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.

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.

The happy worms are where the moist dirt lies.*

The happy worms are where the moist dirt lies, the moist dirt lies where the worms are happy.

The happy worms are where the moist dirt lies, the moist dirt lies where the worms are happy, and the sleepy leaves lie on top.

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.

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.

yes, yes you can look through my heart just
just let me fall asleep first
and make sure
you tiptoe your way through
don't step on
those insults I've kept
don't trip over
those names sticking out like roots
you can walk around the pity if you want
but empathy is what you're walking on
you can't get away from that
neither can I
you can sit in the compassion chairs
everyone says they're so nice
please ignore the band aids on the walls
I'm supposed to get stitches someday
at least that's what mom says
that corner labeled "self love"
please stay away from that
I've worked so ******* it
and when you leave
please keep the door unlocked
I don't have a key

That night filled with
stomach dropping
heart stopping
reality shattering fear
is no more.

Mmm, tell them
tell them he's coming home.

That boy covered by
man features,
rap-music preachers,
and anger induced tears--
is no more...

Mmm! Tell them he's coming home...

I saw that man today
climb some steps while I stood shocked.
He gave his hand a raise
and put his key in the lock.
Throughout all my days,
I never even thought
that I'd see the one where he
finally fled the flock.

So I tell them.
Tell them he's coming home.

I tell them.
Tell them he's coming home.

I saw that man today,
that's all I can say.
Just that fact alone
makes me thank God every day.
In all my heavy years!
I never thought I'd say
that I almost lost my brother,
and I wanted him to stay.

So I'll tell them.
Yes, yes, I'll always tell them.
I will tell them...

I'll tell them he's coming home.

5 am
WAKE UP
I am wasting my life, sleep, health, five days a week
6:45 am
ANXIETY HURTS MY CHEST
crap I'm late
7:30 am
WAS THAT DUE TODAY?
gotta do that after school
w--
2 pm
GOT MY TEST BACK
okay no more laziness, I'm getting stuff done at home
wh--
2:35 pm
WAKE UP IT'S YOUR STOP
so tired, so tired, so tired
3:50 pm
WAKE UP GO GET YOUR SISTER
I wasted an hour...
7 pm
wouldn't you like to write poetry instead? It's okay if you do..
10 pm
STAY AWAKE FINISH YOUR HOMEWORK
I'm going to hate myself in the morning
why--
?

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.

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 can make it home.
No I can't.
Cross the street, to the park.
Do my stuff, walk back out.
Aww, cute dog!
Walk over to pet.
"His name is Frodo".
Little girl.
"I love that name".
Pet some more.
"It's Delia's birthday".
She thinks I'm part of the party?
"That's nice".
Pet some more.
"Did you see her open her presents?"
Cute.*
"No, I'm just passing through".
Make my way, to the swings.

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.

people don't like me
I make noises when I walk
but move when I talk

"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."

i
only
consist
of
nostalgia,
empathy
and
fear

I went to write a poem but
in reality
the troubled, pure
white-hot thoughts
aren't pouring out of me

Each exhale is imagination
each inhale is a knife,
somewhere in my chest's frustration
it cut the former's life

So I lay here
with goosebumps
and creativity stirring,
trying not to fall asleep
with my mind relentlessly whirring

The poem that I meant to leave
has not been left here,
but instead swims inside of me
through innovation and fear.

When you feel uncomfortable in your own skin,
what then?

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.

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.

Kicked puppy me.
Mad, mad him.
Don't understand, misunderstand.
No yell, just mad.
I say sorry.
I say why.
Still mad.
Why?
Tears.
Still mad.
Why?
He send me away.
I sit.
Sit here me.
Sit here sad.
Cry me.
Why?

we are 1

hate 2 hate
love 2 love

3 words to say
3 is a crowd
3 a.m. date-night

you're what I live 4
you're who I write 4
what are letters 4?
a 4 letter word

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.

You're the love of mine, so I urge you to leave me and make something out of yours.

Society has people thinking they must,
people find it hard to trust,
teens build sadness until they combust,
and "perfect" is just a few flaws away...
A world so puzzling with nowhere to fit,
narrow minds thinking this is it,
cold souls and fire we spit,
and we find cons in all of our days.
Keeping one eye on the clock,
no patterns yet we hate to be shocked,
to subtle addictions we flock,
and we wonder why we're in dismay...
Adjusting for a fulfilling life,
getting ****** and kissing knives,
but we're always so surprised,
when we come to our leaving day.

What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?
We could laugh and talk about the things you'd never say
You could tell me all your secrets baby girl
You know I can keep them from the world
You say we ain't got nothing to do
I say we ain't got nothing to lose
Just say the word and we could do anything
What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?

What's your favorite thing to do on a stormy night?
We could have ourselves a nice little pillow fight
Dripping cocoa as I carry you down the stairs
Oh baby I'll let you cut my hair
You say we ain't got nothing to do
I say we ain't got nothing to lose
Just say the word and we could turn on the lights
What's your favorite thing to do on a stormy night?

What's your favorite thing to do on a sunny day?
We could stay here and relax in an orange haze
I could tell you I love you in every way
Or I could stare into your loving gaze
You say we ain't got nothing to do
I say we ain't got nothing to lose
Just say the word and I will feel okay
What's your favorite thing to do on a sunny day?

I can see commercials on a rounded screen
--of beaches and hourglasses.
I look around, but my eyes stop at certain parts
of the dim room.
The sunshine pouring through the window is ***** and beautiful.
It's just like an old photograph,
low quality and burnt orange at the edges.
It smells like cigarette ash and worn furniture and stale cat ***.
It feels like home and all I want to do is eat salt and sleep.
I know there are other rooms, I know where they are.
But this,
this living room is all I need.
Grandpa's chair looks so full even when it's empty.
His salt shaker looks so tempting...
There are holes in it where his cigarette cherry dropped off.
Everything is orange and brown and faded.
Outside that house it was a dangerous world.
But with only an unlocked door separating me from it,
I felt safe.
Let me sleep there once again,
and let him fill the chair, won't you?

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.

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.

~the meaning of life is the life behind all meanings~

“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

Hi! This is about music so scroll on if you don't care.
I'm working on my debut album, Drama Kween, and decided to share some of the mini songs that will be in between subject changes throughout the album. They'll have simple instrumentals later on, but for right now are acapella. Give 'em a listen?

To Me

it's on soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/to-me

lyrics:
"Sometimes I talk to myself, sometimes I sing to myself.
Sometimes I talk about talking and singing to myself,
sometimes I sing about singing and talking to myself.
Sometimes I talk and sing about talking and singing about singing and talking to myself (to myself)."

The Hippie Song

it's on soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/the-hippie-song

lyrics:
"No one says lice and no one says gay, but your modesty and life you better throw it away,
'cause in a world where the media
replaces scrapbooks
and hearts,
if you're livin' like a hippie they will tear you apart
if you're livin' like a hippie they will tear you apart
if I'm livin' like a hippie they will tear me apart
if I'm livin' like a hippie they will tear me apart
tear me apart
t-t-t-tear me apart!"

Goodbye

it's on soundcloud.com/iguessimbaileymartin/goodbye

lyrics:
"I'm so tired, I'm so tired.
Of feeling I have to cry.
I just wanna lay with you in my bedroom and watch the days go by.
But I'm so tired, tired of feeling shy.
And counting how many tears make up for a year.
Is this hello or goodbye?
Is this hello or goodbye?
I wanna know if this is the last time.
Is this hello or goodbye?
Well it's goodbye! Baby it's goodbye.
I was tired of the games and the pain and the lies so baby it's goodbye.
It's goodbye! Baby it's goodbye.
So I'm gonna rid you of my bedroom and get on with my life.
I'm so tired, I'm so tired.
Not gonna waste my time!
So I'm gonna rid you of my bedroom and get on with my life."