An artist has a busy mind.
Whether it be lines of a poem
or lines of a play.
One may argue that literature cannot be art,
But I will look at the accuser and ask him to count the callouses on my hands
he’ll ask what for,
what they are from,
and as I count them I’ll tell him,
"From crawling out of my own little hell."
Of course, he’ll scoff and leave, but who is he to blame?
Poets are emotional.
Others fear to feel.
Which, in retrospect, is very ironic when you think about it, because technically, they are still feeling.

My mind is like rush hour all hours of the day,
Because there is so much left to think about,
So little time to enact,
So little time to involve yourself in the thoughts.
Things occupy my mind often and when I sit alone on a park bench,
I see a collection of cars screeching against the pavement toward me,
or hear a phone call that tells me my mother,
my father,
my sister,
my brother,
is or are dead when all of the above are very much alive.

No, my mind does not silence,
It is persuasive and deceiving and it never fails to fail me,
Yet I’m trapped inside, because it’s all I've got.
When people ask if I’m alright, I respond with
"I’m fine! I’m perfectly OK!"
Because this is how my mind has been since I could count to ten,
and I cannot seem to picture it being any other way.

Normality is boring, but normality is accepted.
Being expressive is not.
So I’m told I’m too emotional when I speak in a crowded room,
I do not argue, though I still wonder how
An obnoxious burst of laughter is far too expressive.
They say the saddest people laugh the loudest
Because they are most vulnerable and susceptible to a comedian’s antics,
Especially considering they've muted their own expression to the point of near insanity,
Smiling and suicidal,
Laughing but decaying and cracking drastically with each and every chuckle,
Ironic like an abandoned amusement park-
A dying happy place.
People say that “the saddest people have the brightest eyes,”
And the most common compliment I get is
“*******- I love your eyes!”

I do not try to be obnoxious.
The words slip, and the volume cracks up,
And my mind continues running when I am standing still.
I am trying to figure out why I cannot catch my breath,
When I am not even moving.

I wish I could be normal,
I wish I wasn't so ****** up and broken
But you can’t just take a totaled car,
hand someone the keys and say,
"Take her for a spin!"
Because it will forever feel useless and it will not function.
Therefore, neither will I.

Writing helps in easing the plethora of trains speeding through my mind,
Trains of thought just chugging along,
But it only slows them down, if only for a while.

As an inexperienced conductor,
When someone asks me if I’m “BUSY,”
I can never answer them “no” honestly,

Because an artist has a busy mind.

I often find my self worth fading.
I mean less and less every day.
Everyone around me seems to be so lovely,
All of the people I talk to,
The strangers on the street.
But as I sit here and wonder how to start conversation,
My mind floats away,
Mercilessly taunting me,
Just out of reach.

I feel as though I once meant more to you than I ever will again.

I feel as though I once meant more to everyone than I do now.

I often find my self worth fading.

When you first look her in the eyes and admire the way they shine in the moonlight,
look deeper than the iris and drown in her pupil
as it is dark and it is deep, and it is similar to that of the Marianas trench itself.
When you get deep inside her brain, you will see the monsters that man cannot at first glance.
It gets so somber that your heart will get heavy and your palms will sweat,
you will repeatedly want to turn and you will want to run away,
but don’t.
Because these thoughts are not demons after you,
they are attacking her relentlessly and while she does not need a hero,
a helping hand won’t hurt.
She is not helpless, but she is also not safe
and she is afraid, and she is hiding from them.
So when she flinches away from your touch,
be gentle.
Like the breeze she feels when she opens her window on a late August night to feel something other than the stillness of her room
and to remind herself she is not just imagining her existence.
Remember that she has been through her share of nightmares like you, and while some may not be as bad, they are incredibly real to her.
Remember that she needs someone to love just as much as you.
Do not think this is a demand you love her when she has no one else,
just open your mind and your heart because that skinny girl with tired eyes is one of the most beautiful you’ll ever meet
and you will remember her for years to come.
Please, be gentle for she is fragile.
She is cracked, but has been dropped and broken so many times, the pain is not as bad,
the hurt is not such a surprise.
Do not let her be surprised if you stay when she expects you to go, because she will,
she will assume, she will get weak and she will picture you leaving when she needs you most
or she will try to push you away,
but remember her smile and remember her face because every actress is told they have so much to love but that does not mean they are all in bliss.
You’re the polish on her scuffed up shoes,
you’re the sun peeking through her blinds on a cool summer morning,
you’re the reminder that it will all be okay,
So long as you don’t run.
When you meet a girl
with shaky hands and a faint heart,
remember that she can get stronger again.
You are not her crutches, but you are support.
Do not think her life depends on you, because it doesn't.
Never put that on yourself.
You are not a superhero, but you can be her helping hand
If you remember
that it’s alright to stay.

I’m scared, too.

When we first met
I was the cold breeze on the summer day, or a new used car that you couldn’t wait to drive
Uncomfortable at first, but kind of nice when it you got used to it
But, instead of waiting for the chills to go away, you embraced me
You took my hand and smiled at me
Reassuring me that everything was going to be okay
You promised me that you would never walk away
So, I took your hand, and I smiled back
I thought I was finally sound
I believed you would take the pain away
I remember every memory you left me with
From the sketches you would imprint on my back with your nails as I shouted your name
To the screams of regret you repeated like a ringtone as they rolled off your tongue
Every time you said my name
It was a form of art
Like your bass drum and guitar
Like your voice in the choir
Your trumpet wailing on high
But the paint was wearing thin on this masterpiece
and I was no longer your muse

As my late night drives got shorter and the air got crisp
So did our conversations
and So did our kisses
You got sad
I realized you were more broken than I, but I had no idea what to do
I was a car missing seat belts, and you got in
Every worry from before we met flooded into my head
I was sure I could hand the wheel to you
And you took it
But when I told you I couldn’t drive,
you forgot to tell me
neither could you


Your best friend was your ex
now she was gay, it was okay
She would “never swing that way”
again
Is that why you left the theatre in the middle of my very first play?
I waited for a praise, for you to take my hand at the end
Give me a rose and kiss my lips
If only I’d known that she took those instead

Here I was, along for the ride
Speeding down that highway with my hair in the wind,
I put myself in your hands
But they got shaky
You asked me to drive for a bit
Of course I was scared
I still hadn’t learned
But it was you
No wouldn’t fly

While you sat back
And grabbed that wheel, knuckles white
I bit my lip until I tasted blood
I went in head first and I hit the gas,
Telling myself

"Everything is gonna be okay"

then I saw the tree
Blocking the path
We were both getting bad

I was left at the wheel again,
I was shaky, short breaths

You were the elongated sigh
As you jumped out the door

And I crashed

On a cold winter night, a rusty old car you couldn’t wait to get rid of
Uncomfortable, and you couldn’t get used to it
When we first met

You promised you would never walk away

You were right

You ran

Once, I read about a theme park
The roller coasters reached the bottoms of the clouds and
the speeds broke the sound barrier
Children went there daily
They laughed and they screamed and they smiled from dawn until dusk
They won prizes
and they were very much alive

I went to look up that theme park last month
The rides had all shut down
And they were completely still
Nobody had touched it in years
The streets of this city that were once full of life
Were dull and motionless
The windows were broken
The prizes were gone
The bright lights of all colors
were now empty shattered bulbs

The only emotion was empty
All of the happiness and joy
And the laughter and life
Was completely gone
I think of this often
How one place can hold such life one day
and the next be as good as dead?

I saw myself in this corpse
My body, decaying
The joy I would feel and the dancing and laughter has
now all turned to a blank slate of gray
My mind had shut it all away and I am nothing
I once held better days
But now I am a broken roller coaster
Abandoned and corroded
Because I once got so high
And I once moved so fast

But now I am frozen in my place, hidden away

Forgotten like an erased word off a paper

Once, I read about a theme park

And all I learned was I am empty too