I've been trying to become famous
Letting my grades slip
Creating explicit accounts
Let my name be synonymous with success
I want to be in your mouths
I want fame
I want you to Hear the word Aurora
and think of everything I am

Listening to ***** rap in class
Staring into the depth of my screen
Fast pace words and faster beats
Backdrop of rhythm making my feet tap
A swath of warm words wrapping me up off my feet

Thick thighs sitting in a small seat
Squeezing myself together
Compress my body into a small space
Make me thin
I'm pushing into my skin again
A small tear in the soft under belly of my arm
I want to tear my self apart
Silent screaming
Let me be thin

I've been trying to write for months
More desperate than junkies on city corners
Because the lines I write on my paper
Are better than the ones you take up your nose
Paper in this notebook is worth more than the paper that you brag about having on social media
You see I've taken to choosing words and phrases
Rather than choosing what strand to smoke next
Fancy words like abittor
Do more for me than Lysergic acid diethylamide
Withdrawls from pen and paper are worse than
Withdrawls from amphetamines
Being a writer
Is something you are never warned about
Because one day you will on top of the world
And the next day you will be on the edge
Just to get an adrenaline rush and motivation to write
Why do you think the best writers sucumb to alchohal stains, white noses, and scared veins
The best writer I know has shelves of prescriptions, like a library of books
My favorite poems are inspired not by writers lines, but rather lines I chop myself
Drinking your poems with ***** as a chaser
No one warns you about being a poet

Writers blovk is a **** block between pen and paper
I stole that line from a friend and I think she stole it from a writer
Writers block is so universal it even affects people who don't write
Pen to paper
All I want to do is write
I'm desperate to write about anything at this point
I'm trying to write a book
I've got fifty pages of pure poetry
And lines of future poems
I've said before I'm an unfinished poetry piece
and when I'm polished I will have skin made of stories told over centuries

The day Astrid fell in love with Mars was the day the beginning of the end started.

I've been trying to make father and dad rhyme
But dad has the essence of holding and never letting go
and father is some one who writes you letters after years of no speaking
Dad is some one who held you when you scraped you knee
And father is someone you only remember seeing once, and it was very cold that day
Dad is some one you talk to
and Father only wrote you one letter and you are 16
Dad is someone who you fight with, but you love him
and father is someone you will never know
Maybe its best that I can't rhyme sentiment and hopelessness
*Present and absent will never coincide with each other
Because my dad is not an antonym
And my father will never be a simile

His name is buried into my skin quite literally
And figuratively
Arms in the air
Chest out, swan dive to the pavement
And in the three seconds before touch down you will hear his name peeling off my skin
He has always been the skeleton in my closet
The monster under my bed
He whose name shall not be said
Because he will always fine you
And then leave you
Three seconds before touch down

Cold weather isn't good for old souls

My intentions are not to try to steal your boy
I do not want him
I simply wanted closer
A final heart stopper to **** this infatuation  
I do not want him
Not after you took who he was and altered him into
Your own creation
He no longer has wild stories to tell
But the words "no I can't do that" slip from his mouth all too often
I wanted to say words that have the world in their meaning, so I could know that I didn't want to speak all of creation to him
You see there was a time when I wanted to
I would have given him every plant on this green earth
But you my dear, aren't into gardening
You see, I no longer wish for him
But if you are insecure enough to think that you need to defend your relationship to me
What does that say about you

Tell me your sins
So I can bathe them away with my empathy
But you settle for mere conversations
With apathetic words

I fell in love with poems
Words typed by you
With nothing to go on
But short conversations
And length poems
I became infatuated with words

For the past month I’ve been trying to write
About everything- from the way flower petals bend, and look so soft, why I’ve been feeling so depressed lately, even about how when I was a kid I played the flute
But none of it sticks, I can’t get passed stanza four
I’ve had this problem before
Where I can only describe a bending sky, but never can I get to the way it breaks.
But I swear I’ve been broken before
More broken than junk yard cars, and dropped glass bottles
And I’m still gluing myself back together, over and over
Getting spare parts to try to fix me
When this is all over my new skin will be composed of words written over centuries
And my edges will be a little rough
Covered with a bit of rust
But who isn’t
My best friend is a mess of parts that don’t quite fit together right
But she makes me strong, and when I break down she will take herself apart to fix me
And that’s something we all need
When I was little and I still played the flute
I dyed my hair green for the first time
Going to music class for the second time, my teacher no longer recognized me
And back then I didn’t carry around an arsenal of defense mechanisms
And when I was told I looked like a boy, I pretended that I wasn’t getting chipped away at
That's probably why I will never enjoy band, and I can’t look into the eyes of a music teacher
Every middle school poem was brought back to red roses and flowers
And how your hand was softer than a newly budding flower petal
In all reality that’s why I don’t about flowers anymore
And I’ve been so depressed lately because I can’t write
But I guess junk yard cars and broken bottles can’t write either

Lighting rod between my teeth
You are static electricity built up in the clouds
I'm just waiting for shock to set in

But what do you do if there is nothing left to write

**** every hope I ever had
with your deathray eyes

I saw this poem you wrote
and I got my hopes up
Sky high
and then I realized
It wasn't for me
But I keep it tucked in my mind
because maybe one day
it could be

If life gets you down
Have life go down on you

I would skipped dinner for a week
No a month
I would take out every piercing
I could wrap my skin in my insecurities
So you wouldn't see any scars

I would spin myself
on the tip of my melting point
just so you could feel heat
even if it slowly killed me

The crack of dawn
would be my new bestfriend
we would work tirelessly till we
till we were beautiful enough to wake up to

even if it was a wasted effort
Because you didn't tell me I looked nice today

But I would shed every pound till I was just a skeleton
If that would make you happy

Because you only fall for pretty girls
Maybe if I dyed my hair blonde
like your last girl
You would want me

I just cant help asking
If I was pretty, could I be yours?

Sometimes I read a poem
and I get sad because someone wrote it
Before I had the idea
and I try to remake is
but beauty gets lost in translation

Luv, when you left
You took my ability to breath.

Typing fingers
faster
pause
read
see the excitement in your screens reflection
type
a little too quickly
and wait
wait
wait
wait
see yourself checking
just one time
one more time
one more time
and
read
smile
see in in the reflection
type just a little too quickly

repeat

Today I found the definition of apathy in you, dear.

Getting out of your car
Thighs stuck to the leather seats
and to some pretty girl
Grab bags
grab phone
Grab your bestfriend and hold her tighter than a new mother holds an infant
walk slowly on the asphalt to the apartment doors
have some shirtless guy run out of the door
looking for alcohol
like bees look for pollen
walk up the rusting grate stairs, two at a time
hear the white noise of your friend talking
nod and smile
enter the dimly florescent hallway and hear restless chatter
see the blood stain on the wall
open the door

and thats where I leave you

Whatever your name was
Thats what they called you
You had some tattoo on the back of your neck
It was a star and some roses I think
I gave you forty dollars
and you gave me alcohol
You got me drunk
I poured a cup and mixed it up
and drank till I was spinning
on the tip of your tongue and you were thirty miles away when we were thirty centimeters apart
And you did not flinch when I accidentally burned you with my smoke
You just smiled
and I took a shot of your ***
And I chugged the rest of you beer
You left me faster than I could come down
and All I Want Is Bones?

When ever you need to talk to people
They all disappear
But when they need you
Your all they see

I want a love so deep
and unexplainable
the ocean will become jealous

It hit the back of my throat
****** taste in the back of my throat
The message sent from your mom
at 12:27 in the morning
But it didn’t hit
reality didn’t hit me till 10: 23
th moring
The pills I bought for you are   now
in the pitof my stomachne
and now I know how yopu felt      aoll this time
Theb morth we spent apart

She caught me smoking
My sticks of cancer
I dropped and stomped one out
To tell her I only smoke recreationally
Only to let smoke drip of my teeth
And seep through my skin

But at least she doesn't know about the THC
Making the breathing space so thin
Or the pills wearing down my hair
I act like I don't care
But its wearing down every fiber
Of my dying body

As a child I loved growing things
Making things live
Giving life
But in highschool
I do not want a green thumb

Set the scene
Heart beating like a drum
I let you play gardner
And I
Play the soil

You sow your seed and leave
You stop your role but I am left playing the dirt

You come back days later asking if I need water
Only to leave before I can say
"I don't want a green thumb"

lines down my throat
bruises on my hips
teeth marks on my shoulders
Shaking legs
pulled out hair
bleeding
drinking
smoking
pushing
and now
he's
every
thing
on
my
mind

Every marred line
Red paint down
My white arm canvas
Dried blood on my jacket

but you dont ask twice  

Falling down
paint bucket nearly empty
I stumble away
Fresh blood on my jacket

You Wont Ask

So I dont ask
If you mind
me unzipping
my veins

I would just really like someone to help me with a poetry book
If you have any connections or advice for me I would love to hear from any one
Please if you have any type of advice or anything. or maybe look at my poems for constructive criticism, I wold LOVE your help

I want to be even more famous than Shakespeare
But I am more like jane doe

I can't think of what to write
Pen to paper
Fingers to keys
I cant think of what this piece needs
- What inspiration
- What desperation
I can't think
There seems to be nothing left

He is the Poem
I wanted to write

But I am the moon
And you are the sun

*We shall never collide

I will call you lover
Because thats all you are

Darling, you are the moon, and I am the tide.

Alex in second grade was sharing cookies and kisses on cheeks
Jacob was fourth through sixth grade, he was holding my hand soft and calling me by my new name "girlfriend"
Cory was summer, swimming pool, stolen kisses, and a new name "sweetie"
David was seventh grade, english class, whispers and giggles, passing notes
Austin was dancing, he was crying, he was soft kisses and the playground
Eighth grade was Grant, he was a week, he was promises that were never kept
Cody was the spring, he was new, he was old, he was out of school, and he gave me a new name "sweet ***"
Zack was summer, he was the begging of school, he was skipping, he was the one with his hand up my skirt
Anthony was a secret, he was ***, he was pushing and pulling, he was bruises
Caleb was innocent, he was steamy he was passion, he was long days, and short nights
Danny was the mall, late night facetime and long talks
Dallas was hard cold raw *******
And you
are
new

Every artist has dabbled here and there with everything from
Making your own artificial clouds into the night sky
Letting tabs of lysergic acid diethyl amide melt onto your tongue
There are those who not only put pen to paper
But put needle to skin
There are those born with ideas, and those who sniff them up with rolled up dollar bills
And there are theses who’s best thoughts come from nose bleeds and a heart rate of 150 bpm
There are those who lay putting all effort into form misshapen words on a blank canvas
and there are people over medicating falsified illnesses with the contents of yellow little bottles
There are those who drown themselves in self apathy, and agony

My clothes drop,
heart beats,
Polaroid Camara flashes,
******* lines.

You’ll never see how much I loved you
I was going to dye my hair brown
I stayed up crying three nights in a row
trying to let go of my bubble gum hair
But the next day
You told me you didn’t love me like you did yesterday
So I dyed my hair blue

I said I was afraid to cross the road
You held my hand so tight
You rapped your arm around me
And took my hand in yours
You looked me in the eye and said you’d never let anything bad happen
And you held me close
and we ran across the street
We didn’t stop running till we were in a back ally
And you kissed me
It may have been because we we're high
But I let you

You touched my hair
And called me beautiful
I told you I was afraid to get hurt
And you told me not to worry
So I closed my eyes and let you
Explore me again
You touched every insecurity and kissed it
Trying to make me see how beautiful I was to you

We went to catch up with your best friend
And my sister
And we sat sitting face to face
And you kissed me
And even though my mom came to get me
You whispered what you wanted
And I silently screamed I love you as I drove away

You had made me feel as if I had galaxies in my veins
Stars in my eyes
As if the wind was me
You made me feel like everything
with a tight grip of a hand
A soft touch on my hair
And now I can only Imagine that now that I’m not in your sight
I might be a stray thought in your mind
And maybe you’ll hold my hand and we can cross the road again

Fingertips
running over her hips
Your touch on her thigh
Has her screaming silent cries
As your hands go low
And your begging her to show
But she doesn't want to go
All the way
She tries to keep you at bay
But you are persistent
And she tries to be resistant
But your pushing is to hard
And your acting as if she has no heart

So she lets you in