The leaves, and lace
From window drapes
Cast a shadow on the
Old door as I pass by.
So perfectly placed,
I wonder whether it
Wasn't Coincidence's
Sake, or Time's gift to
Lift my eyes and wake
My wonder at the world.

I pet a bee that
Barked, led him
To purple water.
Iridescent lake;
It shimmered so
I swam and met
My lover. A king,
Son of the Sun,
Seer of future;
Held me close as
I watched indigo,
Orange, red and
Blue swirl around
This lake's face.

I want to bud on
A mountaintop.
To bloom with no
Shelter from the
Weather. Let my
Petals fall down
For hours, so that
Those below don't
Know from what
Place I've come.

We live in a world of high speed wreckage, so much so that I fear our youth
Have been desensitized to the sight of death and destruction; It's only a
Few clicks away with our media addiction but, that's not what I'm here to
Talk with you about today. No, I think it's time we take a 3 minute break
Of high-speed mentality, to break free of swift reality if only for a moment.
Speaking of moments, I need everybody to close their eyes for a time. No, seriously, close them.
I want to tell you a story that sight cannot settle, no semblance of reality, for
Some things are meant for eyes, others for ears, still yet others are meant
For the mind. For the soul. Let us sail on a ship of sound, a journey, collectively.
Now sit still, and listen.

So what is it we percieve behind eyelids shut tight? Before we fall asleep at night?
On one hand, it is nothingness; no light to comfort us, such a solemn black.
I guess I can't speak for you but, at times I get sad before I sleep. I think back to
Every promise someone didn't keep, all the words I was too scared to speak; or
the whispers my lovers' lips never returned, like "I love you". In short, I
Was lonely. There is something in the act of cutting off sight that leaves me
With a crippling sensation of isolation. But something tells me I'm not the only one
All-too familiar with this sense of suffocation. Somehow I feel as though this is
Shared not only with you, but with the person sitting next to you, and beside them too.
But, I'm not here to depress you, and so let me share some words I once wrote with you;

Lost souls
Drink ink.
But only wither,
With the weather.
Like roses,
Red-
And dead.
But they're beautiful,
You know.

You see, it was a poem I had written around the age of sixteen, and I didn't really get it then but,
"But they're beautiful, you know" was a seed of thought that blossomed in the next few years;
The thought that sometimes the broken things are the most beautiful for they are perfect in the story
That they tell. The story of imperfection; of affection; of sweet affliction; whatever words you
Deem worthy of describing our time here on Earth. Put simply; we are stupid, pointless, silly, exquisite humanity.
Like shattered glass, we can never be what we once were but only arrange ourselves into a magnificent stainglass window,
Allowing the sunlight of our lives to paint a picture of whatever unique self-disciplined blessings we choose to give
And when the sun starts to set, allow me to remind you of this; being along has never hindered the beauty of a sunset over a meadow,
Visible by standing in the treeline on top of a gently rolling hill. And so I dare you, I dare you to live alone, yet married
To the aesthetics of one eye, instead of two. I dare you
to fall in love
with you.

If you haven't already, you can open your eyes now. Our break is coming to a close; soon we'll be back to tweets on twitter
Instead of outside our windows before the sun rises each morning. But after I'm done speaking I hope you can take something with you.
Specifically, the next time you feel like crying yourself to sleep at night; remember this poem. If not in it's entirety, remember just this;
You are stupid, pointless, silly, exquisite humanity and there is not one bone in your body that is not broken or incomparably beautiful.
Know that somewhere I'm out there, hoping that you drift with a smile into sleep.

Red, edifying & ditsy,
Wine illuminated names -- eclectic,
& gypsy. Yippee persons; So yawned
Night. I gathered her, too
Tipsy, I paused & smoked young
Faith, aimed it too high
And next dared
The hour escape.
Oscar sounded clear and round.

It was about the time,
Hours after the day had died,
And bikers flashed their lights
Like the starry glazed eyes of
Decayed faces found in late cars,

That the local school's nature god
Had granted me a fall blessing
I saw in horns, on a hill he was
Standing, staring, like my lover
Not far over - under dying leaves.

Impulse.
Im-pulse.
I'm a pulse.
Am I spontaneo-
I'm a pulse.
Im-pulse
Impulse.

Today I saw a tiny bubble
Dodging damp bullets between
***** sidewalks and blackened drains--
The rain of colors swirled in a world
Inverted, and my renege sister stared;
Caged, as she was, by such fragile walls of air.

It's getting worse again.
These walls become my friends;
Tell me tales 'till night's end;
Have they gotten closer again?
Wait - why have they gone black?
*Ah, they've come to take me back.

I grew up in suburbia-
With picket fences as white as the faces
Who say they're godly enough to save babies
(As long as they're not queer)
Because we don't have to live with the fear
Of corpses lining the sidewalks
Of our perfectly landscaped yards
We have no guards firing on peaceful protestors
Because our children are filed into orderly lines
Laid out for them at birth
But for what it's worth, we teach them of racism
From a white textbook that lies about founding fathers
Where segregation is just a word and
Oppression is hardly even mentioned.
Our children, who play at the age of 6
And lose their innocence at the age of 16
Suburbia is a life of it's own,
Gangly arms and legs
Like the teenagers who starve themselves
And steal their parents liquor
Just to get drunk quicker
Ignorant of those on the streets dying of hunger
No wonder I yearn to be far from this hell I call home.

Allen Ginsberg once said
“America I’ve given you all and now I am nothing”
The Wonder Years once said
“Suburbia I’ve given you all and now I am nothing”
But I’ve found fallacies in both of these,
I feel it’s more like
Suburbia I’ve given you all
And now I’m an awkward 20 year old
Who doesn’t know how to talk to black people
Suburbia I’ve given you all
And now I’m way too confident walking around the city at night
Because I forget there are communities
Where people actually have to lock their doors,
Suburbia I’ve given you all
And now I have a 16 year old brother
Who thinks the word *** and **** jokes are funny
Suburbia I've given you all
And now my father hates that I'm for gender equality
Well dear daddy,
I hope this offends you.

Because I am offended
By a community that tells **** victims they were asking for it
I am offended by a community
That tells my best friend Liam
That he's just confused, that
His love for Adam is an abomination
I am offended by a community
That offers equality as thinly veiled oppression,
With houses decorated in the decadence of degradation,
All the while their perfect sons and daughters
Are dying of depression because
The hilt of a gun is so much quicker
Than the drugs of their addiction

Suburbia, you are the seed of suicide
Feeding off of your violent silence,
Your white fences slice our tongues
And leave us mindless.
Suburbia, you have betrayed us.
Taught us ignorance is bliss with
Algebra instead of how to do taxes,
Spent more time worried about
Girls' shoulders instead of *** education,
Taught me not to speak unless
My hand was raised as if praise
Is given to authority without question,
Funny how they forgot to mention
Our country was founded on rebellion.

But suburbia, I forgive you
And so I humbly ask of you,
Find the keys of compassion within the heart and
Shed the lock of ignorance that grips your mind
The door may be rusted but it can open with time
Suburbia, I beg of you
Join us in the war of love
Let us all raise our fists and
Paint peace signs on our wrists,
We are disobedient dandelions swaying in the sun,
Words of kindness rolling off our tongues
Like pacifistic shots of a gun
Firing respect instead of rounds
And burying hate instead of bodies in the ground.

Seeing a small tree's death
Takes away my breath
Much more than other people's do;
For it had so much more to live
So much more life to give
Than either me or you.

I foster a monster
Of my own creating;
"Self-defeating" he slithers
As his skin festers into smiling,
Unrelenting and repeating;

So I slit my throat
With the cold knife of self-loathing,
Coating my skin
With a red dress
Of the life I've been wasting.

My lover's eyes caressed the
Contours of my naked body.
So vulnerable, I clung to every
Gentle touch and fell in love
With every catch in his breath.

But as I went to take a drag,
He handed to me a cup,
And his lips formed a trail of blood
As he pierced into my chest
"Alcohol kills so much quicker, dear"
With the same mouth he used
To kiss me.

The more I smoke the more I dream.
Tick-tock, two minutes past this clock;
The lighter's edge, my conscious screams;
Death is sweet in his apology.

Resplendent is the End.
Music for silence; how
Bewitching is the Earth
Yearning for the Sun.
Like lovers and their
Cigarettes -- we fall in
Love with our destruction.

The cloud on fire
Cried hearts and I
Jumped into puddles.
It looked at me
With bloodshot eyes
So I offered a cig.

You're using me. And I can't tell if
You're too stupid to notice or
I'm too stupid to care but
Let me tell you, I am sick
Of this degrading routine.
And I'm the perfect girl, aren't I?
Take the naive ******, so easy to train,
To use so easily for pleasure but
Never give it back because
I'm too inexperienced to know
What I deserve from a man.
But then again,
Maybe you couldn't deliver because
You're just a boy with loose pants and
Lying hands.
Yes, train me, keep me like your pet,
Call me at 3 AM because you just
Broke up with your girlfriend, but
Send me home at 3 AM when
I'm too drunk to stand and
****, I called you my friend?
No wonder you never want to talk,
The only time you want me to use my mouth
Is when you're using it to gag me with your ****.
And even then, you won't even kiss me. Well,
You *******, read these lips;
**** it yourself.

From the perspective of
A girl whose demons escaped
Through red ribbons sewn on wrists,
And whose thoughts wished to follow
The drain that contained them;*

Stop glorifying your shame,
Your ****** poems do nothing
To stop the pain and tears
Are not beautiful. No love
Will ever suffice, except
Yours.

*From the perspective of
A survivor whose smile reflects
The love of her name, and never
Ceases to see from what place
She came.

I speak to the reflection
In the cab's smooth windows;
To the cautious -- what is life
Without uncertainty?
To the adventuresome --
But at what cost does this come?