I dye my hair to be different
from the person I was an hour ago.
I didn't like her very much.

I take a picture or two
to memorialize my new baptism
of peroxide and pigmentation.

The chemical smell fades and the new
becomes commonplace
and I'm back to the person that I was.

And I'm fraying like the ends of my hair
and splitting and breaking and I'm her again:
just as ugly as ever.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

While there's no ink on any paper,
No clicking of keys to satisfy
the hunger of a page
My mind holds the ink and the clacking
Typing up inaccuracies
Drawing conclusions

Writing a fearful poem
Drenched in black ink and woe.

get out of those pj's
and into some jeans
altho i obey
i
dont know what that means
my life does unravel
undone at the seams
i prefer life by night
under moon beams

I have seen nothing
and I am even less
I have been here my whole life
Redundancy has a comfort to it
sometimes

But I have dreams
about climbing redwood forests
higher than any skyscraper
that have faces etched into their trunks
and dreams
of mushroom houses with neon skies
and being kidnapped by wolves and we howl and howl
Sometimes I even have lucid dreams of flying
walking through walls
and time travel
I have dreams of being a hero and saving the world
and there's a recurring one about falling in love with
a man I do not even recognize yet

So hopefully you can excuse me
for not always being ecstatic
when I wake up in the mornings
and find myself in a human bed

Thinking hard about you
I got on the bus
and paid 30 cents car fare
and asked the driver for two transfers
before discovering
that I was
alone.

A bubble.
That's where I want to hide myself.
That's where I want to stay, away from the world.
Immune to the outside, just in my little corner.

It is. I want to hide. Hide from Love.
I just don't want to get hurt.

I want to be immune of feeling.
Insensitive.
I want to be insensitive.
Able to live my day to day life without suffering,
With no pain, no love or no hate.
Without. Without loving.

Everything is so...
So rough.
I want everything around me be insignificant,
to me;
With no great expectations of the world.
Without thinking.
Without having to think.
How I wished I could just snap my fingers
And everything would by as I please.

Blameworthy,
That's me.
Bound by judgment
And childhood nightmares.
Did I mention sleepless nights?
Even though my eating disorder has dissipated
I still forget to eat at times.

What's wrong, darling?
Who told you that
You're not good enough?
That no one wants you?
Who would lie to you and say that you aren't beautiful?

Look at yourself.
Attractive and thin
Friendly and loved
By everyone.
Have you looked at me recently
Or ever?

I am your antithesis.
Grotesque and bloated
Introverted and lonely.
I wish I could be like you
But I will not try to let that happen.
I need to somehow embrace
This unsightliness
This passiveness
How I let people walk all over me.
But do I accept it
Or do I change it?

In essence,
You are nearly sublime
And all I am
Is one mess of a life.