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Feb 2017 · 649
a tragedy
jennee Feb 2017
there’s not much to say;
i wish i could hold you close and dear
but at arm’s length, you are far beyond reach
i cannot feel your breath against my neck
i cannot feel your hands around my waist
yet we crave every inch of touch
we crave for each other’s taste

it’s such a tragedy to fall into
a love so fragile and secure
but is it love, lust or loneliness?
or are we merely avoiding the question?
are we drowning,
just for the sake of making one another feel whole?
do these hands and smiles revolve around misguided truths?
are your words cloaked in lies or are mine disputed moves?

i guess we will never know

(n.j.)
Dec 2016 · 645
untitled #19
jennee Dec 2016
drifty blazed eyes open the skies
to be carried along currents of floating lullabies
a soul to suspend on teardrops instead of buildings,
clouds instead of windows, embodying birds instead of foreign creatures
---- i shift my exterior and fall into embrace
into the knowledge of good and evil
for i am with Her

(n.j.)
Nov 2016 · 395
the blue hour
jennee Nov 2016
rainbow pills and broken filters
tips and pockets filled with wine
breath so bitter, lips so broken
digging nails and brittle smiles
first light viewing with ticking wrists
5 am to smoking hills
bedded greens surround our feet
fading in with the best company

(n.j.)
company friendship love solitude nature life reality drugs cigarettes alcohol wine pills
Oct 2016 · 463
untitled #18
jennee Oct 2016
with a weak heart, she smoked a ton
paired with weak lungs and an alcohol craving of ten men
god knows when she'll drink herself to death
"but not today, not tonight", she said to herself

n.j.
Sep 2016 · 543
Past Midnight
jennee Sep 2016
On a Sunday Morning, past midnight at 2
The curtains danced to the faint blowing of an open window,
Welcoming the soft serenade of a young born season.
Tenderly brushing against the moon-kissed concrete and cemented barriers,
Awake was a soul secluded yet only six inches laid between them.
Surrounded by a hedge of sturdy bookshelves and custom-made decors
The soul watched their towers dominate over their demons,
Certain of the security and what they had to offer.
Needless to say, this was their safest haven,
A place they can call their own.

But there was something reassuring
About the subtlety of the melody that played
On a Sunday, past midnight at 2 in the morning.
The air breathing in life into crisp pages
And knocking gently, elegantly on the tempered surfaces
Although life only played behind a curtain,
Hands that held only books and pens,
Eventually craved for the outside’s blessing
And awake was a soul patiently waiting for its turn.

(n.j.)
Sep 2016 · 354
6/24/16
jennee Sep 2016
there is nothing beyond nor over
the sheets remain cold and empty
i am buried under
the tables are rotting
my knees, shivering despite the comfort
but what is comfort when everything is fabricated?
and coated in complete isolation?

(n.j.)
a poem i found from months ago
Sep 2016 · 931
eastwood
jennee Sep 2016
i took a route to eastwood
far off the end of a road that does not exist
i took a route
and was enticed by the aroma of growing freedom
kempt and hidden, underneath the soil and concrete
it was numbers away and off the grid
a name, almost too ordinary and typical
of what it offered, i did not know
but the uncertainty was what kept me going
a motivation for my augmenting footsteps
a sense of clarity for my clouded reasons and thoughts

i took a route to eastwood
far off the end and beyond the bustling surface
i took a route
and was enticed by the introverted trees featured alongside the lonely roads
of what it offered, i wasn't sure
but i welcomed the idea of a new beginning with open arms and an open heart
and a certainty for happiness

(n.j.)
eastwood - represents happiness, freedom and a new beginning
road - route to eastwood is non-existent; happiness and freedom is rare, almost impossible to find
Sep 2016 · 704
a reply (untitled #17)
jennee Sep 2016
i've been in a bad headspace for days so i decided to write a poem (untitled #17) but was unable to finish it yet despite feeling low i wanted to distract myself and not dwell on the bad thoughts. i thought i saved the poem as a draft but it turned out i posted it which in return received a lot of likes and a few comments.

so here is the continuation of the poem that i managed to finish during class:*

i woke up with a pain in my chest
a frantic pulse, beating and beating
i feel as though i've reached my end
my once dead now awakened cravings
are all that i have left
there is this hopelessness that refuses to subside
no matter what i offer or wish to abide
i cling to the funeral my mind
continues to fantasize
because no death is beautiful,
no cover up could disguise such hardships
and crumbling torment we hide


(n.j.)
Sep 2016 · 749
untitled #17 (incomplete)
jennee Sep 2016
i woke up with a pain in my chest
a frantic pulse, beating and beating
i feel as though i've reached my end
my once dead now awakened cravings
are all that i have left

there is this hopelessness that refuses to subside
no matter
Aug 2016 · 551
sweet refrain
jennee Aug 2016
as dusk spreads throughout,
i fall back to admire
not the zippo in hand
but the blazing fire
and the overhead skies
of the aging countryside

i taste the tenderness
of a sweet refrain,
not bitter nor sweet
i taste the yesterday
of the growing grains
and unsung poetry

my vision doesn't falter
for i see what i see
how the trees lean in closely
to the wind's whispers
and the grasping waters,
loving generously

maybe i'm selfish to only admire
to infect my body whilst
plunging in solitude,
waiting for the hours to die
but i am content,
with what i perceive
to diminish is one thing

but this, this is beauty

(n.j.)
Aug 2016 · 507
untitled #16
jennee Aug 2016
her eyes would go
to all sorts of faraways
body, mind and soul disconnected
yet merged into the perfect embodiment
breathing in a world filled with plastic and insincerity
behold are her hands that work wonders and as her words of pure,
she is the clearest vast of ocean and slate you will ever come across to witness

a flower amongst a field of defiled individuals
she is, if not, the closest to perfect

(n.j.)
Jul 2016 · 880
proximity
jennee Jul 2016
at 15, i remember the close proximity of our breaths exchanging
ours, as in you and i farther like two souls searching for something that isn't there
i learned to bottle up emotions;
building walls yet having a door exclusively open, just for you
but i was young and naive,
what i had whole is now broken in two

(n.j.)
Jul 2016 · 1.4k
lifehouse
jennee Jul 2016
her vision hovers the waters,
with hands aquivered and acquainted
to the sticks and stones that resided under
and beneath the seabed
her mind floats like a lifeboat
of words yet helpless and taciturn,
she remains silent for the rest of the trip
but her eyes are more than the reaching arms,
she is a lifehouse, a tower
to each and every one of them
anything but an overshadower,
a breather of hope and endearment

(n.j.)
Jun 2016 · 468
disconnect
jennee Jun 2016
i sever the remaining parts
hoping to be understood
i disconnect from my beating heart
to depart from the reality i face;
to mask away false emission,
to further distance the demons
but inevitable is a mind of sorrow
that falls deep into oblivion

(n.j.)
Jun 2016 · 835
the perfect company
jennee Jun 2016
two lost souls seep
through like melding poetry
their bodies leak
and conform to genuinity
svelte as the words
and actions they speak
beauty steadily unfolds
within their skin
signifying the imperfections
of perfect harmony

(n.j.)
Jun 2016 · 1.0k
past tense
jennee Jun 2016
weightless when heavy:

i feel a constant dread
i am shifting through time
when pinned to the walls
of claustrophobic chambers
i part away the vital parts
of thoughts and battered fragments
i disintegrate into intractable purpose
i disappear, i am finished:

i am past tense

(n.j.)
in a bad headspace. anxiety's kicking in. it's one of those nights where i am trying so hard to drown out the thoughts with music, with alcohol, with anything but i can't really fix what my mind is telling me that's broken.
Jun 2016 · 392
vividly
jennee Jun 2016
i hear the crunch of mundane mornings below my feet
it is not autumn but a distant memory
of hollow mouths that stretched, i remember so vividly
smiles quenching at the thought of breakfast
mother emptying leftovers, platters over sink
hands resting side by side
feet stomping away for what awaits
corners lingered by a familiar scent
of abandoned tobacco packets
and floral ascending from crevices
of cracked windows
distinguishable sidewalks and undersized shops,
i remember finding my way into
the sugar cones and plastic cups,

a perfect picture that forever
resides inside my heart,

i remember them so vividly

(n.j.)
Jun 2016 · 956
clockwork
jennee Jun 2016
seeking, she clenches her fists
digging, into her fragile skin
weary of what comes after
everything else is uncertain
to howling thuds of blackout doors
mouth accompanied by crippled words
she sings to the pendulum
with ticking wrists

(n.j.)
Jun 2016 · 454
the little things
jennee Jun 2016
it's the little things that we appreciate, like how the body forms into a shell ready to take you in,
welcoming you into their mind of oceans and currents as they willingly embrace you
we attempt to picture every moment we have with them, wondering if we'll ever fit the frame
conversations are merely recordings that fade into background, the true connections made through sincerity, subtle glances and intense regard
the flesh and skin that they wear appear as exhibits that we alone can touch
their presence a reward, their words a treasure for the heart
we notice the fine lines, their dainty wrists, and veiny hands
we notice their crooked smiles and how the corners hang like a wanderer stapled to the moon
we romanticize too much of everything that is easily dismissed by everyday eyes
although almost invisible, they mean every beat of the heart
to every fiber of the soul, to ever breath we breathe in
so when the smiles disappear like forgotten dust, we cannot help but fall apart
we disintegrate into tossed cigarette butts that once resided on lips we love
we cannot forget the way they laced their fingers together, or how they made their coffee
how their ears are shaped, how they gazed into space when we watched them wondering what they were thinking
how they carried their feet when we dragged them, conversing in drunken breaths
because nothing is as simple as that, a disappearance like a thief in the night who took our lives with them
nothing will resemble or replace even a strand of hair
because it's the little things that tear us apart as well

n.j.
Jun 2016 · 989
seekers
jennee Jun 2016
as human beings and consumers, we often seek for contentment
as seekers, we search for satisfaction to fill in missing parts of us we think we need
as lovers, we seek for attention, longingness and to be far off from the void
we search for what is relevant enough to be the food of our soul, and as we consume we are never satisfied
so we seek for satisfaction, wanting more
and with hands full, a heart pouring out of selflessness, we destroy ourselves
as we fall in love, we fall apart
giving and offering missing puzzle pieces that exist within us
as we gradually become into nothing, we feed off of others, consuming whatever it is they have left
we accept their love, and they, our flaws
aware that we are only body parts that are reconnecting
as we heal, we occupy their vacancies, filling in missing parts that have been hollow for too long
we become their musings, their vertebrae of support
they become our sanctuary and our hope
they become the memories that look into the future
instead of the mistakes that shaped who we are

n.j.
May 2016 · 601
untitled #15
jennee May 2016
the walls leaned in closer every time she spoke
as fleeting as her voice, time shook before her
her hands were the minutes and the hours
her smile was a reminder, her eyes were a lover's
yet she belonged to no one but herself
each breath took was a second lost
each word drifted and passed around
each picture taken was a memory
she was slowly slipping towards death
and although she knew,
there was always something beautiful about it

n.j.
May 2016 · 518
i know nothing
jennee May 2016
your words spill like hot coffee across the table
with every syllable and touch of the tongue against your palate
i am still not used to how clouded your mind is
you often forget that i exist as a person with emotion,
a person with scars that can gradually reopen
i realized throughout the days that you barely know the little things,
like my favorite color, the reason behind my smiles and the passion
that i've grown used to hiding
you forget to question the reason behind my tears,
you forget to hold me when i'm surrounded by all these fears,
but i guess i've gotten used to knowing
that your words can't always fix what's broken inside

you say that i know nothing
but with every sweep of your broom,
with every wipe of your cloth
against the corners that have slowly started to collect dust
you bury me under what used to be a colossal of a heart
i try to suffice this cup with a love-filled gesture,
a written letter, an explanation to why i am an apparent disappointment
but nothing will ever be enough

you say that i know nothing
but to rely on the people around me
you say that i can't cook to please,
that i can't fix things and that i'm clueless on how to live this life
that has been given to me
that my hands are too weak to hold the stirring wheel
that my skin is too soft and easily grazed
that i can't satisfy a husband if needed be

so i'm sorry and that i know nothing
but to observe life from a far away distance
that i've been too busy trying to fix my mistakes
instead of cleaning the messes i leave behind
i'm sorry for being a lousy driver
for as my weak hands have to offer
only comfort and guidance to the people i love the most
i'm sorry for clinging to my own perspective of wisdom
instead of working towards the outcome,
for leaving the dishes as they towered one on top of the other
i'm sorry for being human, and for being a daughter
that has not passed your expections
for being the one that knows nothing more
but to cherish the hands meant for reaching places instead of bed sheets
meant for adventure, instead of suffering

i'm sorry for living
Apr 2016 · 284
untitled #14
jennee Apr 2016
10:34PM*

i'm torn between filling an entire page with my stream of thoughts and collapsing into bed, hoping i'll never wake up again in the morning. it's terrifying to think that something so dreadful could easily cloud up a mind that's trying so hard to escape from death. but i can't help feel anything but discontent and the constant disarray of patterns and paths i wish to fix.

but what can i do when i can't even fix myself?

n.j.
Apr 2016 · 370
victims of time
jennee Apr 2016
time is painful to deal with. sometimes i wish it never existed. we cannot grasp or stop it from going back or forward, we're only left with how it is and what will be.

eventually it is the only thing left to accompany us alongside accepting the deaths of loved ones and those of the unbeknownst. our lives befall victim to numbered days, hours, seconds and we cannot control the outcome. my only wish is to not see you suffering into shivering hands too fragile they might crumble. to be able to fulfill dreams without the cost of the lives of another.

i wish i could be able to hold you until your final hour but who knows, there could be something more distant than distance that will never bring us as close as we are now together. nothing can compare to the present affection we offer to families, lovers and friends. most of all, nothing is more beautiful than the never-ending dedication and loyalty that we will carry on as treasures buried deep in our hearts.

we will continue to love past coffins and tombstones, sickness or health, touch or longing to get rid of the ache that we feel.

and we will always wonder why there's never enough time to love the ones we want to, the ones we need to.

n.j.
Mar 2016 · 307
untitled #13
jennee Mar 2016
i wish i could have met you in a past life, somewhere deep into the future or a different environment. a foreseeable destiny of
disassembled events, waiting to be rearranged into a different order. maybe you and i could have perfectly fit in, as i've always imagined us to be

but unfortunately imaginations seem to fall under fairy tales and tragedies, because sometimes *what we want won't always be
Mar 2016 · 530
gravity
jennee Mar 2016
we all rely on the gravity that pulls us back into the earth when our heads are caught up in the clouds. the world is one gigantic living and breathing organism that latches on to the beliefs we so speak. but what separates me from you are the barriers that position us in places where we're out of reach. and all i desire for is to be able to meet you, see you and acknowledge the fact that you are real.

i move from place to place until i lose count of all the people i encounter and i feel as if we may have crossed paths on the streets or the grocery store or daily hour. i'd be lying if i say that i never get tired of searching for you every day but i believe the world moves in mysterious ways so that one day those walls will crumble and disappear and everything else will fall into place, and just maybe you might be real.

i drag my feet across concrete and daily routines often forgetting that the world is indeed too unfathomable to explain. you could have been that person gazing out the window of hotel rooms or vehicles. you could have been the person in front of the line, counting your change before making your way. you could have seen the scars on my arms or my vacant eyes and how you wished you could have approached me in some way that wasn't odd for you and i. maybe you could have said hi. but such acknowledgments are often dismissed with eye contacts and smiles, sometimes not even our senses could be leaned on. our true intentions disguised with glances, subtle hand brushes and complete negligence.

quickly enough, you are nothing but just a stranger walking past me unknowingly with only the thoughts of daily routines clouding up your mind. you may forget the order of things and misinterpret a stare as elusive, wishfully hoping it could have been an introduction to a greeting. i apologize for not initiating on to the next step and only admiring how lonely a human being could get, standing alongside me and many others yet our bodies seem to respond only to each other intensely but subtly to the eye.

we both know the holdback is agonizing and we wish for the day when we would be running our fingers through the rubble of the walls we tear down. for now, what we believe in will remain as thoughts. the world will always contradict with our stream of desires, dreams and feelings. you and i may not know of each others' existence but everything else on this earth is alive, living and breathing, and in time i will be able to look at you in the eyes and know for sure that you are all that is real.

n.j.
do you ever wish you could have said 'hi' to a stranger but never had the guts to do so? i have, many times and it got me thinking on how you and that certain person could just be at the wrong time and place and that one day the world will eventually bring the two of you back together where things will easily fall into order, and your encounter with that person could be life-changing.
Mar 2016 · 674
the wilting flower
jennee Mar 2016
there was always this crack in her voice when she spoke, sometimes not too distinct but it was almost as if she was trying to block out the noise and the arms that try to reach
she stood like a wilting flower, head bowing at pavements and worn out tiles yet she possessed this beauty that signified the last dying hours of a queen
she was lovely but lacked being loved and although her hands were made to stretch out to pieces that could build her whole, she was always too lonely, too alone
her heart gravitated toward those who were broken and upon seeking she served as their comfort and they, as body parts, temporary but not permanent enough to keep her together
she was a puzzle piece that never fit, often dismantled and avoided but despite solitary, she ignited like a bleeding petal
an unperceivable watch on broken wrists, ticking the life out of human beings, a countdown forever on repeat
she would have never guessed how many hearts she could capture just by grasping them with her eyes, so departed and vacant from feet-up yet so alive
such a beautiful girl capable of suicide and saving lives of those who now continue to remain as survivors
yet any second, this wilting flower could give out and die
and sadly, her beauty wouldn't be enough to save her life

n.j.
jennee Mar 2016
knowing that i left you
would you ever take me back?
despite the unfinished memories
and towered building blocks?
if you knew i'd disappear
would you never say those words?
would you cut me off our strings
would you never fall in love?
would you never fall for me?

n.j.
missing you terribly, every single day.
Mar 2016 · 744
untitled #12
jennee Mar 2016
don't look at me as if i'm some piece of side trash left alone to rot like a cigarette ****
stop discarding my worth and comparing me to those less like me
i am not expendable
but i am just like you, not an ashtray of growing remains and dust

n.j.
Feb 2016 · 428
the house (#1)
jennee Feb 2016
the most prominent thing i remember is the back of your head and how the last thing i always picture is the front door closing
my heart is left empty and so is my bed
i can't claim it to be ours, not anymore in this room of broken promises
i wish you could have left me your clothes hanging, then maybe you would have lingered longer than the wind or of how cigarettes smell
you may be wondering why i'm struggling for air, trust me i've been trying to quit but with every drag and stick your face shows up in between and if that's the only way to not forget then i'd rather choke on coughing fits
the day you carried out your bags, you took away what belonged to me as well
you were the whole package of dreams and soon to be's, you were my future but you cut the strings and i had no choice but to let you slip through my fingers
you stayed long but how you withdrew yourself from me was an act of retreat
you did not have to leave
so if you ever come back searching for me, know that all i have to offer is to forgive
we make mistakes as human beings, it's our nature's way of living but i will never blame you for wrong doings
i will love you for as long as these corners stand firm and still, afterall this was the house we lived in
a series of poems about a fictional character named 'jennee reed'
Feb 2016 · 381
the ocean i once knew
jennee Feb 2016
we drown out to sea, we drown in our fears
the warmth of the city lights, i can't feel them anymore
cries of stray cats and dogs, i hear them echo
but the currents keep dragging me deep down below
my voice screams for aid but nobody hears
those words have been lost in the abyss for all of these years
facade so misleading, existence irrelevant
the warmth of the city lights, i can't taste them anymore

"mother! mother!", i knock at the door
i look to my shoes searching but i don't know what for
short ***** fingers that fold into a fist
"mother! mother!", i exclaim as she opens the door
"the carnival! the carnival, it's here!
i can taste the aroma of the air, its fragrance so pure and clear
brewed tea, cotton candy, ferris wheels and balloons,
feet running to and fro, lovers hand in hand and kisses in the middle of june"
the warmth of the city lights, i can feel them once more

a heart warming smile presses across my mother's lips
the sorrow and the pain, they flush into the abyss
the frames of her face, the joy in her eyes and the subtle wrinkles are perceivable, i fear she's getting old
the city lights, they fade away all of a sudden
and just like that, i can't feel them anymore


but that was years ago, i am where i am
i have taken these feelings of my heart into my mouth
i am always drenched in water, lonely, soaked and cold
for i am the ocean, the sea
i am the currents of these soon forgotten memories
i will disappear into the bottom, until i am nothing,

until i am no more

n.j.
edited version, poem written on october 12, 2012
Feb 2016 · 282
through
jennee Feb 2016
i woke up to the sheer curtains
glancing at my shoulders and feet
and the absence of the tears
trickling down my dry cheeks
i found myself gazing at the traveling clouds
instead of chasing the shadow of the moon

i started breathing again

the corners of the bedroom
of where i lay and stood
felt clustered for far too long
i realized that all i had to do
was unlock the door and i would be through
into the hallway and out the front porch
i'll stare at the beaming sun
and have patience shower me
with all that is good

i am alive and worth more
than any of the words that they spoke

n.j.
Feb 2016 · 748
Untitled #11
jennee Feb 2016
tranquilize the heat
my body conceives
i am a sacred human being
not a functional machine
made up of cogs
and dependent body parts

i am more than someone
to just disregard

n.j.
Feb 2016 · 836
such tiny hands
jennee Feb 2016
i lay awake at night
reminiscing on beautiful memories
until a snag sticks out of the corner of my recollections
my throat collapses tightly
like the tragedy i'm meant to fade into

for 5 years i've been trying to put together
the mystery of how you looked at me
i keep trying to seal my eyes with your love
but i am clouded by the haunting reality
that what i want will never be

i will always remember
how you held my thin wrists
my veins pulsating through my skin to yours
and how such tiny hands
could grasp the entirety of my heart

i remember the poetry you spoke
word after word
they built up a passion inside i thought i had lost
you showed me what the world was worth

but then the world split into two
just like my heart
you fell in love, and i was lost again
the ground swallowed me whole

but no matter the whereabouts
of the sheets that cover up the scars i have succumbed
i will lay awake reminiscing the beauty of these memories

of how i had fallen in love

n.j.
i think of you and i instantly think of love. no matter if unrequited or how much people view it as a stupid crush, the years that have passed will always be a reminder that you were and will always be my first love
Feb 2016 · 741
create
jennee Feb 2016
i am glowing from within
i feel something inside of me sprouting and begging to be set free
it's telling me that it's alright to have messy hands for words and torn pages i can't yet seem to comprehend
my fingertips are soaked in specks of imaginary turned to reality
and i am grasping them with every will that i've got in order to create something extraordinary
i am living art; i do not need a canvas to lay out my work because i know that the roads will take me there
i am aware that during the early years that there will be people willing to pay to watch me fail
but i am a human being designed to create
and i don't want to waste my breath dwelling and holding onto things that i can't proudly say are mine
i may fail but i will not stay down only to be eaten alive
i will face death in order to overcome these voices that have been residing for far too long in my head
and they will never take me, i will never give in

n.j.
inspired by david bowie
Jan 2016 · 568
extinction:alive
jennee Jan 2016
existing felt like one impending catastrophe
a burning cigarette, one after the other
there were moments when i wanted
my nights to be smothered by the trickling rain
as i gazed at the molding ceiling
i wanted to breathe smoke into their lungs
because nobody left alive is meant to stay clean
i had this uncontrollable urge to cover up
my patches with bruises and cuts with scars
and while others imagined forehead kisses
i fantasized bullet wounds and torn tissues,
oozing blood and split-second animate eyes

sunday mornings felt redundant
as the sermons of claimed priests,
i am not catholic, i am not your puppet
nor is that newborn you're immersing in filthy water
i'd rather envelop myself in the world's destruction
than misguided man-made beliefs,
so never wake me up in the mornings

leave me be to choke on my own spit for breakfast
i've always felt more alive with clogged lungs
a kick in the teeth for lunch, vermilion blotches,
split lips and discoloration for supper
leave me be to walk into my own extinction
covering a thousand miles of boiling rot

life is anything but a gift,
death is what we are

n.j.
Jan 2016 · 413
Untitled #10
jennee Jan 2016
If I had known where I am today
I'd pack my bags just to get away
Maybe to get lost because I was too afraid
Of my own thoughts
I'd walk the city in search of relief
To avoid seclusion that my demons seek
I'd start a journey far beyond human's reach
Because I'd rather walk a thousand than nothing
And surpass destinations that I've never been

n.j.
Jan 2016 · 501
departing
jennee Jan 2016
buildings will crumble
like our bones wrapped in flesh and skin,
nothing is ever permanent
not even the bodies we try to keep sacred
the bloodstreams and rivers will run dry
while the sun loses touch
and our eyes may lose their sight
everything will feel departing like fragile infants,
crawling through rotting dust
we will seek for guidance when our vision leads us astray,
when our hands mold into the forgotten ground

n.j.
jennee Jan 2016
the moments pass by like fading eclipses and melting snow
i'll melt away into the dark and picture the fingers that caressed my skin,
you cradled my heart and watched me grow
thank you for being there as i witnessed the city lights behind foggy windows
for kissing my knees and elbows, for showing me how to pour milk into cereal
for every second you bury your fists into the dirt, you never complained,
no matter even if i never thanked you enough
i threw away the chances i got, so here's the best that i'm given
i dedicate this poem to you that's written in between listening to records at 2 am
the smudginess of how clear i want my gratitude to come across will remain turbid
and you can tell by the skies how much i miss the weekends by the bay,
the sand between my toes and shoes colliding with the gravel
i miss the summer and winters but this family is all i have to remember things by
thank you for being the angels that stood by my side. i appreciate the guidance that light during dark tunnels
for not forcing me to change despite my greasy hair and scraped knuckles
thank you for running with me and for catching my tears when they fall
you loved me unconditionally, the kind of love a daughter could ever ask for
you traced my smile with yours and connected my bones when i was lost
you picked me up when i tried collecting dust off of table corners,
you said it was okay to feed and love the cats that roamed the streets
and i will forever admire your courage and sincerity
although life is but a fleeting journey in which our hands were once that held onto overgrown grass and our mother's hair,
let us remember this moment when everything feels less of temporary
let us appreciate the people that held our hearts,
let us thank them with a kiss, a hug, words on paper, a work of art
let us continue to love them

so here it is, my thank you to you

n.j.
dedicated to my loving parents
Jan 2016 · 389
new beginnings
jennee Jan 2016
i'm tired of wasting away
i want to gather what's been lost and destroyed
and bury the demons that have kept me astray
the ashes will not be remains
but reminders of how i've grown and become strong
this is not a declaration of my weakness
but an announcement that i am a fighter
who is sick of silently screaming,
i want to scream until my lungs are sore
i don't want to put up a smile to a mask that is slowly slipping,
i don't want to give up, not anymore
Dec 2015 · 612
eventually
jennee Dec 2015
maybe i'm missing out on something
but i can't seem to associate myself with these characters
who have fallen in and out of love
i feel like an unwritten persona who's buried underneath
all of these repetitive girls shown on screen
i read books to search for truth and meaning
maybe something a little more realistic
but i find myself speaking such words like
"who am i really?"
i try to search for that one person
to prove if there are things as meant to be's
but it feels as if i'm looking at the wrong directions
or maybe i haven't even started searching to begin with
so here's to everyone who's ever felt lonely
and can't put themselves in their shoes
here's to unrelatable first kisses
and missed opportunities,
secluded activities and muttered words
you and i are worth more than wasted virginities,
frustrating in betweens and cluttered beings
we are made separately for reasons
that make us question our existence
our worth surpasses those of fairy tales
and unrealistic love stories
we are definitions of life itself
we are our own characters
who seek for unconventional journeys
and unscripted settings
maybe we won't fall in love today or tomorrow
or the weeks to come
maybe we will stop to consider that what we have
is not equivalent to heartfelt experiences
maybe we look for something more profound and complex
a cathartic release worth feeling
maybe we are lost at the thought of love
and can't seem to find our way back into it
what i know for sure is that
i am not that girl you will hear from books
i am nothing like them nor the movies
that everyone's gullible enough to believe in
and so are you
we are what's unique and true
and no one can force us to fall in love
no one can tell us when or where
because they will never have the privilege,
to compile and secure mediocre scenes
we will eventually fall into place with our own stories
but i guess for now we're just missing out

n.j.
Dec 2015 · 768
recurrence
jennee Dec 2015
she looks at his eyes while he stares at her thighs
and he's wondering if she's going to sleep with him tonight
the dress that hangs by her dainty physique is meant to impress
but all he pictures is what's underneath
their hearts beat giving values to their chests
of treasured boxes kept locked away from all of the rest
she wishes for solace and an assurance to not be pressed
he wishes to gain her trust and to take over, hoping for a nightly event of passionate ***
he lures her into a loophole of false intent
she smiles at his slipping mask but continues to reciprocate
they exchange words over drunk breaths
but she is too intoxicated so she forgets
her tenuous wrists are taken into his
she tries to refuse but eventually gives in
to forceful attainment and prohibited entry
she wonders if her racing heart will be heard through her thin exterior
she wonders if there are other words for "help"
and why men always have to be the superior
her fingers are helpless along with tight shut eyes
clothing sliding from svelte body parts, past unconscious skin
she senses heavy breathing, not hers, to keep herself wondering
unaware and completely susceptible
she falls asleep, passing out with her body against his

the sun will kiss her tender cheeks
with the absence of coffee drinks
she will be awake and lying next to nothing but empty sheets
she will remember looking into his eyes
hoping that he was the one to keep her safe from reoccurring lies
but he was nothing but a crooked thief
who robbed her of her entirety

n.j.
a poem that i made about 2 months ago
jennee Nov 2015
Listening to songs that remind me of winter
Chilling guitars and ice cold skin
I taste bliss on chapped lips
Tiny hairs on my arms that go unnoticed stand on end
The heat is rising here, it feels like summer yet Christmas is fast approaching
I miss my childhood of hazy mornings, heavy eyelids appreciating windows pressed with mist
Layers of clothing that will never satisfy the warmth of my skin
I miss the innocence that I once held
Handprints on glass spaces facing city lights every day and night
Craving for warm bodies wrapped around thick blankets, awaiting the first sunrise of Christmas Eve
My family's love and warmth never beyond reach
I miss the way my stomach filled, as I exchanged smiles and gifts across the dinner table
And I despise the way such songs remind me of the way I felt during those winters

I miss the little girl who didn't care if her smile made her teeth look big

I miss the little girl with clean skin and intentions

I miss my family that always stood by each other

I miss the 10 years that slipped away from my fingers

I miss winter and how the little things remind me of excited footsteps echoing and filling up walls of a household of four individuals

The foggy windows, chilly mornings, familiar lights, laughter and smiles stored enough to keep our bodies warm for the days to come

I miss the songs sung by our stereos, pervading the air with joyous breaths as we exchange bright possibilities and futures

I miss the Christmas that I've always known

n.j.
Nov 2015 · 486
Cycle
jennee Nov 2015
I don't think this cycle is meant to be broken
I seem to be running in circles, frequently going back into old habits like it's bound to happen
I detest each passing day with a passion because I should be living a life worth telling and I should be dreaming dreams that I will make into a reality
But I keep cutting my words short, filling my lungs with smoke and body with scars too prominent to show
I have nothing to look forward to, my days feel numbered and I'm not responding well to the help I'm offered
I'm burying my voice along with the others, I'm not afraid of them anymore

I will let them devour me alive, watch them tower over me until I am nothing, until I am no more

n.j.
The voices won't stop
Nov 2015 · 730
I...
jennee Nov 2015
I don't know what makes me so insecure
I don't understand why I'm so drawn to obscurity
I ask too many questions behind a closed mouth
I am prone to failure and imperfection
My thoughts are orderly aligned and filled with doubt

I write but fail yet my goal is to silence the voices that won't stop speaking
I express in quietness but the messages I bear are too deafening to hear
I am that girl by the corner, fiddling her fingers
Covering her ears with music and pulling down the sleeves to mask unacceptable scars
I am the girl you won't notice when you walk through that door

I am too shy and lonely for such an early age
I keep myself up all night with conversations and words I wish I had said, yet
I am preoccupied with hours of sleep to forget the anxiety I built
I crave for death yet every ounce of my body is telling me to live
I am a mess I can't fix, I search for answers yet I am too blind to see solutions that are laid in front of me

n.j.
Nov 2015 · 708
Unpoetic
jennee Nov 2015
I have lost my words
Which I turn to for repose and release
They have disappeared and transformed
Into slurred speeches and mismatched colors
My fingers, they search for comfort
Lacing each other in confusion

I cannot find the words I am looking for
My thoughts have remained quiet for too long
What I thought was a spectrum I could rely on
Is as bland and dull as the skin I have worn

My eyes are a perception of lies
Only visualizing in black and white
My mouth a conception of verbal conundrum
Confusing and replacing words
Once so facilely found

I am born into a world
I'm not even sure I can call my own
I do not know where I am from
I cannot find the words I wish for anymore

n.j.



https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/11/06/unpoetic/
Oct 2015 · 810
Flightless
jennee Oct 2015
Drain me out

I am a flightless bird soaked in deep water
Hindered by the heaviness of my feathers
Constantly weighing down my flock
I am not my own burden
But a bag of rocks thrown into the ocean
A corpse to never be found
When meant to catch the eyes of the innocent
My body refuses to stay afloat
My mind is living under
And I have no choice but to hit rock bottom

So hear me out

Carry my withering bones and feathers
When my body decides to give out
I cannot keep living under water
I am not meant for this environment
My skin is meant to feed the clouds of freedom
Tracing linear passages and unsteady travels,
With my own people
We are meant to soar into oblivion
Of building dreams and vision
But my mind keeps living under
And I cannot escape what has harvested inside
I have no choice but to hit rock bottom

n.j.
https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/10/22/flightless-2/
jennee Oct 2015
The wind howls to the craters of the moon, wondering if its lack of breath is another respiratory disease waiting to happen
As bodies crash into the ocean and casualties increase by every bottled up sensibility
The cracks of cardboard doors fill up the voids of emptiness,
Emptiness of washed up filth and five days worth of street toxic meant for the guts too vacant to feel
Their doors quiver to every knock and exhale, families too hungry, awaiting to devour assurance of safety
Just this once, they are asking for a little more
Than numbered days of handfuls of rice and rock salt, enough to feed the mouths of eight
Teeth clicking to every bite, bones clashing together to prolong the food not more than a mouthful
However this time the clicking doesn’t stop
It intensifies as street light poles plummet into windows and shards are washed away, seeping through soaked doors
They are told to leave these places without titles but this unnamed land is their entitlement and home
Their mother whose tongue is a symphony of lullabies remains silent, hoping for the storm to pass
Lips swollen from biting, she looks at her children with fear in her eyes, tears reflecting the shattered bulb that hangs by the kitchen ceiling
She links her arms to her children’s, grips their skin tightly hoping to warm their shivering exterior while whispering the words “they’ll come for us”

Time elapses and the water rises, their properties enveloped by the disease
Their house disappears along with it, in a downward current of pitch black and rotten forestry
What is left is a family of seven, arms linked and accompanied by the howling wind,
Slowly diminishing with its lack of breath, becoming a nationwide debris

n.j.
https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/10/18/cardboard-doors-typhoon-koppu/
jennee Oct 2015
Scatter the ashes that have become steady flesh
Before someone collects them to bury the remains in a false cemetery
Scatter them quickly into the flowing rivers and high up in the skies
I am parallel to their world; I am the closest to death

Ligaments and veins that was once compelling
Supreme yet a puppet to garrulous demons
An artistic treasure box of limited oxygen
Fell victim to powerless witnesses that chose to keep their silence

When our bodies collapse and our hearts expire
Revive my breath with visitations and flowers
Although I am now a river and a turbid sky
I am parallel to your world yet I am right here by your side

n.j.
https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/10/17/when-our-bodies-collapse-and-our-hearts-expire/
Oct 2015 · 749
the hummingbird
jennee Oct 2015
coming home from a long day of school, i am welcomed by my mother's kisses yet it's the blade's that touch my cheek
i feel the long glides of hello's and how are you's creep up my veins and sleeves
my heart pounds like a hummingbird, except this time there's no bird but a desperate cry clawing at the door
my throat catches itself as i skip lunch with an empty stomach. my tears will be all that's left to ingest and the dining room will be my bathroom floor
i collapse on my knees drenched in uniform sweat, punching the tiles and marble décor
why is it, that every time i strip i reach for sharp edges instead of shower curtains?
why do my hands try to break the buildings of restraint? why are they strong enough to reach for the blades?
and why am i considered weak if i resort to such violence?

i cannot remember the last time my thighs looked bare
each time i recall, i see a naked canvas stained with red and purple
my individual hairs dipped in fresh cuts and my head spinning around in circles
each time i try to forget the lunch i skipped and the conversations of unspoken words i never said,
the skull behind my forehead trembles with regret
and i’ll remember how my heart would pound like the wings of a hummingbird
flying back and forth, clawing and tearing my chest open as i reach for the door

my mom awaits me with kisses to welcome me home
but i’ll be too eager to collapse on the bathroom floor

n.j.
https://perennialink.wordpress.com/2015/10/12/depression-and-self-harm-the-hummingbird/
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