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635 · Mar 2016
Samm, Always
Bailey Mar 2016
Happy Birthday, my bucket of sarcastic sunshine.
My sassy baby, with so much love to give.
With the biggest heart around, always weighing you down.
May your sixteenth year of life be one of the best.

When nothing is right, but nothing is particularly wrong,
There is Samm, there to care.
When you need a lipstick encased enchantress to cheer you up,
There is Samm, there to care.
When no one will laugh at your stupid jokes,
There is Samm.
When you need to compare your life to T.V. shows,
There is Samm.

When I need something better than morning coffee--
Samm, always
When I want laughter from the prettiest of comedians--
Samm, always
When I gotta cry in class--
Samm, always
When it gets so bad we need to rent an actor--
Samm, always
When loving someone is all that needs to matter--
Samm, always

Samm is more than you think
Samm is more than you know
Samm is more to me than
anyone will ever be.

Samm, always.
Happy Birthday Samm
Bailey Jun 2016
Just so you know, I kind of
-really-
adore you
.
624 · Mar 2016
Bad Puns( a haiku)
Bailey Mar 2016
I laugh to myself
Until others join in, too
I laugh forever
c:
622 · Feb 2017
Life
Bailey Feb 2017
You're the love of mine, so I urge you to leave me and make something out of yours.
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
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 Mar 2016
Today I saw a picture of me in your jacket
and my face fell down like rain
I just can't stop the racket
replaying in my brain
Thrown away
Thrown away
I'm not broken Daddy--please
Why did your love for me fade...
Nineteen days ago
I tore myself from you
Like the soft side of Velcro
Healthy enough to get a clue
Because you stopped calling me "baby"
You started to be grumpy
Didn't try to talk to me
All you did was touch me
In front of your friends like--
Like I was a prize
Which I sort of liked but
Then I realized
I became a body for you
Your way to accessorize
And now you're fine
Even when I said goodbye
My voice was shaking
Even after the news
Of you with her
Because I didn't want to hurt you
You were the boy who
Was better than the ones who bruised  me
And abused me
You used to hate the ones who used me
I don't know where your heart went
I held on so tight
But it slipped away
What didn't I do right?
I'm haunted by
The best memories of my life
I never thought you'd be added
To the faces that scare me at night
You protected  me
Scrubbed the dead skin off
'Til I was squeaky clean
And then you started making me feel *****
The worst part
Is that I feel guilty
Though you broke my heart
I'm just wilting
Like some stupid flower
You picked
Not because it was special
But because it was crying
Please leave me alone
Stop visiting me
I'm supposed to be safe at home
Please, please
I can't wait
Until the day
I stop loving you
And the things you say
Today I saw a picture of me in your jacket
And I wondered as I prayed
Why I deserve
The racket in my brain
This is about the ex love of my life.
Bailey Mar 2016
I need to fantasize, romanticize
the tragic things
before my eyes
'cause if I don't, I'll
surely fail
and then how will
I prevail?
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
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.
587 · Mar 2016
Artificial Affection
Bailey Mar 2016
With I casted star, and you as scope;
We each hold still, a child’s hope.
That surely as spring
The sky will roll back
The star will fall
And the earth will crack.
But, with truth, is the star of importance?
Or a numbered pawn,
For the softly spoken wish?
But a thought naught many,
What shall be of the star,
When it’s already fallen?
Lying in the dirt
Having already been wished upon
What love shall happen?
Nothing.
The wish granted,
The star dying.
For in the morn’,
‘Tis not my place.
The star shan't get up.
wrote this at the age of fourteen about a boy who was really a man and told me I was prettiest when I cried.
581 · May 2016
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.
, , , , , , , , , , , ,  , , , , , , , , , ,  , , , , , , , , , , , , ,   , , , , , , , , , , ,   , , , , , , , , , ,  , , , , , ,
Bailey Mar 2016
It's people in the halls wondering
what you're thinking about
then being shocked when
reading stanzas is how they really find out
It's getting 3rd when you should've gotten first place and it's
freshman year when you finally got to second base it's
wisdom and laughter and pain and disaster
it can put you in here times, before times or after
I don't just want you to be heard,
I want you to infect people with words
to permanently stain their premature brains
But how to put sense into something so dense?
Some are tasteless, lacking variety
not their faults, just the affects of society
Born in a world where creativity is judged
yeah leave that hand go hold a grudge
no
don't let them tell you you're incapable,
show them you're unbreakable
We don't let anything stop us
--sexuality, religion, race--
it's time for ambitions to take their rightful place
Keep looking up
take down their shrouds
When down here it's too loud
put your head in the clouds
We can escape corners by ripping the box off
by writing stuff that knocks Shakespeare's socks off
It's standing up in class and saying we shouldn't be in it
I knew I was wrong but I went and I did it
I remember my friends calling me crazy and wild but
I know I only did it 'cause since I was a child I
knew that one day
I'd get to speak out
And I knew if I spoke, it'd have to be loud
And if I spoke loud it'd be in front of a crowd
though crowds are what I fear most
And I never thought I'd become your host
and I'm wondering what you think of me now?
But I just want you to help me spread
to show other kids who are stuck in their heads
that contrary to what those naysayers have said--
poetry
is not dead

(here is link)
https://soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/poetry-is-not-dead
577 · Jul 2016
She Is
Bailey Jul 2016
She's the angel by my side
warming me up like
the little dusty heater
from my childhood
with the white chipped paint flying
with every gust of lukewarm air.

She's my dryer lint and cigarette ash
that fills my nose and
in one swoop
scoops me up and sends me
on my back through
waves of subtle, glittery euphoria.

She's the disney-golden violin
in all my favorite songs
and movie moments
that make me feel sleepy shimmery
and inspired
to do great things with myself
and the innocent world.

She's the wet painting that I sit and watch dry,
I can't tear my eyes away from her because
I'm so astonished that
a few primary colors
could mix to make her in
all her swirling, glossy glory.

She's the past
in fruit-loops and
cartoon terms,
clad in hot pink memories,
black sequins and early 2000's.

She's the foreseeable future that I want--
have always wanted...
out the window there's
peaches and sunshine,
leaves on the grass,
and inside there's
a shiny, silver sink with
matching dishes in the basin.

She's the hug to my need,
the soft, concerned word to my tears,
the need that I love to hug,
the tears that I pat dry with
soft, concerned words.

She's the brick bridge
on her way to beautiful chapters filled with trees and I'm
the abutment that
watches each giddy step
with happy tears
in my blurry blue eyes.

She's the missing piece I need
to fill the shard-shaped hole
in my pinky-purple-orange
stained glass prophecy,
and I hope she doesn't mind
if I want to be with her
all the time.

She's the soul,
the glowing, pulsing, electric blue and
iridescent soul
surrounded by
a lean body and
brown eyes and
bifocals and
hair colors and
makeup and
clothes.

She's the cold rain on my
hot, emotional head
and she drips down my hair
slides to my forehead,
down my nose,
mixing with my overflowing tears from
my eyes acting as mirrors
to the purple lightning before me
and
she slowly runs down my chin,
calming me down with
controlled chaos.

She is the first flower I spot,
blinding white, long petals
in the corner of my vision
when my head is hung in defeat.

She is the second flower I watch
unfurl as I lift my head to see more
stretching and waking
from the dewy grass so
I stand and see more of her
rows of her,
billowy petals reflecting the morning sun.

She is the 60th flower I see
as the others lead my line of sight
up to a patch of light,
nearly six feet tall and
she is the flower I see
when she steps out in front of the sun
to reveal a smile
so pure and child-like,
that it surely grew every blade of grass
in the field that
I sink to my knees on
as I look up
at the blooming girl before me.

She is my friend,
my family,
my muse,
my love,

my beeb,

forever.
poem for her
571 · Sep 2017
September '17
Bailey Sep 2017
"Listen with the ear of your heart"
.
Helping Others Migrate and Evolve
.
"We met with a goodbye kiss"
.
Be kind to yourself
.
Steps
.
No reason not to run
.
You messed with the hardest
.
"Pick your chin up off the floor"
.
Discouraged
.
I hope I'm pretty
.
First video
.
Coming out
.
Fairly simple
.
Soft spoken
.
I realized after I said it that it was true
.
Therapy and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
.
"Let me stop you right there"
.
My hand feels like winter
.
High on independence
.
Ink bleeds through the soft, soft paper
.
"Injustice anywhere affects justice everywhere"
.
First month of college
563 · Nov 2018
Suffering
Bailey Nov 2018
This suffering has become too much for my mind and my body to handle.

I am angry with You because You broke me before I had a chance to grow. You were supposed to be the one person in the world who made me feel
safe,
loved, and
cared for. You
manipulated me. You
used me. You
abused me. You
ruined me before I ever met those who crippled me. The worst part is that I will always love You more than anyone else in this world...and when You die I will feel forever empty.

I hate YOU because YOU knew that I was
younger and more
vulnerable and used that to
maim me. I can never enjoy my life again because of YOU. Every day of my life is
violated and
defiled by YOU in the same way YOU
tortured me in those three months. The worst part is that it has been five years and YOU are still happily living and breathing somewhere out there. I want YOU to die.

I am terrified of you because you hold all of the power and you do not and will not care about my life. You don't care if I die. You are
ruthless and
disgusting like Satan himself. You are
vile and
cruel and
apathetic. The worst part is that I see you every day and I can never hide.

i love you, but you scare me. i shake when i think about giving all of myself to you. i am alone forever in my existential thoughts that you can never enter. your touch feels wonderful...so warm and comforting. if i let myself enjoy you...you precious soul...you'll just be ripped away from me like
every
other
almost
happy
thing. the worst part is that the only way to protect me is to not let myself believe you love me. please love me.

I am desperate. Clutching on for dear life to anyone and hugging until I turn blue. I am
trembling and
peeing and
crying. I am
screaming and
bleeding and
struggling. The worst part is that nobody knows that I am a child who just wants a hand to hold.

Life is meaningless and horrible. I feel grimy and disgusting, twisting in and out of all of their scraping hands as I walk miserably
on and
on and
on.

I'm dying. I mean it--I am dying.

Someone help me.
Someone touch me.
Someone care about me.

I'm dying.
all I want is to be happy and safe
Bailey Jul 2016
I will softly pull away
In this broken beautiful mess I've made
And in the dead and quiet I will slowly fade
In this masterpiece I made

I'll burn out and slip away
And this just a part I portray
You're beautiful, can I hide in you and stay here?

Making mostly to themselves
Hush now they'll hurt you till your heart melts
They know you're lonely
And they will only break your heart
And this masterpiece will tear you apart

I'll burn out and slip away
And this just a part I portray
You're beautiful,
Can I hide in you and stay here?
https://soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/masterpiece-theatre-ii-by

for beeb
557 · Mar 2016
Siren
Bailey Mar 2016
I meet them
I assess them
I then show off
the attributes I have
that remind me of them

I fill in
for what they need
I eat
their insecurities
like candy

I seem so perfect
and then there's...
that one thing
there's always
that one thing

That reason
for which I can't stay
and I've made them stronger
given them everything

But I've left
with the most
delicious part
their hearts
My much too raw poem, inspired by Spencer
552 · May 2016
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:
550 · Mar 2016
Meaning Of Life(10 W)
Bailey Mar 2016
~the meaning of life is the life behind all meanings~
533 · Oct 2016
Nostalgia no. 1
Bailey Oct 2016
I don't think you understand how warm and beautiful orange sunlight is.
Orange sunlight pouring through dusty windows.
Dusty windows and the scent of vanilla brown sugar body lotion.
Vanilla brown sugar body lotion and pumpkin pie.
Pumpkin pie with thick whipped cream on top.
These are the magical days of autumn in California.
In the morning the grass is dewey.
In the night the air is cool.
Roses are yellow and brown at the edges.
I hope one day you'll see it too...
525 · Apr 2017
April '17
Bailey Apr 2017
New York
.
Carnegie Hall
.
I miss who I thought he was
.
I am odd and whimsical
.
Why is it right around this time--right before I'm the happiest, that I remember the ones I loved that made me cry?
.
Sad watermelons
.
Friendiversary
.
Rest in peace Sergio
.
Pushing away my birthday
.
Best friend
.
Losing my beeb
.
"May your coffin be made of one hundred year old wood that I plant tomorrow"
.
He smells like salty sweat and hair and cologne
.
Antique store heaven
.
Please don't take
.
Scuffed shoes
.
Mutt
.
Bubblegum and carmex
.
Enrolled
.
Tattoo
.
He replied, "crazy...would you like to come with me?"
.
518 · Mar 2016
Blue Jay
Bailey Mar 2016
Dip into my morning sky o' blue jay of mine. I want to awaken to your beauty. Soar into my mind when all has gone wrong. I want to imagine the sound of you tweeting.
Oh how unsheltered head, you are now limitless, but fly into my humble abode and you will fly protected, yet freely.
Fear not my love, of stormy weather. No longer shall you fly on weary wings. No longer shall you fear the hunter, no longer shall you fly from anything. Lay with me. Rest with me. My heart is your den. And if naught you take up my offer, I shan't worry- for in the morn' I will admire you again.
Bailey Feb 2017
Wouldn't I love to be hard to get, again?
The one that was so close you could almost touch her.
But no, you know my feelings for you, now.
You've known for a long time.
And now life has called us in different directions.
And the tables have been turned.
You are hard to get.
You are so close, I could almost touch you.
I sometimes forget your feelings for me.
Though I've known them for two years.
You are hanging on to me by a thread.
As you put together your broken life without me.
I watch from afar.
And I shake as I hold on desperately to the kisses that I know you'll need.
Sometime in the future.
Best friend, how are we doing this again? I'm trying to be strong for you.
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
499 · Jun 2016
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
494 · Mar 2016
Concrete Velvet Need
Bailey Mar 2016
Dazzle down my vision,
My concrete velvet need.
I am a flower,
A flower which must bleed
slow colors over
a warm, wild secret.
As my petals drain to white,
I lose the strength to fight
I submit out of
this built in, beautiful necessity
and I wonder if you'll keep it.
I wear my heart on my sleeve but these mean Moth Boys eat away at it every time.
492 · Apr 2016
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)
483 · Jun 2016
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.
482 · May 2016
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
480 · Dec 2016
Good Nights
Bailey Dec 2016
The blue light of the t.v. washes over our intertwined, blanket-clad legs.
We kiss and kiss until the kisses get pleasantly warm and tingly.
Goodness gracious, what's the title of the movie again?
All I can see is his jawline, and his beautiful blue eyes.
His floofy, messy hair.
His untrimmed, fair complexion.
God how I want him, even though I have him.
He sits there, and the t.v. screen glistens in his eyes, his long eyelashes framing the reflection.
I can't watch it, how could I, when a god is before me?
He's so handsome.
He's the definition of handsome.
He is what my grandpa meant, when he was combing my cousin's wet hair that day.
I need him.
So I kiss his cheek, and hope he feels it.
If he does, he'll turn to me with that knowing look in his eye, and he'll kiss me with such passion, it makes me want to cry and sleep.
Good nights, good nights with my prince.
I love him.
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
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.
466 · Aug 2016
Yellow Rose Colored Glasses
Bailey Aug 2016
Words daze me and spin me into that state of mind where all is fine.
Mania mania mania and not a query is made.
It's hot outside, frostbite---freezing cold sunburns.
They all thought that I was awake but I knew, just as I know.
Oh I know. This poetic infection has got me again, and as years pass...I'll see those colors appear in my memories.
They'll streak across the beautiful face that I am transfixed upon.
I know this, I know. But it feels so good!
And there are slight differences that shall give me more time:
Laughter and actions.
They are the antidote to this poetic infection.
They clear the path for my irises.
Eyes can now take in the real world,
lead it into my mind and soul.
Yes, he's a safe one.
You're a safe one for me and my short lifespan.
460 · Nov 2016
Fear: Defined
Bailey Nov 2016
"Fear is excitement without breath."
.
"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
.
"Fear is the parent of cruelty."
.
"Fear is the enemy of logic."
.
"Fear is the path to the Dark Side."
.
"Fear will keep you alive; indifference won't."
.
"Fear is never an actuality; it is either before or after the active present."
.
"Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration."
.
"Fear is a distorting mirror in which anything can appear as a caricature of itself, stretched to terrible proportions; once inflamed, the imagination pursues the craziest and most unlikely possibilities."
.
"Fear is stronger than love."
.
"Fear is not real. It is a product of thoughts you create. Do not misunderstand me. Danger is very real. But fear is a choice."
.
"Fear is met and destroyed with courage"
.
"Fear is simultaneously the ultimate form of wisdom and the ultimate form of senselessness."
.
Fritz Perls or Robert Heller
Sherlock Holmes
James Anthony Froude
Frank Sinatra
Yoda
Laurell K. Hamilton
Jiddu Krishnamurti
Frank Herbert
Stefan Zweig
2pac
Will Smith
James F. Bell
Bailey Martin (me)
460 · Mar 2018
Thick On My Mind
Bailey Mar 2018
I'm laying here looking over at you while you sleep, and I'm thinking about how absolutely precious you are, and about just how much you mean to me. How are you so sweet and lovely? So soft and caring, so wonderful to be around? Never do I find myself wanting to be away from you. You're raw honey at its finest. So pure and thick on my mind. I love you.
455 · Apr 2016
spring baby, happy baby
Bailey Apr 2016
everything smells better
everything looks better
everything tastes better
sounds better
feels better
i feel better
i get so, so sad
in the winter
but in the spring
i am born again
my senses come back to life
i only wish
i weren't mind-sick
this spring
but
it will be okay

it's always okay.
my birthday is in 3 days, wow.
452 · Aug 2016
August '16
Bailey Aug 2016
I just want to be held for the rest of my life
.
he came back
.
and I love him...more than friends...more than anything actually
.
downtown dates
.
off to Cali again
.
when my ears pop on a plane, which sounds are the real ones?
.
good morning to me
.
my baby, my baby, my baby...
.
75 and going through her rebellious stage
.
Amish dresses
.
I still can't believe that he's back
.
nearly 200 love songs
.
hot and dry, just how I like it
.
dramatic and beautiful, mustache and all
.
home again
.
this whole town is us
.
nobody finds a four leafed clover by searching for it
.
terrified
.
fridge magnets with no meaning give me stale grey flashbacks
.
and enter...fluorescent hell
.
collection of lines from August of 2016
450 · May 2016
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.
446 · Mar 2016
Small
Bailey Mar 2016
I sat in the grass, under the sun, and found a tiny bug in my hair.
It was orange with a gray **** and itsy bitsy wings.
It did not fly away when I picked it up, but it just roamed aimlessly on my hand.
What shocked me was that I couldn't feel the bug at all,
not even when it hiked over my individual finger hairs.
I watched it walk like it had a purpose,
and looked at the way my porcelain skin divided into the colors of the rainbow in the sunlight.
And then I realized, not for the first time, that the universe can't even feel me on it's hand.
442 · Jul 2016
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
438 · Mar 2016
Sweet
Bailey Mar 2016
I've met boys like you.
Sweet, so sweet.
I've met three, to be exact.
It took a year for the third
Three months for the second
Just a day for the first
To hurt me.
All three in different ways.
All three haunting me.
Part of me wonders how long it will take for you
To hurt me.
A bigger part of me doesn't want to find out.
and yet, this makes me a bad person
433 · Mar 2016
Possibilities
Bailey Mar 2016
Dream of the possible colors to splay, onto the blank canvas of future days.
Dream of the possible journeys to make, now that you’ve realized all of your mistakes.
Dream of the possible sights to see, in the world so kindly offered to thee.
a lot of old poems tonight
432 · Dec 2017
Uriah
Bailey Dec 2017
your secrets are stuck between my ears,
your worries safely nested on my shoulders

your future tears dry on my shirt, your open heart covered by my body

your protection and happiness is my daily wish.
422 · May 2016
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
417 · Aug 2016
July '16
Bailey Aug 2016
I'm an early-late bloomer
.
white golden
.
I can't live like this, I can't die as nothing
.
I wear my heart on my stained, over-stretched, hand-me-down sleeve
.
**** me for wanting to shave my face and not my legs
.
sleep is exhausting
.
pain
.
nipping-nagging-at-me-all-around-me
.
sun, excitement, fun!
.
when pretty is ugly and ugly is pretty
.
I feel light and airy when they're around
.
August is coming and I'm not ready
.
maybe hold my hand? But please don't touch my leg like that
.
maybe people die because they think they have to
.
I could wrap your voice around me and sleep in it all night long
.
premium ice cream
.
I want to go to the hundred acre woods with you
.
we weren't supposed to know this much
.
"where are you going?" "crazy."
.
why am I so in love with you?
.
unilateral
.
here we go
.
Little lines from each day (or few days apart) in July. There's no theme, just emotions.
Bailey Jun 2017
Zebras and old western movies and segregation and newspaper...
You'd like to think that I'd like to think that they are real,
But nothing is that simple.
Nothing is so fuzzy and dated and clarified.
Because he smiled as he smacked and she cried tears when she sympathized.
The world is not this or that and emotions are not happy or sad and people are not him or her.
It is not black and white or even the greyest gray.
Its saturated with colors that make me oh so dizzy and lost.
And I begged him for the answers he did not have,
And I flooded her with questions, never thinking of the consequences that came with partial responses.
I called out for peace, though the war is inside me.
Constant debates on what is wrong and what is right, but nothing
Nothing is black and white.
Times New Roman stares at me, glimmering brilliantly.
I am not two halves and they are not monsters and you are not angels.
The voices in my head are not so generous.
They would speak into crackling microphones
and tell me how unspoken language works.
They are with the times and so am I, but I am universal where nothing else is.
There are no opposites.
Nothing can help me but my refusal to accept everything as anything other than a spectrum of somethings.
Bailey Feb 2018
He'll never know the agony he caused me

He'll never know he ruined my life

He won't ever care that I want to erase me

He told me he didn't care at the time.


They're all saying that my mind doesn't count

Because my issue isn't common enough

They're all talking about it as if I

Didn't die so I'm supposed to be tough.


I missed class again today

To stop myself from coming undone

This one is dedicated to the boy who thought

That an ****** was worth ruining someone.
No amount of poetry will ever make me feel better. I am utterly helpless.
Bailey Nov 2016
Good morning to you,
my one and only love.
May the sky seem blue,
what with all the grey above.
And if you are to wish,
for my dawning kiss,
I hope you'll feel it in
the autumn's frosty hug.

Today will be a memory,
Whether mostly good or bad,
That I have with you-
So I'd rather not feel sad.
Though the trees are slowly dying,
Drifting through their winter phase,
I'm blessed that I can spend with you,
The dreary winter days.

And when spring finally arrives,
We'll stop by to say hello
To the trees now full of hives,
And the ground with melted snow.
We'll follow butterflies
To their classified luncheon,
And they'll take us by surprise
With a peaceful, flowery dungeon.
We'll sleep and play,
Trapped in this place.
A home to us,
Under Sun's face.
He'll smile at us,
Now united as one,
Laying right there-
bright there,
Under the dimming spring sun.

In summer,
Do you want to be mine?
Well sing and dance and play all the time.
We'll eat and sleep and work and live.
You'll take, I'll give, I'll take, you'll give.
A nighttime breeze feels better on two,
After baking in orange sunlight with you.
We can begin our lives-
The start of it all,
And be closer than ever,
Come next fall.
411 · Mar 2016
Synesthesia
Bailey Mar 2016
Since I was very young, I had a colorful mind.
Shapes, numbers, letters, sounds, memories
have colors
and personalities.
Triangle, 4, 7, and C are all light green,
9 is an evil wizard who turns numbers into 1 less that they want to be, while 10 is the good wizard who will make any little number a teen.
Yada yada.
My mom would say,
"Don't do it like that, just--just do the math!"
And I would say,
"Okay"
but the stories would replay in my head
still replay in my head.
"Mom, do you remember that wedding we went to?"
"Yes"
"That's orange now"
"Hmm?"
"It's been a while, so the memory turned orange"
"Ahhh, that's nice honey".
I grew up trying to figure out what I was
an alien?
an angel?
a monster?
just weird?
I now know that I have
S-Y-N-E-S-T-H-E-S-I-A
that's
black yellow yellow orange black brown red orange black white red
or
0 - - 3 0  10 8 3 0 1 8
something I have never shared before, and learned only a few months ago
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