stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea

silk
distraught
love won
love lost
too many interviews  
blew your first shot
there's a lot of blood for one night
a party on new years
what a game
maybe you'll leave or maybe you'll change
the sun hits my eyes
as i fly that kite
i try to watch out
reign it in
but it puts up a fight
not dissimilar to you
theres nothing new
here i am
stuck
while youre untrue

nothing is perfect
not on the first shot
but angel we tried and it didnt get better
where can i find you now
a hospital or an apartment broken down
a tool, a disguse i used to understand
now youre not in my head
youre not a friend
you asked if i missed you
said i was sweet
take a look at my body
you wont feel the heat
theres something inside i dont want anymore
its something deep and stuck to your core
i tried to brush it away but it has thorns
i told you ive loved you since before you were born
theres nothing inside me for you
not anymore

How ridiculous it is
to think me and you
there was never a reason to be true
where did everything end up
im outside and youre blue
i paint portraits and poems
he wouldn't like this. god. cobain.
jack **** is what i got
some compliments that didnt add up
you want nothing and thats still a lot
where do we even end up
this isnt what i wanted
we dont mesh, the colors on your collar
and the sweat on my breast
was there sometime out there you felt the insecurity of my flesh
i hear birds chirp now, your season gone
i ask myself how i let things get so wrong
play acoustic until fall asleep
fast and weak i take a seat
wish again you were here with me in this park
next to the street
i feel you even when youre not here
not sure if its you or a ghost i feel near
i want you to be what you can never have
you want me for my years on letterman
wheres your angle
you do nothing for free
(you aren't jack ****
you can't **** with me)

En mi mente hay una nueva problema
¿Dónde está mi futuro?
Cuando es el tiempo correcto

Yo necesita libros, una capacidad por pintar, musica, y arte
Mi vida no es completo sin música y hombres y fiestas en la ciudad

Yo quiero entiendo más cosas en mi universidad
Yo quiero entender más hombres, más mujeres y amigos, posiblemente yo quiero reunirme por la primera vez con un profesor.

Yo quiero bebés, pero nada ahora, yo quiero ser presentado más personas y más cuerpos.

"However, for many of us it’s an ongoing source of disappointment and even an emotional roadblock in the relationship.

The questions nag at the back of our brains and maybe tug at the heart strings a little. Why won’t they listen to reason? Why don’t they value their own health? Don’t they want to live to be there for their grandchildren – for me? How can it not bother them to be giving up decades of their lives or at least the hope of some additional active and independent years? What am I supposed to do here? Will anything I do or say make any difference whatsoever?"

"It took me a long time to realize that my partners were having *** with me in part because of the way my body looks, not in spite of the way my body looks."

"He, it was assumed, needed food if he was hungry. His hunger was helpful: a way to stay active and accomplish things.

But my hunger was the enemy – something to restrain, control, and master, lest, God forbid, I become less aesthetically pleasing."

"Even today, I have a lot of trouble figuring out if I’m hungry or not. I often can’t tell until I’m starving. I don’t trust those little inklings of hunger I have before the starving stage, since anything outside of mealtime is supposed to be quelled by a ******* piece of fruit.

Over time, [I was taught] that I should decide what to eat with my brain, not my stomach. So eventually, my stomach just gave up."

We should let ourselves let go of things more often
Not only things that don't serve us, not just our worries
I need to practice letting emotions go
Letting people go
Letting grudges and pain go
Let it all escape my body
Escape my being
I need a freedom button
A release switch
An escape route
A quick fix
I'm out of long fixes
I've been in intensive therapy for over two years now
I'm sleepy
And I want my freedom back
I want to release and escape and I need to breathe
Breathe More

Synonyms hurt

The best time to write poetry is when it heals you, when you finish typing or writing, and you can inhale a new breath of air, of emotion, of feeling, and seeing. How lucky am I to know what a release such as that feels like. How my creative energy can leave me for so long, only to return one night at 2:00am, when I'm supposed to be deep in a deep, lilac slumber. How fortunate am I to know the power of words, and the power of actions. To be able to pair these things equally together and create blossoming life through paint, through writing, through my own mere existence.
I have been lost before, and I will be once again, but on some fragile nights, I will have a small epiphany, write it out on the page, and I will be all the better for it. I will know where I stand, who I am, what I believe, who I believe in, and where I am going.

I sit inside
Out my window is the moon
The presence that draws me from my most concious worries
Health, safety, fertility, image, curiousity
Why am I the way I am?
It is my experiences that make who I am, logically I know
For there to be a genuine magic, somewhere, I wish
I have a strange glimmer of hope, to bring that sparkle and magic closer to me
To revel in something greater than myself, my existence, my geographic location
Just once
I wait
And I worry
And I worry and wait
I don't think she would be proud of this, the moon,
I think she communicates with me, when I need it, when I believe it
I used to talk to spirits through my window as a child
I believed it was real, simply because I believed
There wasn't any crystal clear truth, I simply felt it
The moon brings me through the same window now
Her craters, and dips, her waning and waxing
How I have so many desires to be with her, so far away
Some nights I try to rise above all of these emotions, but my worries bring me back to Earth
A virus right now is spreading, killing many it encounters
If I believed in the power of God as strongly as I want to, maybe I'd feel some comfort or safety.
I'm open to anything, let that be known
I used to worry about my appearance so much, but I know see my actions will speak louder than my beauty
I am a lover, deep down, I crave it, I've let love absolutely destroy me, I've banked on it, I've thought about it, I've needed it, I've had it, I've lost it, let it go, destroyed it
And I've waited for it
Now, these relationships have a hazy linen over them, I can retrieve them with pictures and heavy introspection, but some part of me doesn't enjoy going back
How do I move forward each day with the thoughts of yesterday with me
And how do I do so without the thoughts of yesterday
I try not to be greedy, I try to give, I try to do what is right, and if I do what is wrong, I learn.
There aren't many mistakes I can make with my existence, I'm curious every day
I love someone around me every day
Romantically, I wish I was allowed to be close to those I want
But for now staying home is what is recommended, what's best
I miss going out, I miss getting tipsy at bars, I miss my skinny girl friends, I miss my best friends Angell and Grace, I miss driving to my dietitian and having two hours alone in my car every week...every other week
I miss seeing my therapist and my favorite teachers, I miss having reasons to create, I miss nannying, my job, and art museums in the city
I miss visiting E+an and his house in the city, I miss not being isolated
And the moon, she reminds me that all of those things aren't so far from me, because somehow she is, and yet she is right outside my bedroom window.
She is covered by clouds, and the dark midnight sky, but she is there, and she speaks a perspective I desperately seek, and I am grateful. And I do not live in fear.

Baby says its too cold to eat soup on the porch or in the garden
Its so hot out here, and it’s Sunday! Where’s the mercy she craves?
What is a craving, a need for a bowl of soup?
Release the meat! The sausage is to be sliced and put in the oven!
Cooking is the creation of soup, or is soup the creation of cooking?
Or...both? A dependent relationship, like the Moon and the Sun.
She stumbled on a loose board.
Reaching for a spoon, it fell on the woman’s toe, bounced, just out of reach.
She looked across the house, and through the open window that had a great display of vast sky and tangible green grass frolicking in familiar motions.
Hair! A brush!
When was the last time she had bathed or rinsed?
2 months? No, 1. Feels like 4. Or 5.
He never loved her enough to stay.
He collected their pollinated, breathing seeds and with motion toward the road, left.
Then right.
Then left.
Then right.
Then...right, was it?
Or maybe left.
He definitely did that. She remembers every day since.
With the grass, to brown leaves, to frozen feet of soil, to wet puddles, and back.
And every year after that.

The difference of a summer now and then
But it's not so sad you cry, it’s not too sweet you ache, it’s not so new it’s free, but, it’s there, and you do feel it,
like the sun touching the ancient ground,
the sky clearing and joining back together in dark fluffy clouds,
The time for rainbows and naps, a time for sandboxes and strollers,
But that time is not now,
There is a time for crying, a time for your first smiling, for dressing up and goodbye-ing,
But, that time is not now.

There is a diagonal breeze blushing the sides of your uncovered, sleeveless arms, the air is soft and it's lightly warm, and it dances on your forearm and skin, just like the beams of sunlight that would frolic on your thighs under the water of a swimming pool

The best medicine for me
One deck
One porch
Front and back
The south and north
East and west

Peace
  Only means
    So much to me
How
Do
You
Escape

The amount of pain you give to me is equivalent to the amount of love I feel for you. This suffering of my wounds, starving heart, and bleeding flesh! Imagine! The eagle that now has an empty nest, her eyas’ all gone, do you think when my kisses leave your neck and my smell changes to mortality and monotony, that we will miss each other? I, at 16, will miss you. Everything I promised all those years, if they don’t come to pass, know I still meant them when I said them. Your hand will be in mine, forever 16, when we are 32, and your body isn't near. Kiss your children’s heads and remember what we were going to name ours. Don’t hesitate to call me. The 16 year old is waiting, but I no longer am. Remember me! Please! Remember me! I’m screaming, clawing, begging! There she is. Call me?

He's beautiful. So beautiful. Wow. He thinks I'm beautiful. Why?

1) You need compassion for yourself, especially the parts about you that you hate, or dislike, or find annoying, or you'll never feel whole, and that's just a fact.
2)  You need boundaries in emotion, even with the people you love the absolute most. You have to be okay with them not being okay sometimes.
3) We all should have a calm place in our minds.
4) Also, a box for us to store our sad and scary thoughts, that we will promise ourselves we will come back to later, but don't need to feel right in that moment.

\ I'll add more as they come along

Efficiency doesn't make me happy, rather uncomfortable, I can't take my time and enjoy life because others want me to work at a speed ahead of what i'm comfortable with, for what my body wants, and instead, making me feel dumb or inferior. Everyone feels like that I assume.

safe
thats her
him
ohmygod
wow
dead in my steps
passing out at the thought
i can't stand
it

I'd marry you
I love you maybe it's just teenage love but I've never felt this much love for anyone in my life. I could actually die from a broken heart because of you. I really love you, and I hate distance. I just want to cry and break down in front of you, make me feel okay and better. I just didn't know I'd fall so hard. My stomach churns over this. Im crying over how amazing you are, I'd die for you. Steal everything from me. I'll keep you warm at night. Im crying Im crying I'm so happy

It’s like I’m sitting, watching a love scene in a movie where teens are driving and swimming and laughing and I'm immersed and enjoying it, but then the harsh, violently fluorescent lights behind me turn on and the director yells “Cut!” and my brain is hijacked by a new reality of fake, lonely, nothingness.

Everything feels inauthentic
Coated with some sugary *******
Mixed with oxygen and sun
Creates glucose in my blood
The earth feeds the trees
The flowers feed the bees
You feed from me
And because i loved you, i plead

An aspect, really is what? a particular part or feature of something.
The positioning of a building or thing in a specified direction.
(of a planet) form an aspect with (another celestial body).
"the sun is superbly aspected by your ruler Mars on the 19th"
And aliens? a foreigner, especially one who is not a naturalized citizen of the country where they are living.
"an illegal alien"
Oh the end of a hypothetical or fictional being from another world.
aspect. ... nature; quality; character: the superficial aspect of the situation. a way in which a thing may be viewed or regarded; interpretation; view: both aspects of a decision.
Personal? an advertisement or message in the personal column of a newspaper; personal ad.
That is it. That is us. Social ties.

we don't care if you float or sink in the bathtub

Do you want me to beg you to take me back
Blues don't say goodbye
Red stings when it looks me in the eye
Do you want to see me crawl across the floor
I am in love
I guess I never fell out of it
Like a birds tall nest in a blizzard
I am broken, unstable, and wishing to be high
*******
I thought I was over this
I thought I was attracted to them now
Guess I'll beg the goddesses to let you sit next to me
In my sea of trees
You'd follow me into a valley
Amen for corruption
Maybe I'm just pretending to love the wrong girl
Without even realizing it

im sad im sad im sad im sad im sad
that's really the only thing i am
just heartbrokenly sad
i need to get over you
im mad im not content
im mad about so much i could cry
so i do and i did and i have and i will
i'll do this all of this again
for you

Emilee, her memory
The child within her television tv
The last standing immigrant of Chile
And a standstill on the blooming lilies
Flowers don't sprout in the withering hot
And babies are mourned when the cradle drops
Water is set free, along with the husbands
Someone, dear god, allow us to keep this bun in the oven

The doors seem to be open, the room seems to pour out onto the lovely maple floor the woman of the house killed her husband on.
Writing is like drawing, you give so much time only to try to improve what's barely adequate and hardly deserving.
Much like her husbands love and his curly hair, not to mention the tasteless affair.
You can say you quit, you can throw a fit, but spotlights rarely move from the limelight.
Much like the fame driven actress, your morals weren't put into practice and Jesus wasn't there to act tactus.
Pennies weren't on his eyes, even after his demise.
They would have been stolen, had they attracted that bitter, mourning actress.

Amy
The name rarely suits you
The voice merely chooses you
The body continues to move you
The choices begin to confuse you
The spectrum starts to lose you
Your gender seems to remove you

And who am I to love you?

Eleanor Jun 29 - Eleanor Aug 20
Residential Eating Disorder hospital,
No outside love[rs],
Mere minutes in the garden with the tall, tall fence,
Reminding me of a book of fairies, read once,
And not 14 years, could create an easy life for her,
Words, water-like, floated awkwardly, speaking "Oh this disorder? It's not hurting.",
Heaven made you this way- I cannot believe in religion anymore, it sends my mind murderously bare,
Your hair thinning quite badly,
Your blood beats up and down,
Your bones, brittle,
And your smile drowning in a frown,
I'll wait for our reunion,
A kiss upon your mouth,
Tell me that you're certain.
Tell me that you'll still be around.

\

no outside
no easy life
"no trouble, babe"
heaven kept you this way
your bones are brittle
your blood up and down
your hair thinning badly
and your smile falling to a frown
I'll wait for our reunion
a kiss upon your mouth
tell me that you're certain
tell me that you'll be around

say goodbye to her
her smile
her soft and scrunched nose
her pale legs
her wispy thinning hair
her long sharp neck
her tiny petite arms
and the way she lays you in her bed
do my worst she'll say
I love the way the cold sweat drips
the hush of an empty stomach
she loves to be alone where no one can tell her no
to love her is a mistake
she's a mess
a break
loving her-staying up all night
that was my to do
read her words
write her a song
admire her art
admire her
that's what she wanted: control
Control of life
Control of food
And dear God, how she controlled You

*******

I was with you
Your tattoos
Your hands
Your arms
Your veins
Your chest
Your back
Your front
Your hips
Your toes
Your nose
Your smile
Your skills
Your piano
Your basement
Your bedroom
Your dog
Your barging brother
Your dad
Your "friend"
Your preschool
Your house
Your fingers
Your mouth

Your legs and arms around me
You smell of sleep and sweet dreams
Like soft, clean linen mixed with a sweet flower, a scent of unkempt hair swirls around me creating an intoxicating painting of beauty
We learned about pheramones in school, males are attracted to females for their scent, females are attracted to males for their post-pubescent voice. Each *** is attracted to the other. Black and white. Straight.
I think my female body is attracted to your female body because of the sheer beauty you hold
You're like fine art, it doesn't take much for me to fall for you
I feel as though I'm exactly where I need to be, roaming the halls of your museum  with tough brick doors and empty glass cases of obserdities for years.  I could drop wine glasses and trip over the ancient rugs.
You cry too deep

Edison
Vile
You
Musical
I love how your eyes squint and I hate myself for falling in love with people so quick
So quick
Zip
Zap
I'm back
$80.00 anxiety
And a crowd
Don't leave in five months
Don't leave for France
Please
I know you won't return
So quick
Zip
Zap
You won't come back.

you're new
you're musical
you're cultured
you're talented
You watch movies in Russian
You listen to fleet foxes
You're shy
You danced with me
After your friend asked if I wanted to because you were nervous
You said you thought it was implied that you liked me
So did I
Until I heard about Isabel
You said you thought you liked her
But now you do not
I know I don't know you that well
But you're beautiful
And ****
And artistic
You're two years older and a senior
I'm a sophomore
You're leaving in 5 months to live in France
A continent away
You're perusing music in Lyon with Joseph I'm staying in Minnesota
I have to finish two more years of school
If you asked me to run away and join you creating music in France I'd probably say yes
I'd emancipate myself
I'd love to write music forvever
I'd love to admire your jaw and your teeth and your eyes, your hair and smile
I think most everything about you would work in our favor
Your friend Chad thinks we'd make a good couple
I think Chad is sweet
I think you're sweet
I know I'm sad that if I fall in love with you
And you leave me
I'll have a wasted broken heart
And that you will become a memory
I hope you do such great things
I want to live

I'm listening to the radio my dad turned on, his mom is dying.
I understand his sadness and need for comfort, I lay on the couch and he sits on the kitchen stool.
Neither of us talk, I have a documentary playing about a girl who was kidnapped.
A commercial plays on the radio and my dad takes a bite of toast.
I intended to write about you. I wrote about you earlier, I wrote how if you died I'd die.
We've already decided we'll die together

You said I took your heart, threw it to the curb and stomped on it

I don't know what to tell you.
Besides the most platonic I love you I can muster.

Because I do love you and nothing has ever been as important to me.
I guess this isn't about dying grandmothers or the sound of crunching toast coming from a sad mans mouth.
I guess this is about you, but then again, what isn't?

she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes

Shore lines cross poor minds,
Leaving empty space and tierd haste,
Uncovering what's left of the human race,
Adults will cry what a waste,
As we all try to keep face,
Left this world without a trace.

The sun rises and empties it's soft morning light into your bedroom window
The warm yellow hues fall gently upon the bed we lay in
The mismatch pillow cases of astronomy and pale white linen
Your long, lean legs tangled in sheets and your brown eyes closed lightly
You inhale and exhale the fantasies that are tangled in my mind
Your cigarette smell lingers and my head fills with the clouds you puff
I don't know if I love you yet
I don't know if you can love me enough

Why do you get to kiss her
I'm the one that truly misses her
I've been here through tears and the years and the awful nights through the day and the frights and you
jump
in
and
you
are
the
end
and
I
can't
stop
it
Through the years and the tears and the awful breakdowns through the tough and the rough
and
I
Don't
Get
Enough
no
I
Don't
Get
Enough
You kiss her. I miss her. Oh but you wouldn't know.
No, she wouldn't show.

Seasons walk by, and with a twinkle in her eye
She
Calls
My
Name
And I feel the pain
through these years and these tears and the awful one night kisses
You don't have to disappear
You just disappoint
Love