I think,

just once,

I'd like to feel important.

Maybe I'd like to be a Homecoming Princess,
Maybe I'd like to be a Prom Queen,
Maybe I'd like to have this solo,
Maybe I'd like to have the spotlight on me.

Maybe I'd like to join a band,
Maybe I'd like to speak my mind,
Maybe I'd like to win Poetry Out Loud
                                       or
                                       anything, really...

Maybe I'd like to see,
                               hear,
                               do,
                        and be so much more,
Maybe I'd like to be like everyone else...

And maybe-not maybe- quite absolutely
I'd like to ***** panic, anxiety,
and all these stupid hinderances--
and do all of the above.

for one moment,
for just barely a breath,
I felt whole.
happy
eased
calm
beautiful
youthful
and completely okay.
but it was just a moment,
one that shall not be repeated.

I just want to stop being ashamed for existing

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

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.

There is no love for me here
no need of the space I take
I think
tonight
I'll turn Bowie loud
and strangle myself with these head phones.

Trapped in a disorder,
Surrounded,
Encased by a series of heated lies,
An arrangement of glass dolls by my side.
Here it comes,
An energetic melody that makes my heart beat fast
And brain overreact
So I cannot write proper poetry.
So hyper, so happy, so nothing.
Misery is in the past
But still clinging tight
So I wonder what it is,
That prevents the many powerful words I once held
From emerging in splotchy ink down on parcel.
I’m not happy,
That’s for sure,
But I’m not miserable,
I’m at some horrid place in between
At a place where I am not happy enough
And not sad enough
To fill page after page with
Rhyming thoughts that flow.
This place kills me.
No matter the dark rooms I once cried in,
I’d suffer a dark earth for an eternity
To see my bony hand swishing swiftly across the page,
Producing miserable rhyming thoughts once again.
What am I without poetry?
I don’t know,
And I don’t ever want to find out.

ugly.

I'm different
yeah I'm different,
I'm different
yeah I'm different,
been praised
since birth
for my originality
*****
mentality
bow down
to the freak of freaks
with the good techniques
compliments of god
just for being odd
think I'm plagued by benality
cursed by originality
they think it's the coolest
they think it's so great
they don't understand
how this twists my fate
I'm different
yeah so different
pretending to be indifferent
to being treated
maltreated
isolated
outcast
never understood
different isn't so good
and if I could
I'd be so much more generic
I'd have little simple thoughts
eco friendly watts
get starbucks on weekends
do my nails and hair
highlights down to there
and if you only knew
how it feels
to be so **** alone
you wouldn't be so prone
to envy my creativity
when it's met
with such negativity
to have no coherence
of proclivity
I'm a slave
in captivity
people come by and watch
but don't touch
they point
ooh and aaah
but they don't know what to feed me
how to care for mee
my biggest strength
is my biggest flaw
Since birth
I've been told
I'm so original
but I'm so broken it's clinical
almost criminal
these thoughts I have
living in a world so fictional
I'm so ******' lonely
and hungry
and slowly
freezing to death
with no one to keep me warm
or speak to
I'm cryin up a storm
because no one understands
no one knows my heart
no one knows my soul
you'd think with all this praise
I'd be able to climb out of this hole
but truth be told
lord behold
I am a long sad story
nobody can unfold.

She was only a little girl when it happened.
Only a child.
The world shattered around her,
a void opened up
as her throat closed.

Her body limp,
eyes blank,
struggling to see the good in the world,
to cling to the smallest bit of magic left.

She was only a little girl when it happened,
she was only a child
when she was forced to grow up.

What do you do when you look around and all you see is black?
You strain your heart each day as you search for something good,
But only find the graveyard
Where love comes to die
And lies grow like weeds.
Holding onto that rope
With bleeding hands,
Holding onto the last strand of hope
With a bleeding heart.
I look around
And feel all is lost:
The world is cruel- selfish
And spiteful and I am no exception
I accept that,
The world is dark and unforgiving
But it’s up to us,
We have to be strong even when we are broken
We have to paint that canvas bright
Until the love finds its way through,
Even just the slightest bit,
The tiniest effort,
can change everything.

I had this dream last night,
about a man
who spent years
wandering the yellow halls
of a moldy hotel.
Always at the end of the dream
he spends his time
hiding in the stairwell.
Up and down
down and up
he goes
hiding with every step--
            what is he hiding from?
        The people looking for him… I think.
He doesn’t leave the hotel,
he just keeps wandering
and hiding
all with great urgency.

The last time I had this dream
I nearly slit my throat.

Hot showers are not long enough,
the drives seem never ending,
the lines on my face
tally the hardships,
everything I've known
is forgotten by those who hand me my coffee.
My fingers fumble
to press buttons
that remind me how complicated everything is now,
and how it all used to be.
I take walks through the streets
and am alone.
I keep my shoes tied
slacks straight
and shirt buttoned righteously.
I can only brush my greying hair back
and look at the world anew each day,
to see that the world still cogs on,
and then I know
that I am yesterdays man.

How dare I
how dare I
do such a horrendous thing
how dare I
how dare I
do something I can't take back
well here I go
saying no more
            no more
my body my temple
my mind my palace
my soul... my ******* soul.
how dare I
fall so easily
how dare I
maltreat myself so
how dare I
let myself feel so miserable
how dare I
eat bad food
how dare I
lose all control
never again
no not again
I keep telling myself
next time I'll say no
but this time the hurt is too much
the need is too great
how dare I do these things
so no more
     no more
I'm going to make a promise
pray for me that I keep it
how dare I let myself hurt so
so no more
please, to yourself, say no more too
if you, like me,
have dared to inflict horror
have dared to give up your body
have dared to give everyone a try at your heart
make it like putty
drop it get it *****
how dare I tarnish my soul
so no more
    no more
here I go
taking a step forward
                                                         ­    saying
                                                 no ******* 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.

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.

I've been sitting all day
eyes trained on electric screens
I've been dry-eyed all week
the world melts away
I'm in a daze
tapping tapping
the keys
as constant as breathing
but at 4:09am
I pull my eyes away,
they hurt so bad,
though these electric screens
wouldn't seem so bad,
had they not the memory,
of once looking upon you.

The world seemed quiet.
The teacher's eyes are sullen.
and the kids...
we're all so polite,
all so gentle
each breath filled with a cautious respect...
There's an air of despair,
as we mourn
one whom we loved.