The empty space that sits and waits
Spaces sit so bored and cold
We left and locked up the house today
Left one way I've never known, without you.
The empty spaces on the walls
Grow more useless every day
Calenders have lost their date
The numbers are growing old (like you did).
The empty beds are in the rooms
And there's a perfectly good one
But nobody has the nerve to sleep there
So the mattress cries, and weeps- it dies (kind of like him).
The empty closets once filled with doodles
With hearts and names and numbers
The numbers from my mothers childhood
That are probably disconnected (like yours).
The empty fridge that held our meals
Endless containers of coffee creamer
And seemingly reappearing bologna
Contains just a solemn old fruit cup (kind of like us).
The empty chair that was your space
I sat in about three times today
Where you sat and we did crossword puzzles
Quiet yet interesting puzzle books (just like you).
The empty house that sits and waits
Watches the garbage bags being taken away
Watching us discuss prices and family problems
Watching us secretly mourn in our own silent way
Of cleaning out your already empty house.

I'm coming on back to raise the dead
I watch in the corners and under the bed
I travel by day and hide at night
Simple things drive me to the light.
You'd think that I'd love darkness, no,
You humans put on a fantastic show
And you really think that I'd miss out?
Come on, it's too funny to see you pout.
I really enjoy your tantrums, too,
If only you saw I've been studying you
You sit there and study your books
I don't make a sound so you don't turn to look.
And every time you do the simplest thing
Like laughing with friends or start to sing
I record it down in my little notebook
I will start my recipe, with humans to cook.
I'm not physically cooking, don't you worry now, dear
My full intentions are remaining unclear
I'm studying your works, every piece of your mind
Your feelings and thoughts I've got yet to find.
You're making it hard, oh, why is that so?
No harm, no foul, so far- you know
I'm still far away, I've got a while to wait
It'll take me long touch you, at this rate.
Anyway, here's my story, so listen right now
I've got more to this than I've, so far, allowed
I come out in the day so I can get closer
Follow you to work, the kitchen, even the grocer.
With every little move, I inch closer right then
And with every action, I move closer again
Cracking your knuckles or kicking a ball
I get nearer and nearer with every new fall.
I can't get you when sleeping, no, that wouldn't be fair
Attacking at your innocence is cruelty I can't bare
So I sit during the night and I watch all your dreams
Your conscience is far more complex, it seems.
Then when you wake up, I'm closer once more
On your coat tail as you run out the door
Drinking your coffee and driving to work
Hearing you sing is just an added perk.
I'm the thing the dog barks at when no one's around
They see me even though I do not make a sound
I'm that blur that is moving out of the corner of your eye
The thing that watches you break down and cry.
And when you feel watched, but know you're 'alone'
Just know that I'm with you, but cannot be shown
With every little movement, I get closer, I dare
The only thing between us now is little slivers of air.

To love as freely as a child again.
Like a child, afraid of going to school
Afraid to leave their mother and father
For fear that they won't be here when she comes home
Fear of cooties from the boys
Boys that eventually become an elementary crush
A crush that blossoms into middle school feelings
Feelings that will be brushed off by friends
Friends who leave her unattended at the most vulnerable times
Where vulnerability renders her temporarily blind
Temporarily stuck in a hopeless place she can't escape
A place so desperate she can't imagine life without it-
And to imagine- she isn't even done with freshman year.
To hope that the years will roll by fast enough
So fast she can't acknowledge that they go by
Can't acknowledge the feelings she's putting herself through
She's killing herself, and nobody seems to realize yet.
To feel as if whatever-God-is-out-there must,
To listen as if prayers were flooding in minute by minute
Prayers to end the pain,
Pain that she shares,
But cannot share because nobody will hear her
Her prayers drift by silent ears and go unnoticed
And when turned-off ears fail to hear her,
Her anger doesn't fail to boil up, to create something horrible,
Something horrible that has never really been her
Something she never realized she had
Until she realized something else.
To let anger and sadness take control in such a strong way,
Something else had to stop being in control-
To love as freely as a child again.
Not only to love others,
But herself.

Stupid Kohl's commercial
Poking fun that she's not here
It'll be a lonely Christmas
Without Mrs. Claus this year.
They decorate the woman's house
With golden garland, lights
Hang the diamonds from the tree
For when she comes home that night.
It's like they knew she wasn't home
But I guess her home is now up there
She can celebrate with Grandpa now
I just wish they were still here.
No more Santa ornaments
Or stockings hanging low
No more fruit salad parties
Or reindeer food  in the snow.
I can't seem to fathom it
That I must make another wreath
That this year you won't be helping us
No more Christmas specials to see.
So when I have the jingle bear
And I play the song for kicks
J-I-N-G-L-E Bells
I'll cry at the memories that stick.
I really love the holidays
I'd love them more if you hadn't gone
Enjoy your Christmas with Grampa, please
And play me the jingle song.

The news that I'm not getting better
I would say is entirely true
If better is not crying at every last thought
And news means it hasn't got to you.
It travels too fast for me to catch up
Which I say like I wanted it to
But I never thought I'd decline like this
That I'd push away my one of the few.
Tonight I'll have dreams of my laughter
And wander around houses of glass
Resist all impulses to break down the walls
With the sticks and the stones of my past.
I'll regret all the choices that I ever have made
Apologize for what I have done
Shove feel-better statements down my plugged-up throat
And accept that I might as well be shunned.
I'll lock myself up in this mountain of glass
Look through glass that I'll wish you won't see
My appearance is enough to explain to you
I'm too broken to convey any feelings.

There are positions I can take
That can please him
Tease him
Or the other way around
But no role is harder
Than playing doctor
And trying to fix your own
Shaken up, stirred ground.
I can be the lustrous one
If thats how he wants me
I only want to mend beauty
From trash
From a mistress into me.
He built bridges with his arms
I will tear down his fortress
This king may have it all
And I'm just afraid to lose it.
I fear I don't know how
To use the sewing machine
That stitches up my fate
My feelings
The trash he made me feel like
Into kingdoms of gold
And ground thats safe to walk on.
I can try to mend myself
Put together broken ends
But I can't claim this battle
When it seems that
He doesn't want me to win.

There's this burning light inside of me
The one they try to dim
This same light that wakes me up
And keeps me tied to him.
But like the anchor that holds my ship
Keeps me held up to the ground
Is the same anchor they've buried deep
Put to sleep without a sound.
This boat has sailed with the light turned off
This keeper is asleep for now
Your ships can do without the house
Just stick your sights up on the bow.
So when your people crash and burn
And you're lusting for my light
I guess you'll wish you had it back
Before you put me out that night.

And then it all started to happen
With the sickness and the stroke
And the long
winding
stupid road
That I would take to get you out.
And after it happened those silly roads
Decided they wouldn't guide me anymore
And my long
winding
stupid feelings
Weren't really mine anymore.
And while we were driving out the driveway I'd known
Where you stood out the window and waved
And the long
winding
stupid driveway
I realized I might never see again.
And I have your class ring on my bony hand now
Where I can't tell if it's '57 or 2
And the little
gold
stupid writing
Makes me feeling the guilt of having not asked you.
And I'm afraid to put the annual flowers out now
Where I'll see the dates go through 13
And the long
winding
stupid dates
Are really the saddest I've seen.

Things come from all things
Matter cannot be created
It can't be destroyed
But like all things,
Everything comes from something
Like thoughts from brains
Brains from bodies
Bodies from a woman
Put in that state from ***
*** from love (hopefully)
Love from interaction
Interaction from thought.
So the physicists and scientists
Might be right
But it's not true that all matter
Cannot be destroyed
Someone created a body
But that, I have too often seen,
Is destroyed
Because of thoughts
Or maybe love
Could be interaction or brains
But at least some matter
Can be
Has been
Destroyed.

I sit by myself in my bubble, alone
Sitting like this, the only way that I know
I choose this lifestyle because I know the way
A way like this will make my good heart stay.
I have watched from my house, watched the whole inside rot
While the outside stays gorgeous, the inside is not
Like a pretty cake exterior, but interior- it's mold
Everybody seeing it tricked that it's gold.
So here in my bubble is where I will stay
And here I am content to watch the children play
I stay inside to avoid the Roman Carnival
I am often compared to a bird, no, not a Cardinal.
And somehow when I'm needed I magically appear
I come to the rescue when it's danger I hear
My footsteps go unnoticed, it's silent indeed
I come out to assist when people are in need.
Other than that, I stay safe from the idiocy of this town
If there was an award for hypocrisy, you all win the crown
Your obliviousness I have not come to bare
So my innocent soul I will definitely take care.
I will not understand how you simply don't see
The man that you killed just left his family
And you're blind to the man that taught the young ones
Meanwhile you're pressing charges for fun.
So here in this bubble my residence is at
I'm making a choice not to be a victim of that
And if my staying inside just makes me a fool,
Do you honestly think that makes you more cool?
Because I know you inside- who you really are
Adults training these kids to reach for the stars
You hypocrites don't even know what to say
When the children grow up and get too old to play.
Oh yeah, the stars, you haven't touched them yet
My little bubble of privacy I am willing to bet
That you haven't even climbed outside this pretty little town
Haven't gotten better than this mold and this crown.
So continue that life and living your lie
I'll stay inside my bubble and watch the child cry
He can see the cruelty just like I can too
These children know me by the name of Boo.

Turn on the television to see families in war
All this fighting turning into a bore
What you see is a backdrop, the setup, a show
These producers are scumbags at the bottom below.
Relationships and scandals to match your delight
You really want to know what they did last night?
All of this is to fill up that useful time
Useful, I guess, but this exposure is a crime.
Do you really even care how her dress looked that night?
Is it a big surprise that he got in a fight?
Does it matter in the end that he's sold a million records?
Is that little fact really true, or just something you heard?
We're all entertainment, all actors in a way
Your life is now open and you're on display
You've entered the business, you've gotten the part
As of this moment, you're at the bottom of the charts.
But don't you lose hope, you'll get up there somehow
They'll take your normalcy and amp it tenfold for now
You're the face in the crowd until you make your name
And secretly we all want those fifteen minutes of fame.
It takes a while to get there, a strenuous time,
The prize at the top might not be worth the climb
But, hey that's your choice- it's your faults that they want
So make your blemishes pretty- get out there and flaunt.
Give them your smile, your secrets, your lovers
You can hide all you want but it's too easy to discover
The media is waiting, darling, go say something witty
Be charming, don't forget, they love something pretty.

They're scarier than the monsters
In closets and under beds
They're more terrifying than aliens
It's the demons in your head.
They go by names, they live through masks
Come out to say hello
And no matter what drugs you take or ways to leave
They'll never truly go.
They stick around to start some fun
They're college kids at heart
Pranks are pulled, and heartstrings too
They'll push you back to start.
They hide behind emotions
Grab at the locks put on the door
Open up to raid your thoughts
Scream and cry for more.
Loneliness kicks like a child
If you put him in timeout
Anger punches if you look at him
He's set up to knock you out.
Jealousy seduces every single little thought
But looks best with lingerie
Envy kisses the tips of your nose
To set your happiness astray.
Greed just covers up possessions
He carries blindness all the time
Sadness fills you up with grey
Sits down and makes you cry.
Fear plays in dark, dank corners
Her dress has cloaks of black
Her dress spins, and with colors- twirls
Until she's ready to attack.
They've got different names and synonyms
Actually, they're all the same
Doctors call it something else
So they don't take the blame.
Just stick it to the demons
That take refuge in our minds
Call them out, evict them now
Your sanity is running out of time.
Don't worry, darling, you're not alone
They've got a hold on all us too
Kick them out and lock the door
Don't answer when they yell 'boo'.

I haven't decided if he's bearded and white
If he's Asian
Or maybe African American
Or we could be praying to a one-eyed,
One-horned,
Flying, purple, people-eater
And we wouldn't know
Because what if that happens after we die?
Unless you're like the miracles from the books
Where you die and talk to God and come back
Or if He talks to you on a regular basis
Or maybe we have it wrong and He prefers to be a She
And we wouldn't know
It's out of our realm
We don't know
And you can't tell me what I need to believe
Because we're both still trying to figure it out
Because we are people
And most of the time
Questioning exactly what I'm being told not to question
Seems like exactly what I want to do.

The wind nips at my cheeks
Making them pinker
Than I had intended
Making me look more alive
Than I had hoped
Making me wish I was in the ground
Fake pink lips, fake pink blouse,
Real pale skin
Where everyone, for so long,
Has said I should be.

I'm a little under the weather, it seems
I even had an apple a day!
But no amount of painkiller or Motrin
Can take this pain away.
You see, there is no antidote
For this little disease of mine
I guess I'll do what my mother says,
"It'll heal in time."
I've become so sick with a broken heart
And I ran out of bandages and gauze
I called the doctor a while ago
Began the dreaded ring ring pause.
"Listen, doc, I'm sick- ya see?
I've got this hurting in my chest!"
He didn't offer much advice-
"Stay home; just get some rest."
It's difficult to do sometimes
When your heart no longer beats
All you do is feel the silence
Just eat, sleep, breathe.
Now I'm a little more than under the weather
No, try six feet under
My little disease was hurting me
Why I didn't get better, I wonder.
You see, my heart can take so much
Before it crumbles, breaks, and cracks
Heartache comes in many forms
But there's only one that lasts.
So that's my story of health issues
The tale of a broken heart
A little ballad of medicine and pills
That I have needed from the start.

What do you do?
When you feel stuck,
When you can't go anywhere?
When you're fortunate enough
To be unfortunate enough to have
One of the best opportunities you've had
Come to an end?
Don't all good things come to an end?
Do great things start again?
What happens when I am stationary?
When my friends advance past,
And I return to dust?
When I am left to my thoughts
That have already abandoned my opportunities?
What happens if Studio 7 was my only chance?
What happens when what I decided I want to do
Doesn't work out?
When my reliability becomes my worst enemy?
Most importantly,
Why am I so afraid of the future?

There is no worse feeling
Than nothing at all.
It's scary,
It's dark,
and it's lonely.

And it's kind of like the night.

Kind of like I am the moon.
And I am suspended above everyone else,
Flying high above in the risers, looking down at the actors on the stage,
On the people in the town
Conversing, falling in love, having fun, simply being
And I am up here
And I am alone.
I am the light to guide everyone's night
But they still don't see me.
I am at least one of two constants in their lives
And they still forget that I am here.
I will fall, I will rise again, and I will continue this cycle
I will swallow my feelings because
I have to
Because the town will turn to shambles if I don't.
I am not sure if I am comfortable with being this constant for everyone
I do not know if this something I should be okay with
If I should be okay with being absolutely nothing but
Something that is there.
I have nobody, but I am still there.
I am still here, don't you remember me?

Why won't you remember me?

I long for the autumn that defines my year
Where I can finally measure up
I can finally become the person that the people I surround myself with
Already are
For colder weather that indicates seasons for sports that I play
Simply to say that I've done something
To say that I have seen a glimmer of what it's like
To do something that people will love.
For fall to arrive and to immerse myself in stress
So I can stop thinking about my future
About my obligations
And focus on being something that people will love
Transform myself into something they think is better than who I am
And perhaps stop asking myself,
Perhaps I will stop repeating the mantra, the age-old question-
Why do I surround myself with people that are better than me?
As if it is a contest and I am the only competitor
Racing, racing to the top
Hoping to see what exactly is over this wall that my friends have seen
To measure up in age, in accomplishments, concerts, grades
Why am I the jack of all trades and the master of none?
I can do so much, I meet requirements
How is this town okay with simply meeting requirements?
...And then I realized something.
I long for autumn, for the seasons that represent change
Not because I am in dire need of new things to do
To possibly prove myself worthy
But because it means I am one season closer to leaving a town and people
Who are okay with meeting requirements
And I am one step closer, one step higher,
To reaching things that supersede any requirement given to me.

You know something happened
When every teacher walks into the hall
And a shared, scared glance sweeps across everyone
When your friend walks into the room and tells you
And the teacher brings you into a class of strangers
To tell you how much you mean to her.
You know something happened
When she starts crying and telling you
That she can't sugarcoat it even if she wanted to
And when you walk into your next class
And the room is silent
But the teacher didn't tell them to be.
And when there is a staff member at every corner
And when there is silence in the halls
And how you didn't even know him
But it makes you sad as well.
And how every stranger to walk in the building
Could feel the tension in the air
And how you turn the corner and see your youth pastor
And how you can't even tell your best friend how you feel
And how the silence shows you that through tragedy,
We are one.
And how the silence told me that we unite through feeling,
An unspoken feeling,
A silent tribute throughout the halls
Throughout the day.
And how you see the sadness, the tissues and hugs,
And how you wonder if that's how he felt
Before it happened
Before any of us felt this way
And you wonder if he felt this feeling
The beautiful high school quarterback
With everything seemingly perfect
And you wonder if he felt this way-
numb.

She'd started watching 1950's informational videos.
You were accepted for being outside the box
And she was everything except in it.
Class president kids used to be reviled
Elections were exciting, polls came in,
And now... now what was it?
Something she should be ashamed of.
Because she cannot dance in a short skirt in front of a crowd
But instead because she plays the music
For the girls in the short skirts
Band uniforms like shells she can hide inside
Because while it's not something the other kids love,
It's what she loves.
Tennis dresses like skin without makeup
Student council shirts that finally fit,
That she feels like she can finally fill out
Unlike the jeans that she can't.
Golf jersey tossed aside, brushes and pencils picked up
Volunteer work piled in
Piling into the plays and new experiences
And acceleration, constant growing,
Growing out of shells that she used to love
And gaining skins that she loves even more
Looking back and seeing that the girls in short skirts
On the sidelines, on the gym floors,
Had not shed anything yet
Had not grown.
They were walking, she was running
Toward the end of high school, toward a goal,
To see how high in the sky they could get,
To see how high in confidence and compassion she could reach
They shed clothes, she shed skin and shells
They were permanent, fearing change
She was evolving, embracing it.

I am the person your mother warned you about.
I am the person you are not supposed to get on the motorcycle with
Because I cannot drive,
I do not have a motorcycle
And I am rebellious enough to have no helmet on my unkempt hair.
I will take you places late at night
And sneak into abandon buildings
To show you the abandoned pieces of my heart
And the parts of me that don't belong to anything
I will show you where to put them and desperately hope
That you can put them back for me.
I am the kind of person that came to sweep you off you feet
In whimsical dreams even Dorothy would love to have
And I will take you to beautiful places over the rainbow
You will feel things over the moon.
But I possess this unnatural power to break beautiful things
And even though it seems we are happy,
My brokenness cannot be mended by someone so special
So I continue to break another perfect thing.
I will break you and the beautiful places so unintentionally-
it's almost graceful
I will hurt you in ways so you cannot return to these places
Not with me, not with another girl or anyone
Because I tried to be mended and rebellious
To keep our wrists and hearts intact
But I am another broken person who is afraid to drag you down with me
I fear of breaking your heart so hard that you cannot be mended either
I am afraid to hurt you on the motorcycle that I wish I could ride
I do not want you to fall in love with the person I want to be
I want to be spontaneous enough to take you to beautiful places
To kiss you in them and to open my heart
I want to be these things because you need wonderful things
The same way I need to understand you want to help me
I want to be these beautiful things for you
But I am not the person your mother warned you about.

To live extraordinarily
To let die simply
To live and die on a day
Where you took the simple
And thought it extraordinary
Is one of the most appreciated talents
A person can possess
To live without boundaries
Without fear and hesitance
And to live without regrets
About what you did do
Instead of wishing you did
What you didn't do
Perhaps to live simply
Is to live extraordinary
To die having done what you love
Having loved who you want
Is to have taken the extraordinary
From the simple
And to have lived and died on a day
When you and the people around you
Noticed how many extraordinary things
Could come from something as simple
As life and love.

Can't sleep
But I wake up
In a dim lit room
From lamps on the street
Can't move
But my arms will sink
Into the covers
Where I don't have to think
Can't yell
'Cause quicksand is thick
Down my throat
I'd rather give in
Enveloped by blankets
Swallowing tears
Dying like this
I'm facing my fears
Of death and the darkness
I'm deaf and I'm blind
Get me out of this hell
And more importantly,
My mind.

Can you be my addiction?
My morphine, take my time
Can you take away the pain for me?
Addiction, will you be mine?
You feed the fire more and more
Keep me coming every day
Make me think you left too soon
Then turn around and stay.
Really, I'm pathetic
Needing this here to survive
I wake up wondering my next hit
Counting down till it arrives.
Speed is overrated
And crack is pretty lame
You're the one that's selling out
Your drug is this cities' game.
I've been trying out some dealers
But they never fit the bill
Their high just isn't as good as yours
Doesn't quite get me over the hill.
I'm taking myself to the ranch today
To take some time and gaze some stars
I'll leave you home, babe, not right now,
This retreat is pretty far.
As much as I love the hit I get
And calling you my own
I've got some courage way down deep
Thats scratching to be shown.
My reliance on you will be no more
I'm cutting loose this grip
My addiction, darling, my morphine
Has become one bad acid trip.
So I'll lay here and stargaze now
And these will be real stars
Not the ones created by your hit
My addiction is near and far.

He slams the door
To walk outside and continue to grill
And I remember that it's 5 o'clock on Sunday
Prime time for him to be sleeping
I remember all the Sundays when I was little
How I would cry my eyes out
I dreaded the thought of going to school the next day
Because I would have to leave my parents
Particularly, my father
How I would beg for him to come to school with me
Begging because I missed him so much.
I remember the Sunday when I came in carrying a box
When he was slamming the door, when he broke a mug
How I heard him yell and I threw down the box
How I ran into the garage to cry
When he came out and hugged me
And I cried and bawled and hugged him harder than ever before
How these Sundays have changed to doors slamming
To headphones and the grill going
To falling asleep shortly after 5,
How they have not changed in the fact
That I still sometimes cry on Sundays,
Shortly after 5 o'clock.

You're 'heroes' aren't real people
They're drawings and hopes and tales
Real heroes are the ones that help
They're the ones that really care.
Now, don't get me wrong,
Superman is great and all
But he's really just a figure
Just strong and buff and tall.
Batman, Spiderman, they're figures too,
Their stories tell ones of crime
But I know some even better ones
Some stories really worth the time.
It's the kids that don't get noticed
The ones that are left behind
You can't put the name to face,
But they've been there this whole time.
Everyone comes before they do,
They're ready to make a change
They help, sacrifice, volunteer
And you always found it strange.
Does it seem so weird, now?
Have you grown up and seen it for real?
They're the Superman, Batman, Spiderman too
They're the ones that helped people heal.
Remember that day you dropped your books?
Remember when you felt so alone?
It's those kids that helped and lent a hand
They're the ones that should be known.
So next time you pick up a comic
Even you, in your growing age,
Superheroes are the ones in real life
Not the fighters on a page.

Tell me now what time it is
Now I'll ask your dog the same
Not because they don't understand
No, they don't even know the day.
It's occurred to me that humans
Are the only ones that know our fate
We're the only ones that even care
Animals only care to procreate.
I've come to senses, got the math
And now I really see it all
I know exactly just how long I'll live
Know the memories I'll recall.
My fish doesn't know it's 11:32
And the giraffes don't get New Years
The only thing the rabbit worries about
Is The Turtle and The Hare.
We're the only ones that worry
About how soon we'll reach the end
If we're reaching to the heavens
Or if we'll be condemned.
It's solely us that understand
Our own mortality
Manatee's haven't got a grip
Time is our own insanity.
And if you boil it down to the very end
Ignoring all the rest
Time steals our mindfulness
He committed a real, true theft.
So now if you'll join me in forgetting
That I'm human and I will die
Let's forget that Time is really there
Escape with me, if you don't mind.

She's got something in her pocket
It belongs across her face
She keeps it very close at hand
But I fear it's been misplaced.
Lately, I can't find it
She's lost it since, it seems
The smile of her Brownie days
When she was young it gleamed.
Little girl with butterfly pins
Her pink dresses and toes
Is now the older, different girl
With deep dark nails and clothes.
Little girl with changing mind
Well, that may be true today
But the little part is long and gone
Now she's got more to say.
She thinks about the world right now
How it's all so sick and old
She understand how people work
Without having to be told.
She tells you what she thinks right then
And stresses all too much
She misses how the old days were
Even though she's young and such.
She's lonely in a different way
Where the people are still there
She's sitting around her favorite ones
This feeling is not rare.
She had something in her pocket
I hope she finds it soon
I want to see her smile  now
I want her to feel new.

Do you ever want to die
Not only because sometimes
It just seems like where you need to go,
But to see how the world would change?
Who grieves, who adjusts, who comes forward,
What would be formed, what would cease to exist?
However, there's the reason to skirt around-
This minuscule grey area, that is,
At best, continuously evolving in certain situations-
And right there, as if waiting- the want to die
Simply because that's just what seems to be left
That would make me different,
I would have something to myself
I don't have to see if things get better before they get worse.
Well, speaking of my first list-
Out of the two reasons, the latter of which
I am forever curious about,
I am most scared of wanting the former.

He noticed the little things
Like how she would cry and grip the steering wheel
Pull over,
And pinch the inside of her palm
As if trying to reignite the fire that her tears put out
How she held on to her skin so tight
That the tips of her fingernails changed from rosy pink
To a suffocating and painful ivory
How she would cry and cry
And how she would wait until her palms bled
And how she sniffled one last time,
Wiped her palms on her pants
How every time she did this, she drove home silently
She noticed how he could not say a word
How he must be utterly repulsed by her
By how turned around she gets
He must not be able to react to her abnormal ways
Of dealing with copious amount of stress and anxiety
She noticed the little things
Like how he wouldn't know how to take care of her
How she was trapped
How she couldn't pinch herself out of this world
How she didn't want to die,
But simply cease to exist
How she knew she couldn't ask him to help her
"Can you pinch me out of this world?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"You're the only person I have that brings me back
When I sometimes pinch myself too hard."
They also failed to notice the larger things
Like how he held her in his lap
And let her pinch to make her stop crying
How she brushed his hair back when he couldn't stop
How they kept a box of tissues in the car for moments like this
When the other would need to pinch for a while
To make the crying stop
To deal with this abnormal way of coping with things
To make the other remember
That it might not be so bad to have someone to help you
Get out of a pinch, after all.

They're lurking in the darkened depths
In the spaces you don't check
The alleyways that seem so empty
Corners you so often neglect.
And you've never really heard them
All they do is and whisper and cry
Around the street lamps, in the kitchen,
You can't see them with the naked eye.
So here they are, these creatures,
Please don't ever call them close
Turn around to finally catch them
And you miss them by their nose.
Get up every single morn'
Away from the lurching, dark night
As they retreat to corners somewhere else
Fast with the approaching sunlight.
As you mope about your useless day
You hear the voices coming again
Can you get away like they can?
They're stepping closer every time
Coming nearer with every call
They're looking every second for you
Coming closer with every near-fall.
They're ghosts and ghouls in hiding
Here to make your soul finally hear.

And now, my friends, I'll tell you
How these creatures have gotten to be
And I'll tell you now my secret
This game you played with me.
They made me spread the word to you
That their existence should not be overlooked
They wanted to make their presence known
But I needed to keep you at the books.
Just take my words and read them,
The beginning word of every line
There's my message, take it to heart
Get away before they have your soul, like mine.

'Sweet dreams!' they said
'Yes, you can sleep,
Darling, rest your little head.
The world's a scary, scary place
That's sometimes filled with dread.'
Sweet dreams I dreamt
With pretty homes
And people seem so happy
The smiles bright
And no more tears
Had it really looked so sadly?
But when I woke
I woke to find
The people all too shabby
Such little smiles, all the tears
It never looked so sadly.
'Sweet dreams!' they sang
'Oh, you'll be fine,
The sounds will ring out loud
And in those dreams that you can hear
The voices will be proud.'
Sweet dreams I dreamt
Of voices clear
And angels singing high
They sat above the treetops
On white clouds in the sky.
But when I woke
I woke to find
The voices all too scary
The singing gone, the chorus lost
And sounds no longer merry.
'Sweet dreams!' They showed
'No need to fear!
The pictures, how they move!
Look at all the gorgeous light,
It's coming from the moon.'
Sweet dreams I dreamt
Of shining clouds
And stars above my head
The angels sleep, they doze and gaze
And sleep on angel beds.
But when I woke
I woke to find
The moon no longer there
All the angels couldn't sleep
And people didn't care.
Sweet dreams I dreamt
I heard and saw
The people all so clear
Turns out some dreams are really not
What they should be here.

These subcategories of articles
That separate theory from fact
Are lines that, really,
Are quite unclearly drawn.
Categories for theory and qualia
That put me under the impression
That everything is based on a conjecture
And it's all in my head.
Qualia is defined as being subject
To your sense perceptions
Brought on by stimulation of phenomena.
Theory is a system of ideas used
To explain something.
But don't we theorize everything,
Based on our qualia?
If we perceive that a rose is red,
And we theorize that this type of rose
Will always be red because we will always see it red,
Does that really make it red?
Is my red your green,
And you only call it red because to you need to call it something?
Or is that just our theory that to be comfortable
Is to fit in and be accepted by everyone?
And that to challenge what is called fact
Is to be rejected?
Where do we draw the line
In these thickly worded and sinking articles?
Is it where we can finally say that
Everything is based on theory that our qualia subjects us to?
If so, am I under the correct theory that
I really am alone?
That my sense perceptions just play tricks on me
So I don't think to hard, or go insane?
Is insanity just theory based on qualia?
Or maybe I should be under the theory
That being a thinker like this
Subjects me to the unpleasant qualia of a perceived headache.

It's been raining- never pouring
And the young kid stopped snoring
This time when he went to bed
No bump on his head
And still didn't wake up in the morning.
It's been sprinkling- slow and steady
And the young girl is tired already
Today's been tough
She's had enough
And she didn't want to wake up in the morning.
It's been snowing- soft and dreamy
And the little boy's cheeks are beaming
His snow filled clothes
His happiness shows
And he couldn't wait until the morning.
It's been sunny- bright and shining
The old man lays outside, reclining
His wife is happy
His grandchildren are napping
And he was excited to play with them in the morning.
It's been cloudy- the ground is foggy
The young kid wakes up feeling groggy
His dreams were bad
The worst he's had
And he's glad he woke up in the morning.
It's been chilly- always lovely
The young girl wakes up comfy
Her bed's the same
She's taking the blame
And she's happy she still woke up in the morning.
It's been pouring- hard and fast
And these people's lives all match at last
The weather changes
Their lives cover different ranges
And their all happy for the morning.

I handed you the knife that hurts me to this day.
Every piercing word, you twist it deeper
Until it flirts with the part of me that is lit on fire with a certain lust
That, while infuriating, is hot enough to make me want more
To this day I continue to hate every utterance containing your name
That name belongs to me, it is supposed to be mine,
As you led me to believe,
As you shove a sword deeper into my gut
Farther, until the fire and coals that were lust and love
Are poked out with the dagger I gave you.
And to this day I walk with wounds
I sit with scars and burns,
Engraved with your name, every time,
Every time I heard your name- scalded
Every time you said the words- knives twisted
And even when these coals were at their hottest,
With no qualms about fading out,
They were managed to be calmed, to be soothed,
Into what I have become today.
To this day I am scarred, burned, and with sword in stomach
But I am here, with new knife in hand,
And you cannot burn me again.

Daddy, you look sad today
Is it something that I said?
Did I make you mad when I spilled the juice?
I'm only being a kid.
Daddy, please don't yell so loud
The neighbors might hear again
I promise I won't ask to play
I'll just go to bed.
Daddy, what's been wrong lately?
Why are all those bottles there?
Let's go outside and make you happy
You don't even have to braid my hair.
Daddy, why don't you say it anymore?
You love me when I go to sleep?
Can't I make it all better?
I'm sorry mommy isn't with me.
Daddy, what's that noise I hear?
I hate to see you cry
I'm running to save you, quick as I can
I promise I will try!
Daddy, what's that thing you have?
The metal is black and cold
I've seen that thing out on the streets
It's a sad thing I have been told.
Daddy, what was that loud noise?
And why did you go to sleep?
Why did you say I love you, goodbye?
When in the morning you'll see me?
And daddy, why won't you wake up?
Please, stop lying there
I'll try and carry you to bed
As long as I don't stumble on the beer.
Daddy, I wish you would wake up
But I hear nothing from your heart
It's just like mommy when we saw her
Please, I don't wanna be apart!
I'm sorry you weren't happy
And you said it's not you, kid
I want you to know you're always my dad
And I love you no matter what you did.

Empty hands and love wasted
Wasted, the state of being wasted
Drunk on love
Or high on life
Perhaps intoxicated with the idea
Breathing in the fumes of both
Hookah and happiness
Crushed up pills meant to calm anxiety
Only calm their mind
Not the body, not the syncopated motions
Not the actions in which they're partaking
Crushed up pills, crushed up souls,
Uppers and downers so that maybe
While their mind is numb,
Their body sure isn't,
Maybe for a moment they don't have to think
About what love actually is.

I lay here now with tear streaked eyes
And with tear streaked eyes did realize
The words I speak are in my head
I'm going to die here in this bed.
He sits and waits, sits and watches
And on the glass his nails make notches
They pass the time and wait till it's right
He's going to **** me on this night.
He speaks no words and his mind is a blur
I know he moves but I've not seen him stir
Right now he's sitting outside my room
Waiting to bring me face-to-face with Doom.
His nails are long enough to cut me from there
Long enough to force me into a silent prayer
His skin is sickly gray and comes out in patches
And from his ****** scalp his hair detaches.
His body is long and very strung out
His frame is bruised and beat about
His eye sockets are a 'beautiful' scarlet
Beautiful if they weren't making me a target.
What made him stick to me is still a question
I've never even shown him any aggression
I've let him stay there and watch me sleep
But now he sits here and watches me weep.
He's my secret admirer, but no secret anymore
I thought his spirit was just folklore
Did my faith in his nonexistence make him stay?
Can my faith when he's here make him go away?
Apparently not, for now he's coming in
I lay here still with the moon showing his grin
He sits in the corner, watching me still,
I see now his teeth sharpened with a drill.
He's teasing me now, and I know this is not fair
I've got to keep quiet, I'm not consciously there
Maybe if I'm 'sleeping' he'll leave me alone
But I'm prolonging the inevitable, his eyes are locked to stone.
I'm not getting out- I've accepted this now,
But his pride in winning is not something I'll allow
You see, losing is not something I take lightly
And dying with him I will not do politely.
Now that I've seen this coming for a while
I've kept my escape hidden in a small little pile
I'm not getting out of here, and he can watch me as I die
I'd rather off myself than let him win, I won't lie.
I swallow the pills and he creeps towards the bed
He tilts up my chin and gets a good look at my head
I watch as his smile turns angry and frustrated
Because for all this time he's just sat and waited.
I've foiled his plan and I knew all along
Now I know he'll never be strong
Those shiny red eyes are the last thing I see
I've won, he's not gotten the best of me.

How tragic it is to be a thinker.
To have such a remarkable ability
To possess something that creates
While, in that process, destroys.
I associate with a group of thinkers
With no clear place to direct our ideas
So they bounce around in our heads
Gaining force and speed
Becoming more and more painful
Until you can label our brains
As a weapon of self-destruction.
I associate with a group of thinkers
Who have thought themselves
Into pits of depression
Because numbers and endless possibilities
Never stop filtering through their head.
How sad it is that I associate with people that I can't help
I am friends with people
Who have driven themselves into introversion
People that have too many thoughts to collaborate on
But have catapulted themselves into the depths of their own mind
An entirely too frightening place to be
On your own.
How tragic it is to be listening to your friends
Evaluating his state of mind
While you sit in the back of the car
And stare at the analog clock on the dashboard
Thinking about different number combinations for 12:36
That 1x2x3=6 and 1+2+3=6 and 6-3=2+1 and 6/3=2+1
How tragic it is to associate with a group of thinkers
With no clear place to direct their thoughts
And to be a person who cannot pull their friends out
From the murky waters of their own mind
Let alone herself.

All the spoken words I've ever heard
And every journey written in pen
Gorgeous conjunctions and beautiful sentences
Are one combination of a 26 letter alphabet.
We are a mix of A's and T's, C's and G's
And not just the mix of scientific bases
But the actual letters make up a person
With a personality and a body and a face.
Every book to ever grace your hands
And every poem the danced in the mind
All the 'I love you's and the 'I regret nothing's
Every 'I miss you' to have been spoken in time.
We make friends with a combination of syllables
A different mix of two 'l's, an 'h', and two vowels
We end relationships with the horrible g-double o-d-bye
Quitting it all and throwing in the towel.
And somehow we overlook the simple fact
That everything we have ever been and will be
Is somehow linked together with these 26 sounds
Every fiber of our everything and piece of history.
So that little song you learned long ago
To the tune of one sparkling little star
Remember that every letter you know today
Makes up every fantastic piece that you are.

We are absolutely infinitely miniscule
Incredible at making insignificant changes
We are great thoughts grazing the tips of greatness
Horribly brilliant, not labeled for taking
We are so secretive and sensitive
Sly secrets mixed with fatal feelings
We are superficial, skin-deep, shallow, sketchy scars
Stories of struggle and sadness and adventure
We are tissue and tears and thoughts
Made up of toughness and heavy-duty human
We are the little light whispers of lovers
Grinning when greeted from special people
We are muscles and cells and logistics in biology books
All rolled up into one beautiful ball of humanity.

One in the morning and I can't sleep
A billion times I have closed my eyes
A couple of shakes and I try to escape
But time has me, I sit and realize.
I focus on the clock that sits
And stares me down like a lion
My eyes are dry and I'm tired, I feel it,
I squeeze but I really can't start crying.
Time ticker strikes two and I yawn pretty big
I lay down so I'll be sane in the morning
But I guess sleep was not quite my motivation
Because I find reality, really, quite boring.
Quarter to four and my mind is a bore
I still sit and question my size
I'm small and mortal and dying, I know,
I'm nothing compared to the skies.
But the time is going, it still bores on,
It rambles like my thoughts on this night
And I won't go to bed because I know it won't stop
Clocks don't freeze at the first sign of life.
We're caught in the spiral that I've come to get
So I spend all my time imagining it gone
But here on this morning, when five rolls around,
These thoughts are not leaving at dawn.
I was thinking that maybe if I think hard enough
If I think all of these problems right through
I'll understand why I'm insane in this way
And why the clocks don't even care if there's dew.
Closer to six and my head hits the pillow
It's not time that I've seemed to understand
I really get, now, that I've been thinking too much
And I'm truly on the underhand.
I'm come to terms with the fact that one day
I'll just be words and thoughts and 'remember her's
My legacy will, one day, not exist
And my ideas will not be much of a blur.
I'm starting to see, as it's now seven o'clock
That the clocks are simply running the race
They're in the lead, slowly beating me,
Time is just the subject of the chase.

Every time
A car saunters by
In the blistering heat
Breaking up the visible waves
And making my heart skip a beat
I think of how unholy I must seem now
Only because you simply
Cannot, will not
Just leave me alone.
I'm shutting myself in
In my house, in my mind
Because I am so afraid
Of confrontation with you
Of interrogation
Of your judging looks and incriminating comments
That make me feel even worse
I'm scared to go back
You have scared me out of religion
Out of believing
You have shut me in
Like you tried to shove me into the doors of your church.
Every time a white truck
Pulls into the driveway across the street
Of just how everyone is a sinner
How you have tied me down there forever
How lost I am, when I know right where to go
How you shut me in and secured the doors
Removed my comfort and injected paranoia
Just leave me alone
In my shut-in mind
Because I do not want to go back to your church.
*******.

A little heart inside of me
I keep it tucked away
Beg and plead
On ****** knees
Just hoping that you'll stay.
A fighting mind up in my head
I know that it's up there
Try and try
I memorize
The wish that you would care.
And tiny legs that carry me
Deeper into your hold
Red stop signs
And tear streaked eyes
I know I should have known.
Thin, small arms I have right here
That don't accomplish much
I lift the weights
You throw them down
And I still wince at your touch.
Meager curves I wish were not
Places, yeah, I got it there
A weightless thing
"The Skin and Bones"
But I'm still caught in your stare.
The darkest eyes I try to hide
And theirs- the lightest blue
Just not the same
I cannot change
The eyes I see in you.
Visual things, they matter much
Inside it matters more
I guess it's fine
Its gone with time,
Isn't personality a bore?