone else's ring on my finger.
I'll remember those eyes, that hair, her crooked smile, her glasses, that kiss, our dresses, her tears, her laughs, her poems, her singing, that slap, our jokes, those notes, that tree, that night, that exit sign
that exit sign
that exit sign.
Once upon a time I fell in love,
and I never landed
I will never land.
, , , , , , , , , , , ,  , , , , , , , , , ,  , , , , , , , , , , , , ,   , , , , , , , , , , ,   , , , , , , , , , ,  , , , , , ,
May 2016 · 809
"DOWNLOAAD!"
Bailey May 2016
When I was six years old,
my brother slept on the couch.
And sometimes,
I would sleep beside him.

I would creep into the gray night,
and whisper scratchily toward him:
"Clyyyde!"
"Hmm?"
"...Wanna play Download?"

I had picked up the word from some adult,
and had absolutely no idea
what it meant.

But this is how it worked:
I would lay on the floor beside him,
and as soon as I said
in my deepest six-year-old voice,
"DOWNLOAAD!"
we would pretend to dream.

When we 'woke up',
we would have to tell each other about it in detail.
That way, we could have tons of dreams
in one night.

Mine were always lands made out of food.
Because I was fat.

I don't remember his.
Probably 'cause they were stupid.

I'm so glad I still have the chance to play
at least one last time.
May 2016 · 2.6k
Death
Bailey May 2016
I think it's
walking through a closed door
that was always open
one of my good days
May 2016 · 1.8k
A Beautiful Mind
Bailey May 2016
"terrified
mortified
petrified  
stupefied
by you"
---*A Beautiful Mind
This movie has given me such such relief in so many ways. I feel so much better than I have in a long while.
Bailey May 2016
Our Father, which art now on Earth, I am here today to introduce you to one of the most faultless ideas that Man has ever come up with: Public High School. I will be your personal tour guide while you experience the magic of learning just as any other student would.
To start your day, you’ll wake up at five in the morning (due to the start times that are framed and super-glued to the walls of the District Office). You should spend most of your time trying to look presentable for your schoolmates. If you’re late and forget to do something, it’s easily fixable. For instance, if you can’t find the time within those two hours to brush your teeth--no problem! Just ask every living soul and their mother if they have any gum.
When you get on the bus, choose a seat in the middle. That way you don’t risk inhaling the tobacco in the back or a friendly conversation with the bus driver. If you see a friend, talk to them really loudly and excitedly, but not next to them! Always in the seat across from them (so the other kids have to sit next to strangers).
At school, we’ll weave through the teenage islands in the hallways and walk to first period. Make sure your first period is an easy subject, because at seven a.m., you’re lucky to get the date correct.
Down this hallway we see some testosterone pumped scholars congratulating each other on which estrogen-laced student they managed to have ******* with. To the left of them you’ll notice a shunned pregnant girl. Don’t talk to her. You should always remember that in high school, it is disgraceful to reproduce after having ***, never mind what the mandatory health classes say.
We finally get to first period to sit down in our graffitied, gum littered seat, and open the textbook---whereon the most heterosexual boys have educated us on the male anatomy. Your teacher is Mr. Anderson, whom all of the children hate because of his politically incorrect and harsh comments. I realize that you created him but really, don’t try to have him fired; he’s got a tenure hanging above his head.
After three classes of lectures and forbidden whispers, it’s mid morning and lunchtime. You’re lucky you own all of the food on your green Earth because if not, you’d have to choose from five different freezer-burned, reheated dishes. Time to scrutinize your identity and decide where to sit. You’re not even a being... well the floor isn’t so bad.
After six hours of violently trying to hang on to the Quadratic Formula, and not Grace's new relationship status, you can get back onto the thoughtfully engineered school bus and involuntarily listen to the sins of the weekend before, until you get home.
Thank you for visiting a little piece of heaven on earth. You’re one day closer to college!
satire is the best
May 2016 · 308
Never, Never, Never...
Bailey May 2016
I am *****, stained, old couches
I am hot pink with skulls and crossbones
I am pure white billowing flower petals

I see clear expressions
I see mainstream dreams
I see consistency, constancy

I am muddy orange
I am sunlight
I am wet grass

I see normal
I see plain
I see unaffected, calm and collected

I can never be what I see
I have never been what I've seen

And that is why
I always cry.
my life story, in one short poem
May 2016 · 535
Leath
Bailey May 2016
Heads up heads up h
eads
up
The fear
Takes my t
akes
my
Blood away blood away b
lood
away.
Slow down slow down s
low
down
The race
Give me g
ive
me
Another day another day a
nother
day.

**Heads
Up
The
Fear
Takes
My
Blood away
Slow
Down
The
Race
Give
Me
Another day.
with Captain c:
May 2016 · 822
Coal
Bailey May 2016
black as night
staining everything he touches
filling and damaging the lungs
of that minor miner girl
who was just trying
to find the diamonds within him

but what she didn't know
was that he had only one diamond
it was the minor miner girl
and he gave her away
so now she feels poor
but someday she'll see
that she is a rarity

dear minor miner girl
I am but a jewelry cleaner
but I love you always.
May 2016 · 285
On My Way To Class
Bailey May 2016
It's a normal day and I am on my way to class.
I reach my destination but I stand very still, remembering the incident from the day before.
The door, it opens for me.
Rather, my teacher opens it for me.
He looked at me with his knowing eyes and asked,
"are you going to come in?"
I could not speak,
my throat cemented shut with guilt and shame and fear.
I look at the door,
then him,
the door,
him,
door,
him.
Then, I look at nothing.
The cement cracks and bursts as the loudest sound I have ever heard rips out of me.
A scream, no, a whistle?
It is a scream, a three second scream.
But it is not the last.
A thousand screams fill the air.
By the fifteenth scream, I can no longer hear.
Just feel them come out of me like a hundred bees,
stinging on their way out.
My mouth is stretched out so wide,
the corners bleeding
and I can feel the streams of blood run down my neck
which is bent so  far back.
And I know they won't stop soon.
Because these are all of the screams that I've held in.
For nine years
of some voices
some hallucinations
and a lot of intrusive thoughts.
When I can see again it is nighttime,
my throat and mouth and ears ******.
There is my mom, and a strange face beside me.
They lead me to a truck,
my mom is crying and hugging and kissing me.
Handing the stranger some of my clothes.
I get in the truck,
and hope for the best.
not a true story but somewhat possible someday
May 2016 · 1.9k
Memory by The Joker
Bailey May 2016
“Remembering’s dangerous. I find the past such a worrying, anxious place. 'The Past Tense,' I suppose you’d call it. Memory’s so treacherous. One moment you’re lost in a carnival of delights, with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon of puberty, all that sentimental candy-floss… the next, it leads you somewhere you don’t want to go. Somewhere dark and cold, filled with the damp ambiguous shapes of things you’d hoped were forgotten. Memories can be vile, repulsive little brutes. Like children I suppose. But can we live without them? Memories are what our reason is based upon. If we can’t face them, we deny reason itself! Although, why not? We aren’t contractually tied down to rationality! There is no sanity clause! So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there’s always madness. Madness is the emergency exit… you can just step outside, and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away… forever.”

- The Joker
May 2016 · 655
Mean
Bailey May 2016
I am a stick
floating downstream.
I was fine until they pushed me.

Now I am stuck,
stuck in the muck.
They pour water over my head,
as if I weren't crying enough already.
bullies.
Apr 2016 · 1.0k
Untitled
Bailey Apr 2016
calm down
grow up
slow down
shut up
sit down
man up
blade down
head up
stop hurting my friend
Bailey Apr 2016
You CAN'T be done with your life.
You chose to be my friend,
therefore you chose for your life to be intertwined with mine.
We're like those trees you see that were planted too close together,
so they grew into one.
If you fall,
I'll hold onto my end of our rope until I have the strength to pull you up,
or until I slip and fall too.
Love is such a finicky finding.
But once it's found,
and fits into your life,
you keep it forever.
Well,
you fit like a glove,
and as long as I don't give up, you don't.
I can promise you now that we're never giving up.
"important according to our magic sauce" --Samm
Apr 2016 · 335
Creation Conversation
Bailey Apr 2016
Universe #2: So how've you been? Anything new?
Universe #1: Yeah you know actually one of my pets, Earth, has had this life problem for a while now.
Universe #2: Dang, that always *****. How long?
Universe #1: I dunno like, maybe 3...4 billion years?
Universe #2: Aw, well that's not that long! You could try some pesticides.
Universe #1: That's the thing, I have. Disease, Free Will, Karma--nothing works! And the worst part is, it's too late..
Universe #2: What do you mean?
Universe #1: I let it go on for too long. The life went freaking crazy and started hurting Earth. She's on her last leg...
Universe #2: I'm sorry buddy. That's just how they go sometimes.
stuff I think up
https://soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/creation-conversation
Bailey Apr 2016
This one time
I watched a special on T.V.
After the News.

This boy was epileptic
And the doctors took half of his brain out.
He was perfectly fine.
Just needed to practice using both hands and eyes.

I look around this school
And I see kids
Loving
With their brains.

My head swirls around
As they let go so easily.
Forget so, so easily.

Then,
My eyes land on you.
And your brain is fine
But
There is a big red stain on the front of your shirt.

I look down,
And there's a stain
On mine too.

The thing is,
It's easy to love with your brain
Because if you lose a part of it
You're okay.

But
People like us
Don't love with our brains.
We love with our hearts.
And sometimes they get cut up.

We have some band-aids but
We're still waiting
For stitches
From that one special
Person.

Until then
Sometimes our shirts get stained.
Yours, stained for him.
Mine, stained for you.
For Samm
Bailey Apr 2016
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
beeb
Bailey Apr 2016
I know they say you're like Harley.
That's because you're ****, fun, crazy!
You're scandalous, sassy, in charge.
But
They don't think about Joker,
When they say that.
They don't say you're like the Joker's girlfriend
Sidekick
Thing.

They say you're like Harley.

You're badass and spunky and full of energy.
Daring and inspiring and loving too.
You've got such a big heart.

But you don't need to be Harley, to be like Harley.

Your role model is a great one.
Always, always be you.
Keep your idol in your heart.
But don't steal her boyfriend.

That's her man
To be mean to her
Who she pines after
Who she cries over.

Don't steal her life,
Because her life seriously *****.
You can be like Harley,
And still be you.

Being like Harley is pretty cool
Being you is the coolest.
beeb
Apr 2016 · 4.9k
I Want To Kiss You
Bailey Apr 2016
I want to kiss you.
It sometimes physically hurts not to kiss you.
I don't want to look into your eyes,
because I don't want to see the confusion in them.
I don't want to explain myself.
I just want to feel your breathing on my face as
my lips fit onto yours.
I want to slip my thumb
under the line of your jaw,
and tip your head back,
to expose your beautiful, long neck.
I want to run the tip of my nose along it
and to hear nothing but our breathing.
Sometimes I look at that face and
it's like I've been hypnotized,
my greatest desires want to come out.
I want to kiss you sweet god in another life
I would kiss you.
And then afterward,
press a soft hand to your lovely head
and wash the memory from it.
Apr 2016 · 449
Wishing (a ballade)
Bailey Apr 2016
So many tragedies surrounding me
I, in the middle of it all
I know I'm thinking selfishly
In my little bubble of pity
Crying every single night
While praying everyone be happy
Wishing things were still alright

I saw something that shouldn't be seen
Which provokes my messy scrawl
The heartbreak of my family
The pain of my sibling
I long to help out with the fight
But I'm stuck in this city
Wishing things were still alright

I'm flitting in between
Climbing and hitting a wall
Do I shake and cry and make a scene?
Do I stand up strong and keep it clean?
After seeing this sight
Do I strive to be happy or keep
Wishing things were still alright
?

Maybe I should go to sleep
Stop scrounging for a bit of light
But I know even then I'll be
Wishing things were still alright.
first ballade (not ballad)
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