The walls are white,
floors hardwood,
     lines painted on canvases
costing 6,000 each,
      outside
               there is trash on the street.

I saw a thread
and it told me not to pull
I couldn't help but see where it could go
so I reached and I tugged-
then pursed my lips and shrugged
pretending not to care
about the tapestry that came a crashing
that came unravelling
kicking up dust
as my dreams began dismantling-
it would happen again
and again
I can't resist a thread
even though I can see, at the end, only dread.

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?

The fact of the matter
is that when you're alone,
things are so much easier.
No complications
fears
worries
regrets
mistakes
arguments
bruising
j­ealousy
wonder
fear
fear
gone-
it's all gone.
it's all simple
when you're alone it goes away
and it's so much easier
to trick yourself
into thinking you're happy.

The Rock N' Roll man
hung an arm loose
around the pole of the jerking train,
he swayed about like a rag doll,
a half cocked smile on his face,
pants exposing a sharp, ****** hip,
he didn't care.
He's so Rock N Roll

I'd like to drink true
and bold
and fearless
and honest,

instead they tell me to bottle it up.

I'd like to breath easy
sleep steady,
smile
drink more
and sigh at a sight-

but instead I'm just foolish.

I've been told it is wrong since forever,
and have tried my hardest to drink
only the freshest wine-
like all the other people my age do,
but I cannot.
It results only in my lying,
Faking emotions I could never have,
pretending to like the pure taste.

I've never seen a problem with it,
but
Not only do they say it is wrong-
it is illegal.
It hurts my soul, for now,
but soon, just a year, I'll be free to love and drink
aged wine the same as I do now,
only with less scrutiny.

I'll be free to be held in public with few judging eyes,
I'll drink unto it
and it will drink into me.
and the brief
secretive moments of passion
that have always stayed hidden that people say is wrong
can end-
and cautiously enter where the sun's rays pour.

I have my eye on a fine bottle of wine,
it gets better with age,
they tell me I shouldn't,
taking a drink would be wrong,
I've only had sips-
but soon
so soon,
I'll have a glass.

the first time I felt human,
was in your arms,
don't let it be the last
I'm reaching
I'm reaching
my arms are weak
they're shaking
they're shaking
don't let it be the last

an Umbellularia
rose up in Atlanta
priestly and tall
shading my squall
Breathless and begging
I swear
if I got
just one night of your love
I wouldn't break your stay
I wouldn't let her sway
I'd **** them all-  I'd let God die
if they made you cry
Umbellularia I swear
just give me one
and I'd walk back into the sun

I see flowers blooming
snakes grooving
fleeting moments of serenity
with gasps for air
and hands trembling
as they touch, treacherously,
the skull of their own,
desperate to know relief.

If I weren't so afraid to speak,
we could maybe be friends,
you and I.

If I weren't so afraid to make eye contact,
we could maybe say "hello" every now and then.

If I weren't so afraid of the world,
things could maybe be different.

A blind judge sat down on a throne high above the crowd
"Life has begun, who would like to start?"
in unison we all shouted
"We would like to begin living!"
The judge nodded,
and having heard their voices
allowed them passage to where life would begin.
They left in happy clusters
more and more
till none were left-
except me.
"I would like to begin living!"
I cried out
but the blind judge sat still, having not heard me.
I mustered all I could and cried out once more
"Please! I'd like to live my life!"
the judge stirred
"Is it the wind, or a whisper? Have I heard a voice?
Shout again if you are there,"
"I'm here I'm here!"
I shouted with tears welling in my eyes.
The judge sat back and quietly said to himself;
"Must be the wind, simply resembling the sound
of  someone with not even the courage to sound their voice,
a coward who shouts their soul but is too afraid they'll be heard, so unknowingly, they whisper."
I began to cry and wail
but my even my sobs were so quiet
they were heard as nothing but the wind.

So I remained behind,
clusters of newcomers
who had the courage to be heard
and thus the courage to live their lives
passing through in steady streams.
But I stayed, shouting till my voice should have been hoarse,
but it wasn't hoarse, because I wasn't really shouting,
in fact I wasn't even whispering.
I wasn't saying anything.
I was too afraid to be heard.

"Why don't you come inside, Fish?
or you could just stay out here,
because I know you like to be alone"

That hit like daggers in my heart.
Especially coming from him,
I look up to him so much,
I shouldn't but I do.
He means well, I think,
it was more of a joke, sort of,
he wasn't being serious,
but the way he said it hurt.

Sure I lingered a moment in the rain
waiting for the rest of the people to enter the lobby
and I'd go last but-
I don't know.
it hurt.
him saying that.
that people think that.

No, Rob,
I don't like to be alone,
but being alone is easier
and the world is very scary
and I'm not very brave
so everyone thinks I like to be alone
but I don't.
I really don't.

It's too hard for me to speak
I don't know why, it just is.
It's too hard for me to step forward
and be like everyone else
I try so hard
but it's so terrifying.



the feeling of loneliness chills my insides
and makes me cold and still.
think what you like of me,
but please,
especially not you,
don't think I like to be alone.
because I don't.

It consumes my every waking moment
devours the hours
is the polluted oxygen for my lungs
everything I taste and feel
it is everything around me,
it is my world.
I cannot leave it-
not for a second.
I was born inside it
and will die here.

I am self loathing.

I am misery.

Your dark eyes ****** me in like a black hole
now I'm lost, floating, out of control
unable to catch my breath.

The isolation increases Ebullism,
my heart is swelling up
a feeling of explosion
blood flow constricted
days practicing
holding my breath
all for naught
fifteen seconds and I'm shot.

But I'm lucky, in that,
entranced by your everlasting beauty,
my eyes are open wide
and there they will freeze,
so I may look upon you forever.

they're pushin plastic
tellin me it'll be fantastic
but my brain goes static
thought my soul was bombastic
but they want me elastic
I swear that it's drastic
but they keep pushin plastic
and they pull out the mastic
it's a quick fix
to nix
my organic mix
bring on the gmo tricks
I've wished and I've wailed
but the words impale
I wanted
so dearly
to be proven wrong
told to be strong
but the throng
raising their prongs
keep pushin plastic

my own mind

is a merciless masterpiece

still holding

the dripping dagger

The performers stand with their backs turned,
awaiting to be called.
Each one filling with emotion.
It's their last show,
their last improvisational moment with each other,
before they depart for what is most likely, forever.
They have tears in their eyes,
comedy to cover it up.
The audience is crying too,
repeating "Aws" and "ohs"
and there I am,
crying too.
Half because it's sweet,
and I'll miss their existence,
and half,
because I know that that will never be me.
When I depart,
it will be quietly
and with the usual ****** on my chest.
Who will be there to weep for me?
Who will be there to notice I am gone?
These actors, so glorious,
their absence is impossible to miss
and it makes you feel sad inside...
And I cry,
I cry for them and the others,
and a bit of each tear
is dedicated to the absence
no one will notice
when I depart.
By death,
by choice,
by life,
I'll disappear,
and there'll be no one there
to hug me
and miss me
and laugh to cover their tears.
I'll just go,
on my own,
filled with memories
of the actors who departed
with a family holding hands around them,
hurting from the longing and love.
I'll just go.
and the only tears,
will not be for me.

I look through my telescope
from my small dark cave
to admire a great and mighty tree
unlike any I have seen.
I wonder who else, has admired this great tree?
I wonder who has sat beneath and read poetry?
What has the tree seen?
what will it become?
has anyone ever tried to cut it down?
does it weep over the scars?
I want to know all the tree
feels and thinks,
eager to hear it's stories,
wondering
if it would like to hear mine.

it's been a week

but we okay

our faces long

but we don't sway

purple crescents under our eyes

but still our fists

face the skies

Vain and careless children
speaking tall tales
looking for acceptance
no time for repentance
for they were taught
acceptance of themselves
is not necessary
it's not a thing
they should explore,
what is oneself
but that which
you've been told to be

spinnin' round and round
movin' bodies
can't touch the ground
vain and careless children
playin' till dawn
making too many mistakes
they can't fix
before they are gone.

Where,

at the end of a cold night,

should I release these age-old turmoils?

it seems,

only unto these clenched,   ****** teeth.

coffee

nicotine

routine

coffee

nicotine

routine

coffee

nicotine

routine

They say he is the man
I say he is a great and mighty tree,
he stands tall
and moves with the wind,
he wears a color for every possible emotion
so bright it contradicts
his quiet, watchful eye.
His thoughts and words are funny
and wise beyond the years of his youthful appearance,
I can't read his face
or hair that's here today but gone tomorrow,
and he is too far away
for me to search his eyes for answers.
He is beyond my reach
out of my league
there in the distance
amidst a raging sea
on a beautiful island
all his own
he stands
an enticing mystery,
a great and mighty tree.

I just want to stop being ashamed for existing

I seek enlightenment
and lo, what darkness I've seen along the way

Stumbling into the yard,
still blinded by electric light.
I look to the sky,
as so many heroes I've read of  have done,
and try to understand what I'm supposed to see.

I see a set of stars,
bright,
they're pretty,
but that's all I can think of to say.

My neck hurts as I crane to look at the sky,
but I persist.
What am I supposed to be seeing?
this mass universe beyond our atmosphere,
I see nothing but a few stars
that all look like they're Orion's Belt.

The wind rustles,
I feel like it's telling me something,
but what?

A few more stars appear,
I didn't notice them.
more and more and more
as my eyes come to an understanding with the night
and I see it.
The sky is bursting with those lights-
but I still wonder what to think.

Should I feel inspired?
motivated?
awed?
puny?
insignificant ?
powerful?

what is it so many great minds
have seen in the sky
that eludes itself from me?

I never think too deeply about anything,
couldn't, even if I tried.
So I just stand with an aching neck
acknowledging their beauty.

I search and search the sky,
neck becoming stiff,
I see small stars lightly throbbing,
and can only think of how this light
is proof of the stars death.
and then I see it,
a shooting star.
It hits me, it hits me all at once.
My first shooting star.
Something about it,
so bold
and swift
and striking,
there for a moment
and gone before I can blink.

Something about it lifted a weight.
I've always wanted to see one,
and now I have
and I felt something.
I'm not sure what,
but it was definitely something.

Feeling satisfied I go back into my room
and blind myself with yellow and blue light.
I have no idea what I got out of staring into the sky for thirty minutes,
I felt something but I know not what.
I only know that I feel like it helped me in a way,
like the sky had talked to my soul,
like I had been keeping my soul caged up like a bird
when it wanted to fly,
it wanted to say hello to the sky.
I'm not sure how looking to the stars that night helped me,
it just did.

I'm going to look at the stars more often,
as much as I can.
Maybe someday I'll find what so many others have found.
Whether it only ever lets my soul fly
or grants me so much more,
I think we should all look to the sky more often.
In times of joy, or sadness, or tragedy,
look to the sky, day or night,
breath it in
and let your soul fly,
for you might find something more.

The sick days are piling up
I can't go on like this
hiding in my bedroom
ashamed of the way I look
so much so
I cannot dare
to enter into society.

The happiest music in the world
couldn't move that girl form her spot,
her tears had dried to a sticky tar
and wouldn't let her break free,
the most beautiful of tunes
could not move her
to anything
but heartache.

Maybe if I keep eating
I'll fill the emptiness inside

in my final moments,
will I be kind,
wrathful,
vengeful,
forgiving,
spiteful,
in my final moments,
will my last declaration be worth it all?

It’s hard to speak
to the people around me
when I know
that when I go
they’ll forget all about me
and I’ll be just a name
with a face
they can hardly place.

It doesn't matter
how many layers
I put on,
this bed still feels
too cold to sleep
when you're not lying next to me

I'd like to say
I'm an honest
loyal girl
I always keep my promises
unless they're to myself
because I promised myself I would be happy
promised myself I'd take care
get off the ground
stop getting stepped on
do what I could
                       to get the best out of life
and here I am
here I am
breaking those promises with every breath.

**** I feel so fake
but there's so much at stake
I can't let it fall without a rake
**** every breath I take
these groovy moves and shoulder shakes
**** this **** is fake

-and suddenly,
I stopped caring.
Prepare to read more of my teen angst.

air smells like vanilla bean
this candle will burn all night
and I'm exactly as distant as I seem
you don't have to raise your voice
I made my choice I made my choice
I hear you loud and clear
every day since I was baby dear
everybody told me
no-body would want me
so hey hey shut your mouth
let me be
I'm stayin pretty in my head
spend the last of my life in my bed
hey hey leave be me
nobody's gonna come lookin' for me
dreamin' forever in white heaven sheets
dream me likes to gamble
play for keeps
sell all my possessions
so I can keep my obsessions
don't you raise your voice
I made my choice I made my choice
just let me sleep
let me dream
give it time
give it time
I'm sure I'll rest in peace

Sometimes,
in the night,
I wake up crying from a dream.
A dream that was good,
so incredibly good.

The kind of dream
where I'm invited to do things
and let in on jokes
and lives
and thoughts
and everyday things,
even the simplest...

the kind of dream
in which I can speak freely,
and I'm afraid of nothing.
The kind of dream
where I'm a normal person,
and people want me.

But then I wake up from the tears
because even in sleep,
even when I try to hide in dreams
I still know I'll never be like that.
I'll never speak freely,
be brave
be normal
be liked.

be wanted.

I'll never be someone people will want
and remember
and cherish,

I'll only ever be me.
and me isn't worth existing.

He writes it in cards,
one every year,
he asks for my forgiveness,
and to hold me again.
He asks me
whatever happened to my dear sweet girl?
"You put your hands on her," is all I can say.
Why must you be so cruel?
"I'm nothing compared to you,"
Please forgive me
"I'm too empty inside. I don't want to."
Lets be a family again
"Never."
Please
"*******"
Let me be a father again
"I hope you burn."
Wherever did my dear sweet girl go?
"You smashed her head into a wall, she forgot the innocence but remembered the pain."

wherever did she go?
wherever did she go?
she wore sunny dresses
and never stopped smiling.
she liked to laugh
and dance in the sun,
she liked to be alive
she liked to breath.

wherever did she go?
wherever did she go?
her smiles are fake
her laugh constricted
she sleeps in the rain
she hates to exist
she cannot breath.

wherever did his sweet little girl go?
her corpse is somewhere,
maybe in those sheets
face hidden by that pillow,
her soul a ghost
that wanders tall gardens.

wherever did his sweet little girl go?
wherever did she go?
wherever did she go?

what's so wrong
with a moment
that  won't last long?
I avoid it like the plague
"what's the point,
there's no time for anything to happen"
time
******* time man
always against me
because I'm so ******* up
I need time
I need all the time in the world
but I know
what's happening now
cannot go on
can only last a few weeks
and thinking about it
why does it matter?
Not enough time
has always been
almost a sin
but **** that
there's no time
there's nowhere for this to go
nothing that can fix that
and you know
that's okay,
that's perfectly okay,
because it's now
and it's okay
and it's going to hurt later
but now,
just for now,
it feels good.

I fell in love with the man runnin up the stairs
I fell in love with the man with the yellow satchel waitin for the train
I fell in love with the man with the golden voice
I fell in love with the man in the blue coat boppin in the rain
I keep fallin in love
with every pretty soul that passes me
I keep fallin in love
with men that belong to a girl I'll never be
I keep fallin in love
with masterpieces I can't touch only see
I keep fallin love
with the idea of a man that can set me at ease

The only thing that works
is drowning it out
with these happy sounds
so loud
my ears bleed
my head throbs
but oh
these sounds are so good

My eyes water hard
as I focus on the train floor
that hasn't been cleaned in maybe years

"Don't look upon the outsider" I say to myself
"Don't look upon the tall skinny man with sandy hair and age old eyes. He'll stomp out your freedom with those pointed leather boots- he'll curse your breath with those cracking hands-
that geometrical jaw will whisper all you've ever dreamed of"

I kept my eyes down
He had no scent
yet I could smell the divine.

Was he looking at me,
or gazing past?
If only I had the courage to look,
now I'll never know,

I'll never know.

for once
I would like to fall asleep
in someone's arms
and drift to happy dreams
feeling safe,
and warm,
and calm,
perfectly at ease
breathing in their scent
knowing
that I wouldn't mind
waking up.