when you asked me
why i wasn't depressed, too,
i couldn't come up with an answer.
clenched teeth like yikes
like as if you already know my type
like as if you can already see right through me,
a glass door, transparent like
how i've always dreamed.
thunder in my stomach reminds me
of the thunder in my thighs
i close my eyes,
pretend i'm having an MRI
(mind over matter)
and maybe it'll calm me.
and would you be proud of how i cope?
like yo, this **** is ******* dope
just take a little ****
let it fill you up with the hope
you'll find in the smoke
that exhaled out my lungs,
a poem i have to hide
but you don't think this is poetry
this is just me talking
is how it starts,
staring into the scars of empty promises burned
into my undilated pupils.
it tasted sweet, like candy- actually, literally, it was candy
dissolving into crystals on my hopeful tongue.
forty five minutes-
potential energy forming kinetic energy overflowing
through my veins, i couldn’t feel anymore-
my toes were tingling
like flaming icicles against my skin
but at that point i was too abstracted to notice
such insignificant physical impulses.
my short term memory is ****.
forget everything, forget which buttons to press.
never lasts forever
for a reason
no substance, no meaning, i guess
i’ll get there, but i’m making progress
by even thinking at all, it’s just a
feeling. an experience, no different
from any other besides its potential but
i am still undecided on how to approach
any of this. disappointment cannot
be avoided sometimes,
mary jane gives
a two and a half foot long kiss;
i can taste the smoke on your lips
as if they were my own, as if i were the smoke
itself, existing only in wisps
that you blow out your mouth.
i can’t begin to guess how it will end-
since sleep is just like giving in.
twelve hours without boredom is
something that i am addicted to; they are
like day dreams, my eyes were open
wide and unblinking but i swear i wasn’t trying
I never knew anything was wrong
Until everyone started giving me sympathy.
I was a little girl with blinders and two
Doll hands that clasped over my ears
As they screamed and kicked
Through doors and laptops.
Now, I keep them tied
Above my head, arching chest out first.
This is what you left.
This is why when you leave, I wrap my arms
Around your waist,
But I never say I love you.
This is why, when I talk to boys,
I don't see love until I know
Where their hands will fit into the puzzle of my body.
I never thought I was damaged until I saw
How the other girls can pick and choose
And reject warm chests so casually, and
I realize that I am greedy.
This wasn't an issue while I was strong,
But I couldn't lie to myself for that long
And there aren't enough body-sized indentions
For me to give my weight to.
I never thought I would be bitter for all these years
Until each day, I never went back.
so maybe it’s the way she stares
and sighs that your eyes
are like galaxies
like you’re ******* poetry
like you deserve it
like you’ve reserved it
and have been waiting for so long.
for all this time,
i’ve been blind
saying i’m high
when really, i’m not even a little bit high
this is for your own good,
they say, i have delusions;
but trust me, if i could, i would.
i would, i would, i would.
if only i could scream,
then i’d show to me
that’s not what you really mean.
because what you really meant
wasn’t to rouse my pent-
up feelings that were suffocated away,
released in the fray
of the moment.
is probably the most unproductive
feeling i could admit.
but as always
i take what i can get.
that it is easy
to feel mediocre
but at 30,000 feet
the world is so small
that you can count
the waves of the ocean on your fingers.
do you know
that it is hard
to let you see
what i've found?
breathing is easy
when you are above the clouds.
our love is trapped in the clutches of time-
seized in a moment,
lost in my windpipes,
i am busy catching your breath.
we can cut through the atmosphere.
meet me by the moon
to listen to the morning murmur.
i can only offer you so many escapes.
it's too hard to fix you.
why shouldn't i hide
if i am the bad guy?
and all you want to do
is say goodbye.
i etched eternity into your cracked skin.
i traced familiarity into your bruised bones.
but i am not a savior
nor an angel, it was
merely good timing.
atlas did nothing to deserve this.
even the divine must suffer
even the divine must fall
under the weight of the world.
all we have is each other.
asphyxiated and astringent,
each kiss is an exchanging exhale,
and our lungs convicts.
we'll dig our way out together.
i have only hurt you in secret.
i have only hurt myself in stupor.
but i tried, at least i tried.
i am trying.
You tell me how you float in your dreams, falling asleep at the foot of other dreamers, and how you leave, tip-toed, back to your own world. You tell me how your life isn’t real – how it can’t be – not yet. You’re twenty three years old, armed with a short haircut and a ukulele, plans of the west coast. You wonder when your life will begin. You tell me about the way you yearn. How you crave the real. Harsh wind against cheek, passion enveloping your nerves until you can feel your body explode with anticipation. You are moonstruck, dizzy with lust of reality, delirious with the call of dreams. Too impatient to wait, too forgetful to begin. But one day, you will wake up to the water poured over your head that clears your eyes. And you will take a step and the sun will be rising and you will realize that you are ready to sing again.
inspired by my ex-coworker- a drifter, a dreamer
I remember the day
That I fell in love with you.
Like the sudden, soft realization
Of that first raindrop when it lands on your face,
And you look up to the sky,
And you think to yourself,