i often find myself dreaming of a place
with colorful skies
and stars on the ground,
with thousands of flowers
littered all around.

i hope to see caterpillars dancing among the leaves,
and butterflies flying out of the trees,
as well as fairies frolicking throughout the forest,
and a group of fish in a big city chorus.

i wish to only eat sweets,
and have gumdrop seats,
along with long licorice vines,
and silly string borderlines.

maybe even a boy so beautiful
the angels cry.

he can take me swimming in the lakes,
and on pop rock mining dates.

where we'll laugh,
and we'll cry,
but not worry at all.

and inexplicably, fall in love with one another.

too bad i wake up eventually

i know you're not real, but your voice is so vividly clear that i swear it's like a tiny person has made their home in my head.

and those moments where it feels like a shadow is gently tickling my bare back at night, i know these are not visions. i know i am sane.

when i can smell the scent of pine, and fresh mint, i know it's you. i'm not hallucinating! i'm not crazy! you're there! you are!

but i slowly began to realize those haunting calls, and subtle touches, and the faint scent of mint and pine, are not dreams. they aren't visions, or fantasies. but instead nightmares.

they are the memories you've whittled into my brain, slowly but surely ruining my sense of reality.

i really hope all those subtle glances
and soft touches were real
because if not,
i don't think i can survive it again

i've liked guys before, and i've thought that i was in love, but with you it's different. when i hear your name my stomach clenches so painfully, it needs a few minutes to recover. and sometimes i catch myself thinking of you, and how you seem to have the prettiest eyes i've ever seen. like i've always thought that green eyes were gorgeous, but yours are blue and god ****** they are ******* beautiful. i could stare at them all day. then there those times when i watch a movie and someone says something funny, i would think of how you'd laugh at it. you know, those laughs where you squeeze yours eyes shut tight, and open your mouth wide. those real, deep-bellied laughs that make me smile so ******* wide it hurts. sometimes during sad parts when the boy leaves the girl crying, i'd think of you holding me, allowing me to feel the warmth radiating off you. i hate you for this, i really do. i don't want to feel pathetic for pining over someone who will never love me, but no matter what i do, you always manage to creep right back up to the front of my mind. i wish love was easy, and i wish you loved me too. but i think thats what makes love so special. it teaches you to grow, and become a better person. it'll make you so ******* happy, and mind-numbingly sad, but then the other people you love will help to make it better. love is in everyone, and everything. and to me, you are my everyone and everything.

i just kept running until my heart was pounding against my chest like a prisoner trying to escape from his cell. i tried to take in air, but every breath shot a toe-curling ache throughout my body, then my fingers went stiff, and my posture fell slack. i kept running though, i just needed to get  to where i needed to go. if i keep running without a destination, then i'll be running forever.

i'm scared.

i could sit here,
and let the words pour out.

have the pain drip from my fingertips,
the memories,
of my first love,
and kiss,
and the day he first held my hand.
maybe i'll talk about when he left for her,
that other girl,who had a prettier face,
and a smaller waist.
i lost him,
i lost him to her and that hurts,
but i won't say anything out loud,
i'll just write it on here.

they did this.

they said that skinny is thin arms, a petite waist, and knobby knees. they labeled this as perfect, and those who don't thrive to look this way, are fat and ugly.

who gave them that right? who allowed them to stand superior to us all, and set standards? i want to know why i have to struggle every day and sacrifice my mentality just to look perfect.

i grew up watching the gorgeous actresses and models on t.v., and i saw that they had boyfriends and everybody thought they were beautiful. society labeled them as the body types we have to strive for.

there's that saying that "its my body, i'll do whoever i want to it."

but the thing is, it's not your body, it's society's.

why do the people we love,
want to love other people?

you may bend me to break me,
but all you create is another fold,
and another reason to hate you

are our similarities,
happy coincedences,
or bad omens?

a broken heart is like
suffocating in air

i'm scared of
drowning in too much space

its that moment you walked in with
scuffed shoes,
perfectly messy hair,
and that ******* old band t-shirt,
that i knew,
i was in deep

love is like pulling on a rope
you know is going to break

i would rather you torture me everyday with unkind words,
than not exist in my life at all.

either way its meaningless.

i remember waking up in the middle of the night
to an open window with rain sprinkling in
and landing gently on my bare legs.

where did you go?

time has no limit,
but youth does.

i think i might actually
be mentally ******* insane.

*****.

stop coloring inside the lines,
and paint the whole **** page.

"I realized what true hate is today, did you know that?"

"Really? What is true hate?"

"It's when you think of someone or something that causes your body to shut down, tense up, and spasm all at once. They cause your teeth to grind, your bones to sting, and your veins to halt pumping blood through your body. Your heart shrivels up, and spits in disgust, and your stomach twists violently. "

"What got you to realize this?"

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Of coarse."

"This morning when we woke up and you wrapped your arms around me, and whispered, I love you."

we tell lies to get the truth,
but when the truth comes out,
we wish it was lies

leaving your mind crippled
and your body numb
fear hurts

i don't want to think about all the
what if's
and the
oh no's



i just want
silence

the feeling slowly creeps up my spine,
shocks my finger tips,
and edges into the inner workings of mind.

"try to distract yourself."
"you'll be okay."

i don't want words of wisdom,
i want the feeling of gut-wrenching relief,
that heinous piece of medal would give me.

all i'd have to do is sneak away,
and drag it across my flesh,
whilst thinking of all my inner and outer tormentors.

i'd finally have that feeling where everything stops,
and the only thing my mind would register is the pain.

you all say i'm better than that,
i'm worth more than my demons say.

but maybe i'm not,
maybe i'm perfectly content with not being okay.

rows of satin,
draped on trees,
the color of flowers and honey bees.

long, colorful dresses,
and bare feet,
music in the air,
and a table full of sweets.

the most important thing i need,
is not diamonds,
or flowers,
but a man,
a groom,
the one who loves me endlessly.

i hate you.

i hate every single little thing about you.

the way you laugh way too loud,
and smirk way too much.
the way you flirt with other girls,
and dress like a ***.
the way you are hilariously unfunny,
and just a tad bit to mean.
the way your hair is unkept,
and your room's never clean.

sadly, i'm mistaken.
it was once said there's a thin line between love and hate,
and i really don't hate you at all,
quite the opposite actually.

your kind of like a double negative.

always going back on your word,
never doing what your told,
loving me blindly,
and hating me clearly.

writers
block
is
the
worst
thing
imaginable.

we stare, but we aren't looking.

we yell, but we're never heard.

we don't listen to what we know is true.

being broken is that feeling you get when you look at your mother's favorite vase shattered on the floor, and think, "oh well. Theres nothing i can do now."

Its scary.

We wake up everyday not-knowing how it will end.

We could strike oil,
and become rich,
or find the love of our life
in an old bookstore.

We could get in a car crash and die,
or worse,
watch the one we love die.

That's just life though.

It doesn't wait for you.

I sling on my pearls,
and my baby doll dress.

My hair is in curls,
and my room is left a mess.

I'm off to a party in underground London.

We dance in a basement,
our very own encasement,
the place where we can be.

We prance around the room,
screaming words that don't make sense,
but still do at our expense.

We are a movement,
a revolution,
and even an era,
of kids who don't fit in.

Yet, in our own way,
we are freaks of the night,
and socialites of the day.

i want to live in a world with truffula trees,
and caroling who's,
cats that balance objects on their head,
and raining green goo.

i want star-bellied sneetches,
dancing on beaches,
and colors,
on everything.

i want green eggs and ham,
offered by sam-i-am,
and a lorax to use sarcasm on me.

i want to escape reality,
and where better than childhood memories.