caverns cloaked in colors combined
ambling to destinations of the same sky
I got lost in the dirt, the music of your hug,
the smell of narcissus, the entitled beauty of flowers.

The gem filled caves your eyelids hid
made me a miner to seek treasure inside.
Value, gleam, pallets of rarity, the soft brown earth
California weather- where everything grows.

i walk over the lawn
pushing my hips up and down
to appear more confident and womanlike
in this patriarchal dungeon
where lads become bros who are
taught to approve what I am saying in order for me to
continue and speak.

i have a family who holds a canopy
of love upon me
how dare you only acknowledge my flesh
and these pathetic letters when
there is magic in my hands, wisdom lying in my mouth, and an unblemished soul that has only been tainted by boys like you.

pray you stay away from me so that
your revolting desires are not revealed unto
yourself.

i am saddened by you
for how will I ever find a man when you are the representative
who has taught me that it is necessary to shield myself.

i am saddened that i will never gain your approval
i am saddened that i now live in a world
where women like me think they
need it

It was one of those times, for me.

The music of my soul was still going.

Everything else eased its way in.

But I turned a blind-ear.


Music used to be so rare.

Hiding behind sofa cushions.

If could see at my art through a mirror,

I would be a child.

oh what a burden
to make someone feel so much
when you are just trying to breathe

i want you to tell me
that my hair smells like
drug store shampoo
that was bought with a coupon
that i ripped with my nibbled fingernails
from the sunday paper

i will ask you to ask him
because he won’t respond to me
i enjoy making people say what i want them to say
my sentences inspire people to lie

when i can’t decide to use a pencil
or a pen
i hold them both in my hands
to decide if i’m willing to erase what
i believe in

i like book ends
no spaces in between lies
less than a 10pt
there are no blanks to put my own words in

i drink so much coffee
to fill in the filter
that i do not have

a girl once told me that if i paint my nails
i will have bad luck
so i never paint my nails

i wish i didn’t fold all the laundry you gave me
i should have just folded my own

i am pushing you away
i am doing it.
i beckon you closer so
you can leave me
because im used to it
i'm used to scaring
so i remain safe.
because if you stay
i will ruin you
and make you a
boiling mug of dried out
hibiscus leaves that once glowed with the pink of ignorance
and will burn your throat and make it hurt to swallow so you believe that you are sick and you must begin to ease the shallowness of our framed existence.
in the wheelbarrow of neurons
its my love that refuses to grease the wheels

i am giving my heart
S P A C E
because what returns
    will always have to
         L E A V E
one must leave
  in order to grow
    love like fall must
       **** the spring

a dream poem:

a blink for a few is what I desire
to blackout the curtains for my aches
and chalkboard erase my mistakes
the sun is a cleanser
that glows through my eyes
emanating love despite cut ties
when I close, and go to where is old
we can unwrap: and begin to finally unfold.

taking shots of herbal tea
to substantially swallow the floodgates of my thoughts
it had been six months with no word
and i hadn't spoken either
my mouth was a hotel for ghosts
that would float up to my brain and create a resort
the memories of you playing on a 36mm reel over and over

until throwing up wouldn't even purge you out of my system.

finally using your brain you spoke up
and the ghosts vanished.
you are quite the intuitive ghost.

stab my brain with the hope you will be back
the pain increases as responses grow weary,
and your fear swallows your intuitive mind once again.

its a shame to know what you want, ghost:
and never actually go for it.

and that is the true battle.

if I dip my feet in the water:
then I will end up,
drowning.

for the first time
you to looked at my body
like
it
was
something
you
craved

Oh! Has anyone actually had thoughts as I have?
Does anyone believe what I believe is true?
Or are they just other?
with thoughtless little sleepy waves underneath them?
do they doubt my claim,
seeking any desire to find the the knowledge of the Inner Path?
What is Me
and what is just Societies Molding of Me?  

Was I blank shell?

If I'm always learning ; I'm always inspired.

Humans are powerful and are creatures of dishonesty and greed.
Give them what they don't want so they will feel the mental responsibility of changing you "for the greater good" or in actuality, "how they see things"

was it just real in the moment, was it actually real in the first place?
are my memories just a beautification and glorification of a blank moment that I had desired to fill?

and we sit on the big green swinging chair
you run your fingers down my unwashed, dreaded hair
I'm scared to touch your lips or look you in the eye
cause I know you'll be last first kiss
I'll ever try
honey nectar veins can only go two ways
can I be yours, today?

brains beaming laser cut cookie cutters
that fit perfectly into my hands
our auras mix to make cinnamon twirls
no need to touch, I understand

you know it too
the fear there might be more than one for you
I am a risk, and a new frontier
don't fake the flag, admit I'm here.

the rain soaked into my skin
the trees of the forest sang they we so glad
purifying my humid past
love was the best umbrella I ever had

you explained my future in the utterance of letters
finally cozy in a medication free sweater
grass stains on our memories
made everything smell sweeter
never felt so safe, away from my heater

your past walked
to snip my dream catcher
she held the scissors
this present snatcher

her post slap palms held the shears
penetrating your growth
pesticides filling hours of maturity
this time when I look at you, you look *****.

it's like a beach with a jellyfish on the sand.

its like looking into their eyes is looking into the bathtub you were afraid to sink into when you were small

you are so afraid but you keep going

you feel so safe, and touching their hand makes you know that life has a purpose

you know that everything, down to the last second on the microwave timer that you skipped,
or when you took a left
instead of a right
at aisle 5
when you were eight
it all leads up to this moment.
so you could be with this person.
everything that had ever seemed like a coincidence
you realize was
actually
a
very
planned
moment.
you are so present with this other person,
that when you leave their presence,
you can't really remember a thing.
nothing.
you never ever think what you are about to say next,
because
you don't have a voice.
you just listen to them
sharing breath.

thats what it is

kissing you tastes like hospital food
so good in the moment,
i was famished.
i needed you to fill me up
make me happy and whole
I could see everything as it should.
I remind myself that I'm eating hospital food.
cold and packaged for days, reheated by numerous microwaves
and infected with heartbreak bacterium
and the notion that when you touch my lips,
someone I love, is dying.

my mind is a maze and I can't cheat and live it backwards
there are always two conversations in my mind
two options.
always options.
there are many voices of you.
i am you.
you are you.
thats two.
opinions are yes and no so pick a side
creativity consumes me and my mind seems blank but its full of peace,
competing for a nice honeycomb and the sting and death of a thought is making the final
decision.

dear fate,

you are having too much fun with me.
please stop. coincidences are only little moments when i remember that you are there, guiding me and watching me. but please stop playing with me. i am not your toy.

love,
a tangled dreamcatcher

people i meet always say that i am impactful.
that there is something about me that makes me change lives in a few minutes.

sounds like a blessing right?
wrong.

imagine you being that person that people are afraid to meet because they are afraid to change.

thats me, hi. hello. how are you. i am here to change you. sorry if you don't want it. oh you don't? okay cool shut me out.

change is what allows life. cut me out, stay stagnant: but have fun being dead in your own body.

one time i threw my watch against a wall
just to watch time shatter.

i was in the right place at the right time once.
now i never am.

time is always making fools of us
but i'm the village idiot.

when i met you, the expectation for love was raised so high, i doubt anyone will ever reach it.

when i met you, i fell in love with your energy, not the way your hair looked.

what is physical attraction?
what is physicality?

its a shell that your soul inhabits.

i fell in love with your soul and therefore I can never be attracted to anything but souls. You set the bar.

I am closing my heart. Loving someone 100% emotionally is much more dangerous then kissing your lips.

Heart is now closed.
I am under new management.
A management that will protect my salt water tear dripped taffy pulled heart.
Find your fun, easy sweetness somewhere else, because now prices are raised and the doors are locked shut.
I am under new management.
Heart is now closed.

wanted advertisement:

hi.
i'm that girl
the one who is going to **** up everything for you.
hey, how are you?
yeah i am casually always taken in, loved and cared for and then rejected.
are you interested?
i am always the cold choice.
the one without a jacket.
i am the one you will not pick.
over and over and over and over again.

i want you to choose me but why am i even a choice in the first place?
don't give me a second look
don't give me that mysterious pandoras box of hope: i don't want that feeling of escasty when my phone lights up and its you.

don't look at me again, your going to fall in love with me.
don't let me **** up your life, your redundant life of typos and empty phrases. i am a change. you don't want to change, do you?

its exhausting.
always being that risk.
always being that choice.

i don't want to ever hope again.
it always ends up in heartbreak.
i don't know why i ever expect anything else.

hi.
i'm that girl
the one who is going to **** up everything for you.
hey, how are you?
yeah i am casually always taken in, loved and cared for and then rejected.
are you interested?
i am always the cold choice.
the one without a jacket.
i am the one you will not pick.
over and over and over and over again.

i am an unwanted advertisement. don't give me a second glance, you might just ruin your life, and choose me for once.

time for a group photo!
short girls in the front.
thats me.
constantly being classified by my body and constantly being included only to be excluded.
I feel like I'm back in my Jewish day school being made fun of because the cost of my mothers chemotherapy overrode my need of the checkered uniform skirt that all the other girls had.
I spent my new years eve in an emergency waiting room watching "I love Lucy" reruns with my babysitter, waiting for the doctor to come out and say that my mom was still alive and doped up on morphine in the back room, watching spongebob and telling me to
"hang in there, "
because i'm a trooper when really I was sitting next to the adult chaperone on every school field trip because no one wanted to sit next to the girl whose mom was dying and her family was too poor to buy her a new checkered uniformed skirt.

I tried to tell a boy one time about what its like when your mom is bald at your bat mitzvah and that the black boy named Stephen in your 5th grade homeroom told you that your mom should die from cancer and his friends laughed while the girl went home and read books because the characters actually listened and never changed no matter how many times the book was opened.

he just said : didn't that happen a long time ago? how does that even matter anymore?

and I agreed because love is begin and love is a spell that makes you say "this is okay" to the situations which are the least of being okay.

Wow: I'm more depressed than I thought I was.

Writers are naturally narcissist. Hear my words: I will talk about my work for hours if you let me.
So maybe I'm done sharing.
Maybe my words are just a desperate cry for help when the only one who can actually help me is myself.
Sometimes I feel like my self confidence is just my self justification for my existence and I'm really just made to die so that other people can read my wet, soggy journal and it could maybe save them like it destroyed me.

My energy is waving and I want it to ceasefire so I can go under the quiet calling of the lake and be still to where no one can hurt me and I'm too ****** to feel the temperature of the water.
I want to be so ****** up that for once in my life I can fall in love with myself instead of the boy with the red cup,
beckoning me to the back of the room

I want to know that my reality is not so different than yours and when I feel like you like me: I know that you do and I don't have to shower-thought-contemplate that.
Love should be like the earth beneath your feet, you never have to check if it is still there because you should already know it is always going to be there fro you.
I'm worried for myself and I'm spinning to that point where I'm sitting on that rock again outside the farm and looking at arts and craft scissors and wanted to craft my way into a heap six feet under.

Wow, I never realized how depressed I was.

I want to break down but I want to stay strong and keep my emotions in the jar that everyone makes fun of me for carrying around because my life is your joke and the punch line just keeps on getting better.

I wasn't sure where my friends were and why I was considered such an enigma of commitment.
after a communal bowl pass and a swig of strawberry lemonade ***** that tasted like strawberry lemonade tears:
everything that I considered a blessing in my book,
things that I liked about myself
these things became someone else's reason to dislike me.
My strengths became flaws and the things that I used to love about myself became the reasons I wanted to have raw flesh on the insides of my tiny wrists.
I began to doubt and slash every relationship I've made because the amount of betrayal I felt was like when my mom used to make the water too hot in the bathtub and walk away to the other side of my house so that the hot bathwater would boil my skin
and I just had
to sit there
and prune.

I told the truth once to my high school writing class.
I told them the truth
and then my best friend left me
and after my words left the page
and echoed in the air,
just about everyone else left too.

I was alone and I tried to end it because when you're stuck in the hot bathwater and you're six years old and your tears and titanic ice and still no one comes to save you from the boiling hot water,
and somehow in your life you begin to tolerate injustice and pain.

I'm thinking about checking myself into a hospital.
Inpatient treatment.
Pill in a waxed oval cup so that my feelings will regulate and I will start feeling normal like everyone else.
The normal of unrequited kindness and hate hidden inside of a held hand.
I would love to feel like I've overreacting
and I would love to say
I'm crazy
but the craziest part is that in all of this crazy:
I feel sane.
Sane that I can recognize that the only time I write and stab my pen to paper is when I really just  want to stab myself,
stab myself till i bleed blood that won't even soak into the earth,
but forms a puddle that dirties up everyones foot prisons,
containing a checkmark of approval from society.
If everyone just wants to feel loved and so wanted why would you preach hate and expect love in return?
Is it even possible to feel better about yourself without bringing someone else down?
I shouldn't expect anyone to come back to me
when the only one who will never insult me is the
thin white pressed and processed trees
that are bound within a "made in indonesia" binding.
I want to feel sick and I want to throw up and purge my mental illness of depression with some gatorade and saltines
but the only thing that can really cure depression
is the flatline of a heartbeat
and the ones that you loved so much
wishing that they would have loved you more
while you were still around.

My poems are just pre-pubescent suicide letters to myself that I hope someone will read and stop the blade
and put it into butter and spread on waffles instead
of their freckled skin.

I would like to say that I've been doing something wrong so that I can fix it, but when what you are doing wrong is just existing, then besides dying: how can I cater to your needs of disappearing?

How can I bring myself so low into my mental spectrum so that you can glow and feed off of my self deprecation until you have reached the maximum potential of you.

I should probably thank you because my soon to be hermit tendencies will help me stay safe and sound;

I wish I had the courage to **** myself, but more importantly: I wish I had the bravery to love myself instead.

i have tried an infinite amount.
Put in effort.
and effort
and effort
and effort.
acting like it wasn't engraved on the inside of my eyelids,
like it wasn't the only thing that mattered:
that will ever matter.
like it was the only thing that made sense:
it is the only thing that makes sense.
It's been eleven months
and I can still go back to that moment
and pull out that floppy disk- knowing that every drop of blood or salty tear had been rightfully shed so I could live until that moment.
the moment I met you.
I felt what people search their whole lives to feel.
A look in their eyes that shuts down your brain and all that matters is their pattern of freckles and the ingrown hair of their eyebrows and the pools of their rich brown eyes.
No  P A S T
No  F U T U R E
Just A L I V E
Just  L I V I N G

So why are you so afraid?
You are aware if the short period of time we have on the earth?
You are so focused on your job of portraying others that you have such a limited grasp on yourself.

Just give me an hour.
Let me know you.
Let me discover you.

You can push out this fate all you want.
Ignoring it and shutting it down with excessive monologues and broken treble clefts but keep in mind, my star:

fate is the one show where the curtain doesn't close when the lights go dark.

I expected to see you again.
Really, I did.
I didn't want to- yet every day I hoped that fate would give me a wave of his hand and say:
okay: todays the day.
the sadness will fade
and you will create my happiness, so I don't have to anymore.
I don't have to act like I'm happy when I'm not.
I don't have to be someone I'm not.


I saw the side of you today.
Its funny because I've been waiting for the moment when you would bump into me around a corner and yet
I wasn't expecting it.

Things always happen when you least expect it.

You smiled and laughed at something.
I don't even remember the last time I was that happy.
You looked so happy.
Your happiness radiated onto me, and then once the stream got into my consciousness I froze.
I was no longer sunny and warm.
But cold.
Freezing, actually.
I couldn't move my feet.
I couldn't move my body.
I wasn't in control anymore.

You were.

My eyes welled up with tears and before I knew it I was outside.
I wasn't breathing the same air you were anymore.
I was away.
I didn't know how I got there.
Not at all.
I didn't know that you had this much control over me.
That I actually cared about you this much.

To be honest: it really scares me.

It was so unexpected.

I don't think I've ever been in love
I've fallen, though.
and by fallen I mean into a dark pit of months of agony,
waiting for my phone to glow in the instant gratification of our generations definiton of "love".
i'm horrible at being patient.
like really.
really
b.a.d
I've realized that if I do what I always have done : I will always get the same outcome so something obviously has to change.
I need to relax and enjoy my crafts
and enjoy the sun
and listen to Elton John
and not base all of my happiness on a member of the opposite ***:
thinking that a kiss from them will really fix all my problems.
because will it?
will it bring my brother back home and help subdue the religion that consumed him?
no
will it help all of the seam ripped threads on my broken heart somehow mend together again?
no.

If you could selfishly change three things in your life to make it perfect, what would it be?

I've heard many answers: most of them being

"You"
"You would make my life perfect"

But two weeks later with tear streaked pillows and an absence of makeup removers I need a break.
I can make my own life perfect.


Low expectations are better days.

my iron eyelids are closing fast,
medicine didn't even try to visit
i just couldn't bear to be awake much longer
and i needed that "new day" feeling where I just wake up and today is over.
everything is over.
today was a day that I decided to let my hope take hold
and see where it would take me.
it is true, you only do live once
so why waste your time and get lost in the hedge?
go for your destination
seek what you want and don't wait.
there's not enough time.

the problem is not everyone agrees with that.
not everyone realizes that time is limited
our whole globe is limited.

the scariest feeling I've ever had was hope.
it gives me confidence and security
as well as anxiety and despair.

i just want your arm around me so i don't have to worry anymore.
some ice cream would be nice as well.

there is something about your voice that seems familiar
i am not quite certain if its your tone or pattern.
it feels like whole milk brewed in my coffee,
pouring down my throat
warming my lungs from the cooler than yesterday weather.
i'm not sure how i feel about the hair gel
you look a bit like a backstreet boy on crack
but who knows, maybe i am secretly into that.
the shape of your mouth reminds me of that may whisper
the fact that february seemed so far away
and now it lingers over me like a much needed rainstorm that could possibly flood.
i think you will do until fate comes through and takes me to a tea party
you play the banjo? points up points up.

i gave what you let me.
you took it all.
all of it.
you took away
the one place I felt welcomed,
just because you didn't want to take responsibility .
you looked me in the eyes and made your decision.
you took the risk for me.
we were both caught
and i took the downfall.
i would say that i lost you,
but honestly, you ran away.
afraid of manning up
still, living in your board shorts and tanks
and texting underage girls last at night.
my maturity towers over you and i'm ten year younger.
i took responsibility
i took the blame
you took away the one place where i felt welcome

i should have forgotten about you by now.
the outlook on my day should not be affected by you.
i thought that once I was gone from the ground you stood on
That you would be gone too.
you linger in my most superficial thoughts
my basic desires and deepest dreams.
when you were the one who cut my seams.
please be gone; I know thoughts of me are far away from you
so why do you stay and torment me like you do?

above, it all looks so insignificant,
high above the black clouds.
I would like to stay there,
hear the rush of the engine and not worry about you.
about the insignificance that you play in my life.
about how my thoughts direct towards you and only you,
bubbling to the brim where they want to push out every positive or motivating thought that has any sense of individuality left.
I want to gag the thought of you out of my brain;
However;
The only way I know how to do that is:
to gag myself.
above, it all looks so insignificant,
too bad you mean everything.

Muzzle my lips
Do not speak the truth
Do not speak lies;
Do not speak at all

I guess you could call it feeling lost.
It's like.
I guess it's like::
I'm in my bed, and I'm sinking.
I can't fall asleep until I magically imagine that your arm is wrapped around me.
I can't listen to a song without thinking,
Wow this must be written about me and you.
I guess it's like::
I got my hopes up.
And you brought them down.
I invested my energy and put it inside of yours.
It glowed and glimmered and I grabbed it but you let it float away::watching it struggle to hold on.
I guess that's what it's like.
I guess you could call it feeling lost.

I can't quite pinpoint it.
it's like a glow,
But also a dark spot.
There is something-buried-so beneath you---
My shovel broke.
I got to see you for a split second,
But the rain came and washed you away.
us away.
When the sun finally arose from it's nap:
There was a flower.
A daisy or a rose,
It doesn't make a difference:::
But something bloomed,
And I'm honestly glad it did.

Writing about you
Flows out of my pen like breath
Need an ink refill

So.
Let's start with a beginning.

One look changed everything.
You had never looked at me that way before:
and then you did-
and everything changed.
A part of me wished that you hadn't,
but most of me is glad that you did.
I never thought I could fall for someone,
like you.
Oh.
Speaking of you::
I like you.
I.
Like.
You.
But it's not so simple.
It was so unexpected,
but so planned.
Like the road signs had been pointing me there all along,
but I finally decided to follow them on the right direction.
So many no's-I'm order to get your yes.
The hope that you give me is unreal.
So pinch me.
And kiss me.
So I can feel the sparks ignite,
and fly between the wavelength of our lips.

I might like you
This is an option.
A rock was thrown:
Now there are ripples in the water.
For sure, you are off limits,
But hey::so am I-
Should the rock have stayed in my hand?
This is silly.
I'm writing a poem about what should never been, but somehow:
is.
I might like you.
I might like the way it's so wrong.
I might like the way you looked at me,
And the way you played with my hair.
The way you made me feel safe,
And I knew nothing could hurt me.
We sit on your balcony, and throw a ball,
Discussing our options.
We don't tell.
We do tell.
The only thing I can tell is that I want to be with you.
I throw the ball back.
You catch it.
I might like you.
This is an option.
An opportunity.
So take it.

Immersed in an alternate world
Doesn't improve the one you are in.
Yes you may be:
Numbed
Contained
But when the last yellowed page is turned:
You are still trapped.
Trapped in reality.
The reality where the air is crisp but not new.
The reality where the people are real but not true.
The reality where you are lonley.
And the smallest glimmer of hope just turns into the echoes of "maybe another time"
But those pages.
It made it seem like.
Almost like it was real.
My own personal reality.

It's just tough.
Feeling the promise of something.
Knowing you are in the right place
At the right time
With the right person.
You feel as if all of the mistakes, bumps and roadblocks were strategically placed so they could lead me;
To you.
Fate, some of them call it.
You are not physically attracted.
You are drawn.
You just want to know them.
Everything about them.
And you want to be a part of their history.
Their future.
You know this is right.
It's the only thing you've ever known for sure::
And then it goes.
Evaporates.
Like it was never there in the first place.
You want to know if it was real; that it wasnt all just in your head.
But some things are out of your control.
You've tried everything to keep in contact.
But they have left.
Over five hundred and twenty seven miles away.
Way over that.
And although your heart is less than 7 inches away on the map key,
He has stolen it and taken it with him:
Over Five hundred and twenty seven miles away.
And there is no knowing when you will get it back.

Full of wonder and obsessive hope,
I wait for your return.
What was given to me is now hiding.
Close but far in the realms of electronic buzzes and cool metal.
I throw my purse away in the hope that if I drop it, you will pick it up, and carry me.
The words of strangers reassure me, and make me look for the wavelength of blue light blazing from the screen.
Yet you have not responded and my eyes fill with wet, soggy tears.
It sounds absurd, trust me: I know.
But I also know what it's like to feel your energy,
The warmth on your cheek and the signs floating around us.
I miss you.
I miss your glow.

I always feel as if Ive missed my chance.
I wait because I'm afraid if the action that I take, could put me in a state of vulnerability that I cannot even fathom.
What I want is crystal clear to me- it'd you and it's only been you for a while now.
My mind has tried to convince me that what I feel is only temporary, fleeting; as the last bits of the year, but sadly; they are here to stay.
Frozen in my heart until you reach the willpower and inner strength to fish me out.

Beneath your facade
You are as goofy as anything
Yet you surround yourself with sponge absorbed bubbles, bits of soap that will pop and perish over time.
You know the one with the heart of gold lies in front of you,
Clear as day: our paths were meant to cross.
Who knows if they will straighten out.
I'll wait as you prosper, I'll wait as you grow. I will always wait for you, no matter how slow.

nothing was aligned.

everything was jumbled, disorganized: uncertain.
the theatre was dark
then the lights went out
a single light glowed in the center
you were that glow

it might have just been the electronics
the cheap lightbulb from the catalog
but the real light was you
the right light
the light I had been missing
i knew it the moment I saw you.
my heart pushed inside my chest,

but fell into your hands, where it will stay.

your energy was radiant and centered
pulsing through my veins
I was aware now.
Everything in my life happened for a reason
Happened for this moment
time evaporated.

i was where I needed to be.
the stars were saying their hellos again,

casual greetings to a fleeting friend.

I was where I needed to be