Take me home
gates guarded by Trolls
Strong men
strong women
strong people
Let me fight
alongside you
brother
sister
the cold can't hurt us
lets go home
to beauty and serene
to fresh air
and friendly streets
party until Ragnorok
and hang our woes
on Yggdrassil
over the bridge
over the Trolls
where it all began
lets be fierce as our ancestors
smart as our kin
we still have time,
let's go home,
let's go home,
let's go home.

ta meg hjem
gates bevoktet av Troll
sterke menn
sterke kvinner
sterke folk
la meg kjempe sammen
med deg
bror
søster
den kalde kan ikke skade oss
la oss gå hjem
til skjønnhet og fredelig
til frisk luft
og vennlig gatene
feire til Ragnarök
og henge vår elendigheter
på Yggdrassil
over bro
over Troll
der det hele begynte
la oss være brennende som våre forfedre
smart som vår kin
vi har fortsatt tid
la oss gå hjem,
la oss gå hjem,
la oss gå hjem,

Your eyes are not blue.
I can't swim deep in them
explore your lost memories
like Atlantis,
no,
your eyes are better than blue.
They're nearly black.
Your eyes
lift me off the ground
and float me,
breathless,
into space.
Your eyes are black as night
with a lighter brown rim of galaxies,
your eyes are otherworldly,
and I like them so much more
than the bluest blue.

I need to keep reminding myself
that these people are not my friends.
They will not remember or cherish me.
Despite a gift exchanged or two
I refuse to be a fool.
I can't get offended
or feel left out
I know my place
I know the structure,
these people are not my friends,
a friendly word
here and there
make not a companion.
I have no friends
that I can see
no one to miss me,
so I must not miss them
no I refuse
       I reject
         I repulse
the idea
that I might love them.
On the outside looking in,
I must remember,
that these people,
are not my friends.

I want to give you up,
put down the pen.
I want to stop writing
about all these awful feelings
I can only announce
through tacky rhymes
to strangers I'll never know.

I hope some day,
I won't have to write poetry.

I hate looking at you,
I'm always looking off-
down-
side-to-side-
always dodging your eyes-
they are so... Blue.
The bluest of blues,
a royal effervescent
clarical blue
and as my name implies
if I look
I'll want to go swimming in them.
Curse your golden-spun hair
fine skin
sly smile
shapely nose
and above all
curse those tempting blues.

Why do we like who we like?
I know nothing about him,
but his voice lingers in my head
his fierce opinions carry conversations
to an elevated balance.
He's got an interesting style
and tall sturdy build,
his dark eyes pierce the soul
and how I wish they would linger on me...
but why should they?
What do I have that would make him interested?
I have no claim on knowledge of him
I can't even tell you why he is bald.
I can tell you, though,
when it comes to names,
that where most would place a C
he puts a *K

caught a glimpse
of myself in the mirror
dropped to the floor
couldn't breath
tears started to flow
worked so hard
no results
so much pain
too much
will my heart ever stop hurting
caught a glimpse
of myself in the mirror
it hurt to see
to realize
I might look this way forever
I keep trying
keep working
but there's no difference
no change
it's a horror show
with every breath
I can't figure out
what I'm doing wrong

Brother
see I love you
till the end of time
come home
I won't look back
if you promise to look forward
P(ain)hotographs
they're so old
let's take new ones
tell me how you're doing
brother
protector
fighter
lover
you had it hard
let's fight once more
I'll read you a story
like you used to read to me
no one else can take your place
you are still my brother
you are gone in the desert
adventures
you are having adventures
I like to believe
you are happy
with loved ones
if only
you hadn't drunk so much
brother
I love you
come home
you don't have to bring the bottle
don't bring the bottle
curse the bottle
brother.
'till the end of time
I'll be waiting

I'm a desperate teen but not Faking It
I'm ugly and awkward but not Miranda
Talentless and scared but not Girls
Food rules my life but this isn't Skins
My family is big but repulsively unlike Modern Family
I'm quirky and alone, but cruelly never Amelie
I'm a misfit uncared for so why isn't this Glee?
I'm poor and kind but there will never be Boys Before Flowers
I have deep dark secrets but not like Degrassi
I live a life like many others
but with one difference
it's not a sitcom
it's not a show
there aren't perks to being a wallflower
and it all doesn't turn out okay,
which makes everything a lot less okay.

I am ashamed.

a girl
you can't call me,
I'll chop off my hair
long enough to cover my face
My brother's clothes
with ***** tennis shoes-

a girl
you can't call me
don't you dare.
I'll hold hands with a pretty girl
a rusty beanie atop
I'll smile and laugh
and do crazy things
because a girl
you won't think me.

I once had so many friends
never saw a movie alone
long conversations
and midnight swims

back then I wore my brother's clothes
and had only two pairs
of duct-taped tennis shoes.
No one looked at my bulky calves
cankles
and thunderous thighs
they smiled and kissed
my round round face
supported by a thick thick neck.

I was a girl
they knew
but
dressed in camo shorts
Tee and hoodie
they never said a word
they never hurt me

you can't call me a girl
I won't let you
I'm so miserable like that
       so miserable like this
As long as I keep wearing his clothes
shoving my hair in a beanie
and forcing my laugh a little deeper
I'll keep going to parties
I'll keep all these friends
Everything will be okay
because when I'm a boy
people don't question
how big or how ugly I am
everything's okay
as long as I wear these clothes
so you can't call me a girl.

no
no
go away
you've caught me at a bad time
no
no
not right now
I'm busy
so busy
my head is spinning
I can't hang out today
I'm busy breaking mirrors
I can't party all night long
I have to stain my bed with tears
I'd love to see a movie
But I'd rather see scars on skin
I could celebrate with you
but I'm choking on candy confetti
Why scream at a concert
when I can scream
my own self loathing and frustration
till my throat is raw
no
no
go away
I can't come out to play
I'm busy
so busy
dying and dying
and dying

She offered me chocolate
she had brought home from work-
I lashed out
and shouted my decline,
slammed the door
and cried,
screaming into my pillow.

I'm still going to pretend
that this isn't taking over my life.

Where do I go from here
trapped inside looming fear?

How do I step one foot out,
into this everlasting drought?

How can I move down the street
when, facing the wrong way, are my feet?

Where on earth would I go
when my reactions are famously slow?

I don't have a lot of money,
no real talents to trade
I'm left with nothing but the extreme
if I want to achieve my dream
I'd sell my soul
honey
strip down
give my body
sell all my possessions
every last penny
if you'd just bring me a doctor
a doctor who can fix me
who's filthy enough-
no-
kind enough
to accept my extreme,
put me under the knife
slice away
until my ugly is a dream,
because it's all I've ever wanted
all I've ever craved,
doctor
doctor,
make me beautiful.

"I'm, dreaming...
        of a white....
         christmas...."

Did she stop singing,
because she didn't know the rest of the words?
because she disliked the sound of her voice?
or because the echo of her tune
was far too small
for a house that big?

My yard is a forrest
Covered in mossy trees
There’s a ditch with muddy water
And a cracked up pavement road
The grass is long and unkempt
And weeds climb the fence.
Loose flowers hang
From drooping bushes.
A sigh can echo
Down the street
Into the forrest
And it’ll be answered by the creak of the wood.

My surroundings are grey
Fifty shades of sorrow
One hundred pounds of gloom
The leaves are changing color
And falling to the earth
Leaving bare bark bones
To spread like fingers to the sky.

All except one
At the corner of the property
The prime of the street
And crown of the yard,
It’s noticably smaller
Than all the others
But stands tall and delicate
Against the rainy winds.
The fog gathers
Hanging over it
Doing it’s best
But it will not succeed
To mist its summer color.

The leaves are a fire red
You can see it from within the forrest,
Not a single leaf has yet to drop
And they shudder and rustle
In a symphony of summer blaze,
It overwhelmes
And enchants the eye
Not letting it’s luminescent color
Fade with the world,
Staying bold through the snow
And skinny branches tough through storms.

A small and loud tree
Stands at the corner of the yard,
It is the jewel of the neighborhood,
A torch for courage
And sticking it through,

The weather cannot weather fire
It cannot douse the flames,
The tree will stay crimson
For 365 days.

Hold me till I fall asleep
so I can feel you
and maybe see you
in my dreams
so as to be protected
from the nightmares

I asked Ana to help me,
be my best friend,
she said it would be hard
and once I start
there's no going back,
sometimes,
some people,
take it too far,
and can't stop.
She said there's no telling the outcome.
She's wrong in that sense,
I know the outcome,
the outcome is beautiful.
It doesn't matter if I'm a corpse,
I swear if this kills me
I'm going to be the skinniest corpse
you ever did see.

I don't want to go home
don't make me go home
I'm trying my best
but failing
I can't stop crying
I'm so scared
please don't make me go home
I don't want to go home


but I have nowhere else to go.

Eat me baby
raw with passion
steamed and crisp
tear me apart
drizzle me with honey
eat me baby
carnivorous delight
silver platter
just for you
bare your teeth
cooked to perfection
eat me baby
lick your lips
lick me
and lick the plate clean.

Let's go to the mountain top
and scream
and scream
until the sorrow in our voices
is no more

discard me, darling.
I'm water-damaged,
torn
and not worth much.

I just want to write a grand masterpiece
that'll make the world swoon,
but I'm too busy wallowing
in average doubt and self pity
about how I can't write a grand masterpiece
to actually write one.

If five year old me,
bruised and battered
with big circle glasses
could see me now,
what would she think?

I can't imagine she'd be more disappointed
than I already am.

the ailment is strong,
we must **** the disease
at it's origin.

but wait,
I'm the origin.

I'm eight tablespoons vanilla
a cup of lemon juice
a heavy layer of mustard
dry like cocoa
rough baking soda
I'm quite thick
and risen
oh yes,
I'm bitter and sour with a dash of flour.

The fruit flies come in a flash,
the fruit flies multiply in an instant,
the fruit flies buzz and bizz
making their business
all that is rotten.

You held me close
and the tears began to flow
I'd like to thank you Huckleberry,
for never letting go.

I wish I could write love poems
as beautiful
and enticing as all the other poets
as all the other heartbroken teenagers
and young aspiring children
and wise old fools
all happy to let themselves be whisked away
with a flurry of emotion.

I wish I could write like them.
I wish I could make my a reader smile
and sigh
and feel envious of my sweet sweet poetic love
but I can't.
I wish I could write poems like him and her
like all the others,
wish I could write a love poem,
but I don't know love.
I don't know what it is to love
or what it is to be loved
so how could I possibly write a love poem?
where would I begin?

I wish I could write a love poem,
but I don't know love,
and I'm so scared that I never will.

Do pigs know they are the ugliest,
dirtiest,
smelliest
most repulsive animal on the farm?
They must not,
because otherwise
how would they gain the strength
to wake up each morning
and walk about the farm
and eat slop?
They must not know how ugly they are,
otherwise they would lock themselves away.

I wish I were as ignorant as a pig.

pockmarked
and bloated
gurgling
and slurping
droopy
and moody
frazzled and frayed
to the public's dismay
ugly and nasty
snarling
and gnarling
red and blotched
human botched
creature unspeakable
lump unthinkable
grotesque
and robesque
inflexible
unmentionable
ugly little thing
never gets a ring
pay no attention
never even mention
ignore
this bore
and put aside
a thing too wide.

I sound a war cry for peace
but waves of negativity drown me.
I struggle
and fight against the cruel pressure
with arms made of hope and love.
My calm and quiet feet
break against the steep water
but without result
for the ocean is far too big
to be battled by a single person.
My years of fighting are over.
my heart sinks with my body
to the ocean floor
where hatred and vindictive lies
slowly cover my carcass
and I become just another reef
forever tied to the pessimistic battlefield.

I just want to sleep
I just want peace
my soul is ready to reap
unpaid body lease
sunken heart so heavy
struggling for heft
drowning not deadly
I just want to rest
I'd rather be dead
and out of my head
experience release
life's trials never cease
terror in the night
terror in the day
never had the will to fight
pampering their way
shivers eternal
heightened by
poisoned paternal
I'd rather be high
rather be alone
be together
fear of the (un)known
scraps of being on tether

Give me adventure,
an expanse of possibilities,
give me everything
in the form of  incomparable beauty;
give me the universe,
and all its curiosity.
I want galaxies on jewelry
and dresses
and shoes
and ribbons to put in my hair.
I want galaxies in my eyes
and on my nails
and for my breath
visible in space's cold
to spool and twirl
like the milky way.
I want you to gift me
with things like no other,
I want you to take my breath away
with the views of above
impossibly replicated
and bottled
for my own pleasure and adoration.
I don't want the world,
not just,
I want the whole universe.

1 minute 15 Seconds
(I counted)
we stood there silent
I couldn't look at you
were you looking at me?
Why did we stay silent?
why did you stay?
the campus was emptying
but still we remained.
Were you trying to say something
as much as I was?
I had to restrain myself
from asking you out to coffee,
do you like coffee?
I don't.
But asking someone out for tea sounds weird.
Anxiety rumbles in my stomach
and my mind ricochets to the moon and back~
so many possibilities why you're there with me
any possible meaning behind your actions-
I'm so scared there isn't
I'm so scared there is
You stress me out, Blue,
what did you think
for that quiet time?
I thought of everything
and counted in my head
trying to find significance
in the amount of time we spend.
We were quiet
for 1 minute 15 seconds
and I couldn't see your face
legs shaking
locked in place
So many things to say
but in all my thinking
and guessing
and fretting
I couldn't(can't)
figure out
if saying those things
would be okay.

I've written of it before
but I gotta tell ya
nothing feels better
than dancing in the dark

Music overwhelming
body moving
unconscious about my size
my arms and stomach unbound
my face can smile
without concern
I'm unstoppable

oh nothing is better
than turning out the lights
and feeling free
from scrutiny
turn the sound up loud
and let it pulse through your veins
lose yourself in something new
because nothing is better
than dancing in the dark.

I want to write a poem
that expresses
my insecurities
in a way
that will justify
my emotions,
but I'm lacking the words.
I want to express
the tears that fall on the page
prompted by feelings of self loathing
and betrayal
and shame,
desperate to communicate
how ugly I feel,
but the page remains blank.

You'd like to look into my expressive green eyes.
If only they weren't blocked by my two extra "eyes".
You'd like to kiss my lips,
if only they didn't share the same face as this acne.
I'm sure you'd like to run your hands through my hair that's quite soft,
if only it was cut to not look so long and scraggly.
You would like to hold me too,
if only I was skinny.
And you would most certainly like to hold my hand in public,
if only I didn't dress like a fool.
You'd like a lot of things from me,
if only I were someone else.

The coming day
offers so much fear
so much insecurity
I wish I could wear a mask
pull my hair in front of my face
wish no one would talk to me
above all
oh above all
don't look at me
I hate having people look at me
their eyes burning into me
searing my skin
don't look at my blotchy face
don't roll over my doughy fat
don't linger on my frizzy hair
don't you notice how big my thighs are
when I sit still
trying to be unnoticed
just don't look at me
the coming day
offers so much fear
too much fear
and I can't handle the terror
of being noticed
being looked at
it makes me sick
and shameful
and terrified
please
god
please
avert your eyes-
pretend I'm not there
it burns when you look at me
it sets me aflame
and I feel nothing
but the searing heat

**and it kills me

So what do you think of me?
You think I don't try?
well I try
oh my god do I try
do I cry
always lie,
you think I'm reclusive
                         elusive
                         aloof
                 and kloof
You think I like it that way,
solitude every day,
think I don't care to talk
or catchup to you and walk
you think there's a reason
I don't and haven't socialized,
well It's because I'm being terrorized.
You can't see it
not from where you sit
step in my shoes
feel what it's like to lose
see the earth on fire
trapped on a spire
a hero holding arms out
too petrified to jump or shout,
you know where safety lies
but black rain falls from black skies
and you're not sure if those arms are for you
or another in need of rescue too.
So hear what it's like
with nowhere to hike
overcome by a thousand eternal flame
that make you think you're to blame
that you feel this way because you set the fire
it got out of control only growing higher,
you feel ostracised and unwanted,
hated ugly and shameful and jaunted.
You live in fear
it's all your fault,
growth maturity and experiences put on halt,
post traumatic stress
a scared, shameful child and nothing less.

So what do you think of me?
think I don't try
I don't care
nothing behind my blank stare,
well there's everything behind these eyes;
apocalypse covered in flies
bruises and scars
heart to the stars
a longing shiver
pristine liver
paranoia and neglect
depression can't forget
a pig reflect
insignificant insect
-So what do you think of me,
look and tell me what you see,
and for you I can guarantee,
nothing is as it should be.

Happy Thanksgiving
it's time to feast
set the dinner table
polish the silverware
and eat till you're sick.
Happy Thanksgiving,
I'm thankful for being alone in the house,
I'm thankful for having no money,
or family
to have an event.
For my feast
I'll be having air,
self loathing
regret
disgust
I'll be eating my misery
and when I'm done,
I'll purge it out,
purge out nothing
but purge none the less
just to make sure,
happy thanksgiving,
to you
to me
to us all.

"I like you an awful lot, kid"

He knows that when he asks me if I'm okay
tears well up in my eyes.
He knows I smile brightest when he speaks to me.
He sees
he knows
"I'm trying to figure you out"---
I didn't know he was trying.
I didn't know he cared,
but he cares about all of his students
and I'm lucky enough to be one of them.
He says that he's always there
that I can talk to him,
but sir, what would I say?

I'll just have a taste
just have one
two
three
four
sticky mess
all over my hands
why couldn't I stop
I don't remember doing this
frosting drying up my mouth
only solaced by further sugar
sticky mess
all over my hands
I can't wash it off
I can't get it off
it's engraved there
sticky mess
all over my hands
tormenting me
making me sick
sticky mess
all over my hands
purge it out
get it out
shower drowning out the sound
sticky mess
all over my hands


I'm disgusting

A song comes on the radio
and it's quite catchy and fun
and I'd like to hear the lyrics
so I can find it later-
but I can't hear
because nobody else cares.

They chatter-scream-and laugh excessively loud
because they've all heard this song before,
know it by heart
finish to start,

and that's how it is.
They all listen to the same music
watch the same shows and movies
know all the jokes
all the comedians
and stories
they already know.
I try to catch up
and watch what they watch
step where they step
and sing their songs
but there's too much catching up to do
and not enough time
they're too far ahead of me.

So I give up.
Lengthening the gap
between me and the rest of my peers
only isolating myself further
incapacitating my ability to connect.

I'll watch my quiet foreign movies and syfy shows
and learn my own jokes
and continue to listen
to my odd quiet music.
They know their world,
and I know mine.
and no matter how hard I try
to visit theirs,
I'll never be able to stay.

I love to laugh,
I'm sure I do,
so why does it make me feel so awkward and so sad?
Why am I afraid of it?
Why can't I join the merriment-
share the bond?
Why do their cheery giggles
make me feel so alienated?
Why does their joy
push me away?
it's not like I dislike it...
I love to laugh,
I'm sure I do.

skinny.


I have trouble sympathizing
and empathizing
and condoling
those who open up their dark secrets
when it comes alight
that their secret is of the weighted, edible variety.

You say you struggled with weight
you couldn't keep it on
barely swallow a bite
you got so sick
and it was so bad
---
I must refrain,
as you speak,
from bowing down,
from praising you,
from questioning how you achieved
such beautiful strength
to become so skinny.

Your nightmare is my fantasy
your dark memory
is my desired future
Your shame
is my pride
Your wicked sorrow of the events
is glory in my eyes.

But I won't say that
no
I can't.
can't tell you how I envy
something that hurt you so,
but you can be sure
I'll be thinking it
feeling it
breathing it
forever.

I have not a voice
to properly enunciate
the fears and terror I experience
on a daily basis,
nor hands stable enough
to sign the loneliness
that wastes me.

let's blow people's minds
make their heart tremble
hot breath spurling through cool air.
Let's be an indie movie
where we're unique and new
and inventive,
and sit in obscure places
wearing tattered clothing
styling our obscene hair
discussing our rocketed adventures
and disjumbled but inspirational and boggling
views on life, the universe, and everything.
Let's put them together in careful lines
and send them out to the world
so that those who read it
may call us poets.