I write because I care and I'm often afraid
So here's to the start of an honest relationship.
Because it would be nice to have someone write you a poem. Nice, but not necessary.
Here's to freedom, independence, and breaking the rules.
Here's to loneliness, and getting through it.
Here's to learning constantly.
Today I'd like to write myself a poem.

I want to tell myself that the way my eyes glinted in the sunlight today was like fresh daffodils bursting straight out of the winter cold
that my smiles were contagious, soft, timeless, and beautiful
that my footsteps caressed the ground with all the bliss of triumphant, free happiness and well-wishing,
that brightness spread in my wake,
that I glowed.
that I made a difference.
that everything up to this point led to a fractured-but-still-beautiful-for-it picture
that every single one of my ideals is beautiful, that my yearning for the world to feel loved is seeping out my pores,
that someone cried joy to remember that people connect
that words leaped out of the page and helped someone connect

Hon, you're great how you are.
You're most beautiful when you're happy.
I like you better when you're laughing.
When you're in a bad mood, you're kind of whiny...
But thank God you're not perfect.
And thank God you don't pretend to be.
And life is hard, but it's better that way. So keep walking.
You know yourself better than you think you do.


These words could be whispered, or written, or sung
whatever helps you listen
alone never are you..you are never alone..never..are...never..alone.. ever
You are never alone.



Written May 3

The crack starts beneath my feet,
weaves down the street,
ends in a shadowed horizon
Bleak
I'm five slips away from some sort of leap
One breath per beat, beat,
beat.
Small steps. Indecisiveness surfaces from the stream. Time trickles.
The river is behind me, I want to jump backwards.
Flip. Finally. Face up, **** up, fall. Fail. Flail. Fight. Faster. Faster.
Whispers echo across rocks.
Whines like sirens

My fingertips are encased in firelight
What have these hands seen?
They dance so freely

Fright in the form of leaden limbs
at the center of a maze
I want the water to take me away


Spinning blindly. Take a risk? Make a bet?
What are the stakes?
Cracks in my bones, fatigued from falling.
What's gonna break?

Eyes are unfocused, the world is a blur, my mind is a haven.
Heaven is a trap.
There is no map.
There is no road.
There are no rivers, no streams, no rocks, no echoes, no moments to take with me as I continue to fall.
Time never stopped.
Time never started.
I never stood still.


Take what you will

I always somehow missed your passing silhouette
but I saw your eyes cry thunder,
saw your sweetly shivering pen-scratching-paper
in the cold streetlight

I never thought I could feel so disconnected
                                                                I was wrong.
                                                                ­For that and for other things. I

meant to share things. With you, with anyone I
           meant to do things that are worthwhile I
                         meant to find the things worth living for I
                                      meant to grasp the hands of the world tightly and never let go
I didn't want to be swayed,
and I'm swinging at the whim of drifting cobwebs


I found myself on the concrete again, tonight, throwing questions at the sky
The parts of myself worth keeping are atrophying, I thought
So I thought some more.


EVERYONE deserves love. I'm tired of scratching the snow waiting for an answer. I want the world to change. And it's not me, it's the rules that broke me. It's the rules that bent me into un
                     rec
og
niz                able
shapes.

So then Why, I asked. One word. Crumbled as the cold set in, and I cried in the moonlight.

That was when I thought of you and the things left unanswered. Mostly I use you as a way to think about myself. When I was with you, I stopped asking questions, I think.
I need to learn how to be alone. I need to learn how to be with people and not stop being. I'm raging so freely lately that I'm dreaming again of you and of the times I kissed you and the times I should have, but mostly of the time I left you...
No regrets, hon, no matter how much it hurts.


So.
Here, again. Alone, again. The apathy is back.
Sun on my back, moon on my back, cracks
in my skin. You win.

It's been a long time since I've looked at myself in the mirror and asked who I am
prodding a reflection to see how long it takes to change

That kind of thinking follows you- it preempts every step-
step-
I'm swallowing confusion whole. In a daily pill. A color for every feeling.

I was thinking about my circular habits when I caught myself there, again,
a black hole in the glass fragmented like..
children, transposed against war
myself, the child and the war-maker begging for peace
the harsh lines cut across valleys of wheat

cut me down, I'm begging the blackness, make fault lines out of my hate
across my body, slash my body, curl up and disappear into my body
take my body and teach me to float
I'll volunteer my soul in the name of love, lovers, loved, loving... forgiveness.
and float there in a dream that a human doesn't stand to realize any time soon, I'm sobbing for my lost dreams and stuck in my own memories, I mean --
I fool myself sometimes. Because things are harsh and harshness is perception. And connectedness comes from letting go. And ******, I've been stubborn since birth and I was stubborn when I knew God and I'm stubborn now I don't
I don't
I don't. Tell me what to do, because I'm tired of beating myself down


I once tried starving myself raw
and realized the hard way it was never an option
I miss that kind of numbness. I want to believe that the ones I want to see know how to look past skin. I'm - wanting - to float. I'm... wanting. I'm wanting in components of human nature lack lacking lacking love

I
never ever would have ever admitted
self in grounds of coffee. down the hatch, down the drain, downing levels of consciousness as days homogenize and fears are realized and
slowly drowning time
rationalized
mine
body is mine
body is dying, legs are dying, eyes are dying, drooping, dropping like flies fl-fl-fl-flying
to fly
dreams of flying
I had dreams of flying
I have dreams of flying and every day I'm dying


This is blackness reflected back. apathy.
warped cognition slides through me cold
I don't know how I got so old

Sometimes I spit into the wind just for spite.
but not quite.

Still...
lie still.
the stars are ripping out of your back, I don't want to look
your face is a mold I'm afraid of falling into
my reflection in the mirror, I'm afraid of bouncing back
toss me around
heart beating, heart attack, heart on the ground
head in the full-stream full-blown storm, heat shocks echoing through spaces
I've been lost inside, crawling around in the glass and crackling sound
pop, I've started to inflate, time's slowed now,
I'm so strewn out against the floor, endless down

I wrote a note to myself, you want to see it?
I tore myself to pieces
I spit into the wind
and ducked
out of sight

I spit into the wind just for spite

Poetry?
Yes, it's a place I like to hide in
Bury deep within myself so that when it's dark,
I have words

I have
I have to
I have to face the world
I have to face my fears
I have to face my hate
and the subjects of it
I have to leave when I want to stay
won't you follow..
I'm so hollow
sometimes
can't

the break between breaths
sharp blades of grass.
the sad softness that leaves an itch
leaves you itching when you go inside
the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you to turn back
back..
your back is turned, don't look back
you've lost your perspective
wher
e
is

you're
so
sharp
I'd like to
think about
looking through the stars and back,
for someone one day.
I'd like
t
  o
look in
to the sun one day I'd like to sh
ow my sunshin
e too one day

I thought my dreams fell, one day
I thought I found a deep chasm inside myself that could never be filled
with broken glass everywhere
broken shards, dug into my feet
If the blood couldn't fill the void what
if love


The br
eak between gasps
is free for filling now

But who am I??
yelled into the sky silence


If I could
I would
take a snapshot of the falling leaves, swept with the gust,
sideways through postcards
above rooftops
settling softly, caught between the fingers of children on a playground
another picture of leaves scattered on the ground ahead of you before you leave home
scattered on the ground beneath you as you thumb through memories,
take the hand of a loved one,
and run singing into the night
the leaves danced with you in the night

The sky is black, gray, blue, and all shades of the thoughts that I've been unsuccessfully forcing away from myself
The clouds are heavy with melancholy
It makes me think of sweat
so badly wants to
drippppp and disappear, repeat
Buildings set in stone
Buildings are stone
brick, red, sandy, dust, chalk,
my skin is drier than it's been in years

If you look carefully you can just make out
the fabric of gold stretched thin and weaving through the air
I always wanted to believe we were all connected


Somewhere there is a desert full of air
and lonesome happily a cactus sings into the air

Every new song sounds differently depending on your perspective
I always wanted to be open to new perspectives
I was told to educate myself, and write every day,
and always always be kind
I see it in reflections when people aren't looking
Water muffles your bad intentions and everyone
looks good upside down, in ripples, with nameless lights
You eyes were alight the night I wanted to find you for the first time
You could tell -
and you ran

The night followed you
I watched you in the moon for months, and I cried into the thunder
The lightning shakes me with empowerment still
always
still always - the air is constantly moving, those pieces of gold
are like strands of hair trying to find lovers


I'll wait through the rain til my bones make contact with gold
I'll wait for shocks, I need to wake up and not feel alone
You haven't answered me yet

I wish I could see you in the deeper blue
tangled in strings, caught by your favorite song
pure
I'm afraid of lies, now

You should know after all this time that I bear my feelings very easily
that I'm learning how to close myself up bit by bit
for the things that earn it
too late, after I'm hurt
I'd say you've earned it

And I'm sorry
I don't want to lose you
I'm cold from the dry beatings
low blows
numb mornings

pinpricks away from happiness and I can't feel

pinpricks
the needle
he's cold, hard, and tempting

you're cold in ways I don't understand
with panoramic views
(prime real estate)
you're silver and gold, fighting inside your skin
aren't we all?
I'm tired of humans


This place in my head -
it's the needle ready to puncture my heart
it's the bits of an iced-over creek that are still running,
waiting to pool up, freeze, and crack

the leaf that's falling waiting to be trampled

I wish I could fall away so easily

Blah!
blah bla blah bla blah blah blah blah.
writing. words. periods. trees. sunshine. thunder. weight. muscles. smiles. grass.
colors. flying colors. paintings. art.
pain put into art. feelings put into
words. communication. the beauty of connection.
The constant of change.
The pain of constant change.
The way the world lights your soul aflame.
The way the world locks you inside yourself with shame.

The million ways to say
I don't know what to say

The relief of a space to ramble to myself. and for however much it does no good it does some good. if only to fill time.
If only to forget time.

Space. the vast places we find with our eyes. I search for more eyes. I want to see something deeper, to call myself deeper, to soul search like there's no waterfalls tomorrow to jump off, close your eyes, give in and take a risk for - like there's no somebody tomorrow to close your eyes and take a risk for -
like there's no somebody you're soul searching for

Feelings. crushed by small nothings. small, insignificant nothings folded up into shapes from 80% recycled paper and re-recycled, the same old same old same old things that we never talked about


Do you like your paintings hung straight or tilted?
I like them overlapping, covering the walls, I make murals out of pieces of art because I want to be a part of something special and I'm tired of words

Dark and beautiful.
Mesmerizing, the sounds of the earth that catch you sooner.
The bugs that sing to the night because air can't be taken from them.

My brow is furrowed. I don't know why. I'm not even thinking.
The emptiness is present
which doesn't seem possible.

The emptiness is present.

Bugs are crawling up my legs. Bugs are crawling in my ears.
The night is singing.
I'd like to live with the trees tonight. I'd like to grieve
and give solemn peace to the air
with the trees tonight.
I'd breathe every breath of my soul to the trees tonight.
And for once, I'd ask the clouds to completely cover the stars
as a sort of silent reverence for the ever-beating passion reverberating
through the silently clasped hands
of me, and the trees, tonight.

This is the dangerous part. The world swings you around and slaps you. The fatigue hits my feet before I feel it in my face

It hurts, the people I've touched along the way. Everyone is so hurt. Everyone is so hurt. The hurt ones came to me for healing, and sapped my strength. Now I'm scared. Now I hide. Now it shows and I'm ugly. Or I feel like I'm ugly, and I'm ugly. Or all of that turned around, painted on the mirror in another language, screamed at you while you slept. Screamed at me while I slept.

I love. I'd like to know how to love. I'd like to think I know how to love. I'd like to continue to learn to love. I'd like to help others learn to love. I'd like to be a part of something that is wholly, beautifully, love....



... this is like kissing? I'd kiss you
I'd love you and let you go when the sounds start
when the music starts
in
sounding
waves
hitting
our
ears
the
sound
of
sleep
reac­hing
our feet, reaching the moon the moon the moon
          the
moon

This is the dangerous part. You've been conceived and nothing will ever be certain, there will be no control, there will be nothing perfect, not even the people you love.

And it will be worth it

he said what do you feel when the wind blows
eyes out like the sun, back bent straight
coffee dripping in corners like moons in the nighttime

all I want is wine and poetry,
but especially wine
I said
thinking of kissing fingertips
and fingertips in my hair
and learning how to breathe

you get rusty, with the wind
I'm rusting in the wind
Even my fingers
breaking off and becoming dust
in the wind

Catching my reflection in the mirror, I noticed that I look beautiful today.
I look like still sadness, or slight grief, or a breeze through eucalyptus trees.
I smell like the sea.

I feel like a storm, or like the shore freshly pummeled by waves.

My skin is peaches. My skin is rain. My eyes are rain.

I want it to rain so that I can cry and belong. The sadness never stops with talking.
I'm talking all the time now
tying myself into knots and hanging my brain to dry when the clouds die

I'd like to slap you.
If only anger could boil over and burn our eyes and make us all forget
I would callous over my burns and it wouldn't matter anymore
Layers of burnt skin



I'm like an orange, I think. I'm easy to peel
and easy to eat away piece by piece

I'm outside the glass box, watching you
You don't want pity, sweetie, but I pity you
I remember the days of leaving all to blue
Showing skin for want of love
Miming moments seen
on TV
on screens
in scenes
You'd give all to be seen

Walking with a stilt two paces behind sober,
shivers bared to the air and the eyes of adorers
You tug lightly for a kiss and he succumbs
before maintaining the gait
You've only put yourself out as bait
to be eaten by looks
This love that you're seeking can't be pulled in with hooks
and ***
and sadness

You're see-through
He pities you too

You don't even know me,
other than a few flowered up, brushed-off words

which is why I'll say it here

You are the modern portrait of a woman I looked up to
You hold the life that I lost two years ago
in your smile without knowing what you carry

You are every kind of beauty that I want to be

Stay classy, stay adventurous, stay happy
you have a special kind of soul, and I only know because I knew one once
she was swept away with the wind,
buried in the sea with my tears as I scattered her ash by ash...

My voice cracks when I see your pictures; it's a good thing you don't know me past the words

I want you
to be
concrete and metal shards
ripping out
from inside me

rusty with the dried blood
of the last century

one hundred years from now they'll form you into coat-hangers
when they still haven't figured out what to make of heartbreak
they'll hang you out to dry
in the sun that never rises

eternal injustice, like salt
on the wound
the pain is a distraction from the
cancer of actual problems

Actually,
we live in
the first world

which is awfully pretentious

See what I see:
the trees clinging to these orbs of light
like spiderweb shadows cast by the moon
fingers once clasped, bent now to reflect
an eternal grasp
the instant illusion of age,
of near-death

the confrontation of another kind of cold,
the distant past and future
the distance between here and the horizon

Mental snapshot taken with shivers,
the tree follows me in whispers as my shadow shortens,
zipping my skin up to hide my heartbeat,
lock it away tightly,
walk into my footsteps
and the nighttime
swallows
the reasoned stillness
.
.
My recent stillness,
I notice,
reflects back at me in the
puddles left behind the storm
and the remnants of light flicker

like stars

hearts
beat
the rhythm
of
my feet

fading into the black and soft
and safety in the age-old breath of trees

The colors dripped straight into my stomach
swirling into grey,
darker as the wind blows cold

This space is so familiar yet so different
and I'm still a stranger
or the strangest friend, to have noticed
the air tasting like nostalgia
tasting like thorns
tasting like blood

The clouds cleared but the rain
remained
the same

the same

You said my name
I wish you said my name

I turned around and swirled
with a rush of fabric and stone-cold
into the grey and took flight

I'm trying to find a path.

The one that leads to sleep and straight into my dreams.
I'm thinking that if find it, quantify it, and twist it enough, they might become reality.
I might be able to run past the nightmares and the conflicts and the insanity.

My path is indestructible and it attracts my feet.
I don't have to think
It's like the ground is moving beneath me,
like a black strip of ground is moving beneath me on repeat.
Everyone is suddenly walking on a path
Everyone is on different pieces of ground,
on their own black path
moving beneath them
so they don't have to think.
If these paths don't touch, they don't make eye contact.
They are all together physically,
but they're in their own worlds...

...Who am I kidding, we're all in our own worlds!
And here I am trying to decide which way to go when
I realize it's already been decided.
I'm moving forward on this stupid black path that never changes.
I find myself looking around at the blank walls, the blank faces,
the plugged in faces! The darting eyes avoiding contact.
There's something wrong here.
It hits me every time, full blown.

There's a reason why I avoid the gym.
I'd rather run outside and let the world
take me in.
I'd rather be able to jump if I wanna, or sing,
or say something to the people around me.
Or escape the people around me!
Find a place where I can truly be.
On my own.
So many people are afraid of being alone.

I want this generation to see, to explore, to fall
and get up
and all the things like making forts and traps and seeing
off the top of a mountain -
from outside your car ...
Guys, there are stars in some places.
I'm telling you, there are things worth seeing out there.
I'm telling you what needs to happen.
You need to get up off your seat, unplug your eyes from the screen,
and go discover for yourself where you end up one day.
**** this path of perfection, **** all the shortcuts
and technology and craziness,
this culture of disconnection is
literally
driving
people
insane!
Start asking yourself questions and you'll realize Wikipedia can't tell you everything.
Peel away from your text and you might notice a blossoming tree.
The world changes.
Daily.
It will change, daily, for the rest of your life.

And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not let it pass me by.

Let me explain.

I blend in with the crowd once you chop me into pieces.
Sometimes I'm tough, but you can pound it out of me.
Sometimes I'm mushy and I get tossed in the trash.
Sometimes I'm tasteless.
Sometimes I'm tastelessly prepared
or tastelessly presented.

I've been both fatty and lean.
I've been through thick and thin only to be chewed up
and sometimes spit out
and sometimes digested.

And I can't be fed to the vegetarians
because the people that look closer
might see the signs of suffering

s    o        p

s        t          o        p



( s  to p ........)

s
t
o
p




s  t  o   p           . . . .               a   t                  s  c r e  e

                                                           ­                                  n
                                                               ­                                     s




s    t   o    p          l   o      o    k     i         n            g           .......

.
.
.


stoplookingatscreens and go be

STOP looking at
screens and
go
be



STOP LOOKING AT SCREENS

There's a whole world of real things
to see


Go on, go



Sincerely

Butterflies and crows circling the water
Dive
headfirst, closed eyes into the ocean.
Fly.

Rest easy
my
dearest;
how I've missed you
but only the physical things
only the ****** things

I'm objectifying you
(....how rude)



I'm riding on the waves of creation
fixating on free form and relation
with Self

Life is animated now, see the things
that we missed?
Life is kissable
It tastes salty and beautiful like seafoam
and sweet like spring blossoms

I'd offer you my hand again, but
last time you drug me down
This time I'll offer you sand instead,
and castles and sunshine
and smiles.
They're free,
you should try 'em out
sometime, baby.

There's no rush.
The sun will be waiting whenever
you wanna mosey over.
The time for moping is over.
Your misery can be over,
snap
That moment is over
That second is over
Your entire lifetime up to this point
is over

What's that you said about new beginnings?
Finding new things?

Dive in, head first, eyes closed,
towards those things you're seeking.
Don't ever stop

Don't
ever
stop

dreaming.

Stepping softly makes the grass breathe
easier, I imagine

I like to touch the trees as I pass by,
the bark leaving a tingle on my fingers
I like to imagine that in my fingerprint a small spot of warmth
is absorbed into the heart of the tree
I intend for the tree to understand I mean
"Thank you"

I whisper when I'm by myself.
I imagine the wind to be full of words
of soft-spoken wanderers,
content with the slowness of
deeply breathing the world in.

I walked alone that afternoon, the middle of December
an unusually warm winter
                65 degrees, I shed my jacket with memories
of shivers
                On the playground, with the taste of slides, and foursquare, on my tongue, I
                Ran through the swings and monkey bars and laughing children, I
                Laughed into the wind, chest forward, hair flying, eyes invincible
Eyes like fire
Rain came without warning and your footsteps caught up with mine,
In rhythm with the beat of the drops
Our hearts beat in rhythm with the drops on the asphalt
                I walked alone, but you crowded my thoughts
Brother, you haunt my mind with memories of when we fought
                I’m running again, to shake off the wetness
I’m shaking off tears, I swear I’m doing my best
                It’s the only thing left I can do is to cry
                And breathe, sometimes, without knowing why
This moment is silly I’m thinking
A private moment like this, how
Invades this feeling
of sand, it’s sinking
                And I’m waist-deep, in my own wasting speeches
                And your voice is caught in between, like leeches
On my skin in the places I can’t reach
I remember orchards, and peaches, and sweetness

I am the feeling of remorse, my hands are coarse,
My throat is numb, my God, I’m done, I’m done, I’m done –
But I can’t stop
Sometimes
The walls are magnetic and they dictate my moves
Keep pulling me back and forth, back and forth,
It’s no wonder we have such problems of self-worth
and the kids these days
Have such problems with shame
                I have such problems with shame

I threw your picture out the window to stop my madness
Were you serious when you said my voice meant less?
It resounded and warped “I am meaningless”
It’s replaying now, sanding down the most vulnerable places in me-
The places I told you how to reach-
to be unrecognizable
                           I’m wondering what will happen when I can’t recognize myself
The room is shrinking
Make a decision, says the sun
Crawl away, says the moon
The stars can’t tell you what to do
Swoon
Throw a tantrum
Throw a large, heavy object into something precious
Throw away everything material
Save your memories, and your body
Jump – somewhere beautiful
Claim your stakes somewhere uncharted

Write, write, write, write, write, write something nonsensical
Write something perplexing
Something annoying
Something you can come back to in the times you need space





(Welcome)

Feel safe; this moment is whatever you make it

The storm is brewing and it's peaceful in here
There are laughs to be heard, somewhere
and it's peaceful in here
When the wind hits, it's contained
shelved books turn to tatters in my brain

musicals lyricals questioned insane
was the girl who slid down the mountain and landed in shame
at the foot of the grave of the days that made gains
at the back of her head, memories plated in fox fires and red
cheeks
creeps
cheap - you gotta be to survive, sometimes,
right? Freak?

Strum, I'll strum my fingers numb
or teach myself how
Now
The window is breaking under the pressure
A million pieces of my heart are plastered on the walls,
on the floor, in my calls
lost to the no ones I shouted to

Pillows
Things to grasp onto
Holes to tip-toe-topple into
What have you got to lose?
said the girl in the straightjacket whose
shards of hair flew past your periphery
like diamonds shattering in the moonlight

out of sight
out of sight
what is sight?
I heard a shriek-

stricken sighs
eyes
eyes
i's

Stop predicting bad things.
Blink.
Step forward or you'll sink.

The air is around us
The air is surrounding you, you're alone
The world is around me, am I home?
openness - vast, deep, incomprehensible
swallowed my stencils and connected
my pencils to paper and then

opening my mind to the stars
'thank you' spoken softly
unguided but for the shadows cast
on the ground by the clouds

ghouls glittered in the moonlight and
drifted into the cedars

Security.
Confidence, competence, common sense,
purity.

I'm caught in my own obscurity.
I'm terrified of finding the truth-
Running distraught through the
questions I've sought after,
tired of playing the sleuth

to find facts that I don't want to know.

The stage is set for the show
and I don't want to go.

The sheen, shining silver of metal
warped reflections

The unseen spider creeps
from
        corners
                     unquestioned

                 infecting
            
        thoughts


A foreign liquid fills the test tube, let's drain it
take it in shots to change the world
take in in red eyes and wrinkles and teeth


Nicotine


Smoke down the drain, emotions in the air,
creeping fears with spindly legs
down my neck
swallow the mucus
Entwine into a cobweb
Die internally several times

This is the roundabout way of discovering life
This is my roundabout way of saying I'm stubborn
and hurt, and confused
and completely fine.

Come
Let your contents drip out and mix with the paint-water
and clogged gutters and spit
come put your feet up before the flood

of times when the wind blew through
the curtains of your heavens
and song-sounded rain-washed
hard hats rusting like ravens' calls

rushed the rivers through your rocks
of granite and quartz and obsidian
and gold, under your fingernails
flaked and speckled the clouds

for shocks, the lightning stole your thoughts
the wind battered your brains
and tore your notes into colors
your keyboards and tablets and text-
message-rants with a time delay

flew off into the hurricane

The surface of the raindrop in the fading light told me,
as it fell and seeped into the soil,
that perfection is attainable,
but not physical

Through bubbles expanding,
refracting rainbows -

I see how I've glowed in perfect ways

in now, this one sphere's landing
and disappearing
pop
death is beauty beyond sight

as a child I learned to hold onto those things
(wouldn't you like to swing on a star?)
but if you touch a soap bubble you lose it
like the sight of the sunset the first time you're content with the silence

I do
feel the break of your
most true, shining, unreserved smile
coming over the horizon


No one can hold bitterness inside the
lines of their face forever
lined with memories and broken memories
and truth-be-held-for-fear-to-see
and broken backs for fear to be
and the haunting of eternity
and waking up, refuse to be
standing up, your tears are free
your soul is free

your determination
sparked at dawn revealed
to run from this damnation
hard
fast
harder
waking up your eyes without a stretch
seeing for the first time the ones that knew you best
all along inside your beaten heart repressed
now walk inside the lines of appreciation
and outside the lines of classic creation

were those moments that you spoke of once
a child
a voice
a call
here suddenly aside the spot you left behind
with nowhere to hide
nowhere to hide
you don't want to
hide

you're here for the ride.
Your face shines of joy.
The wall was inside but before
you died behind it
you said "Yes" for the first time in years

You don't need to hide, there's still brightness
inside where you left it, still held
for release with your tears


And I feel the break of contagious happiness
and my most true, shining, unreserved smile
coming over the horizon.

I pay attention
Words are in my head
Like roses
Like thorns, from roses

We notice, as humans, without acknowledging
Secret moments
I noticed
You noticed
The silence of
you didn’t sign my card and I noticed
you missing at the congratulations party
and I, moving away
from you
and I, making connections that needn’t be

mentioned - forgotten?
Or stored, perhaps, away with other reasons to feel lonely
Or swallow away loneliness
On a Saturday night in January.

Search terms “shallow”
Shallows shadow sorrows
Foregone by furrowed brows and questioned messages
Shallows bury questions
I tried to bury shallowness with fury

I'm trying to listen

Copy and paste, print, sign, scan, send, print, sign, fax
I suppose your strange routes of communication are only as complex as my ways of receiving them

no home in one place

You have the kind that travels with you:
a heart

spoke the stars to my soul.

A shadow:
some great bird of the
now clear sky

Where
are the clouds?

They have no home

I have no home

There is no pain in a picture
nor growth

Watch the sky move
constant change
the rains

Pain, release, growth
brings the rain
I am a cloud.

There are more things to wonder
about

reflections in the surface of a
rock

moonlight

footsteps echoed in the
starless sky


The clouds
Let me be in the clouds

Shhhhh
the warrior-angel
shimmering
between closed eyes and tears

The pain moves through you
like clouds
before rain

Why? wonders
like a child
I am a child

The sky
speaks my spirit.
Look at the sky.
Look at the sky.
Cool wind, high clouds
framed among moons

Why
is a cloud?

Why
is my soul?

music roared in my ears
the light blinded me
ahead
dust was rising
it clouded the air like smoke
the dust blinded me
the road, and the sun, and the music,
and the dust
it tasted like freedom


and
for a moment in between
all the things
there was a beautiful silence

.
.

i have no things to say
for you to hear

right now
i just want a corner
i just want keys compressing

it's the only music i know how to make
it's the only thing that responds to my touch
the only thing i want to share my feelings with


i'm tired of feelings
i'm tired of my body
i'm tired of myself
i'm tired of reaching out
i don't reach out
i need help
i hate ...

sometimes there is a music i can make
song birthed from death
a lullaby to remind myself of hope

but there are times where there is no light
there is no music
there is no one to share
anything i'd like to share
my soul
is bare
for no
thing
but the

air











the spaces
i strain to
find an
echo












the length of
open my
eyes to things that hurt












the times i'd
like to
shrivel away












.

As if anger is never enough when it comes to me fleetingly, sparingly,
sweetly if you'd believe it,
I'd taste it and spew it back out into rainbows that land in thorns surrounding you
I want to hurt you, I want to be alone

My whole life I've been trying to help people
I've been trying to help and draining myself
I'm used to the kind of air that leeches off of me,
the kind of folks that leech off of me,
the state of being of shame, for the ways I can't keep myself alive

And I try and stop trying, live and keep dying
moving and stopping
If I open my eyes near you I become too repulsed to keep rhythm
If I listen to you I sink faster into the places where I can't feel

But with you before I've felt the sky in a million flavors
And I've cried in a million colors
And now, I have a million ways to say that I'm confused.
But I'm done.

*******, you *******
******* for being ****** up and not being able to be fixed
and not being able to fix yourself
******* for representing all the unhealthy relationships in my life
(read: ALL the relationships in my life)
******* for your two-facedness, for the things that were ****** up then,
for the things that are ****** up now and for
you pretending that it isn’t this way
pretending to be holding the truth
be speaking the truth
be slurring the truth
you are unknowing of the truth
I am not knowing of what’s true
and good,
but you are not it.

So leave, leave, leave, and take her with you,
and pretend as if you have me in your heart
but forget me. Please don’t speak to me.
And don’t cry to me.

And at some point, eat. And at some point, sleep.
Between the meaningless bouts of *******, *******, *******,
and pretending to be finding the things
you find meaningful
You haven’t thought about them in a while, have you

I’m angry at you and I’m angrier at myself
But at least I’m proud of myself
Because whatever hurts me now makes me grow
I can handle being alone and learn independence, and it will
be my weapon against you and everyone like you.

I don’t love you. I don’t know what that kind of love is and I hope to not find it for a while.

Close.
Run, and don’t look back. Those were the last words you told yourself before you stopped talking. The last memory you chose to take with you into nowhere.
You think of the stars now. The stars and the sky that you didn’t look at long enough. You wish you could open your eyes now. You wish you didn’t have eyes to open.
You hold yourself so you can love and be loved. You don’t love yourself but you don’t trust anyone else to try. You don’t know what love is, other than a part of an existence you don’t want to forge.
You growl. You hear a growl. You don’t know the difference, or what’s in your head. There is pressure, and with that ceaseless compression comes the freedom to stop caring.
You have no beliefs, not even that another moment will come, and especially not that it should.
You’ve been trying for a while now to find your body, while denying that you never left. You’re well-versed in fighting against yourself. You’ve practiced on both sides, enough to stall out a win for eternity.
You can put off opening your eyes as long as you want, while pretending there is nothing to see…
Open.

it's worth
noticing                                                           the light
beyond
the lengths of
shadow

i don't know why i
do the things i do sometimes
i don't know how to try sometimes
i only want to cry

i don't know how my head works
i don't know why so many things
hurt i can't think i can't
speak the rains that sting me
can't communicate across the gaps
between we

sometimes
sometimes i don't want to be
sometimes i wish someone would break me
sometimes i don't know how many times
i can't count seconds but i can count smiles
because there are so few sometimes my thoughts
are circles and knots that can't be unraveled at least
not by me but no one else is keeping track either and
i'll lose myself and keep losing myself and keep
coming to places where i don't know what to do with myself until i

fall

To those who like
(you could say I'm fishing
to see who's)
reading between
(paying attention to
the meaning of)
the lines

There is no
.
to this poem

In all my life I never tried to
.
out the wisdom I didn't know

I re
ac
(hed)
ted
the wrong way a few
x

I still do at
x
but I care about *s
and try not to care about #s

I pay attention to i's
both of them

One day someone will find me in the
lab
r
(nth degree - the lengths I'd go to to hide and wish to be found)

I think that's the
.

Whistling
into vibrations
to create texture
to taste feeling
moving to feel temperature
air circulating coolly to touch extremities
to invoke shivers, to remind of smiles
to remember hands and warmth
hands and intertwining fingers
fingers, delicate and familiar
eyes, smiling and

dangerous
the void left in wake
the space of silence
the moments spent wondering
a lifetime spent wandering in search of
more

moments
the meaning of finding
the nothing to find but more things to explore
the spots marked by stopping to ponder
the pain caused by stopping to ponder
the connections that make shape
in the form of a

path
leading from place to place
person to person
challenge to challenge
wound to wound
stitching together flesh, rhythmically,
perpetually, while walking
hurting builds

strength
in the form of a hard face
longing to be broken
going all this time searching for a way to be broken
waiting for a person to share smiles with again
waiting for a place worthy of stopping
and removing gloves from lonely fingers
and sharing

memories
memories from solitude
from the years of

wandering
call yourself

wanderer
watching so long for a place to

pause
all nonparallel paths must eventually

cross
with kind

eyes, glistening eyes, breathing again
warm breath condensing in air
laughs radiating in air
moving to feel temperature,
to share temperature
moving to taste experience
slowing down to taste a moment
worth finding
with a person worth stopping for.

I can feel your fingers from miles away
I can close my eyes and feel close breaths in memory
and tingle as if closing the space of centimeters

In my daydreams we collide in an instant
In the nighttime my eyes are dripping,
your lips on my forehead

I feel heartbeats in my steps,
I feel spaces in between everything-
too large, but not empty enough to be an escape

In lust I can express my sadness
In knowing eyes that understand too well
In the motion of waves, and salt water

Let's move together and hold each other's sadness
In the space that once contained love
In the space where two children continue to grow up

In old friends that don't take moments like these for granted
In old souls that are frustrated with the woes of adolescence
In an answer to a question that was never asked

In heartbeats sensed from less-than-centimeters away
and spaces filled in
and tongues locking fiercely, then softly, we'll part.

And the wind will sigh and we will take it for what it is:
exactly what we needed.
I'll see you when we've found ourselves.

****. Yes. I'm -
my sorrows away. Wrong -
myself into a black hole of
shame that I want to crawl out
of but can't
or, wishing
for someone to pull me out but
don't actually believe anyone will give me a second glance - please -
but please don't -

caught between
help me
and
don't look at the mess I've made
the mess I am
a mess of a person who's
destined for
lunacy

Cries stuck in my throat
next to things
coated in
shame and years of steel-plated
heavy moments and

tears tears tears
I wanted to cry but couldn't
my face grew heavy with
tears not spilling out
can't lift
let me fall
pick me up
don't touch me

I don't trust you

run
I can't run

I write about pieces of the world I'm not a part of

glass - looking through
glass - broken shards on the ground
at my feet, in my knees
broken skin
bleed
broken heart
bleed my soul bleeds
I wish I could seep out of my skin
and be blood and

not think
sometimes I think these things

The sky is the only thing that can hold me
The ocean is the only thing that can hold me
The trees are the only things that can hold me

light is fleeting

the days you wish you could skip filled with
feelings you want to numb away from or even worse actually
manage to
fill yourself with the numbness of ignoring sunlight
and not noticing touch
and not enjoying the soft things
the gentle things
the faint outlines of day smeared with shadows
and caffeine-soaked eyelids -
I can't tell the difference between open and closed
I can't remember the reasons for doing
keep moving, keep going
prioritize staying awake and bypassing
the things that conjure smiles and
the smiles
and the things that cause inquiry
and inquiry is seeking life?
bypassing life
taking steps without feeling the ground is
breathing without tasting oxygen
is being a robot

crash into sleep like a wave that overtakes you
like admitting you have no strength
or nothing left to give but a headprint into a pillow

I was trying to shoot for the stars and
dream the way I did when I learned that caterpillars
grow up to be butterflies
I wanted to be a butterfly
I wanted to be beautiful, and proud, and I wanted to fly -
I miss that feeling.
Somewhere between there and here there were
tragedies and broken hearts and
things that I later realized ought have
been different -
Somewhere between then and now there might have been a god,
but more importantly there was some force causing the world to
punch me in the face
and Somewhere along the road I decided to keep
my shameful face pressed against the concrete

This is anger - this is shame -
this is hate. This is what I
bottle up and beat myself with under the midnight sun,
with the endless exposure, the loss of composure,
the fear, the constant
fear
of judgment - stare at me but don't look at my eyes
(I'm used to it.)
Look past me.
It will only drive the hurt deeper down, tightening my chains it's
not you, it's me. It's me against myself.

Pound, pound, pound the pavement against my feet -
can I run myself into oblivion? Can I please just close
my eyes and become part of the air around me?

the frustration kills me
I **** my voice yelling at myself
WRITE WRITE WRITE
write yourself into this feeling, if
it's the only way you know how to inhabit the present moment
**** yourself with caffeine and hate
and shame
I'm so tired of shame
I'm so tired from the weight of it
I'm so done with being hated but I
can't stop hating myself

I once dreamed of being a butterfly,
and now I dream of getting by
without hurting myself too badly