when i met you,
your cheeks dusted with glitter
that settled in the light
and danced with every smile,
i could feel you were special
and you made me feel special
in a time of doubt.
you move with the energy around you
and it's hard to look away.
you're comforting like night
and energetic like day.
your words cast spells
and your songs cast a shadow
of peace.
you're not typical,
but it's beautiful
and i'm,
for once,
finally feeling okay.

maybe i'm not special.
maybe the world is like me, in that all that they see
when they look at themselves
is folds and lines and marks-
and ugliness,
and broken hearts.
maybe it's the trust thing,
because i can't trust anyone else
when they tell me i'm beautiful
yet i can trust myself
when i say that
i'm lumpy, bumpy, gross-
and detestable,
and possibly
the most beautiful girl in the world.
i don't know,
and i can't see it.
maybe i will one day.
maybe just a little bit.

i want to love you
so much
but my throat pulls me back
and closes before i can get the words out.
and i want to hold you
in my arms.
we can drift off to sleep
together.
but sometimes my fingers whisper to me,
they tell me not to touch you.
i'll touch you when
your tongue is no longer bleeding
and
your skin no longer tears.

and in the in-between
of my heartbeats
the empty space where no blood is pumped
...might be a split second,
might be a second and a half,
or three quarters...
we are both dead and alive
we are both conscious and lifeless
schrodinger's thump thump thump
and blank blank blank
and alive, dead, alive, dead, alive ...
and at any blink of your eye that little spot
where your heart rests from all the work it does
could be still forever
and you never know when your poor,
over-worked little heart
will give up the will to keep beating
because you can't pump blood steadily without break
but you can surely halt
and be totally grounded
the energy trickles away like a dripping tap
one day it stops dripping

i would like to die by the lighthouse.
pere marquette in the dead of night
the walk there peaceful,
as they are my last steps
after all.
and i won't have to speak,
or sing, or dance,
or flush my face out of fear or ridicule,
of embarrassment,
but i'll flush my face
with the waters of the waves
sweeping up into the rocks
and down goes my breath,
my last few breaths.
i've a few (many) pills
concealed in my pink jacket pocket.
i've a few (many but not so many)
catfish
swimming by to say hello,
to say farewell.
and with my last blink of my eye,
the moon is in line
with the lighthouse
and my star will forever sparkle,
i hope.
and the beacon passes o'er my body,
the light of an absent watchman,
it's just us, me lifeless and the beacon radiant.
no one to bother,
poke,
**** at me,
at my mind.
searching outside of their own minds
for answers to their own hearts' questions
to which i respond
a blank stare, for the lake is in my eyes.
water filling up, ready to be unleashed
later tonight rejoining with the waters
of the big blue lake and
my emptiness will be in harmony
with the moon's lonliness
and the black sky's vastness
and the bleak, rusty red
of my favorite old lighthouse
all muddled together, a sickly brown...
no, gray. no, i don't know...
colors don't matter at night
when you can't make them out anyways.
same goes for when you're dead.
i hope the stars shine for me,
but when the night is cloudy,
i can trust my beacon,
my lighthouse,
my waves,
to give me peace, rest,
rhythm,
in my most chaotic times.
i suppose they drew me in.

i am extremely aware of who i am
yet i am so terribly lost...
i cannot put it into words, its subtlety.
i cannot put it into thoughts, its sublimity.
every breath, every click, every tap, every blink
pushing me to the brink
and my ears are on fire and i can only seethe
while i try, i try to slowly (slowly) breathe.

i am extremely aware of who i am
yet i have no idea!
i cannot stop their glares, their whispers.
i cannot reach that hope that glimmers
in the eyes of those who don't feel this way
who don't have a million (million) things to say
who go by their days, a bad one once in a while...
who maybe 2 or 3 times have had to fake a smile
and i'm thinking all these... thinky things and breathing,
and i am so terribly lost.

how directly my attendance can affect my future...
no matter how much my
heart is pounding
my stomach turning over and over and over and
my brain in sync with it,
pumping red, hot, scarlet thoughts through my nerves
and my heart is pumping
red, hot, scarlet worry through my veins
and my stomach is filling with
red, hot, scarlet acid
about to make its way up
from all of this sickness. and tiredness. and nausea
and discomfort that has become my life lately,
i can not miss school.
god forbid i miss the exam reviews
god forbid i take a sick day
god forbid i try to care about myself just once..
you go around telling me to love myself more
to just be happy and be positive
to take time for my own needs
but everything depends on these exams
this red, hot, scarlet anxiety
surrounding me, adding on with every letter i write,
the red, hot, scarlet color of the pen used to grade,
to judge,
to **** my chances at college
or a future
or anything
or any happiness
and the red, hot, scarlet
and the white, winter, frost
and the blue, searing, cold
colors of the flags of our country
the land of the "free"...