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Bad news is:

You cannot make people like, love, understand, validate, accept or be nice to you. You can't control them either.


Good news is:

It doesn't matter.
be kind to yourself
It started flowing...
I started growing...

It started calling...
I started sprawling...

I'm needing action...
Some satisfaction...

I'm in the movies...
But they're so plastic...

Yeah I'll get outside...
Give me a minute...

When it gets lovely...
I'm all up in it...

Now just relax me...
I'm self-control now...

Still I wanna thank you...
For still knowing how.
Sometimes, I wish I had cameras in my eyes so we could look back on these moments and hold them and you could see how you made them golden.
Someone in the future could put my life on the screen,
cut scenes when I go to sleep, special behind-the-scenes of us making these memories
and I could just delete the ones I didn't want to keep.
I would never lose a second.
If my life was a piece of cinematic genius then I might try harder to keep this up:
I'd adjust my angles,
I'd check my volume,
I'd have the perfect songs to sing along to and everyone would buy the soundtrack CD,
if they were
just like me.

But you aren't.
See, I had a better opening verse but when my mind is made up of rhythm and rhyme, everything that isn't written down gets driven away in a ******* metaphorical hearse, the kind that you aren't allowed to ride in yet.
Your job isn't finished until mine is,
car crash collisions, underwater violence, silence, broken heart strings strung on a violin and a bass drum keeping us up to speed. See?
I'm a mash up of bad one-line poems and I'm not slowing down, not for anybody.
I've seen angels with broken halos and featherless wings, trying
so hard to fly but they're as successful as that extinct little kiwi,
who all died trying to fly but, hey, at least they went down swinging because we're
all
slaves
to gravity.
So these angels find spaces in their minds to curl up and sleep.
You've got your body on autopilot and don't you find it exhausting, to just stop trying?

Let's get back to the movie.
By then, we'll be living to infinity, like, for real, not just a symbol on the skin but a time to live.
Immortality.
So watching me breathe will be nothing in the wasteland of time that they will have to waste--
not currently, no, because currently our lives seem so short especially with empty promises of infinities and galaxies and light years away on another inhabited planet a kid like me is saying the exact same things because
there's no more originality,
not in this space,
not in the void of immortality.
And in My Life As A Movie, they'll see me:
standing in the street with you, holding hands and praising bands and feeling alive again,
because now we're aware--
of the angles,
of the volume,
of the sets and costumes,
of the film and the video rules
that I learned in high school.
Now that we know it's all a big production, we'll ruin the show.
Our voices will be whispers or shouts and the microphones will be too scratchy to catch what we're saying.
Our feet will fly like the angels once could, ruining any chance of an easy shoot.
My memories of you
are golden,
and I'd sell my mortality just to keep a good hold on them but I can't.
I don't want to.
Infinities are found throughout our galaxy,
but my only real infinity is you.
You, like a scratched DVD that sometimes slips off the screen because
we have our rough times, too.

I sometimes find myself wishing I had cameras in my eyes,
but then I think I'd rather be blind
so no one else sees you like I do.

The world isn't ready for that yet.
apeirophobia: the fear of infinities. written for a friend.
I held her close
her lips touched my neck
bite marks are left
but I felt something slipping away
but what I then didn't know
It wasn't her hand that slipped away
it was my beat
that was slowly fading
as I fell
in darkness
alone

*slipping away...
One angel can  **** your spirit
They aren't all as sweet as sugar
Some are like a poisionous apple
Numb to pain
Dead to life
Blind to the light
For you I sigh
A soul in search
For meaning in life
Must stop and listen
To the sound of love
And a life without plight
 May 2015 Haley Alexander
daniela
time’s going really ******* fast today,
always in all the wrong ways
it’s running out and it’s running away
it’s 10:52 PM and i’m trying to start over like
i’ve got a revolver to my ribcage
it’s 11:00 PM and i don’t want to see anyone i know ever again,
i want to get a car and keep driving
down I-70 until i learn how, until my hands never shake again
it’s 11:14 PM and i missed 11:11 again
it’s 12:01 AM and as i’m fine now, i just don’t want to talk about it
it’s morning now and the sun sets in your eyes
and it rises in another’s
and it’s funny how things change
and it’s funny how things stay exactly the same
this is the difference between a collision course and a test run
and a poem a day keep your demons at bay
or it draws them close, up under your skin and lets them in
a poem a day keeps insanity away
let me repeat: i am only as good as the demons i defeat
and if the monsters make me one of them,
i am only as good as what i’ve become
i am only as good as what i’ve done
i am only as good as what i haven't done
sometimes i think when you bet against the world,
the world bets against you
it’s just how it is
it’s probably karma or something like that,
but i’ve given up on reasoning for reasons and i guess
when you’re a non-believer sometimes no one wants to believe in you
i kind of think i’ll be desperately lonely no matter who i’m with
i think i’m on of those people who was born a little bit lonely
i think i’ll never be completely okay with that
but i think that’s okay
i’m just a stranger in my skin
and nobody really makes me feel at home anymore
and i think some days are longer than others
and i think it’s just never the ones you want it to be
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