and it seems as though there is nothing wrong with my own precious heart- it has been blessed and made sacred, I have been tested and reviewed and through all my examinations I have processed
I have been consecrated without my knowledge, baptised without consent and without an idea of destiny- I did not know where I was going and I thought my shattered heart was on its shattered road and my broken soul was headed to brokenness but God has been mending me and melding me all at once. I have been made whole, for I am whole. He has planned out my life for my best good but I could not see it, my eyes skipped over the road and forgot where I was headed, without the grand picture in front of me I lost who I was and could not see a clear image-
after all
a poet believes their whole life that they are broken
and finds, at the very end,
that they were flawless all along.

and that you have loved me, beyond belief
beyond hopes and dreams
beyond imagination
that you have died for me,
and still I turn away-
is terrifying,
and amazing.

everyone keeps telling me
'don't die on me'

...as if I have a choice.

it's a little ironic
that there is something wrong with my heart
that I, this hopeless poet, has a defect
in her favorite topic, her favorite metaphor-
and that this, this, the source of her life, should fail her.

there is something wrong with my body
I know it
and I can feel it

why must everyone tell each other what to do all the time
can we not coexist in love and peace
like we were meant to? can we not simply
work toward a goal, without mindless power play
or unnecessary roughness? we are human,
we are human, we are human, is all I hear, reasons
and excuses given for our misbehavior, our lies and harms;
it's only human nature! they cry as they steal and cheat
it must be human nature, says the violent criminal,
sadly, it is human nature, sighs the priest:
these are not good enough- this cannot be good enough
for if your heart calls you to love and you feel it then why haven't you?
every human's heart is made for and of
love, community, friendship, socialization-
that is what we are and that is what we need
we are clearly striving for good, we are clearly beautiful,
we are clearly searching for the truth
human nature cannot be evil if its most earnest desire is good.
yes, we are human- but we were made for better things.

but what does my God think of me?

it is strange that so many people
so many beloved, beautiful people
want to die- while my cheap, overblown soul
is trying to cling onto this life with everything it has-
I am slipping, falling, my fingers dancing and succumbing
to the test of time- but there are those who are willing to let go,
and trust whatever it is that is underneath
maybe it is because God wants the beautiful ones
and I'm terrified of what He'll do to a person like me.

and my heart feels different from everyone who has
traced their path over its green and rocky shores
all the steps you have left have trampled in the dust
and rain has fallen in your footsteps
rain has fallen in your footsteps and you danced-
how you danced, to catch the droplets in your mouth-
to taste them, joyously singing while I watched you prance
over the shores of my heart- walking the steps
through my veins and pulsing in my arteries
you, oh beloved ones, shall never be forgotten
because everything you are is carved into my bones
scored upon my marrow
and built into my muscles- I am a named bullet
and have always been one- though the bullet is
wearing down from the number of names etched upon it
and my heart can only pump so many types of blood
before it gives up.

I love kisses-
they arm warm, soft, sometimes kinda gross
they make you feel appreciated and wanted
sometimes you catch little bursts of other peoples' dreams in them
and little spurts of hope and desire
I love kisses because I use them to express my love
and that I simply have no better way to tell them
no words or hug is good enough, so I must take the next step
THIS is how much my affection is for you
but what is confusing is the line drawn- the hug
cannot be the epitome of love but you cannot kiss someone
without it being romantic- why must the epitome of love
be romantic? why must things change now
and why must it be not-the-same and confusingly
not how I meant it? kisses are beautiful things
and I would like to share them with as many people as I can
not to say 'quantity over quality' but rather
that I would like to spread as much love, warmth, softness, and
kind-of-grossness as I can until my time here is done.

I am broken
bent, forgotten, lost,
trying to build myself and I have good self esteem
so why do I feel so confused and tired
I love this life, I am constantly in joy
why is the sky so gray and burdened
why does the ground seem to spin
why do I want to lay in my bed all day and forget what it is
that threw me off a cliff
I want to be nothing, I want to cease, I want to stop fighting and
listen to music and close my eyes and sleep
and sleep
and sleep
and sleep
and sleep
and sleep
til oblivion takes me-
and arise, new;
in this life I can never be enough
I cannot give you enough, I do not care enough, I am lost,
I am not the person you want or need, I am a facade of broken dreams,
I can never be the poet you love and I can never write down all you are
for all I want now is to live and I do not want to live in artsy coffee shops
I do not want to live in bookstores and cliches and carefully worded lines
I merely want to survive on my own terms and rest, I would like to rest
and stop thinking, I am too absorbed in myself
and what I need to fix to fix you
I cannot help you or anyone when I can hardly even get up out of bed,
how can I get back on my feet when I don't want to? How can I
be someone for someone else
when I can't even be me for me?

I wonder why everyone can't just
flat-out, God-blessed, love each other-
freely, purely, and explosively-
why are some people allowed to hold hands on the street
and others must keep it in the privacy of their homes
some bodies must be hidden and others can be exposed
some kisses must be kept secret from those who love you the most
some heartbeats must happen outside of your own house
some moments cannot exist in the presence of others
and some lovers can only love a certain type of other lovers.
Why is it that I must be fearful in a group of people
that they can see my brainwaves and know what I am feeling
and that it would be dangerous if they knew?
Why must it be this way that I have to be in the vast minority
and that the chances of me finding someone to love is
minuscule and difficult; everyone is at a different stage regarding
my certain type of love, and it carries a baggage straight people don't have
it carries a complication, a heartbreaking rope of knots and pain and confusion
and 'do I even feel this way' because you have been taught that you shouldn't
and 'why isn't there straight pride' and 'just don't shove it down my throat'
these type of misunderstandings create this impossible disharmony
'stop queering the straights' 'oh so you're basically a lesbian'
no. I am not a lesbian- please stop classifying me and while you're at it,
please stop acting differently around me because you're scared I'm into you
chances are, I'm not. Please stop asking me why it's necessary for me to come out and say it,
its because every single other person, me included, is assumed to be straight,
and makes comments about dating boys and just boys and it's this eternal 'no ****'
and my own parents want me to bear children and it's part of me, okay?
It's me and it's my self expression and it isn't shoving it down your throat
I just want to know that I can still be completely me and still be completely loved,
that's all, that's why I have to say it out loud,
because it carries with it a kind of suffocation that builds and builds
because everything around you pushes you down and tears at your foundation
and when you finally say it, there's a pain that's gone that you know will never hurt again
but it will always sting, little daggers when your friends won't get quite
as close as they used to and your mom gives you different looks in public
or I am constantly misunderstood and misperceived and it's scary, it's
a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us, it's a scary world for us
and it will be that way until we speak loud enough that we are heard.

what does it take to ruin someone and for them to ruin you?
I can look in your eyes and see what is true, I can
break into your motives and see why you do it, I can
take a flame to the glacier and melt your ice down, but
in my ears beating my burning heart sounds like a thunderous
cry, etching your name on my soul, when you leave there can be nothing,
I can never be whole, my mind is a solver, I crawl into blank spaces
and find underneath them the hidden, dark mazes- without the problem
there can be no solution, only when you are there can I have absolution-
you are a lock to my key that will melt- constantly forming-
into something I've lost. Every day has a morning- but the night destroys
day and the dark is afraid- I am only for you, now, forever and always
(at least til the next, when I fall in the hallways)
my heart is not open, it is a strong focused beam-
to bring light to your days, and bring hope to your dreams.

an open invitation
to throw off all regulations
and unshoulder our responsibilities
and just go see the world-
drug ourselves up, sit on top of cars,
watch the stars spin above us as the days and nights pass,
grow our hair long, sneak into music festivals
drink late by a fire- play music and play with each others' hair
let the wind control our flight, swirling around our skin
let the grass tickle our feet,
let the sun burn into our souls,
and let it ignite us.

and I would like to breathe into your lungs

I know the way your breath sounds behind me
and I can feel your footsteps in my soul
I instantly know what you will do next-
your hips tell the story that your arms and your legs try to hide
I know where you are going and I can sense your mind
working through the possibilities
but I know next to nothing about you-
how do you sleep at night? do you write, do you draw
what does it look like when you are in love
I can trace every intricacy of your thought processes
but I do not know what makes you cry, or laugh, or think deeply;
I can name your fears but not your joys;
I can see where your eyes go and what your sexuality is,
but I do not know how to make you moan
or how to touch your skin as though
it is the only art medium I will ever have
I can align my steps perfectly with yours and I can know you
beyond imagining, beyond reality, more completely than any before,
but you will always be something beyond my reach.

what does one do
when the universal dew no longer
contains galaxies? your skin does not smell
of silence and the freshness
of the sunrise has baked away
all that is eternal- and yet, tomorrow
will rise again, pulsing the endless heartbeat of
loading, loading, loading, in this vast connectivity of life
and death
and never quite there?
what does one do
when death grabs you by the hair and drags you out the door
and you are confused with the awareness
that you are not self aware
but your soul claimed the knowledge that one day, soon,
it will die, and all things live and progress
and end- people are things as well- we are scared that
the last thing that's left in the world is not true-
we shall pass, you shall pass, the grass regrows
but it too ends- and now, it is not the same- for we know
the grass has only the appearance of eternity,
and the sun dies each night, and your grandmother
will one day not be here, and neither will you,
your soul shines bright but all matches burn out
cannot live through the lives of those it ignites-
even your children are not a lasting legacy of you
they are only a legacy of themselves- their time will end too.
so, what does one do?

the world looks different today

i would like to watch your heart beat
and your chest move up and down
as the breath that is partway mine
flows in and out of you

I am at war with the boundaries that divide us
I urge with every muscle to strike them down
though the muscles themselves build the divisions
(my mind can never be in yours because
my body is separate and I will never be inside of you
as far as I desire to go)
there will always be tense heirarchies and lines-that-are-forbidden-to-cross and things
that you musn't say to a teacher, say, or a priest
and these invented boxes line our hearts and claim
that we are not created equal, all men and women are
endowed with certain unalienable rights
like the right to honesty, liberty,  and the pursuit of expression
that though I speak to you I may be fully me
but this can never be- you will always be you
so we must divide, now and stand on opposite sides
of the wall, look at each other through a glass
and though it seems we touch, we never can,
putting our hands up to a window, kissing through it
and my lips shall never meet yours-
and for that, I am at war with the glass;
I long for the warmth and the gentleness of your lips
but cannot, it is cold in between us, it is hell
to divide us and a damning cruelty
unites us beyond time, eternity, my heart beats divine
and you cannot feel it, and for that,
I am at war with the glass.

but for you I'd wait
my fingers dancing over the pen and paper
I feel the fabric under my hands,
calloused lines tracing the pulp and fiction
soft, skating and this is all, this is all I can give you
no more, no less than words on a page, that
I can write late into the night and click clack
that you won't hear, no one will hear
no one is here, not even I, my spoken words have
crossed all lines, have erased boundaries
and have erased the thoughts and feelings so there is nothing left
I can give you nothing, I have not thought
a secret too private to write, I have not written
a thought too secret to remain private,
for you I'd wait- but I cannot get by and it is an endless cycle
of who I am and who I am pretending to be-
for as soon as the words fall out of my mouth,
they lose all meaning, and you will never know me
you will never know who I am, for it is gone,
even this is gone, I am not here,
and I will be waiting forever for you to find me.

"Only tears can bring a dreamer back down to earth."

last night I had a dream we were inseperably entwined
just as every single night had been for three weeks
and we held each other like we would never be apart
faces and limbs smashed and entangled and
when everyone else complained of the cold,
we woke each morning, our bodies regulating each other
toasty from the company throughout the night
like a piece of rope made out of two pieces of vine
is that my leg or your arm? it doesn't matter, it's love
not the sultry, romantic kind, but the kind that enables
me to miss you across hundreds of miles and
held together holding each other with no one else in mind
to hug my pillow and think of it as you, for together
we have a bond that is the rock, the foundation and
it was torn out from under me but I will think of you
all year long, until we meet again and my nights will
once again be warm.
like two atoms in a molecule, inseperably combined*.

if you focus on the future, you shall despair when it is
no longer available
goes unplanned
or is gone
if you focus on the past, you shall always despair, as it is
gone forever
but if you live in the moment, and you exist in the presence of God,
there is no time, there is no despair,
there is only now, endless and forever joy from the
endless and forever light and love
that shall never abandon us,
never leave us lonely,
and shall always be on the throne-
we can do nothing to earn this,
we do not deserve this,
but we are blessed,
we are blessed,
we are blessed,
we are forever blessed.

more than anything
I just want someone
to take me seriously
and treat me like an adult

I could watch the gears turn in his head,
obsessive, you read that book twenty times
you tell me about all your sisters even though its pointless
you tell me how you think, searching for help
obsessively searching for help? a presence,
lots of friends who care, must be a leader role,
tired of being independent, wishes to be dependent
scared of dependence? childhood dependence
wants to grow into adulthood- so looking for equal partnerhood?
hates invalidation, that accords with equality,
wants equal standing but love and help.

this cannot be good for my body
or my mind

My Lord
has knelt me down
has bent my back to the point where it broke
and He healed me and showed me I am nothing
Lord who takes the lives of princes
knew that I had thought I was much
and mighty, and He made me fall, He took
my muscled arms and pulled the muscle out
He said, this is how much you are,
this is how much you are without me
and this is how much I am
and I have never understood why we should
fear a God that is all powerful and all loving
because why fear something that is always on your side?
why must we fear a God such as this,
who always works on our behalf?
I understand now.
we must fear because He is so great
and so wild
and so ever-driving forward and we think
He will make it all turn out well, and He will,
but we don't see that it is well,
we are as ants in a flood who cannot see forward
or back, good or evil, we understand death
and the tide brings it, so we must be afraid
for we are so much smaller and so much more ignorant
than we had believed- the world is not for our
immediate happiness, it is for the perfection of heaven
the world begins and ends around us and His hand
works the masses of nature and we are nothing, we
are nothing, and truth must be faced and to
be brave in the face of that truth is to be foolish,
so it is good to be afraid.

there is something pristine and sacred
about a lack of time, an instant, a moment
that makes the crude passage look shabby
in a particular second you look happier and fuller
and the cinematic reveal overshadows what it is
that lacks background music. and maybe
the reason why the world seems so lackluster
is because we fail to acknowledge that even the roughshod
worn-down edges of time's brutal, eroded field
are more beautiful and sacred than a moment
for time takes all and bends it and makes it wild-
the very thing that can take what is tame and untame it
(though the very act of change is control and
control seems to tame, it does not, it flows,)
it works its will but it works with
for it is nothing outside of matter and space
and a moment only looks, only glances at the majesty of existence
a moment is there and then it is gone, lost forever,
only to be watched from a distant lighthouse
vaguely trying to find the way home through the fog
but time is, has been, and will be the entirety
of all we know- it is endless, confusing, less perfect
than we thought it was- and that is more glorious
than anything we can possibly understand.

it is a strange practice, learning to understand someone
it begins with a rough sketch of 'the way they feel about
their parents' or 'what happened to their siblings'
and it progresses on with a Myers Briggs evaluation
sometimes taking their mental pulse in different subjects
marking what they care about and what they don't
enscribing the single sentence of their
self-worth, their desire, and their motivations
on whatever it is that binds the two of you together,
and growing with them and learning the way in which they grow
you know their crystal lattice and you know how it forms
a molecular structure in fractals, in fractals, in fractals
that builds and changes but is always quite the same,

I know what makes you laugh,
I know how to make you cry,
I have learned you and I know
which keyholes can be pressed, slid into, or clicked
I know of all your crevices and your breakages
and I know how to fix them or how to
drive a wedge so deep inside you that you splinter
I can map when your breath is short and I can chart
your secrets on the walls of my heart, kept there
like a case-file in a robbery- you have stolen
me, my very existence,
and there is an arrow and a pin and lines drawn
to every single bit of who you are
I have learned you, I have measured you,
you have been weighed and found wanting
and I know what it is you are wanting in the depths of your being
but the finding of these things is difficult and rocky and awkward
for you have taken what it is that is me and you have
patterned it over the immense and layered texture of you
breaking and filling holes, pouring into a mold
and I am invested, now, for I am made for you,
but there is no turning back and we must go on from here
I learn and change from the people around me
but first I must learn you.

It is a strange practice, learning to understand someone,
but once I understand you, then
now, now we can begin.

I cannot get detached
that is why that is why that is why
I stopped reading
because I forgot what reality was and how to get there
because I get detached too easily, I focus on one thing
and the galaxies take the shape of it
and the stars align along the arc of someone's nose or the
irregular beat of my heart
and that is it, that is what the world looks like,
there is no reality
that is why that is why that is why that is why that is why
a fantasy world is so dangerous and people say
you used to read so much why did you change
because I lack the distinction between the book and the world
and I must change because
I used to be depressed why did I change
I used to be anxious why did I change
that is why
I changed because I must and I have to and I cannot go back
I cannot return to the meadows and mystical fields of sickness and confusion
I am less than that but I must
constantly think of quantity rather than quality
and keep myself flitting from subject to subject
else I delve too deep
and lose grips on myself
again.

this is not normal
I want to be back to normal
fear is just so crippling
how does anyone live like this

I know why I externalize and bluster
this is not the last self-discovery but it is close
it is one of the layers closest to my heart
I let my words work their will upon the world
so that they cannot work their will upon me
the private is the dangerous
it must not be let in and it has to go somewhere
so I must let it out
I talk about my feelings and shout them, yes
because if I didn't, then I would have to feel them.

I have never been
so small
but maybe this is God reminding me
that I have always been
this small

I found that, in the midst of my panic,
I only saw one person who would be capable of reassuring me
only one person with whom I would trust
my knowledge and passing into the great beyond
only he would make sense of it and guide me into that journey
for I knew and I assumed
that he and only he
knew where I was going.

day 1- excessive thirst and headache
day 2- sore throat
day 3-runny nose, panic
day 4- runny nose and coughing, panic
day 5- coughing, sneezing, drowsiness, panic, lightheadedness, neck muscle tension

since when did a boy's attention-span
become more of a concern
than my comfort and free expression?

plot twist: we're all dying
every single one of us
breath by breath
so don't waste your time

faith as
the love that moves the sun and other stars
that turns the heavens and keeps the universe in holy alignment
that structures everything,
I had a ring that I bought because it was the only size that fit
and as the galaxies spin, so do we, high upon our golden throne
seated together and watching the world revolve
you took my ring and I told you to keep it
because the love that moves the sun and other stars
came through you, and I found God through
your existence and our experiences
for I serve because of you and I therefore unite my soul
with the heavens, because of you
no one has ever changed me so much
and therefore I give my life either to you or the idea of you
it makes no difference; you wear my ring
and I have taken my cause and my love to be my bride
we are as pagan gods, separated and viewing the world
with an aloof, unaffected air, casting joy and peace as though it were rain
throughout anything and everything we must breathe
for we are together and we grow the forests of the earth
in our tears, we are what they write about and what I write about,
a nobility of purpose beyond what the common man understands,
and yet- while together we are like pagan gods,
with you I am the most human I have ever been,
and the most alive I have ever felt.

the goal of the best writers
is to be able to live and respond to the literature
in a most coherent way
but the goal of the best literature
is to totally and completely overwhelm the writer
to blend their thoughts and feelings into an incoherent mess
to make an indelible mark on their souls
and to leave their pulse racing and their eyes throbbing
to wipe their life experience into a blank slate and rewrite it
in a hurricane of ideas and emotions, tumbling and burning their lives
like a holy firestorm, lost in the desert and whipping the scalding wind around
this, the tenderest and gentlest part of your heart.

it's just safer
to assume
that it is not me
that is has never been me
and will never be me

a house is not a home until
it has been kissed in
a single secret has been kept inside of it
a dreamcatcher hangs in a room
the porch furniture is creative
the couch feels and looks worn down
it smells like it has been returned to from the wilderness
it has been written in
a dog has lived in it
someone has slept naked there
a large group of people has stayed awake far too late
to wake up far too groggy
and most important of all, someone has fallen in love
in between the walls and themselves.

although the night is all we have
we must not destroy the sun
and in our hearts, through our veins
flow the ideas and thoughts that must not reach the surface
our arteries contain the world within a windless moment
I have written your pulse down into these pages
upon pages of lore, I have felt your blood
pump under my hand and through my pen
the dark stains have marked me as guilty
spreading my life around the city,
these streets are moving, moving, motion in the blood
and the cells of words flock in and out, dancing under my eyes
I have never felt so alive
but I have never felt quite so sad and so lonely
is it lonely to be alive? what age did your mother die?
how many pulsations can we fit while we rage
against the dying of the light?

have they finally caught up?

people seek only what they perceive to cause them good
people need attention, everything you or I do is for attention
I would not be posting poems on the internet if I did not want affirmation
you do nothing 'for yourself' or 'because I like to'
you 'like to' for a reason, because it serves some benefit
people are manipulative, they will use speech and body language to get what they want
people lie and steal and hurt
but they do it not because they know it is evil-
no, no one chooses to do an action that will cause them evil-
they do it because they are selfish
because the survival and progression of an individual
depends on the strength of his own self-interest
and it is in our nature to be selfish, that is just how we are
and the sooner we are honest about it, the better
for people can improve and work to benefit others
(but that will never be purely altruistic- benefiting others makes you happy-
therefore people give to others for themselves)
there are so many negative connotations to
'attention-seeking' and 'manipulative' when that is what each of us do,
every single day,
destroy these stigmas surrounding the truth-
the truth is, we are selfish,
but that is okay,
because that is who we are,
and that is who we have to be-
I have come to terms with this because I had to
you can never expect people to be more than they are
you must love them for all of them, rather than just the parts that are good or easy
all we have is each other and we cannot ignore that
because you have a choice in this world:
be ignorant of what people are, and hate them
be knowledgable of what people are, and hate them
be ignorant of what people are, and be deluded
or be knowledgable of what people are,
and learn to love them anyway.

I want an endless time to be peaceful
and alone
or maybe with someone
working and thinking
or maybe just being
carefree and dancing
or lazy and sleeping
but what I really want
is for it to be my *choice

all those people who say 'family is first'
you are wrong-
your life is first. you are first.
before any arbitrary connection through genetics
and where you spent your first years, family should not be first
you should know that the family you choose
comes first, but even before that
comes the right to choose your own family.

for all my seeming comfort in ****** things
the ease at which I talk about banging, *******, *******
the instant someone's body comes close to mine,
inside that intimate area of personal space
I have NO idea what to do
so I panic, giggle, shut down, move away,
anything but, for I am maybe not ready
and maybe waiting for someone to make me ready.

let's fall tragically in love
drink too much
and then fall tragically in lust
because I would like to stop and take a break
from destiny- I would like to pause and stop
who I must be, for just a moment,
let it go, forget it all, make this night
like it never happened, no rewinds
marked from the record,
just kiss me, for now;
I'm tired of being dependable
***** filling expectations and following the path
moral obligations and saying the right thing at the right time
I'm tired of being looked up to
'oh, maddie, with the good morals'
**** being respectable
**** being responsible
**** having a reputation
**** it all- just **** me.

you are so secure in your own superiority