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5.7k · Oct 2013
Skin.
Kim Davis Oct 2013
Once there was a girl
Who could feel
A young, playful, and truly memorable child
naturally born to lead, learn, and strive,
Jumped in front of any camera she saw,
because she wanted all eyes on her.
Yet that didn't prevent an inevitable day,
an insignificant, random day
when she was faced with her new reality.
An old lady took a fall,
an animal she'd grew with began its downward spiral towards death
a neighbor robbed of weapons,
and no more did the girl get attention,
but was rather brought to the attention that the world was cruel.
But attention was her drive, her motivation to live
and taken from her, she desperately tried to regain her spirit
but couldn't handle everything she'd ever known changing on her,
and a little girl, third grade, began a path of self destruction.
The natural leader now a follower,
The playful girl turned her interests into other people's pain,
She enjoyed that year the most she could,
secretly hating the old woman, mistreating her
saying her goodbyes to the dog that was there years before she was born,
grades turning from all A's, to B's, to C's, to D's and F's,  year by year.
getting rejected just a few times, but over-complicating it, as she would do everything later,  
taking it personal, letting it destroy her
and so the little girl grew,
first into an angry, manipulative version of herself,
she was no longer slender, pretty, or girly in any way.
She was a wreck. No care for herself anymore.
Sharpened her finger with a pencil sharpener.
When mad, would beat herself up.
Demented, but that was just covering a layer of desire for attention.
Something so simple, something everyone has to learn to live without, took such a toll on a little girl, because it was just cut off, one insignificant day.
But one day she got attention again, months after another
insignificant day.
This insignificant day, she remembers,
daddy standing by the mailbox
she was outside playing with neighbors
and she heard daddy talk funny.
A sliver in his voice, that was never there, was it?
and listening, she heard it again,
and she looked at dad, and in his eyes, he wasn't there.
his body, his face, his smile, but his eyes weren't there.
And the little girl ignored it.
But daddy was in pain for months. Didn't tell a soul.
and when that sliver in voice kept going, mom forced him to go to the doctor.
But the sliver wasn't it, there was blood, daddy was coughing blood.
And so the doctor diagnosed it as bronchitis.
But it was deeper than that, it was the big C,
and the little girl knew that daddy saw it coming
his smoking tripled
and he got a recorder so as to record what he was thinking
and there was that night, at her aunts, everyone in the kitchen,
the little girl heard it from a distance,
cancer,
but she wanted to be wrong, so bad.  
She gets in the car with her mom, and receives the news,
but upon seeing her mother crying, doesn't know what to do.
She was supposed to be strong for her mother, everyone expected that of her,
but everyone also expected her to be fragile, and wanted her to cry more than anyone about her dad.
But the conflicting emotions resulted in the girl, not so little anymore, to grow up.
To shut off all human emotion, to be a walking robot. To never cry, never feel.
That made everything pile up in her head.
Daddy had cancer.
Daddy was doing Radiology treatments.
Daddy's treatments were failing.
Daddy was getting skinnier.
Daddy was doing Chemo.
Daddy was trying to **** himself.
Daddy was in and out of the hospital.
Daddy wanted her there.
Daddy needed her there.
Daddy cried in front of her and asked, "Why don't you love me anymore?" because she showed her disinterest in tying his shoes for him since he couldnt.  
But there's nothing more terrifying, than seeing someone one genuinely cares about in the hospital.
Than being afraid to break the person one loves in half with just a hug.
Daddy was dying, and daddy wouldn't talk all day until she got home, even if it was just a hey and a smile.
To this day, she'd love to say now that she would go back, and do it all differently, show that she loved him, not that she was disgusted in what he'd become, but  she knows herself, and she'd shut herself down again in a heartbeat.  
Daddy died of three types of cancer,
and the little girl got the attention she'd longed for, but in the form of pity.
But she hated pity.
She stopped doing anything.
Couldn't go out with friends,  secluded herself in her mind.
Until she found a way to be herself and get attention, and became someone new.
Then someone else.
Then someone else.
And then the girl was no longer herself, she was someone who made an impact on people.
Someone who people were attracted to,
Someone who had friends,
Someone who had company who couldn't physically show her pity,
company that satisfied her romantic desires, and company that was there when she was down,
and who she could manipulate to her desire, to understand men and women on a deeper level.
And that sweet, playful, little girl, was a monster.
Divided in two, she emoted on a fake half of her, a half that wasn't her, a fake story personified,
what was left of that little girl was skinned, and buried in dirt.
So when the girl had had enough damage inflicted on the sane, but fake side of her,
and was unhappy regardless of who she was that day,  at that hour,
she would tell herself it was over, it was time, this should have ended a long time ago,
and her skinned corpse of a soul was trying to crawl out of its grave,
pulled back by the dark cloud it became, and buried again with the fake's love,
because that side of her, with skim, but human emotion,
couldn't bear to hurt people it'd already done enough damage to.
So one day, when she was found out, by best friend and an ex, it was a sigh of relief,
just to feel the air on that hand, reaching up to get out of her grave.
But she didn't know that what followed was losing half the people she loved,
most being the ones she loved most, the most active in her life at the given moment,
And even then, with the remaining few, she felt too awkward in that situation,
too conflicted, that she once again, turned off her emotions.
And now, what's left?
A broken little girl, in a big, damaged carcass, freezing in mud, staring down at her own grave, unable to find her skin.
2.1k · Nov 2013
You Distract Me
Kim Davis Nov 2013
Be my distraction.
Distract me from life.
Distract me from friends
that make me feel excluded from everything.
Distract me from family
who my mother's driven away,  
who i see few times a year.  
who still hold pity for my loss
as if it wasn't theirs too.
Distract me from compliments
that i automatically think are sarcastic
Distract me from insults
that i respond to with smiles and laughs
because i have too much heart
to make a person feel bad,
and too many insecurities
to break down to people.
Distract me from intelligence
because everyone i surround myself with
is either significantly more or less intelligent than i am
Distract me from choices
because i've lost my sense of leadership,
i'd rather someone make a choice for me ,
be it wrong or right,
and deal with any consequence,
than spend half of my life
trying to pick one.
Distract me from future,
because i still dont know what to do with mine.
because i can only see negative, or see nothing.
Distract me from past,
because i live in it. Because i can't deal with the pain,
the memories constantly reminding me of
how good things once were, all of my grief and all of the feelings
that i didn't feel.
Distract me from you,
i'm over-thinking you, you're a good distraction,
but how can one attempt
to open their mind to possibilities
with it set on any one thing?
Distract me from everything.
I'd give up
my "open mind" ambition
to be distracted by you.
To just be with you, walking, talking, laying, doing anything or nothing,
and not think, for once in my life.
821 · May 2014
Nebula
Kim Davis May 2014
She was as mesmerizing as a galaxy that night.
Moons shattered through the window to embrace her every step.
Her pale skin could breathe in light,
Illuminating her, and filling every pore.
Having stolen the sun and the moon and stars,
she could only be described as heaven sent.
And I was ready to climb into a rocket for a glimpse of her.
I wrote a few poems awhile ago for a friend and thought i should post them.
743 · May 2014
A Mortal Aphrodite
Kim Davis May 2014
She could stand alongside the Gods,
with her Greek and imposing figure.
She seemed to know the true meaning of grace,
grazing asphalt with her presence.
Her gentle legs brought upon silent admiration,
her cinched waist accentuating hidden curves,
it was as if her body held a soft prowess,
dominating the art of anatomy.
This statuesque beauty held no shame in her step,
she was rhythmic and lyrical,
I couldn't keep my eyes off.
I wrote a few poems awhile ago for a friend and thought i should post them.  
Most were incomplete and thrown together, but hope you enjoy.
558 · Nov 2013
Big Opportunities
Kim Davis Nov 2013
Given the chance to succeed,
given the opportunity to learn who oneself truly is
study philosophy, personal development, start a physical life journey and study your best talent
sounds like the perfect opportunity
so why am i so
terrified
to sign a piece of paper
and take a chance
to experience something new
do i fear time, losing time
do i fear growing up
do i fear getting outside of my comfort zone
do i fear success?
am i so insecure that i won't let myself believe that i can accomplish something this big?
or am i afraid of being socially disconnected
i
don't
know
what
i'm
afraid
of
anymore
546 · Apr 2014
Despondent Grief
Kim Davis Apr 2014
Seeing your face does not mean much to me anymore
you are your own person after all, you are not his spitting image.
But your presence is enough to revive his spirit, if only for a short while
and once again I see all of the joy he made me feel
I see all of the laughs, the hugs,
and more than anything I see what my future could have been.
You make me think of him being proud of me
and leave this ****** bittersweet emotion laced into my blood.

But when I leave you, my perspective shifts.
I see all of the loss, I see his bones crumbling and his hair falling,
I see all of his pain all over again,
and recognize all that I've done that would disappoint him.
I remember that he can't be there at any milestone of my life
and how much I still need him.
I see all of those faces, over and over, promising me he'd be proud
with pity in their eyes all over again.
When you leave me, I lose you,
and I lose him all over again.

You are in no way his spitting image,
I'm not sure how similar you both are anymore, actually.
But I can't see you without seeing him.
Without thinking of nothing but him.
And I can't let you leave
without losing him all over again.
533 · Feb 2014
Shells
Kim Davis Feb 2014
I am a Hermit Crab.
I hide from the world,
curl up inside my shrinking shell,
anything but to see the light,
anything but face the world,
If you try to reach me,
i'll pinch
and every now and then
when the world is closing in around me
i'll make a run,
and find a new shell to hide in.
485 · Jan 2014
Truth Be Told,
Kim Davis Jan 2014
I've given up on you.

We used to be so obnoxiously close.
I would have given up anyone,
in fact i did, i gave up everyone for you
for that period of time.
I was your comfort
and to know
that I made you happy
was my comfort.
I loved you, with a chunk of my soul at the time,
it took so long to let you in,
but perhaps it was
the reservation
that kept me coming.

Sometimes I wonder if there is anything
underneath your skin.
You are an onion, whose layers
I've never been able to peel.
A lab experiment, i could never complete.
I can observe you, and make a hypothesis
about how you're feeling, what you're doing
but it's so insanely hard to try to invite you
back into my life
when you've shut yourself off so long.

So truth be told, i don't think of you very often anymore.
It's just every now and then,
when you message me to ask
for my password
or when i'm drowning myself
in the past
when i come across you
that i just get really sad,
because i realize that no matter how much effort i put into you
no matter how much digging
or how many rants i invited you to vent
or how much time i invested in you,
I never really got to know you.
None of us did.

I still wonder, what goes on in your head,
is it lack of motivation, like myself,
easing yourself into depression because
you don't know what's wrong with your brain
or should i know more,
should i worry about you?
Because I do, believe me,
I've spent so much time worrying for you
But i never get anywhere,
and I don't know you, not even in the slightest sense now.
So I'd like to believe
that I've given up on you.
But I know that
deep down i still have that reserved spot in me
that wants to understand you.
477 · Nov 2014
That Time of the Year
Kim Davis Nov 2014
It's that time of the year
where I am succumbed in solitude
where everything surrounding me
is tied to love and affection
where i leave home and see happy families
go to school and see seemingly perfect friendships
and barely escape without seeing infatuated couples

It's that time of the year
when i recognize the world
for the glory it could hold
when every individual that fights
for the other 9 months of the year
can be at peace with their rival
where cheer and community are ever so present

It's that time of the year
when i realize
that all i have is coffee and a computer
that the only thing that i can call my own
is a 15 inch screen with no interesting content on it
a back-back weighed down with a number of textbooks
and a camera with no subject to photograph

It's that time of the year when i realize
that the only person who I've ever aspired to be
who I could spend every second of every day for my entire life with
has been inside the earth for six years
and that no one has taken his place
no one is that important to me
or seems to care about me to his extent

It's that time of the year when i realize
that I have spent years trying to get friends by being myself
and haven't gotten a single hit
that I am not invited to parties or sleepovers
or even the simplest company
like going to a movie and making jokes
or walking together and having a deep conversation

It's that time of the year
when I don't care about school
because the american education system
is about passing, not about learning
it's just an obstacle every child must overcome
before being set free
that time, when school can no longer be my escape
because even there, I am alone

It's that time of the year
where I am constantly reminded of Him
where I am teased with the idea of seeing someone like him
where I actually get to visit his family, my family
where my niece's chemo
is making me remember
the second I saw his bald head for the first time

It's that time of the year
when my life consists of nothing
where every person around me
complains about what they have
when they don't realize
what it's like to not be spoken to
past 3:45pm, when school is let out, every day
when peers complain about their parents
not giving them what they want
when mine will tell me to leave
after a second of my voice
when I haven't heard the words "I love you"
from ANYONE but those who pity me
for months.

It's that time of the year
when I am engulfed in solitude
forced to watch the world around me
relish in holiday cheer
family, friendships, love,
things I haven't known, or felt, for so long

It's that time of the year
when all I have to do
is sit, alone, in my room
and do that which I typically know not to allow myself:
think.
Sorry,  it isn't the best I could do but I haven't written in months.
470 · Jan 2014
Antidote
Kim Davis Jan 2014
There's some unsaid comfort i feel
when i touch you
as if having one finger on you
heals me temporarily
and i can't help but smile
knowing that even such a friendly
brushing shoulders or
using one another as an arm rest
will warm my soul for a little while
oh, how I've missed you,
my antidote.
445 · Dec 2013
Spirit
Kim Davis Dec 2013
What gets me is that all you ever talk about is pain.
Nothing that comes out of your mouth
is not a little selfish insult,
a deep sigh that burns your disapproval
and lack of happiness- lack of soul -
down everyone's throat
Never has nothing to do with money,
your lack of it
even though you waste it
when you have it
Always words of inability
i can't do this
i can't do that
of your selfish nature
nobody ever does anything
i do everything around here
i pay for everything
nothing is ever
full of love
or happiness
or true devotion,
true support
true appreciation
true ... life
in this family
it's all been lost
since our shelter fell
our rock, our home
My spirit.
430 · May 2014
The Goddess.
Kim Davis May 2014
Her aura froze into my mind and possessed me,
when I saw her I saw nothing but love,
I would pour my soul out at her feet,
And could drink her attention for an eternity.

I caught her one day,
myself embodied by lust,  
and truly analyzed her reflection,  
She was every bit the Greek goddess I'd envisioned,
but without any spirit.

She was no warrior, no goddess controlling any aspect of the universe around her,
Her majestic locks were sun-kissed,
Her smile as luminescent as the moon,
Her physique truly touched by the gods she walked amongst,
she could compare to no other mortal being,
but beyond the aesthetic poetry that she embodied,
she was  as good as darkness.

She seemed to have stolen my life, my light,
taken away the sun, the stars, and the moon from me,
she engulfed them to create such beauty,
but having done so, there was no light left to shine upon her.

She was Medusa disguised as Aphrodite.
She knew the language of love, but not the content.
She turned my carcass to stone, so that she could steal my light,
And under her spell, i could do nothing but let her.
I wrote a few poems awhile ago for a friend and thought i should post them.
417 · Nov 2013
Memory.
Kim Davis Nov 2013
I hate to mourn you.
You were such a big part of my life,
When i think back, all of my good memories had you in them.
The good memories don't make me sad.
It's when i think about  how much i would give- the extremes i would go to- to do them again.
To have a few more days with you.
To run to you when you get home.
Lay with your arm under the pillow behind my head, other arm over me, and watch survivor.
Sit on a tiny porch - that barely fits one person standing - with you while it's pouring,
talking to you while you smoke.
Little embarrassing things you'd do when we were alone you'd never do in front of someone older.
But even then it's  just a genuine melancholy. I miss you, because i loved you so much.
But it's hard to think of all of our good times
without the bad plaguing them.
Without all of the rude things i did when you were at your worst.
Without picturing your muscle turn to bone.
Without remembering the first time you came in the room
with that bandanna on , taking it off and seeing your bald head for the first time
Without blocking out my emotions, still not knowing how i would have felt -or acted- if i hadn't done so.
Without thinking of everything that happened from that summer on.
Between then and today.
I just miss you so much, it hurts to mourn you.
399 · Mar 2014
Drowning
Kim Davis Mar 2014
I'm drowning myself,
i tied myself down,
dropped the anchor
and let it take me away
the deeper it pulls me
the darker it gets
i am fully emerged
in my past
and now that i want to get out of it
I have no choice but come to terms with the fact that
i did this to myself
I've got no where to go
but to keep sinking
into the depths;
it's dark here.

— The End —