I think that in my deepest
most earnest desires to become a storybook character
to become the famed romance and the interesting lover
someone from whom people hide things and treat
with great gravity, I have forgotten how to run
and scream like a child, and love like a baby-
I have descended from the ceiling, surrounded by mist
donning my cloak and shrouding my figure with mystery
what is my figure? where is my figure? who am I?
I am not in this world any longer;
I am the stuff of legends,
and I will never be able to touch the earth again.

can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
can I handle the seasons of my life?

We made a fire; went down in the flames.
We sailed the ocean, and drowned in the waves.
Built a cathedral, but we never prayed.
We had it all, yeah, and we walked away.

Point of no return and now it's just too late to turn around.
I try to forgive you but I struggle cause I don't know how.
We built it up so high and now I'm falling,
it's a long way down.
It's a long way down, from here.

We had a mountain, but took it for granted.
We had a spaceship, but we couldn't land it.
We found an island, but we got stranded.
We had it all. Who could've planned it?

Point of no return and now it's just too late to turn around.
I try to forgive you but I'm struggling cause I don't know how.
We built it up so high and now I'm falling,
it's a long way down, from here.
Such a long way down...
It's a long way down.
It's a long way down.
Such a long way down...
It's a long way down.
It's a long way down.

There's nothing wrong with you.
Never has been, never will.
You might look for something to be fixed
and I know you won't feel fulfilled.

It's okay.
You're okay.
Promise me this:
to spend one night
in unfaithful bliss.

Forget all your dreams
your pain, your sorrow
please put it off
and wait til' tomorrow.

Maybe not even then.

Promise me you'll be okay.
It's actually easy to swear-
you already are. There is no 'when?'
There is no 'where?'

"Get a little rock and roll on the radio and go toward all the life there is with all the courage you can find and all the belief you can muster. Be true, be brave, stand. All the rest is darkness."

isn't it strange
the names we give our pets?
the names they'll never know?

the light at the end of the tunnel is constantly being chased
maybe it's not the light that matters, but who you become
while you're running.

Maybe kissing won't
make it better,
like mom always told us,
when we had a scrape or a scratch;
maybe this cut is too deep for
a little peck
maybe we need
a full on makeout session
to make it better.
You wanna try?

clear blue fabric lines the streets
before my eyes, it is punched through
and then repaired, by warm-colored fingers
of people, standing there, afraid to linger
but their eyes pierce the veil of silence.
I've turned my music down and taken
off my sunglasses to listen to the smell
of light, it's gnarled and frosty and soothing
breezing and ruffling, something a bit too tough
an athlete of a wind, not concerned with me
approaching a higher goal, playing rough
through my hair, content to let it be
but not- at the same time. We
change the world we live in, regardless
of intentions. Flow through my vents
or my windows, I don't care, I
will still breathe you in and inhale your scent
even though I try to drive so far as to leave you behind
the seasons pass, grow, and fade away
I forget the worlds in which we used to play
something in the careless whisper, I can hear the ocean
in your heartbeat. It's a word that you say.
It's you, shaking your hair down, in one particular way.
And it's me, driving and forgetting and learning to give you away.
Day by day. Day by day.

calm. calm.
I can't let on, I can't display
the way your touch makes my heart race
the way you've been hinting at something more
underneath the surface,
I'm swimming to shore- I'm drowning in you
the light on your face as you're asleep
the silence of your heart that you keep
and let slip
because we're getting closer and closer
at an astonishing clip
and I can't help but tell you
I love you.
But how to say it?

If I could write a poem by just throwing a bunch of imagery
on a page, then I would. And I do. For example, this weekend
was pounding floods filling up homes and clogging minds
thunderously down hills, lightning and fear, and then it was
fire in the sky and heat, steaming the water back up,
sunlight, sunburns, tank tops, sitting on concrete
running through the mud, staying up late, plans not made,
snowballs, dried throats, black coffee, red skies, board games
grass to wet to sit on, sleepy eyes, the first hint of summer, trees blooming,
washing our legs in the lake, school canceled, getting work done, with friends forever.
Soon I will be free. Am I not already free?
We talk about our futures and sing songs like we're
all gonna make it. Have we made it? Will we be alright?
Time rolls onward and forward and seasons pass and change
and I have my own car now. I will be eighteen years old soon.
I hope God stays with me. I hope I stay with God.

day by day, minute by minute,
I know my future holds more
I learn how much I am worth.

everybody tells you that you shouldn't ever be guilty
and that there's nothing wrong with us all along
but then they say to themselves, "what's wrong with me" and
"why do I feel inadequate" and I think the problem
is that we all know, we all know there's something
deeply, deeply wrong with us- no matter how much
we try and tell ourselves that it's not there or it's alright
or that it's good because God made it that way.
It's still wrong, and we still know it, in our essence.
I don't think I'm at fault for looking at myself and saying
"there are my flaws" and "I am indeed broken"
because even though it looks and sounds the same
as "what's wrong with me" and "why do I feel inadequate"
the difference is that I have exposed the wounds on my own soul
rather than covering and letting them fester; the Christian Church
tells me "Here is where you are cut" and "Here is the burn-mark"
thank God, honestly, because where healing is concerned, without
knowing my own wounds, I wouldn't have a place to start.

I feel sick
sick of you, sick of most everyone
sick of being tired and sick of being sick
I am fine and I am alive but there are corrosive chemicals around me
I am the most beautiful, unique creation, the summit and foundation
of this Earth- as a human person I am limitless but
I feel a poison eating away at me and I know exactly what to do to avoid it
for there are only a few who make me feel whole,
a few people, a few situations-
and I do not want to be fixed, I do not need that, no mortar or
molds to repair, all I need
is to stop being eroded- bit by bit,
and to stop crumbling into the deep-
and from there, I can repair myself-
I am good enough now
stop tearing me down,
I would like to shake off whatever chains have been laid on me
for though my body is restricted,
my soul is deeply, unbelievably free.

weep for yourself my man
you'll never be what is in your heart
weep, little lion man,
you're not as brave as you were at the start.

"It's hard to see God through a curtain of bombs."

"'Thou mayest rule over sin," Lee said. That's it. I do not believe all men are destroyed. I can name you a dozen who were not, and they are the ones the world lives by. It is true of the spirit as it is true of the battles - only the winners are remembered. Surely most men are destroyed, but there are others who like pillars of fire guide frightened men through the darkness. 'Thou mayest, Thou mayest!' What glory! It is true that we are weak and sick and quarrelsome, but if that is all we ever were, we would, millenniums ago, have disappeared from the face of the earth. A few remnants of fossilized jawbone, some broken teeth in strats of limestone, would be the only mark man would have left of his existence in the world. But the choice, Lee, the choice of winning! I had never understood it or accepted it before. 'Thou mayest rule over sin.'"

September is the beginning of something, and August is the end
in April we learn to love, February we pretend
March is the slow muddy month, May is exuberant joy
January revives the world, December worlds destroy
June is the month of freedom, July the month of age
November freezes you locked in time, October turns the page.

He wakes up in the morning
Does his teeth bite to eat and he's rolling
Never changes a thing
The week ends the week begins
She thinks, we look at each other
Wondering what the other is thinking
But we never say a thing
These crimes between us grow deeper

Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die

Goes to visit his mommy
She feeds him well his concerns
He forgets them
And remembers being small
Playing under the table and dreaming

Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die

Driving in on this highway
All these cars and upon the sidewalk
People in every direction
No words exchanged
No time to exchange

And all the little ants are marching
Red and black antennas waving
They all do it the same
They all do it the same way

Candyman tempting the thoughts of a
Sweet tooth tortured by the weight loss
Program cutting the corners
Loose end, loose end, cut, cut
On the fence, could not to offend
Cut, cut, cut, cut

Take these chances
Place them in a box until a quieter time
Lights down, you up and die

Lights down, you up and die.

we're all just broken beauties with hot glue and duct tape
messing around with each other's hearts, sometimes burning ourselves
or each other, sometimes dropping things, or fixing it haphazardly
one half bigger than its opposite, or the seams straining and showing,
and yet, it's still art. We're still art.

"Don't overthink it. Accept it. It is a gift."
and thank you, God.

so many times I wondered, Lord,
why you gave me love with no reward
and now I know, the secret has been told-
the whole ****** time you were trying to save my soul.

"A masterpiece is still a masterpiece when the lights are off and the room is empty."

I should not and will not censor my own feelings.
I take precautions: talk to whom I trust, block those I don't
I do these things explicitly because I don't want to make things messy
I don't want things reaching certain ears, so I do what I think is best
but everyone deserves to express their feelings without fear,
everyone deserves to talk about their pain without being taken the wrong way,
so if you want to know, ask me. If not, *******.
I've kept myself quiet for too long. I deserve to work through things
and heal in peace. No one asked anybody to go out of their way to read
what I have to say. Let me say it again.
No one asked anybody to go out of their way to read what I have to say.
Unless I told someone something face to face or consented
explicitly to their knowledge about something, it's none of their business
and frankly, if you think you can make an assumption then you know nothing
about my life. If you want to leave me be, leave me be. Let me deal.
If you want to be a part of my life, then do so, talk to me.
But don't talk about me. You waste your time and mine.

i eat chocolate chips like they're a drug and i'm trying to overdose
i bake brownies like they have more than just flour in them
i read and write like it's a shot directly into my veins
of pure, unadulterated experience, golden and black
i dance like i'm on adderall i stole from my sister
my nostrils smell tea like the leaves are *******
life is my drug, ******, and it's ridiculous to say
and my friends would make fun of me for it,
but i'm tired of calling things ridiculous and having to monitor
if i'm being uncool enough to mention it,
so i'm **** proud that life is my drug,
i get high on memories
and trip on late nights,
laying broken on the floor,
only to be healed again by a hug or a kind word,
life's a drug,
and i'm addicted.

the stage crackles and throbs with sweat and spit
as his energy pulses through the crowds- our veins
are end-to-end with our hands pumping, holding
him up. He knows who we are and what we deserve.
We, the people, he fights for us- in every sense of the word
he stands for every single person in this country
and every single person in the world.

And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born
then it's time to go and define your destination.
There's so many different places to call home.

Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written
It's plain to see that sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemption.

we're not even on speaking terms any more

we're all letting ourselves get so wounded so deeply by so many people

I wish I didn't know how that feels.
I wish I didn't know how a lot of things feel.

most people burn me alive but you
you are a warm fire after a long time skiing
you are hot chocolate on a winters day
I know you love the cold- so you are the warmth
that makes it bearable, enjoyable
for a summer girl like myself-
you are the sun in my cold day, the snowflake
that doesn't sting so much as it used to
maybe we are the warmth and the cold, counteracted
balanced, together, in shifting seasons- day and night
and maybe you don't love me
but maybe we are perfect for each other.

The LORD is the one who goes ahead of you; He will be with you. He will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.

give me quiet music and quiet people any day
stop saying 'I think', it's obvious, isn't it, that you think
we all think, and that's why we're speaking, or not,
depending on the mood, give me a soft bed and warm food any day
I used to throttle myself on rollercoasters, I used to want
to run dry and smoke, and fester in the sun
follow your heart, they say, but what they don't realize
is that your heart changes directions- it is no compass
pointing towards your destiny- it is a tour guide
gently leading you along the scenic route this way and that
so follow it, maybe it won't lead you where you think
and it for sure won't leave you there for long
before you embark on another journey.

I'm just an American girl
with a Canadian heart
a North Carolina spirit
some Tennessee social skills
an Irish body
a New York mind
a South California love
and a Louisiana childhood

you can have all the good intentions in the world
but if you did it, then you did it.

you're so used to being able to abuse whoever you want
that you've started abusing me
like you three are somehow above me
and I'm not a real person with feelings,
I'm just Maddie Foley
and I don't count or
something
and if I get mad when you treat me like ****
then 'whoa man we're just kidding'
and YOU get mad as if i dont have a right
to stand up for myself
and you think that 'that's just our sense of humor' is a good enough reason
to attack and abuse and control
and you don't even see that that's what it is
but if I get upset, I'm 'too emotionally involved'
no, you just don't want to put in the effort to fix yourselves
so you're going to keep abusing each other
and you're never going to address any issues
because you don't care enough
and emotional baggage is a huge no-no
'that's not what friends are for'
have you ever had friends?
oh, right. you've only got one, and your sister.
but I can't say anything because if I do
then there's obviously something wrong with me for not accepting and supporting your 'unique' type of friendship
because you've always wanted to be unique,
probably more than anything else,
and maybe love will fix the issue
but not if you despise the idea of love
and hate talking about it.
and maybe it DOES work for yall, but emotional unfulfillment
sure as hell doesn't work for anyone else
and unless you're willing to develop your character so you can actually
build more relationships than just one,
then you're gonna have a difficult time of it.
if you just search for people who will accept you for 100% who you are now, even at your worst personality,
and don't push you to be better, then you will find a very small percentage of friends.
Relationships need work.
they will never be instantly perfect.
but you don't want work, you just want
to hang out and not talk about issues or problems at all
you don't want to clear the air
you just want to exist, as emotionless and painless as possible
which is exactly what I don't want.
so I tread on and let it continue.

i would run a million miles
to pique your interest
anything to be different
to fascinate you
I'd get plastic surgery
start wearing pink
have long angry conversations
smoke
reveal secret passions for boring things
just to see your confused, intrigued face
because that is my favorite of your expressions
the one that doesn't shut down when asked to think
the one that has forgotten to dislike,
the open face, the excited face, the beautiful face
that's it
that's the one.

if only there was a logarithm to solve for
how much of someone else is in you
and whether or not it's still you
when there's another there

we learn from each other, we do,
but how much is lessons and how much is
usurption? when does a soul cut into
yours, or does it just build on it?

I remember when I thought I wouldn't be whole
without someone, and I remember when
someone thought they couldn't be whole without me
so I agreed, and I left her as just a piece

who does this make me? what do I say I am
and in the eyes of God and all the angels and saints and people
whose eyes matter? which watcher can tell me?
where does it stop? When does it go?

I said your name and you barely turned around
When you saw me, you looked away
and put on a little frown
What is it? Can you tell I'm (gay?)
Or are you just ******, or down?
I love you far too much to see you this way
But maybe it's not you, it's me
The beautiful dances we used to execute
Were not what they will be
I'm not sure what's going on with you
You avert your eyes and don't reach or conclude,
Tarry a bit too short, dislike spending time,
I won't pretend I'm anyone else's but mine.
The light in your eyes, what's made them see and lose?
Is it me you hate?
Is there nothing I can do?

when you run make sure you run
to something and not away from

you are free up to the moment you die
and because of that,
death is the only thing that can destroy your freedom
you may move your arms and your legs and
no one can make you do
anything while you are alive, the only time this ceases
is when your brain lacks the autonomy because it no longer fires
there is no such thing as destruction of autonomy,
that is a delusion- autonomy is always present
because death cannot exist at the same time you do
once it is gone, you are there
when it is there, you are gone,
your movement and your life is your free will
while you have life, you are never restricted
unless you restrict yourself-
death, and dying, and killing
is the only time anyone else can truthfully, honestly
take what is yours.

I am so uncomfortable
you're so uncomfortable
maybe we can be exceedingly uncomfortable together
or maybe
we
might
just
*click

love is more than these ****** stupid tiny ****** ******* cuntfucking
***** ***** ******* ******* ******* ******* ******* tightass ***** feelings

The family of Edgar Allan Poe must feel conflicted
"My grandfather was a great man," they'd say.
"Didn't his family disown him?" the others contradicted.
Leave him in the dust? Spit on his ashes?
The life of this poor ignorant wastrel,
Alcoholic, joining the ranks of *****,
No one to help him or care for
the name who became great, under the shadow of his glasses
the invisible-giant, not recognized, "his wife was a *****,"
No, no, no, Edgar. Not today.
Your confused sexuality is really gay,
The cousins jeer and aunts-uncles jibe
Great poets, queens alike do cry
At the works of this man, at the end of the day,
(we don't really care if he lived or died,)
"It was the other side of the family that did it.
Not I."

why do I buy books I won't read
maybe it's the same reason
I fall in love with people I can't have
I never reach out quite far enough
so that these experiences are tantalizingly
untantalizing
and maybe I select a great deal of books
in the hopes of finding one that I will actually enjoy
and I read such a small fraction of them
that I seem to be misspending my money.
but I will continue my vice and form a collection
of books that were
never intended to be read
to sit forever on the bookshelf of my memory,
quiet and untouched
maybe there only to be in stark contrast
to the ones I have opened
and destroyed.

do you ever read a book that wakes you up inside

for a moment, the waters clear, and the mud
stops swirling, and the dust settles on the rocks
I can see up from the riverbed and no longer
what I see is just a reflection of you
when I look to my right, you aren't lying next to me
like I thought- the light is streaming through my
bleary eyes, a cold-water shock and I'm awake,
but still drowning.

I hope it broke your heart but I know it didn't
and now I have to look up at my own stars
learn to stop pretending you ever cared
to stop pretending it all ends up fair, my heart
and your heart are not *******, we are
drifting, weightless, the waves broken
cresting over and sinking one but not the other
I'm a kid playing Risk and I'm stuck in Austrailia
and when I lose, I cry out for my mother
and so do you. But you can't win them all.
I miss loving you but I have to move on now
I have to get over it. It's been about a year since
whatever happened began to happen, but since
it ended there have been new and fresh wounds
repeatedly pouring salt into my bleeding heart
and I'm sorry I can't stop bleeding but no amount
of cauterization or pressure can staunch the flow
when I need to keep beating to keep me whole.
I'm sorry I still care and you don't. I'm sorry hearts don't break even.
I'm sorry if you ever read this because I don't want you to.
I just want to be able to keep breathing when I see you.
I'm doing fine, really. It just hurts sometimes.

have you always been the candy of my imagination?
at times, you seemed to break not-so-deliciously
at our midnight dinners
to plan for our circus of dreams
your crisp brown sugar was sickeningly sweet then
but now, as I read the words on the page,
I see only something delectable
and I have forgotten who you really were
I think that either you have mastered the art of shapeshifting
or my eyes are deceived-
either way, you are not who you once were
and the lines holding the circus together
are shattering, one by one.

nothing is black and white except life and death
and even love can be tainted by shades of grey.