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Dec 2012 · 707
long nights
claire Dec 2012
Tiptoeing under and over the darkness
looking for you but there's no one there
my mind is racing through long empty streets
my nose keeps dripping, my heart skips a beat
allergic to feeling but mind doesn't respond
I sneeze them out.
I write them out.
I talk them out.
I *** them out.
Yet they are back again
forcing me into one more long night
Oct 2012 · 576
after two years
claire Oct 2012
after two years
they brought you up again
I couldn't even feel when the therapist asked
yet my eyes became blurry
my throat tightened
my face clenched
I could barely speak

I never think of you
I hope you think of me every day
Aug 2012 · 802
advice to the ruined
claire Aug 2012
i watched the dance
the dance about what is wrong with me
it contained the passion i have lacked these past few years
as i've been taught to control myself

advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you


i read a story i wrote 3 years ago
the diction, the creativity, the piece was pure genius and passion
now my mind can not even think of a line to put down

advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you


i used to cry on the spot
everything was so close to the surface
and now...
for hours i dig
and dig
deep inside myself
but every trigger that i try to set off has been diminished by one therapist or another
and the knot that is tightening right below my heart needs to be cried out
but i can not reach it

advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you


when i was little i had so many boyfriends
i fell in love in the blink of an eye
and i shone with a light that erased the sun
when i was held by someone i could barely stand my skin holding me in
now...
it scares me to have *******
and i don't know if anyone is squeezing my **** or not

*advice to the ruined:
do not let them dull you
Aug 2012 · 2.9k
chemo
claire Aug 2012
the same old line jumps off my tongue

hi, how are you
i'm fine, how are you?
i'm well, thank you

this time,
there is a pause

the old man looks at me
his skinned is tanned as a hide
but not as wrinkled as some
you can see through his blue eyes
his spirit lurks close to the surface of his eyes
they seem to contain a whirlwind of white clouds and sky
his gray hair is quite dark and shiny
it lays in columns on his head
combed to perfection

we're both lying the old man says quietly
i look up
surprised that someone would question my honesty
i really am well i tell him how are you lying?
i just got out of chemotherapy
he tells me this matter of factly and i feel slightly awkward as i look up at him from my work
i'm sorry. your hair looks great.
thank you.
your total is 53.54. i hope you have a good day.
thank you. the same to you.
the conversation was over
and i will never see the old man with cancer who came through my check out line ever again
Aug 2012 · 565
Untitled
claire Aug 2012
my body
throbs with longing
my hips
have a gravitational pull forward
into the hole in front of me
my hands
shake as they caress the air
that used to be where your scratchy orange beard was
my heart
cries a little bit each day
as tears drip from the tip of my left ventricle
my heart grows smaller
and i loose the memory that i had of you from moments before
claire Jul 2012
i have been with many people
boys, girls, men, ******
but i have never been touched by someone with so much respect for me
the opportunity to **** me came
you let that opportunity to **** pass
instead of diving straight in
you caressed my hands
you waited for that perfect moment to kiss me
you had lunch delivered to me
you bought me the most beautiful roses
and when it came time to sleep next to me
you did not even go inside of me
you admired my body
you kissed me so sweetly
and you made me the happiest ******* earth
i may have been with a lot of people
but i only want to be with you
Jul 2012 · 484
writing letters
claire Jul 2012
i wrote lists of people
i knew
and i meant to write to all of them
but never send the letters
i wrote to four of them
but the truth about my past dug too deep for me to continue
i burnt that list of people
and the tension i thought i had with them
burnt with that sad piece of notebook paper
Jul 2012 · 596
being called beautiful
claire Jul 2012
i have been called beautiful before
just not by anyone like you
the way the words about my eminence flow
constantly from your tongue
is finally making me believe that all of those people weren't lying
at two am when i'm getting ready for bed
or at one in the afternoon when i just woke up
because i've been talking to you all night
you still call me beautiful
and when i ask you why you say it constantly
you tell me that it is to
help me remember
the truth
Jul 2012 · 1.2k
fountains and globes
claire Jul 2012
if you take a knife to my skin
it will cut it
my layers of protection are not strong enough to ward off that edge

if you keep pressing
blood will pool around the slit
and maybe even splash if you cut the right spot

if you decide to twist
my skin will twist with you
until it tears from the tension and you see my inners

if you take the knife out
you will see me bleeding
and the blood will be red

if you put your eyeball close enough
you will see a fountain
of blue purple and red

if i think your eyeball is close enough
i will squeeze my skin
and hope that my little blood fountain splashes your veiny white globe
Mar 2012 · 4.8k
prose--hanging from a star
claire Mar 2012
Hanging from a Star
The girl sat on her star. The dark towering flowers around her, cast shadows over her blank face. She walked around the side of her star to the grass so she could watch the fiery sun and look down at the fluffy billowing clouds in earth’s atmosphere. Lying, hating thoughts floated up from the beautiful blue and green planet below. The girl had been watching earth since it was first created. Cain’s first thoughts of ****** were heard by the girl. She watched the black plague wash through the world, killing millions. The hell of the holocaust burned through her mind like fire across her own skin. Sometimes she swore she could almost smell the melting flesh and boiling blood from the sick world below.
The girl nestled down in the warm grass and focused her guarded mind in preparation to listening in on the earth, like she did every other day. “Her nose is so ugly.” “Why didn’t I do more today?” “I miss her.” “I need to put at least ten percent in savings if I’m ever going to retire.” “I hope no one else notices this huge zit protruding from my face.” “Why didn’t I just kiss him?” “The sun is burning my eyes.” She made her way through selfish minds of the shallow population and then moved for relief, to the newborn children. Images of parents, lights, and bright colors flashed before her eyes. Each new child’s face seemed to be surrounded in a beautiful clear light. The girl wished the children had never been brought to that terrible planet.
One child in particular tugged on the girls thoughts, making the girl want to focus entirely on her. The light around the child was brilliant. The baby’s ocean eyes were open and focused on the one beautiful flower in the room. The details of the daisy were perfect in the child’s mind. The baby fell deeply in love with the white petals that curled softly around the bright yellow center. The girl’s mind was entranced by the lovely child. The girl named the perfect child Claire and sent heavenly visions to entertain the child’s thoughts as the hospital buzzed around her.
As Claire grew, the girl watched her red curls flourish and darken with each day. Her blue eyes bloomed as she turned into a happy toddler and her pale skin stayed radiant and cloudless. Claire’s mommy was a large, reserved woman, but loved her little girl with all her heart. Her mommy sang her to sleep each night and gave her everything she could afford to. But the floor of the trailer where they lived was layered in mud, cat feces, and tobacco. Her father’s face and clothes were covered in stains and the beard that he never remembered to shave had remnants of chewing tobacco that he hadn’t spit far enough. Every night, his drunk, angry voice roared throughout the house, cursing at whatever he could get into his hands first. Each time this happened, the ******* the star poured daisies into Claire’s mind as Claire buried her china face into a soiled pillow.
After a sublime day of school filled with telling time and and reading silly stories, Claire  skipped back to her hostel under the warm autumn sun. She opened her front door to find her mommy in a pool of ***** and blood. Claire screamed in horror and fled back down the steps to the closest residence, trying to see through her own flooded eyes as she tripped along the avenue. Claire’s father never even went to the hospital to inquire about his wife. The hospital gave up calling him, and she was buried in an unplanned graveyard, under the cheapest tombstone.
Claire became the subject of her father’s wrath. Several times a month he would take Claire to bed with him and **** her. She cried silently as he seized her tiny body, leaving large dark bruises where he should have left kindness. The ******* the star filled Claire with exquisite thoughts as he blemished her, but a child may not always be calmed in a situation of pure agony. Tears streamed from the star, watering the daisies next to the trashed trailer.
The ******* the star watched as Claire grew and learned. Finally, Claire vacated the ***** trailer park, on her way to a brighter future. Then Claire met Him. His thoughts were black. Though his eyes scoured Claire’s body, his smile seemed sincere. The ******* the star tried to keep Claire away from him, but Claire was in love with his kindness and moved in with him. The bruises seemed to appear again on a larger scale all down her arms and across her stomach. This man’s hands were harsher than her father’s, but his constant words of kindness drew Claire in, melting her heart into his ice cold soul. Claire dedicated herself to the man, and just as she did, his temper turned fierce and there was fire in his hands.  Other girls seemed to appear in their small apartment dressed in scant ****** and smirks.
One night his fingers skimmed like sand paper up her frail arms and the smell of alcohol breathed down on her face. His fiery hands hit her over and over, slamming her into walls, bloodying her hands and knees, and knocking her out cold. He left her there, sprawled out on the floor, bleeding freely from several gashes. The ******* the star could not reach Claire. Her mind was gone. She thought Claire was dead, so in the path of the drunken abuser, the ******* the star put a murdering thought into a killer’s mind. The abuser was shot in an alley where no one would find him. Angry wailing poured down onto the streets.
Claire woke up and posed in the apartment for weeks. The ******* the star perceived in dismay, that Claire’s light was out. Claire drank whatever alcohol was left there and sliced her arms from wrist to shoulder. The apartment turned grimy along with her blood and oil matted hair. Some of her wounds became infected and her face was no longer a china doll, but a red splotchy entanglement, smeared with dirt and tears. For those weeks it rained steadily as the ******* the star wept. No pleasant thoughts were sent to any human’s mind, but the daisies grew tall and out of control.
Claire’s blackened spirit left the cool, ***** apartment one morning. Her tiny body abandoned in a corner, was huddled in the fetal position, covered in dust bunnies. The ******* the star made a noose from a black daisy, and for the first time, the sky rained blood on earth. Each morning thereafter, the ******* the star walked through her forest of black daisies, retied a noose , and hung herself from the bottom of her star, overwhelmed by the appalling nature of the world below, blocking earth out of her mind with her own pain and suffering.
Dec 2011 · 955
Attention Whore
claire Dec 2011
the Girl walked
just walked

                  wishing
                                     wishing
wishing

that someone might put out their hand to a lost child
claire Dec 2011
some men write about about
           Women
silky skin covering the hips
and ******* to **** because they have none


some women write about
           Men
a body next to them
and to call them beautiful


some women write about
          Women
understanding, love
and bliss


some men write about
          Men
knowledge and just plain
double **** fun


**but what in the hell am i supposed to write about?
i don't know what i am
Dec 2011 · 504
i'm fake
claire Dec 2011
did you know
that my hair is blonde
but i love red
so i dye it
and it looks natural

did you know
I can't sleep
but then i can wake up
and put on my awake face

did you know
that i used to expect a lot out of me
but people told me it was too much
so I don't anymore
and I'm much less than I was

did you know
i'm really hurt
so hurt I feel dead
but i want to be happy
so i show my happy face
Dec 2011 · 596
as i sleep
claire Dec 2011
i can see the bare back
of a small human
glowing
in the darkness

others kindly gather around
but all you can see is
bare skin
and faces

one face shows teeth
White straight teeth
and leans forward
tearing a chunk
of the flesh from the edge of the back

the face looks like mine
and i feel terror
but everyone seems calm

except him
he wanders through...
everywhere i turn
his eyes that won't look at mine
JUST HOLD ON TO ME
I'M BREAKING

i need him

i'm lost inside of myself
Nov 2011 · 527
Untitled
claire Nov 2011
I'm not ok
I'm freaking out
I can't think of anyone else
The inside of my skin
is being carved
and etched
curls of skin and blood
falling everywhere

and how am i supposed to treat others?
Nov 2011 · 916
The Heater
claire Nov 2011
the ice on the tips of my fingers gets longer
my brain engages
over
and
over
I just can't get it to melt
so i put it in front of the heater
and give up on the choices i make
that effect nothing
This poem is actually about my depression. I keep thinking about how I need to just make better choices and think through it all. But I really have to rely on medicine because my physical side (the chemicals) are not in balance and I am honestly unable to function without that in line.
Nov 2011 · 437
inside-out
claire Nov 2011
Does anyone know what this pain is?
This great cloud covering me
I can feel it eating me from the inside out
tearing at my soul
breaking the fibers of my harmony
one by one as the weather turns cold

and i don't know what to do about it
I have done everything
and now it is about to snap me

I give up
please
take me life
please
give me any... any feeling left
because I am lost
Nov 2011 · 861
Coffee
claire Nov 2011
The house is all the same color. Cream
in the hot chocolate with no caffeine to stay awake. Brown
is the color of busy hair rushing, seems like a mess on the bed. Red
is the christmas decorations covering all the fake trees and cold nasty snow. Blue
is my heart as stone cold and unfeeling with their terrible ugly glances and snippy comments. Cream
would be in the coffee i wish i had now.
Nov 2011 · 962
Napkins
claire Nov 2011
i think i'm done
no more pictures on napkins
Do not try to hold on
or kiss my cheeks...

i do not want you anymore
i think i'm done
with your silly mistakes
your silly expressions

i think i'm done
for my parents
Nov 2011 · 704
you are in the doorway
claire Nov 2011
at the door they stand
for each one of us
blood dripping from their face
the negative slowly rolling,
dripping down their tongue
bruises from a belt on their side
feet bound and hands twisted

do you stand and look at them only?
do you feel hurt for them?
for that part of you that is standing in the doorway
do you bring them in and help them?
or are they beyond your help and they sit and weep

or do you take out your tongue and lash them
do you know they are not good enough for your home?
do you take your knife and slit into their wrists?
call them names and make fun of their weight

You are standing in your door.
what would you do?
Nov 2011 · 2.8k
sitting
claire Nov 2011
You know... sitting can become very tiresome
and boring.
You sit in the car,
you sit on couches,
you sit on tigers,
on houses,
in desks,
on the floor, in tire shops, at school, at home, at Ally's house,
on computers, at computers, by computers, next to computers, in computers,
at movie theaters...
i just can't name them all.

I've been sitting all weekend... and it's pretty boring and tiresome...

I don't understand why people sit down to take a rest... I'd rather lay on the floor and look
up at the big white
puffs of cotton candy floating through the
silent air.
claire Nov 2011
Inside this beautiful covering I am trapped
The only place to show my true beauty is through words
It’s the only opening through which I can escape
Though my mind does enjoy getting in the way
These passionate feelings have their own power
they envelop me
Not allowing me to express my important opinion,
my heart controls them
they change my judgment when I do not put them in shackles
my mind is like a busy child
trying to deal with the most important things,
not solving anything
running away or hiding when it gets tired
leaving me to start over
Nov 2011 · 498
Untitled
claire Nov 2011
In my silent canvas I paint expectations of perfection and beauty. Each note is like a crystal of rain. Its own size, its own shape, its own speed, its own shade. Each tiny diamond helps drench my soul filling me with emotions otherwise lost. Completing me and keeping me from wilting into a dry broken mess.
As my lips touch the soft reed, crystalline water flows from the bell. It creates a perfectly symmetrical circle of sound and in an instant evaporates into the air around me. It leaves me the homely vibrations until they soak into my silent canvas.
Nov 2011 · 658
Untitled
claire Nov 2011
Rolling them around on my tongue,
Holding them slightly still with my teeth,
Letting them dissolve into thin air,
The pop rocks burst into one million pieces;
Like a balloon on the tip of a pin,
Filled to the peak with cool air,
Leaving me with one moment of untainted delight.
Nov 2011 · 616
the color of sun
claire Nov 2011
Each smile is filled with a bright ray of sunshine as we make lemonade on our corner with fresh happy lemons. In our sunny dresses and sweet blond curls we twirl about for each customer; hoping, hoping, hoping for more
Nov 2011 · 830
petite
claire Nov 2011
The lone mountain towers above the sea as it glistens with the mango sky above
The lone mountain towers above the wispy mists covering the foot-hills all around
The lone mountain towers above the shady foliage of the forest below
The lone mountain towers above the thundering clouds as they silently crash into its peak
Yet here I am feeble and petite, towering over the lone mountain
Nov 2011 · 511
free
claire Nov 2011
The roadways are crowded
The streets all a gleam
The cars with their musical horns
They play me a symphony loud and clear
As I twirl at your fingertips I linger
Then into your strong arms I plunge
Nov 2011 · 443
silly boys
claire Nov 2011
Less than a mile away you sleep peacefully
Yet here I sit, yearning for just a glance
I crave that sweet glitter of your eyes
The splendor of your smile and your laugh
Will I get to see you?
Nov 2011 · 741
pine
claire Nov 2011
Tall and strong I stand
With my branches outstretched
The wind moves me
The crystal ice forms on my limbs
The rain covers me in millions of tiny mirrors
The sun makes me warm and jade
Nov 2011 · 774
little
claire Nov 2011
Lip gloss
Color, Shine, Gloss
Sparkling in the slightest light
Making my face shine
Tickle-me-pink and rouge red
The lip gloss is placed across my small faultless lips
Nov 2011 · 796
colors
claire Nov 2011
beautiful like a rainbow on a cloudy day
She twirls in her bright yellow galoshes and coat
that angelic face towards the sky
Her bright blue eyes bring the sun but her dark black hair continues to praise the rain
beautiful like the dazzling lights on the stage
light brown eyes twinkle as she curtsies to the audience
perfect golden curls making her shine
Silky music resonates from the cello and she seems to be suspended in time’s strong arms
beautiful like the strokes of vivid paint across her page
brilliant green eyes intensely stare at the paper
the brush end in her mouth as she smudges a line
her handsome red hair is in a simple knot at the nape of her neck, all speckled in red, blue, and yellow
Nov 2011 · 2.0k
ribbon
claire Nov 2011
Light cerulean ribbon contrasts my light curled blonde hair
You take my hand and lead me down the forbidden path
In your honorable suit and slicked dark hair
I feel like a little girl in my peasant azure dress
Tiny red ribbon strangling a perfect salient rose
The love has fled you eyes as they scour my body
I silently hide myself but you wrench me in
Forcing me to trust that maybe I will be ok
Under my light cerulean ribbon I fade
Nov 2011 · 474
depression
claire Nov 2011
Day by day the sadness creeps towards me
Mocking me and tormenting me
Some days it chokes me and leaves me desperate
I try ever so hard to be strong and smile
But it tears at the corners of my delight
Shredding it bit by bit into a worthless heap of shattered hopes
Nov 2011 · 449
strange wood
claire Nov 2011
the fingers pop
they move, sometimes thinking sometimes
but the men grab them and twist them
all control now
just the right time
always the right place
and the stupid piece of wood has a nice sound but has ruined her love.
Think clarinet... and how controlling teachers can be...
Oct 2011 · 1.5k
used
claire Oct 2011
why is your chest
red?
The man's eyes surveyed her body
reaching for her *******

covered with layers of used hands
Oct 2011 · 427
That Red Stench
claire Oct 2011
If one looks close enough
they may see my heart
spread thinly for miles

but everyone just finds it nice to look at
Oct 2011 · 683
let it smother me
claire Oct 2011
eyes search empty black corners
the stretch of light blossoming
from the burning scrap of love
catching the carpet on fire
Oct 2011 · 2.2k
clarinet
claire Oct 2011
Clear notes
Lead me up a scale
Adoring me as I rise
Releasing me as I go higher
Inviting me to reach beyond my capacity
Never failing me
Everything I require
Telling me to play on
Oct 2011 · 954
Carpet Dust
claire Oct 2011
the machines worked rapidly

i scraped the floor with
my nails bitten and harsh
gnawing at the ground
he poured it into
tiny running barrels
with his huge husky hands
We cranked the connectors
with all our might
faster
and then faster

Our sweat mixed with the dust
and
love

Our eyes twinkling with happiness
the colored blocks
the berlin wall
stood stationary and stout

and We believed
for a moment
it would never end

but it did when you said


Listen up Bud.


skies are gray
but no one is here
and a scrap of paper with the promise
written by your heart
is spread in pieces
miles away
This poem was for a project in English and is about my brother. We used to play legos together and his carpet was decaying on the bottom and we could get to the dust it created by his closet door. We used to put it in barrels and make machines out of legos to transport it and pretend that we were a factory. My brother left about 2 years ago. This really ******* me up because I was so dependent on him for making decisions, talking to me, and making my life interesting. Because I was buried so deep in him I had nothing else around me that I loved and after he left I couldn't stop grieving. I wrote him a letter about how hurt I was. His answer was very terse and hurtful. The first line of his response was "listen up bud."

— The End —