Human, you make me
Happy, you make me
Less mad, you keep me
Sane with your non touching
Hand, you do your best
You do your best, you do
What you can despite being
Just human.

Human, please let me
Help, please let me
In, I am aware my burden
Is not one you are eager
To increase, but I will do
My best, because you too
Are only human.

Human, talk with me
Into the night, and show me
Nothing, but through your
Writing hand, where you let me
Envision you hands grabbing your
Hair, I can feel
Your pain, I can feel
It now, cause I too
Am only human.

Human, we are both flawed
Beyond.

In the pond behind
The Rabbi's house
A thin sheet of ice
Would gather every winter.

We would never step
On it, because we all
Knew that it will break -
I wish I looked so fragile

Right now so that people
Will know to be careful
Around me so I won't
Crack, yet again.

Of course I
Trust you, you
Never gave me a reason
Not to, you were
Always there, it is
Not trivial, not for
Me, I am more grateful
Than my words
Can portray, I thank
You for telling me
I am amazing, I
Needed that, I need
It every time and
Hate myself for needing
It, I wanted to tell
You that I am not
Brave but the words
Wouldn't come out
Between the sobs, I
Just want you to know
I heard everything and
I cannot thank you
Enough.

Of the mole
I had
In the middle of my neck.

It was pea-sized,
And brown
And slightly dangerous.

So they took it off
And all that's left
Is a faint, barely seen scar.

As I examined my
Wounds Of The Day
In the mirror, I noticed
The scar again.

I had not remembered
It was there, or that there was
Ever a mole, by which
It was caused.

It's not a secret, deep and
Desperate enough, for me to
Tell my friends about, so they
Don't know I had a mole.

But it did happen, and was
A prominent feature,
Of my earlier years.

I find it odd,
That such a thing
Can be just casually ignored.

I find it logical,
That such a thing
Will be just casually ignored.

But the cluelessness
Of those closest
Awes me still.

I am
incredible, look
at all that I have accomplished / a satisfied smile
flashes at my reflection / anchored / anchoring
when all the world is spinning / round and round

The balloons where white and popping / always popping
disappearing with the loud
sound of your voice / almost spoken / but not quite
conveyed / through your hands / but no more
I am
anchoring / anchored
I am

incredible, look
open your eyes and look / I tell myself
as I cry myself
to sleep.

Not that I doubted it,
I was told time
And time again;
It's mutual!
You're amazing
You're brilliant
We believe in you.
Of course;
It's mutual!
I'm suppose to know;
It's mutual!
But time
And time again,
My past
Get's the better
Of present Me.
Mutual Me.
It's mutual!
Of course;
It's mutual!
But I'll doubt
Time
And time again.

Tomorrow
I'll forget
You love me
As I love you.
Time
And time again,
Please tell me
It is mutual.

I sit in my house
With the door handles
Crumbling
Beneath my fingers.

I am so far
Yet I am also
Amazingly
Close.

I sit here and can
Get up and go
Whenever
I want to.

But responsibility
Beckons and Duty
Calls and I
Must stay away.

I envision them
Sleeping in close
Proximity and
As peaceful as they get.

One of them always
Tells me that
Jealousy
Is the worst emotion.

Now I can understand
Why he said that - it's
Self destructive,
And I am so close.

You mix all the ingredients together
And then you knead
And the more you knead the
Easier it becomes and
The better the bread.

But sometimes I miss the
Hard work that is
The beginning when we
Would both work so hard
To impress, when our
Conversations were witty
And sarcastic if
Somewhat forced, when
The dough was still
Stiff beneath our fingers
And so the product
Felt even more satisfying
Than now when the kneading
Is supposedly easy
So that you don't pay as much
Attention to it.

Although I love
The taste of bread
I kinda like
Stealing the dough.

I missed you
I said to the back of his head
   I missed you
I whispered into her chest
   I missed you
I breathed into her hair
With you I'm at my best.

   I missed you
I told him after a pause
   I missed you
I shout inside my head
   I missed you
I sang into every note
But that was not to be heard.

   I missed you.

       I missed you too.

And just for that,
It's almost worth it.

Lately,
I seem to be having
More dream than sleep.

I find myself
Waking up in pure exhaustion
From an over active subconscious.

Adrenalin
Doing it's best to fill
The void that is you.

Lately,
I tend to lose
My hands and feet.

I leave them
In some corner and
Forget that I ever had

The ability
To walk freely
Wherever and whenever I wish.

Lately,
I seem to want
To constantly run

Away.

The metronome
On my table
Has been broken
And since then
I'm out of sync.

I am able to be poetic
About my pain, it is
Not beyond my ability
And is even easier
Sometimes, than being
Poetic about other things.

But I seem incapable of
Being poetic when
It comes to this feeling
Of missing you.

I try to let my thoughts out
In the form of art but
All that comes into my mind
Is I miss you I miss you
I miss you so much and
That's really not much to go on.

No elaborate metaphors
No elegant words
I just miss you I miss you
I miss you so much and
My brain can't focus
On anything else.

My lungs are filled
With them,
And they won't let
Me breath.

The further away
They try to get
The more they press
On the soft sides
Of my breathing organs.

And I must find
Other ways,
To live without
My breath.

Every day it gets
Worse and worse
And I start to wonder
If it's all worth all
These tiny people in my chest.

They wonder around
Quite aimlessly
And every footstep
Hurts.

But I don't want them to go
I want them to stay
I want it to go
I want them to stay
I want them to never go away.

But my lungs
Will not be able
To hold on
Forever.

I am a morning person surrounded by night
Time people, with whom I have become one
But still the conflict stands
I am torn inside between night and day because
If I go to sleep, when will I see them again?
But in the midst of my chase
After nighttime people
I seem to have lost myself.

I brushed my teeth and
Fixed my bed once again
And washed my feet in the downstairs sink.

I stand on a pile
Queen of the towels
And ready myself for the fall.

Today was my curfew
So why aren't I asleep
Why aren't you putting me down
Like the good horse that I am.

I've worked my **** off for years
And I deserve better
You're working girl doesn't function anymore.

Come oil my joints
And join me in bed
Like you always do.

It was the kind of night
That if you just stay long enough
Something miraculous will happen.

I was the kind of girl
Who always left too soon.

But that night, you,
Miraculously human,
Begged me stay.

You were my three year old
My own little clingy kid
Hanging onto the edge of my skirt while I was on the phone.

But that night was one
Were the phone call was not
More important than you.

And so I stayed

Humanly miraculous

Sane

Close by.

He knew he was going to
Document it in words and
I knew he was going to
Do that as well and he knew
That I'll know that he knew
By now, so he hurried his feet
Towards home.

Halfway to the post office
On the main road, I
Noticed I was barefoot -
You can take the girl
Out of the farm
But you can't take the farm
That's mine
I got it for my birthday.

I've always believed
In looking at other people's
Points of view, In
Putting myself in
Someone else's shoes,
But I never meant it
Literally, until I found myself
In someone else's
Jacket, wearing
Someone else's
Trousers, wrapped
In someone else's arms.

From all my houses
One is most forgettable
The natural defense mechanism
Of my toiled mind
Doing its job perhaps
A tad too well so that
I completely forgot my
Safe haven, located
Under the house which
Jutted out, so ugly, from the
Mountain side, so that
A small triangle, filled
With Ivy,  was my home
In the period
Of my life that is
That house, but with
The good memories
Of golden sunshine through
Lush green leaves falling upon
Discarded sandals and
A familiar English classic
Come the lonely hours -
The occasional hidden
Poison Ivy among its
Friendly peers hurting
Much less than
The sting of unwantedness.

First time for everything
Things that I wish
Never came, first
Time for everything
Implies it will be followed
By others, they followed
Me, I wanted to run
Away, away, as fast
As I could but they
Were stronger than I
Big, strong hands, holding
Me down, everything
Blurs and I wanted
To run away
Away, as fast
As I could,not fast
Enough, why couldn't
I have run then
Like I can now?

Above my head
The sky is grey.
Before me,
On the offing,
A band of golden light,
With a few rays of sunshine,
Peeking through.
Behind me, a rainbow
Stretches out
In all of its translucent
Magnificence,
And to my left,
Loom the monsters.

Four silhouettes,
Beastly chimneys,
Pointing their *******
Up at the sky,
As if to say,
"We own you."
Smoke rises from them,
Like from the barrel of a gun
Dark against the golden light.
"Who have you shot lately,
Chimneys?"

Me.
They shot me.

And at that moment,
I hate them,
These ghastly cement creatures,
That steal my air.
I hate them,
For ruining the beauty of the day.
I hate them,
For talking away the pleasure
Of the smell of petrichor.

If Freud were to read this poem,
He'd smile at me and say,
Dear, this is what I call
Projective identification,
Before proceeding to touch my breast.
But he's right,
Of course he's right,
He's always right,
Because I, too,
Like the beasts,
Have a *******.

I ramble.
That is what I do
How I talk
How I think
A long line
Of thoughts, branching out
Jumping from one place
To another, before
Returning to my main route,
Or else losing themselves,
Completely
In the sea of my mind.
I like it this way
I lie to myself
It makes life more interesting
I convince myself,
And I'm a pretty good lair,
So I believe
And live
On, with this
Rambling life
And rambling goal
And rambling mind.

But it hurts, that and
My sore throat - Raw
From transporting the substances
I cough out of my lungs.

The pain and the phlegm
All pass through it
The lungs inflicting their pain
Upwards into my head.

The last spot of sanity
Clear and calculating
Filling up with everything
My lungs cannot handle.

Threatening to explode,
They can't take it anymore
Transport it into tears
Only to seep back inside.

My pain is raw
From all this time
I didn't do anything
About it.

Tonight I seem to miss them again
I don't know if to cry or to laugh.

I paint my fingernails
A fresh coat of polish
I cannot afford a construction
Cannot, in this state
Fix my life
So I repaint myself
The tips of my fingers
Now a lavish turquoise
In hopes that by alienating my fingers
I will be able to alienate myself
From myself.

I felt safe
Encompassed in his arms
After days of feeling
Lost and scared
Finally I was in a place
I didn't have to be afraid
He was warm and his hair
Fell upon my face
Got into my mouth
Somehow comforting
Not letting the world
Harm me in any way
And I was too relived
To be properly grateful.

From the moment
I opened my eyes this morning
I felt
Scattered.
I wanted to be bound up in string,
To keep me
From falling apart or
Better yet, in someone's arms
They'll hug me tight, close,
I will feel their warmth
And won't be so
Scattered.
But I
Cannot bring myself
To inflict my scatteredness
Upon them - they have lives,
Too, which are not my own, and they
Shouldn't be in charge
Of my scattered life,
Needing to pick up my pieces.
And I know they say
They are here for me
And I know they say
They don't care
And I know they say
That's what friends are for,
But still I cannot bring myself
To ask.

Sometimes
When we were younger
I'd be her little sister.
I'd put my head on her lap
And she would lovingly
Stroke my hair and I
Would be comforted.

When we were younger
She was eager
To hear what wisdom
I had to give her.

When we were younger
I was eager
To give her the wisdom
She craved
And which I lacked,
So I would just make stuff up.

Lately I've been seeing,
How much she knows
Her surroundings
So much better than I could ever
Know my way around mine.

Today
When she called me
I could hear
How lost she was
And bounded upon
The opportunity
To be
For once
Her big sister.

She is cursed
To forever be
My little sister
When she's just
So self assured.

Your perpetual state of tired
Irks me, because I want you
To be better and happy.

Your inability to fall asleep
Weighs me down, just like
Your tiredness does to you.

Your jerking body, sleeping
Restlessly, makes me wish you
Were awake and away.

From your nightmares
Which have become
As much my enemies
As yours, by now,
But which I do not
Have to experience.

A never ending loop of either
Tired-and-nightmared, or
Day-haunted and hallucinating.  

You just want it to stop and
I do too, but I don't say a thing
'Cause you're having enough trouble

Sleeping, as it is.

I knew the pathway
Like the back of my hand
It was etched there
Involuntarily, as if
Drawn onto my flesh
In my own blood
(I must not tell lies)
This place is somewhere
Only we know
The true face of, having
Been here long enough
Separately, to come
To terms with
Loathing it and having
Been here long enough
Together, to have pleasant
Memories, which are the only things
I can see before my eyes
As I walk through the pathways
That less than a year ago
Were a part of my life.
But I'm not here,
Not anymore.
Although I spent
Five years here, I can only remember
Our five hours.

I am a crier
I cry freely and
Easily at any small thing
Which is why I do not
Consider the tears
Sliding down my cheeks
At these moments
As crying.

They are just there,
Taking their usual course
While I go about
My business
Not ignoring them, exactly
But disregarding them,
They are
Just there and they
Change nothing.

But their feeling lingers
Longer on my cheeks-
It wasn't crying
Therefore I had no reason
To wipe them away.

God's apple is so *******
He bit at it and spat out the seeds
And the garden of Eden grew
Another tree, he
Banished the humans because
He needed some quiet
And filled the land
With the seeds of his favourite fruit, God
Is a tree who is firmly
Rooted in the ground and
Stretches out his arms to
Help others, God sent the apples
Down to the world so that
Metaphors could be span out of them
In the hearts of the weary
And in the mouth of lovers
We sat in God's living room
And he offered us
Some apples
We had to decline.

The mirror girl stepped out of the bathtub
And noticed how much skinnier she was, she
Managed to notice how long her hair had grown
Before her good education kicked in and frowned
At such thoughts, pointing out how much
Stronger, she has become, how much healthier
How much better.

The mirror girl looked at the mirror
And noticed how her face looked more
Beautiful when she looked unhappy and
Decided she doesn't give a **** and
Prefers being ugly instead
But still after flashing a smile at the mirror
The mirror girl walked away.

The Psychologist entered
Our sixth house for the
Second time with a smile
On his lips and the memory
Of a five year old me
In his heart.

He has known me forever
Since I was four and seems
Surprised every time at how
Big I've grown, I always feel
He still sees me as if
I am five.

The Psychologist looked at
My sitting form and said I
Look like I'm missing some
One, thing, he wasn't sure
And I was surprised he noticed
I had changed.

No one else noticed I had
Been unable to keep my
Knees from me chest all day
That I hugged every pillow
I could lay my hands on but
The Psychologist.

I think it was at that moment
That he realized I really had
Grown up from what he knew
And I realized this childhood
Figure really is
A Psychologist.

I look at their names
Written one next to the other
And smile because
There's nothing else to do.

Everyone shared their own experience
And I realized how
Self centered I had been
How self centered I am, how I
Stick my head into my own problems and
Forget that others are not
Asexual inhuman beings
That others have problems, have feelings I
Cannot fully comprehend,
But I must try, I must
Raise my head up and remember that they
Are just as human as I am,
Though to be honest, right now
I kind of feel like a monster.

My room is scattered
With PaperCutPotentials
My skin is splitting
Just as the thought
The never ending battle
Of the sword and the pen
The ongoing struggle
For shelf space
The books suffocate
My own space and I
Am never alone
Words trailing me
Like ****** fingerprints
Everywhere I go
Leaving clues
For my feeble existence
Until the pen loses
And I all on my sword.

There's a patch of grass
Which is familiar
But from which I have been
Away for too long
Things have changed since
I was last there
Changed for the better
But still I am scared
Of going back
To the place
Where I had first
Forced myself
Upon them
Being there with them
Now
Seems weird and
Somewhat wrong
As if we are regressing
As if it will
Take us back
To square one.