Quiet.
It's something I thought I would never enjoy.
The lack of noise.
I couldn't stand the sound of the pounding of my heart.
Noise. Always noise.
Always boisterous boasting
cleverly roasting egos
(on more occasion than one, my own.)
Speaking, complaining
and
not necessarily
communicating.
But the hum of the fan just now...
I turned it down
to hear the quiet
not quite silence.
The hum of the city.
It makes me miss the still
absolute oblivion
that sometimes exists
in the country.
But, even then,
the time is thin
to sit undisturbed.
Three years is just long enough to learn
to love to learn...
and I have learned
how to be grateful
for more than just
quiet.

You rehearse the same monotonous lines,
Adding emotion. Making your victim believe,
In this short pantomime you've set up.
Convincing her of your character.
Now, let her slip into belief.
She is no more then your puppet.
Watch her dance around you, gaily,
Until the time comes to cut the strings.
She'll beg you not to. She'll scream and
Cry against such torture.
And you'll paint that cruel smile onto your lips,
And repeat the same monotonous lines
With quite a different meaning.

You'll take her life, and leave her to the dogs.
And you'll prepare for the next show,
Rehearsing those same monotonous  lines.

i wish we'd met under different circumstances,
in a beautiful parallel universe.
where the dull blue skies we dwell under now were light,
and the hatred we respire no longer spewed from our mouths.
i want the air to be cleared and our brains
fogged from the heartless reality we maintain.
i want our imperfect utopia to be untouchable,
a place of perfect imperfection,
where i can love you with all my heart.

these journals captured
my life's lowest
when my thoughts
soared without aim--

guilt, regret,
my mind found no rest
as i knew it was i
and none other to blame

i bid farewell,
never again to be seen
be it known
did i against will

but every second
and in between
i long for him
and treasure him still

behold
these thoughts uncensored
i've the need
to set this burden free

i will not cease,
despite how absurd,
wishing
he'd come back to me

Not your mind and not your soul, it's your wallet I'm looking for.
I know I'm dressed up a sheep, we all know I'm a *****.
Twist me, turn me, break me, burn me. As long as I make rent.
A place to live and food to eat is my innocence well spent.
You said you loved me which may be true, yet it set my anger a fire,
Because I'm the girl that no one holds, I'm the girl they only hire.

i'll always be there outside of the box
where you spill out your burdens to god
tell me everything you've done wrong-
just unpend your sins, you're cleansed, now you win

i'm
the convenient answer
to feeling remorseful about what you've done
made a mistake?  i'm here, don't you wait
i've got all the time you need

and on it goes; my shoulder
for you to lean on will always be there
but don't bother to ask me how i'm doing-
you're not supposed to care

i'm tired of being used like an old *****
you rip me to shreds, leave my tongue on the floor
i'm speechless, i'm hurting, held back by my pride
i'm letting my ego take over my mind
i'm playing callous like it's some sort of game
pretending i'm fine when i'm driven insane
you take the wheel from me, steer into a ditch
leaving me battered and broken, unimpressed, not spoken

i've got
my tongue tied in knots
from navigating the tangled webs you drag me through
but i
will never let myself lose

i need to destroy something, run it right through
to reflect my insides after speaking to you
and maybe i'm just a bitter young *****,
but i'll take a hit, and i won't let you miss  

so drive me into the ground
i won't be beaten down
you can't do much to me;
i can't get much lower now
how far can you bring me down?
yeah, i'll hold my ground

i'm tired of hearing each of your confessions
simply not being able is not a transgression
you're weighing me down with your innocent guilt
i won't feel your trauma if no souls were spilt

i'm so sick
of hearing your troubles; don't say what's amiss
take a hint
your drama won't make or break you
it's no calamity if she hates you

i'm tired of hearing about your petty fights
scuffling over my business won't help with your strife
you think being hateful will show me the light?
you're wrong, good riddance, get out of my life
something so intrinsic isn't abomination
no matter your creed or your denomination
your social life will never make you a saint
and confessing won't stave off my hate

i'm so sick
of hearing your troubles; don't say what's amiss
take a hint
get off of my shoulder, take your own ******* boulder
and live your own life for a bit
don't confess, i'm not impressed,
just live your life and leave me be.

Every day passes
reminding me of things to be learned
I do not know about life as an adult sees it
I only know as a teenager and child
what life is meant to be

Today I learned of love
and the falsities it bears
I do not know its true meaning
or the reason I find it never true

I do not know how to tell a good friend from bad
we all talk behind each other’s backs
I see not me in the mirror
but a teenager who is too fat or utterly ugly

Today I learned of drugs
and of all the feelings they bring
I experimented just a little
and now I wish for more

If everybody goes through the torment of teen pain
and they hear the much defeating snickers and comments
why are adults so cruel as to say
these are the best years of our lives?

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.