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 Nov 2013 Jessica Roxana
AJ
safety
 Nov 2013 Jessica Roxana
AJ
art is my own safe place
each night i shed my skin on stage
then put it back on with every page

art is my own safe place
each word i write helps me escape
everything i draw takes a new shape

art is my own safe place
acting helps me break out of my cage
i let the lines dissolve my rage

art is my own safe place
i know that words can make a change
because writing keeps the demons away

art is my own safe place
i put meaning into every play
artists know how to weaken chains

art is my own safe place
my imagination gets me through the day
creation is the only way
 Nov 2013 Jessica Roxana
brooke
before you left i dragged you the mall, we actually took your car
and I told you about the skin under my thigh that felt like a mountain
pasture and then we went into Teavana where the cashier manipulated me
into buying forty dollars worth of tea leaves and I felt like **** afterwards
because i hadn't really wanted to buy forty dollars of tea leaves. You didn't
roll up your sleeves, but you stopped me in the middle of the walk way by
Starbucks and the American Girl store and took the bag. You took my wallet,
my receipt, my heart, and told me stay there. When you came back, you said
you had returned it.  I stood in awe of you, ready to cry. You had skin, lungs,
eyes and a mouth, living, breathing, ready to lie at my expense.  That was the first
time I held your arm in months. Looking back, maybe it was only child parts of me
clinging to the one person that continued to stand up for me, i don't know. i really don't
know.

I still have that receipt.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013

honestly.
 Nov 2013 Jessica Roxana
samasati
your hands are just clouds
shaped like hands
and I'm lying in the field, letting my imagination run wild,
too wild,
to understand
that you can't actually hold me
and that even if you could,
you can't actually love me,
and that even if you could,
you wouldn't.
I look to the sky
And see the bird of creativity
Soar, swoop and glide
Through ethereal clouds
Of wispy originality

I look to the horizon
And see the bird of sensitivity
Sail and undulate
Over red-misted contours
Of reflected humanity

I look to the tree
And see the bird of profundity
Stand proud and watch
Over deep-rooted layers
Of bygone sagacity

I look to my heart
And see the birds of tenacity
Fly, sweep and drive
Out crushing senses
Of genuine anxiety

I look up and smile
My birds are flying again
i want to be the centre of attention
in your eyes
i want you to look at me in my vulnerable moments and think
"gosh she's beautiful"

i want you to love me for who i am
even when I have messy hair
scrunched up in a bun on the top of my head
or when i have a bare face
my pale complexion
with millions of imperfections.

i want you to love my brain
the way i think
the way i talk
the way i  a n a l y s e  things

I want you to trace your finger across the
small ridge on my nose
Stare at the    o u t l i n e    of my rouge lips
and gaze into my eyes like you gaze at the stars
when you feel alone.
oh so                                                          alone­
i want you to study every pixel of me
every inch of skin
and think-
*"wow, i want to be with her forever"
When I write,
It isn't to document
Every inch of emotion
That spills from my soul,
To purge my despair
And dark thoughts
When they are dragging
The demons in my head
To the surface,
It is a story,
An intricate blueprint
Of each and every step I take in life.
I feel as if by writing from experience
It will allow me to grow as a human,
To ultimately become the person I desire
To be without the need to destroy my body,
I have attempted suicide,
Put a blade to my skin multiple times to find comfort,
Starved,
Purged,
Counted calories,
Found the strength to get help,
Take my medication,
Came out of the closet,
I found love,
I have learned to love and be loved
For who I am,
I have connected with another beautiful soul,
A guy so caring and kind,
I have applied for University and have been accepted,
I have so much more to unravel in this delicate yet complex
Cycle we call life.
I will continue to write every moment that happens,
Whether it is happiness,
Sadness,
Pain,
Desire,
Love,
Hate,
Depression,
Anythin­g.
Then in the future when I look back on what i have written
I will truly see the flights and falls of my past,
The mountain peaks
And the darkest depths of the ocean,
I will see the progress I have made as I swim upstream
Towards my goal,
My dream,
My principal aspiration of becoming an interpreter for the United Nations,
I want to travel,
Be free,
Ride the winds to every continent
And be a part of so many extravagant cultures.

I want to live. I want to live it all to the bitter end,
**Scars, demons and all.
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