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Jun 2020 · 116
the happiness was only a spur of mania
I wish I was the sun
the high wears off and I remember my skin
as he flicks his cigarette out the window.
you are the front porch light
that bathes the street in a nauseating yellow.
I dream of fields of flowers I can die in
stupid and empty.
stupid and empty.
swallowed in the discomfort of this aching body
a deer sprawled out in the middle of the road,
maggots gnawing at the skin- once full of youth
stumbling through June- time seemed to stop.
writing poems I won’t show anybody,
I won’t tell anyone I’m sick.
I just hope I remember this summer spent in hell.
Jan 2019 · 396
S:2 E:1
my love was born in the winter time. the crunch of frosted grass, the morning's dark and quiet- an endless sleep, but i am always awake. i love this life in the winter time. my lover was born in the winter time.
music for dead people S:2 E:1
Oct 2018 · 277
winters in indianapolis
winters in indianapolis with you
the places and the strange feelings they give off,
the music plays in the streets as the snow falls.
the mattress is on the floor,
it’s cold.
you take up most of the blanket.
skipping class to sleep in your bed,
warm showers
skin soft and fleshy
a text read at 2:30 a.m.
i miss getting ****** on the regular.
now all i have is pbr and silence at parties
autumns in Bloomington without you.
hugging the blanket after you leave.
it’s a hazy Sunday morning
looking at an empty seat across from me on the bus
how dark your eyes are in the moonlight
a void expanding
it felt like we were on the edge of a nuclear war
as the smoke from outside the brick house covered your face.
i don’t know how to tell you.
as if it really means much.
you always have to leave in the morning
no matter how much we both want you to stay.
but there’s an urgency,
the world might end for us tomorrow
and you won’t know.
the next week i am laying on decker’s cold apartment floor,
missing winters in Indianapolis with you.
forgetting how all of our favorite coffee shops closed down,
and the icy streets that never seemed to melt.
the sun will rise tomorrow and it will sit in the back of my head.
dark eyes long hair and the box of hamms you lugged up to nick’s apartment.
the old couch you slept on.
our drunken laughs.
how I wouldn’t tell you
because I wanted to do it sober.
the way you say goodbye in the morning.
you might be it.
you might be.
I watch the fields in Ohio turn from a soft brown to a decadent grey
as the ashes fall to the ground and consume you
waiting as the brown pools in the bottom of your mouth
As the soil pushes through-
stiff at the shoulders
soft in the stomach
I felt us become attached at the hip
as I asked you to pull the car over
So I can smoke a cigarette and stare at the moon.
how are you so bright and full?
like a streetlight hitting hard cold concrete
how could you make the stiffness so soft?
as the glow expands over the fields
I look at you, and the shadows of the dead trees
how wonderful they will come back to life in the summer
and so will we-
with our sunkissed knees
and the peeling of the skin
Softness smoothness
the most Vulnerable we will be near each other this year
stiff at the shoulders
Soft at the stomach
the fields stretch from Ohio to Virginia.
I wonder how I could apologize to you without saying any words.
without ******* myself
so I just point to the moon and hope it will be summer soon.
Hope that our skin will peel till it’s raw and fleshy,
And the soil will fall at our feet
as apologies.
the lighting bugs dancing around us.
I wonder if it will happen as I had once hoped.
Mar 2018 · 357
to harm an animal
there is no humane way to harm an animal
i say as you smoothly run the knife over my stomach
i am spilling out all over you
as you roll your cigarettes and touch my *******-
you do not look at the photographs i take
you do not read my poems
i am only a skeleton to you.
mount me on your wall
there is no humane way to ****** an animal
Tear into my flesh
Watch my body rot.
As it stretches and rolls and turns a pale green-
You know there is no humane way to ****** an animal-
But you like the taste.
I can smell it
The death dripping from yr mouth
deep crimson making a home for itself on your t-shirt
It is 2:39 a.m. in west virginia,
You’ve been sitting in yr car for 2 hours.
On your phone searching for the perfect flowers
And how to repent for your sins
Jesus sits on the cross-
The cemetery is an hour away.
Smoke another cigarette-
You’ve got time.
back on my *******
Jan 2018 · 372
a walk home
theres loneliness inside me.
very very deep down.
i can hear static when i look down at the ground.
the ice and snow mixing together
i can feel myself falling
its the most I’ve felt in a while.
i can see you from the ground here
you were drunk when you said it.
the whole thing about never leaving-
as you held my hand in the cold as the leaves were under our feet.
i am so used to watching you walk away.
counting the number of steps
until you are just a blurred figure.
i wonder what my mom would think
theres so much blood on my knees
as i shake,
and count
the number of steps
it takes me
to get
why did you lie to me
Jan 2018 · 337
i often dream of never waking up
my toes are sinking into the snow
watching the imperfect explosions in the sky.
there is no way to reach you from here.
you try to speak to me through the infinite spaces you found in the void
of internet forums we are both apart of.
i am trying to reach you from here.
as i try to figure out the exact pantone color of your eyes
so i can paint my apartment walls the shade of you i still remember.
i am shifting through the boxes,
drowning into the unfamiliar space i still cannot manage to call
i am a shape shifter.
trying to mold into that one perfect sad song.
i am desperately trying to reach you from here.
i am dead compared to you.
you’re so alive.
i am calling from the grave,
in the poems and the songs i write.
you are the sunrise i wake up to in the morning,
you are the color draining away from my skin
as i pour my black coffee and watch the birds go far away.
your eyes are PANTONE 19-0117 TPX-
vineyard green.
i don’t know if i’ll be here tomorrow
i don’t know if this place will ever feel like home.
and i don’t know if you can hear me.
Dec 2017 · 330
snorting coke makes me feel closer to god
she sung to me as i turned the lights off
and walked out of the room,
an aching in my back.
the only year i can remember is 2014,
before you grew your hair out,
and i didnt know your real name.
my sister is in her bedroom asleep.
having ******* dreams mixed with codeine.
i want to die in your basement.
as the footsteps are over my head,
we wont be sleeping tonight,
i’ve stopped getting high.
the only year i can remember is 2014,
and how your lips were cold.
and the times i lied and told my mother i was sick,
so i could lay in bed
and pretend the sheets were your arms.
but since then-
i have learned my bedsheets cannot touch my face and kiss my cheeks.
i am not in love with you anymore.
as flowers rot in-between my toes
and i watch explosions on tv screens.
nothing is real.
the only year i can remember is 2014.
i am not alone.
you are making me hot chocolate
and looking at the snow through your window
as the granite countertops reflect your figure,
i am holding onto to nothing-
and there is nothing all that important in my life I’m afraid of letting go of.
i let our knees touch in your basement.
i am completely vulnerable,
you are close to me.
but now you feel so far away, as i see you there by the pine trees.
i want to tell you how there is so much i remember about you that has been
sitting dormant in my head,
and how every moment with you seemed so beautiful, and how you will always mean so much to me.
the only year i remember is 2014.
we are meeting for the first time,
and i barely know anything about you,
not even your real name.
not even what your voice sounds like.
i sit next to you as you show me your favorite songs.
and i tell you about my favorite things,
as the autumn leaves fall on concrete,
the suburbs feel endless.
my voice doesn’t shake around you.
i don’t think much of it,
maybe you just make me feel different.
maybe i knew i’d have a tough time letting you go,
maybe i still am.
for many years,
i told myself we met at the wrong time,
now i am not so sure of that.
it is November 2014
and i am crying in your parents basement
i cant remember anything that had happened that year,
i was so alone,
but i feel you put your head next to mine.
i have something important in my life i am holding onto,
and do not want to let go of.
i should’ve held on tighter.
its December 8th 2017,
and I’m sitting in my dorm room,
throwing cigarettes into my trash can,
they have been making me feel sick.
all i can remember is 2014,
and how much every moment meant to me.
the girl i loved back then isn’t real anymore.
i see her sometimes, but she is different.
i am glad.
i pull my covers over my head,
knowing i am missing someone who was never really mine in the first place,
and doesn’t exist now and maybe never did.
i have nothing left to hold onto,
and nothing I’m afraid of letting go of.
i am alone.
Nov 2017 · 244
my favorite things
its four in the morning.
you pick me up in your car
and i ask you where we’re going.
you say you don’t know.
the streetlights brighten your face,
i forgot how you looked in the daylight.
yesterday i forgot how your voice sounded,
i called you, just so i could remember.
maybe i will not be here tomorrow,
or maybe i’ll just sleep
i say as the light hits your cheekbones,
you clutch on the steering wheel
and reply
the way your voice sounds when you're about to cry-
is still one of my favorite things
Nov 2017 · 321
I came home for the weekend and realized i am still in love with you.
i don’t know why this came as a shock,
because this  happens every time i come home.
especially in the autumn.
nostalgia really hits,
and i find myself walking in the neighborhood you held my hand in,
going to the cemetery you kissed me in
and driving by your neighborhood on the way to get coffee.
i guess i feel pathetic more than anything-
repeating to myself
“it doesn’t feel like two years ago. i can still feel your breath on my neck.”
i don’t tell my mother-
but that doesn’t hide the fact i was crying in my bedroom.
when the weekend is over, i find myself slugging to my dorm room, without a thought of you in my mind.
autumn is almost over.
i wont be home for another three weeks.
i repeat this to myself as i walk to get a cup of coffee.
pour over.
dark roast.
anything to make me feel warm and fuzzy.
something bitter.
my soul was pastel purple when i met you,
the perfect combination of blues and reds.
now it is a dark navy blue,
i smoke a cigarette on the way back,
i wonder which one would be easier to give up.
as i open the door to my room nothing feels familiar,
my bed has held people who are not you-
they were supposed to make forgetting easier.
they didn’t.
i turn on my bathtub
and stick my feet in long enough to burn my skin
your favorite song plays on repeat inside of my head,
i look at the coffee sitting next to me-
and wonder-
i take off the lid and pour it onto my head,
it slowly flowing off the edges of my face,
filling my nostrils until it’s all the room smells like-
i don’t feel anything,
no warmth-
no fuzziness-
you were all those things-
you - burned my skin when you touched me.
i remember all the times i said no,
but the coffee surged onto my scalp anyway.
you fill the room,
this is how i remember not to miss you.
Nov 2017 · 204
thanksgiving 2017.
last year you tried to **** yourself on thanksgiving.
this year-
you didn’t come over for dinner
covered with the bedsheets
in a cold basement-
you told me how you tried to be more poetic-
i put my head on your shoulder-
this thanksgiving -
you did not try to **** yourself.
you just stayed in bed & cried.
Nov 2017 · 155
thanksgiving 2015.
I’m speaking with a ghost
as you record me your new song
onto a cassette tape.
and i think of how beautiful your body looked like-
draped in leaves
and first kisses
and how you lost your virginity
in a cemetery
you float by
your voice beautiful and sad
how it cracks and shakes.
singing about how the first girl you loved
took your soul-
and won’t give it back.
it wasn’t yours in the first place.
Nov 2017 · 165
dear w
I tried so hard to you make you a ghost to me.
As i ran my fingers down spines that weren’t yours,
and listened to heartbeats that did not belong to you.
you kept it alive,
as your fingers traced along the keyboard,
and wrote the word unlovable on my arm,
i did not flinch nor pull away-
it stuck so easily,
felt so familiar
and i felt the ink crawl onto my legs-
the next time i saw you was a year later,
i felt that same exact arm shake, and i tried to hide the writing that was still there
as your lips curled into that big toothed smile.
as it didn’t happen -
i am ghost to you-
as you struggle to pronounce my name,
then asking-
“what’s your favorite sound again?”
yours is trains.
i still remember have much you love the sounds of trains
as I’ve forgotten how to take care of myself,
or how to write a poem
or how to play my favorite song on the guitar
or how to breathe when i am near you.
i still know- you love trains
and how you take your coffee
and how you loved when i called you sweet.
you’re still alive next to me-
as i can hear your heartbeat across the room,
i can barely feel mine.
i’m writing this to ask you-
how does it feel sitting across the room from a ghost?
does it scare you- how easy it has become-
to lose all the feeling?
to hear the voice you forgot for a year?
to tell you the truth-
i’m beginning to forget what my voice sounds like too.
Jun 2017 · 256
a story
i’ve been thinking about how little everything actually matters and how i am the cause of all the problems in the world. i laid next to my backpack and pretended i was at the center of a crime scene, as i dumped the contents of my bag out and laid them in a straight line like a criminal investigator. every receipt postcard camera and film. i read all the postcards and realized how fake every apology  or thank you or i miss you i ever written has been. and the only one i had meant was yet to be written. i needed to find a way to make my feelings sound realer than the fake ones and the i do not know any other ways to say “i love you” other than i wish you were here and so on. i purposely ignored you so i could lay down and pretend you were holding me. it felt so real and i could not hear anything and i forgot i was in the middle of a beach and you were in your friends basement getting high and that even though you were closer to me than you usually were, i could not see you. i realized that i would continue to feel this way for months and the distance between us would continue to grow until a miracle brought you to me or me to you & how wishful it was to think someone like you would wait for someone like me as i felt myself grow younger and i did not know if i would ever see you again. i cried when i realized the second time we met may have been the last & that i had known you longer than anyone i had ever loved & realized if you let go, it would hurt more than ever. i pretended we stopped talking forever when my phone died & wrote the number, one thousand eight hundred and eighteen on my arm. i am running out of poetic ways to say i miss laughing with you in a van and now when i think of green eyes i think of yours and not hers, and even though the drugs made your face look really different- i still thought you were really beautiful but i didn’t have the courage to say it & i was shivering or how i made a list of things i should’ve told you or how i had wished i had held your hand but it would make this all hurt even more. how even meeting you for less than twenty four hours with many awkward silences still managed to feel right and how our eyes said everything our mouths wouldn’t. the sky shifted and became beautiful intricate patterns i thought i would never see before, and i tried to think of ways i could live in that moment forever, but somehow fell short. when we left, i wanted so badly to turn the car around, thinking somehow i would be able to see the patterns again.
Mar 2017 · 322
i want you to know I will always be there for you. even if you’re very far away. physically or mentally. i am always here.
Mar 2017 · 340
your house
The feeling of emptiness in a neighborhood I used to visit, and seeing your house, where we used to lay, and an empty backyard.
I felt myself fall in and out of love all overagain.
I still feel very small and I meant it when i said the memories meant everything to me.
And I go into the woods and the silence drowns out everything
the tree branches take over the skies creating the negative spaces I wish I could fit into.
the world sits still. But my heart is racing.
everything is dark and the little lights flicker
images projected on the sides of houses
and the memories blend together.
apologizes written on sidewalks and short films on a camcorder.
I want this feeling to be transformed into something
It is a feeling I can't explain
a feeling i almost can't feel
hands tighten on the steering wheel
and I'm suddenly in the city
where everything is fast and I am still.
nothing here belongs to you.
and I don't remember anything
the noise engulfs everything.
shadows of the people, and the streetlights
and their bodies close together.
I feel far from everything,
And I wonder if you meant it when you said
nobody would ever love me.
I wrote our names in a bathroom stall in Portland
so somewhere we could seem permanent
and I tell myself you're just a girl I used to know-
but I don't know if I ever knew you at all.
I look for you in everyone.
I can't find you.
I still feel very small.
Jan 2017 · 442
BUT GOD ******
GOD ******.
some day
everything will be beautiful and nothing will hurt.
a poem composed of a lot of stuff Kurt Vonnegut said
Dec 2016 · 373
I wonder how we both let it get this way. I look at you and a million feelings come back all at once. I am too scared to tell you how I feel. I still love you- at least I think I do.  I look at the sky and there is something familiar in it. The colors mixing in to create a beautiful mixture of red and blue. You body is a canvas, and I want to paint you with the sky. At this moment everything I have pushed in the back of my brain came flooding back. I remember how it was like before I loved you, the sky looks like it did when we first met. I close my eyes, and it begins to play in my head like some bad kind of love movie.
              When we first met, I was at a show for this band my friend liked. I didn’t want to be there. I was stuck with some people who I had little to no interest in getting to know. As horrible as it sounds, most of them had known each other for years. I couldn’t just force the connection they had all had. Almost all of me did not want to have any emotional attachments. High school is almost over and I don’t want to meet anybody I’m going to miss. That’s when I met you.  Your friend had dragged you along as well, and you looked exhausted just being there. You would lay your head on the car window and get lost in the passing by cars. You seemed to be able to drown everything out. Even with the Blink-182 blasting through the speakers in Emily’s old green VW. A lot of people may have thought you came off rude, but I think I understood. Not everybody has an ability to get lost so easily, I find it almost very profound in a way. You were in a world outside of mine. I was in a world outside of theirs. Simple and as complicated as that.
              When we were at the venue for the show, we all sat on the ground in a circle. I love circles, because you can see everyone’s faces, and their expressions when you talk to them. I sat across from you on purpose. I’m an observer. As cliché as it sounds, I think people are the far most beautiful things. Our friends were talking about the band, and we didn’t really say anything. I would say something occasionally to seem like I wasn’t completely out of touch, and I swear you’d look at me and smile. I would smile back letting all the sweetness around me flow towards you with just an expression as your tired eyes seemed to silently say “thank you”. As time went by the more I actually wanted to speak to you, and that killed me. Meeting new people terrified me, I was tired of hurting and I’m sure you were, too.
Time passed, we were supposed to go in the venue. We followed everyone, it was general admission so everyone was standing. Blue lights hit everyone’s faces making it look like we were in another universe. Our friends rushed to the front but we stayed behind.
              “You guys aren’t coming?” one of them yelled out.
              “I’ll meet you guys up there soon, I think I’m going to just look around for a bit. Just have fun!” I said forcing a smile.
              She gave me a wide smile, she looked so happy to be there. She ran off into the crowd, getting lost with them all.
“I want to get to know you.” the words stumbled out your mouth, and fell at my feet. I picked up the pieces gently and looked at your eyes,
“That sounds nice.” I breathed out, looking at the blue light hit your eyelids. There was so much to say. So much to do, and it was all beginning here, in our own little blue world. The space between us in a universe that I haven’t ventured into yet. I want to know all the small details about you. There is no music playing and there’s a million questions I want to ask you, but I knew a good start
“Nice to meet you, my name is Reily, what’s yours?” …
Suddenly everything is stopped. I am back to reality, where the blue world is dead. A universe I have already ventured into, that is now my own. I know the smallest of details about you, I know you more than I know anybody. The yellow light illuminates our pale faces, it’s cold but not too cold, and we’re on the roof of a parking garage and everything feels like a movie. We still don’t look at each other. We’re too busy staring into the empty space that occupies the air around us. I want to go up to you and hold your hand. I want to make the space feel less empty. You are shivering, as your black hair blends into the sky. The drugs made your face look really different. It's not how I remembered it. It is silent to both of us. We are too lost in the beauty of it all. The sounds of the cars, the people, everything is drowned out when we are with each other. We don’t think about the college rejection letters, the job applications, the things that make our lives real. I hope you forget about her like you forgot about yourself. I hope it brings you the peace you need. I want it to be like this forever. I walk over to you and lay my head on your shoulder, as we watch the cars drive off into the Fishers sky.  Everything seems to be drifting farther and farther away from us. I am scared. I want to ask you if the sky reminds you of us, too. I want to know if you remembered it all. I miss us so much. I hope you do, too.
We love each other but we don’t.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
And I think that scares me the most
this isn't poetry but its a short story for my creative writing class idk
Nov 2016 · 518
adderall and coffee
Take adderall and coffee until i am happy enough to forget
shakey hands
velvet crewnecks
i want to feel hollow.
addrerall, coffee broken dreams
i want to lay down and dissolve into everything,
taking more until i like me
i want everyone to like me.
i see you in the forgotten places,
and my hands shake more-
i miss you and i want to forget,
but now I’m just focused
i wonder how it’d be if you were here,
i want to know if my hands would shake less.
i want to run around the room until i find you,
your hands don’t shake and yr eyes are red
i like pills, they make you feel dead
you tell me to take xanax but my dealer says they’re overrated-
we’re getting
faded faded faded
your face blurs in with the motions.
but i still see you there.
you’re beautiful
even in between the ugly spaces
i reach out to touch you,
limbs shaking and i tell you i love you
eyes wide- drink more coffee, i don’t feel you anywhere
i still see you
i still see you.
but i can’t feel-
can’t feel-
can’t feel.
you make me number than i have ever felt.
more beautiful more poetic more-
and i miss you
and you’re suddenly fading in with everyone else and i can’t even see you anymore
but your voice is a whisper in my ear
i love you-
i ******* love you.
and your voice will forever haunt me.
you are the most beautiful girl in the world
and i am fleeting
i don’t want to touch anybody else
or shake for anybody else
or write poems about anybody else
faded into everything and blend in with the spaces…
i look for you everywhere.
and pills can’t fix it anymore.
i love you
i miss you
i shake for you.
i am toxic
i am cold
but when i think of you…
it fades.
i wonder if you see me when you trip,
am i dripping into your hands?
i am faded away from you too i think
all you see are the ugly parts of me
you’re too beautiful for me or anybody and i think you know it
too beautiful for me to even see or fathom anymore-
i still write love poems for you.
leave them in random spaces where i think i see a part of you
they tore down the old table i used to write you love poems on.
i love you
i love you
I’m sorry-
I’m sorry.
i love you still
Nov 2016 · 645
You’re made out of stardust
And little pieces of time
Strung together
Forever and infinite.
Nov 2016 · 294
a prayer
Welcome to the end of the world
May I never die,
Made you hate me all over again
On purpose
And the rain soaks all over my umbrella
Near the old church and graveyard
May you never die x2
Bound together by marijuana and Christ
And bruised collarbones
May we never die
forgot to tell you I never really liked ***, anyway
Walking in a neighborhood you told me you liked.
While the leaves changed
like you and I
I was never a permanent part of you.
Maybe we have died.
Never understood the silence
The poems written in the rain or the edge of the bathtub
Never really understood anything.
Now put me to rest
Run away and burn the letters I wrote to you
Smoke a million cigarettes till my taste is washed out of your lips.
I whisper
"May we never die"
We are dead.
don't know what killed us.
Never will.
We are dead.
you told me how you tried to **** off every part of yourself
and how easy it was.
how disappearing is inevitable
and the expansion of space and the universe
how small we are.
how you hate boys and yrself for being one
i tell u I'm not any better
and when I say to you  that we're compatible you reply with a simple
"I know"
I don't want to believe that hell is real
but then you tell me how you see yrself
And maybe that's where yr head is right now.
all I know is that yr as nervous as I am
And I will hold yr shakey hands
until you can let go
without feeling like you're nothing
and the universe will keep expanding
and maybe then you won't feel as small.
I’m surprised i’ve made it this far.
i thought I would die at sixteen
and I feel it creeping on me.
the unsuccessful attempts
the *****
the cigarettes
the rest
and the girl who stained my tongue and soul red
I'm surprised
when you have depression you are convinced
you will not live to see 18 at times
I never thought I would make it.
I'm staring at the stars on my ceiling,
thinking of the things that made me want to end it.
and realizing I still want to, but haven't found it in myself.
I won't do it.
because I turn my head and the pictures on my walls remind me otherwise
I'm surprised I made it this far.
i have college acceptance letters
and tired bones
I am not an adult
but still feel the wonder of a child
when I see unfamiliar eyes look into mine
These are the things that keep me alive
I am surprised I have made it this far
it's my birthday
and I'm pathetically waiting for you to text me,
I just want two words
and I feel so ******* stupid
For wanting what I want
These are the things that make me remember why I want to die
But it's my birthday.
So I lie in bed a little longer until my bones ache less,
and creep outside of my room,
sing along and blow out the candles
and make a wish.
One unspoken.
I would tell you,
but I think you already know.
Nov 2016 · 226
Halloween of 2016
5th cigarette of the night
vanilla lattes from noble tea
instant film with double exposures
fishnets and all red
I remember you still
and I wish we could be in your house with cluttered feet
Handing out candy to the children dressed up as angels and demons
giving us breaks so you could put your arms around me
and I am not shivering in a cold car without you
this is what I want
from somebody
and I go to the front porch
Cigarette number six is now hanging limp from my mouth
and I pull out a ****** dating app and swipe
my self hatred grows.
I throw my phone across the street.
somehow the screen does not shatter
i try to find something hidden
the children are dressed up as demons
and i ache for more
I see you in them.
I miss the angels
Nov 2016 · 216
when u left my world went grey
and i disappeared into the soil hoping to find u there
bc you were my world
still are.
i want to get over it.
i break my mental breakdowns into parts each week.
I’m on part 6 right now,
soon to be on part seven.
i drink more coffee now.
you drink tea.
my friends can tell when I am upset now
i frown and make my hurt visible
i do not speak
but sometimes it all comes out
part 7
and I am crying in the closet of my photography class
i tell them how i wish I was walking on the side of the highway
and how the ground seems more soft
than I could ever be
more warm than I could ever feel
they don't understand.
i wish they would.
they just nod and gently pat my back,
knowing if they did any harder, it would break.
you are soft
they whisper
you are soft
they touch my hot flushed cheeks
you feel warm
you feel warm
wipe my eyes,
makeup smears
don't wipe it off.
show them I'm weak.
wear your heart on your ******* sleeve
Let them know you are weak
Show them you're more than that
i texted you everything I felt
regretted in the morning but didn't at the same time.
Felt weak, knew I wasn't.
but that never stops the feeling
carved your name on my bed frame
along with all the reasons
because my friends say I'll never get over you
like it's a bad thing
but they don't know I can learn to live without you.
know you may never come find me
but for everything a reason
for everything a reason
Oct 2016 · 415
text me
I am a broken down street light
trying to find places where your name fills in the sidewalk cracks.
as the car's headlights beat down on my face.
Everything is quiet but loud all at once.
I try to forget everything
but it's one a.m.
almost a year later
and i'm still thinking about it.
I hope you feel my name in the cold air.
I hope you see my love for you in her.
I hope you see my face in the passing by strangers.
and maybe that you feel the same.
i wait for a phone call, or maybe even a text message.
something to fill the cracks.
i know i shouldn't love you.
but my stomach is aching
and my arms long for yours.
it's okay.
I will reach for the autumn air
it will feel the same as you.
text me.
tell me you never want to see me again
Tell me you don't love me.
fill the cracks.
text me.
tell me you're sorry
forgive me.
say you love me.
fill the cracks
i am constantly changing
but my feelings still haven't changed for you.
put me into a glass box
with butterflies and stardust
until I am not real anymore.
i don't know anything about reality
and please
kiss the pain away.
the phrase
"Get over it" will be flung at me a million times
and I was being honest when I said I don't think I ever will
text me
until I can no longer feel again.

Please text me.
sometimes i pretend we're still friends.
our bodies tangling together
as i feel your breath pressed up to my cheek.
there is a daydream in your eyes.
I tell you you're beautiful.
my creative writing class has been forcing me to remember the past.
she says
"Write about an instance with someone you love or used to love."
the room stays silent
at first I hate it,
but by the end of it
I am writing your name with hearts around it on my paper.
I hate remembering.
I try to write about how I hate you.
no hearts on paper
but I don't.
i tried to hate you.
but then I remembered
Wes Anderson films
and first kisses
the sort of things that cover
bad songs and poorly worded excuses
and the secret site
I poured my thoughts to
the times it was worse than just "things are bad right now"
the bad times are still there.
i know you're bad for me.
but it doesn't matter.
I read poems from a girl who has the same name as you
i pretend it's you,
I feel like I am a part of you still
wish she was you.
I say your name in the mirror
until it doesn't sound real
and it will lose all meaning
and I repeat
"losing you wasn’t a loss"
"Losing you wasn't a loss"
and i try to hate you
I'm really trying
and i might
but the secret site is closed down
and i don’t go to it anymore
i kiss others to get the taste of you out.
i don’t think it is working.
their lips aren’t soft.
I stop talking to them days later.
i watch wes anderson movies alone.
the blankets cover my toes
as the tv flashes onto my face,
casting different shadows and lights
till I don't feel like I'm myself anymore.
i reach for your hand and it isn't there.
the space i occupy is empty.
so am I.
and I won't fall asleep
I don't want to dream about you anymore.
Oct 2016 · 1.1k
soda water
You taste like static
and your eyes look like hot coals
Let my body fizz
Ease me into your skin
I want to know what dying is
Oct 2016 · 341
june 9 2016.
I tried to hate you
but then I remembered
Wes Anderson
and first kisses
the sort of things that cover
bad songs and poorly worded excuses
and the secret site
I poured my thoughts to
the times it was worse than just "things are bad right now"
and pills
Celexa didn't do anything.
Zoloft made me suicidal.
Effexor was just right but needed to be upped after a while.
seems like nothing ever works right
or is it just me?
soon i can to realize
it’s not
i’m not the only one you did this to
i wanted to believe
it was just towards me
because i was me
i hope you and your girlfriend get high enough
to leave the planet
your first name starts with h
and ends with e - l - l
Perfume makes my head ache
the makeup caked on my eyes
cause them to itch.
your girlfriend is using dope and
you're with her
you both act like you're Conor O.
Using your friends
for the drugs
ratting them out
she looks at me
but can’t hold a stare
funny isn’t it
maybe she knows what you’re doing is wrong.
Ironically we are all supposed to help people grow
but you pull the roots from the ground
And empty the water into your eyes
So you can cry
It's not a beautiful thing to do
we're stuck with you
not growing
the sky is still out of reach
All my friends are in love
With their abusive ex girlfriend
I should just add myself to the list
my stepfather says that I'm falling apart
As an insult
as others say
Stop that attitude
Stop being so negative
i hope my anger towards the world will maybe make sense
but next time you see me
don’t look at me
i hear a girl screaming outside my window
but i don’t shut it
i head outside to see if she’s okay,
she’s on the ground crying
“wasn’t love supposed to be enough?”
she reminds me of the past
and i shake
I’m crying on the phone in the library and a girl
sits by me and asks
“are you okay?”
i don’t know if i should be honest
so i just say
“no, but i’m better than i was a few months ago”
losing you wasn’t a loss
and i try to hate you
and i might
but the secret site is closed down
and i don’t go to it anymore anyways
i kiss others to get the taste of you out
wes anderson is great but we only watched one movie of his together anyways and
i was too busy looking at you to even appreciate it
Oct 2016 · 346
Cigarette ash on your bedsheets
awake on coffee and tea.
I do not want to be the person
you know like the back of your hand
or for you to know the titles of every poem I have written
I want you to touch me distractedly.
I want a boy with a car and a mindset like yours.
we do not need to make ourselves into anything beautiful with each other.
we are ugly, empty poets.
you love me for what i am.
but if you don't love me,
go ahead and tell me.
your tongue stained with coffee
you're not just some ******* artist
who is going to fill my heart with lilies
and paint.
and I want you to make it hurt as much as you ******* can.
teach me the world is cruel.
because if you can teach me how to write
love poems,
you sure as hell
can show me how to be dark
all over again.
this isn't about creativity
and this isn't art
this is existing.
Oct 2016 · 283
An announcement.
I am glad to be existing at the same time as all of you.
when he touched me and sent pain shocking through all my body
I was glad.
not because I'm a *******
but because I knew if I could survive somebody I loved hurting me that much
I could survive anything
and I finally knew all the secrets to the world
and I allowed myself to feel.
less than great,
but sometimes an occasional more than okay.
with you my being felt numb,
and I had thrown myself into the void
To see how deep it was until I hit the ground,
and I have realized I'm still falling
I like the feeling of the air through my arms
and my hair not staying in one place
I don't mind.
When I get sad I open my eyes and feel the world around me
And sometimes I get sadder,
but I am shocked to be alive
and to have the pleasure of being loved and being hurt
By the same people lucky enough to exist as well.
Because if I was born 50 years earlier, I would not have known,
the boy who put a fist to my face,
a girl who eloped my entire being in her hand
and a friend who sat silently in the corner playing with their fingertips as I laid crying in their bed
I am glad to be existing at the same time as all of you.
because when I told you I liked pain
You knew I wasn't trying to be poetic
You knew I liked it because what I had learned from it
You could tell I was all about the human experience
And you nodded and understood how I could feel safe with you, but still be afraid
and why my clingy sweaty hand could never seem to let go, even when it was time to. How I claimed my softness had not diminished but how when you put your hand on my shoulder I flinched. Even though I knew you were to trying to comfort me. I like pain, but hate feeling it sometimes.
I know most of the human experience is pain, that is a secret I have known to well but tried to cheat, but you cannot get the human experience, the lessons, the beauty without it
I know it is wrong to feel constantly in pain
and have the thought of it lingering in your mind.
Because you know after it you'll maybe get a good poem, story or life lesson you'll tell your child when she comes home crying when she finds out her boyfriend cheated on her.
You will never be able to explain it
how you feel alive with pain,
and feel like you're missing something without it.
I am so glad to be existing at the same time as all of you.
You tell me you hate pain,
and how I always look teary eyed.
but smile when I tell you I'm glad to be alive,
But it's not for the reason you think.
This is a happy poem,
you tell me I'm too self aware
and I tell you I know all the secrets to the universe.
You flinch when I put my arm around you,
and I could tell.
you felt pain, too.
but maybe you didn't embrace it like I did,
and we sit teary eyed at the edge of the void
i am so glad I exist at the same time as you,
even though you don't understand why I think how I do
Sep 2016 · 402
roses are red
romance is dead
i wish that my boyfriend
would give me head
Sep 2016 · 581
When he tells you you're pretty
Smile and say
" i know."
Do not frown when he doesn't use any other word to describe you.
You are deeper than any ocean he's ever swam in
laugh at how he'll never know your depth.
when your friends swish the word feminism in their mouth like its *****
Do not yell at them.
Nod with your arms crossed
and stop paying attention mid sentence,
because you know they'd do that to you.
when the doctor gives you the pills
that make you restless
take them.
go to school with your eyes baggy and swollen
Try not to cry when people point them out
Just say
"I have a test today. I crammed all night."
do not get upset  when your old jeans do not fit.
Your medicine is making you gain weight
Pat your tummy in my mirror and try to smile.
start crying ten minutes later
When your friend says his boyfriend is friends with your ex girlfriend
tell him about how it ended
leave out the **** and emotional abuse
Say it doesn't bother you people think she's a good person
Don't tell your mother
Don't tell your counselor
Don't tell your teacher
write it in a poem
And when you read it out loud shake
Realize nothing will ever be easy
Start being clean until you can stop counting the days on your fingers
Know this doesn't mean you're okay
When your mom asks why you haven't gotten your drivers permit
do not tell her it's because you knew if you had a car you'd crash it,
Until a million ashes burned your body.
that's what you want,
and you hate yourself so much for it.
Just look at the ground
ashamed and whisper
"I don't know"
read the book until that's all you can remember
they wouldn't understand anyways.
Listen to all the songs she wrote about you
Start believing everything she said was true.
see yourself as
too rough around the edges.
pretend like it doesn't bother you.
pretend you are what others mold you into.
because it's easier that way.
Sep 2016 · 235
she // her // hers
you will feel a rattling in your bones
and ask yourself
did you want it to hurt?
you fell in love
so you could be an artist
didn’t you?
Trust me, i did not know how to create,
But when i met you I think I learned how.
I wanted to make a home in your bones because
the first time we kissed
i felt a million tiny little butterflies
fly up my stomach and out of my mouth
while their tiny footprints stained the skin on my lips
I felt you with me.
your soul stained my lips
And no matter how hard i try to wash it off
you still linger here.
I showed you your favorite band and now you show them her
You stain her lips
I lie alone in the dirt
I told you i loved you
But now i’m not so sure
I awakened your soul,
But you’re sleeping next to her.
Sep 2016 · 267
rape and recovery
My heart is a glass castle
as you put your hand between my thighs.
i feel my body shattering
as “no’s” escape from my mouth,
a whimper.
No does not mean anything to you because my eyes said yes.
I don't know how.
They were filled with tears.
Black and blue
Slipping off
Condensating my glass skin,
I was crying.
There is nothing left for you here. It’s lost in translation
no doesn’t sound like a word anymore.
it lays stagnant on your tongue
as she continues to touch you.
Her cold hands exploring where you had put caution tape
“no" "no" “no"
you wish it still sounded like a word.
This is something I will write a thousand times before I turn eighteen
it is scrambled and constant
i accept it.
there was a straw house at the edge of everything
i wish you didn't go to it.
You should had stayed on top of the mountains far away from my glass castle heart.
my heart is a glass castle*
as the blood flows through,
there are cracks where you have touched.
It spills out,
As red touches every inch of me and paints me like a canvas
I try to ignore the awful feelings in my chest
but they have grown
oh they have grown.
as the village people build a wall between us
and run toward you
your steel hands try to break my walls in half
Their pitchforks and torches ignited with fire
they see right through you
Maybe you will think before you do this again
But they cannot ignite your skin
You are rough around the edges.
When i break
The shards will scatter
To where everything ends
And everything begins
I will find myself between your toes
You will feel a sting it is a fraction of what i felt
As the blood drips down your foot
I do not smile.
I wanted you to feel bad about it for so long
But it doesn’t take away the feelings
That plunge in my chest
As pieces of me are in places
I have never been
Lost and waiting to be found
And i hurt others
While trying to put myself together
Sep 2016 · 220
the circus
This is a poem that might make my mother angry
The feeling of a fist to my face
The fingers cold and like mush
could not feel familiar enough
a loud echo bouncing off my skin
but that felt better
Than my ribs rumbling
as my heart tried to bounce itself through them
and suddenly I was the weak one
now I'm balancing on a trapeze wire
Wondering what's better the air or the ground
but one day the curtains will close
Finally the end will come
something you made me not so scared of.
because pills tasted like candy with you.
the thought of being a better with with you
I couldn't feel my limbs with you
but that's okay, I couldn't quite feel myself, too.

they say,
"You're scared of Commitment
But you want all these tattoos"
I want something that has to stay
That can't just get up and walk away
Because that's what has happened my whole life
But tattoos even fade away after a while
ink only stays for so long
but that's okay at least they're still in my life
I needle got shoved in my skin for them
and after all the pain being with you was worth it
because even though it hurt
At least you stayed
please just don't walk away
Stay for awhile you made less tough
Stay for awhile you already know I'm less than enough
Stay for a bit, my skin might be red
I just wanted a place for you
that just wasn't in my head
I know hearing me say this gets tiring after a while
Trust me I know
Today, I wrote about it ten times
It was more than a few lines
so many people have broken my brain
now it feels normal being
In pain
because when I look at someone who reminds me of you
I can't help but think
they'd leave me too
even though
they aren't like you
They saw me perform at the circus
on the trapeze water
and they told me it was okay to just quit
and hit the ground till dirt came into my mouth
because my blistering feet
Did not deserve this somehow,
And they waited for me.
at the foot.
near the dirt.
they waited for me
because they knew it would hurt.
and they wanted my face to feel less numb,
And the moment I hit the ground,
I looked for you,
in the clouds.
but you weren't anywhere to be seen,
living in a never ending dream.
and i bled.
and you were somewhere watching.
I don't know where
But I felt you smile.
i felt it in the dirt.
in my arms.
in my hair.
you smiled,
while i wept.
and the curtains finally closed.
Sep 2016 · 606
Sally takes a lot of pills
So she'll have something to write songs about
I wonder if she's doing okay
She took a lot of ****** yesterday.
She takes them just to feel
Because her antidepressants don't do enough
She swears one day she'll be famous
And it isn't because of the drugs
Emptier than the space between our fingetips
sally feels pure as she floats up to her ceiling.
Zoloft, Xanax, adderrall
Make for good lines and good stories
She knows without them she'd be like all the other girls
she falls in love with boys she meets on the Internet every week
hoping they’ll fill whatever has been missing
she can't communicate with them for long
and gets bored
their bodies don’t make her feel as holy
as the pills
no floating up to the ceiling.
she finds another one who will pop molly with her all day long
and watch her slender body fade into the sheets
sally loves pills and nothing more
the boys just make the images in her head seem clearer almost
She knows they won't last long
Sally just wants more pills
the streets full of people don't scare her
And the space between us is growing
Like the pit of her stomach
Because it's pill after pill after pill
And one doesn't do enough anymore
sally likes fading away
surrounded by her blonde hair
her body being somewhere else
she feels less empty that way.
No one understands sally
not even herself
She hasn’t told anyone she’s loved them and meant it
it doesn’t scare her anymore.
because when she fades away
nobody worries anymore.
Sally pushed out the boy with the twilight smile,
took six 2 mgs of klonopin and a whole lot of vidocin
And sally invited sadness into her bed, instead.
and let it **** her
she didn't make much sound
just a small whimper
And then her mind went quiet
and Sally left just how she felt.
When I looked at you
in that blue light shining on your eyelids
Almost making you look transparent
I swear I heard a voice telling me
what God wanted me to be.
That you somehow had gotten it through my thick skull.
Because I can't see or touch God,
but looking at you,
reminded me I wasn't alone.
And I kneeled near my bed every night
Praying something would exist
Not to save me or fix me
Because I don't need any of that
I just wanted something to make me feel less alone
When I laid my body down onto the earth
I swear the soil took it over
and led me to
Where everything ends and begins
My hand trembles less
And I'm not afraid to speak in front of you
I remember how I felt something when I looked into the Oregon Sky and how the mountains seemed to never end, and they filled up the sky and it made me feel full.
but when I look into indianas Sky, it's empty and so am i.
My creative writing teacher told me, I was very observant, and seemed to care about others a whole lot. She always writes  on the  top of my poems,  "very creative" I don't feel like I'm anything. Especially creative. Because if poems hadn't been trendy in middle school, I wouldn't be a poet now. And that scares me. I don't know which parts of me are real. I started photography because it was the cool thing to do, I become interested in art because I guess I wanted to feel what others felt when they looked at the individual paint strokes, and I went on dates at the art museum and stared at the paintings more than my actual date, which isn't poetic at all. Now I go alone and sit in the whisper room for hours because everyone I take it there thinks it's too creepy, I write down what I hear and sometimes put it in poems. I think I hear what I'm actually thinking. Because my brain usually shuts that out and I hear what I want to hear. They say write what you feel, what you've experienced, what you love. I feel sick and sad when I remember the past, and I don't know what I love. And then they tell me to write happier but I don't feel that way.
I wish the ground could swallow me up. I want to be able to touch the world but I feel like I can't breathe. How will I ever change the world, if I can't change myself? Because I look in the mirror at 12 am and I wish I could crawl out of my skin.  I wish I could write love poems and draw smiley faces all around my paper. But the happy parts in my poems are usually made up. I add them in, to make it seem like I'm a lovable important person. I think everyone sees right through me. Flowers grow under my body and push through the soil. If they can grow, so can I. I am far from happy and I write it all down because I will not lie to myself. I'm alone.
The yellow light illuminated our pale faces, it’s cold but not too cold, and we’re on the roof of a parking garage and everything feels like a movie. We don’t look at each other. We’re too busy staring into the empty space that occupies the air around us. I want to go up to you and hold your hand. I want to make the space feel less empty. You are shivering, as your black hair blends into the sky. The drugs made your face look really different. It's not how I remembered it. It is silent to both of us. We are too lost in the beauty of it all. The sounds of the cars, the people, everything is drowned out when we are with each other. We don’t think about the college rejection letters, the job applications, the things that make our lives real. I hope you forget about her like you forgot about yourself. I hope it brings you the peace you need. I want it to be like this forever. I walk over to you and lay my head on your shoulder, as we watch the cars drive off into the Fishers sky.  Everything seems to be drifting farther and farther away from us. I am scared.
We love eachother but we don’t.
It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
And i think that scares me the most
Aug 2016 · 439
filthy liars
i’m learning how to be happy again,
i appreciate the concern,
i swear i’m okay.
my friends ask me for advice on their relationships,
it’s senior year.
everyone is drifting away from each other.
it hasn’t even been a month.
we start filling out our college apps
and the stress crashes into our bodies
like a tidal wave
you're just as ****** up
As the rest of us,
And strangers tell me to stay far away from you
"Stay safe" written on my Facebook messages
and the makeup stings my eyes
it's 12:00 a.m.
we're playing brand new
As the noblesville air hits our skin
while people shout inaudible words out of their cars
in my dreams we're still together.
we don't hate eachother.
or talk about the past,
we're best friends
and we're walking on the beach
next to this old antique shop.
In my dreams the past doesn't exist,
and you're the person I thought you were.
i start to miss you.
But I know my dreams are filthy liars.
you're not the angel I thought you were.
you are the complete opposite.
I could never love you again.
I could never be your best friend.
my dreams are filthy liars.
I lay in my bed hoping to fade into it.
I don't want to see you ever again.
keep my name out of your mouth.
Stop shaming me for ***
When that's all you wanted
even when I told you
My sister warned me of girls that would use me,
but oh god,
I never knew
that it would be the poet
with the pale boney skin
and beautiful green eyes I swore I got lost in every second I looked at them.
You were supposed to be one of the good ones
But your pretty face will never make up for you deceitfulness.
you can write as many poems about me being toxic as you want
but it won't make you a better person.
telling people no one will love them,
*** shaming your exes
and using the things they fear most,
will never make you the person you want to be.
I told you about my father.
How he almost overdosed.
How he needs a breathing machine
How he tried to **** himself,
How I would never ever
do the things he did,
but my feelings weren't as important
As a ****** one minute poem.
I trusted you,
But the minute I told you the truth about
how you had been toxic to me,
all of that suddenly didn't matter to you.
Even though you swore you only wanted the truth.
But when you said my feelings were valid
And it was okay if we didn't speak anymore,
You lied.
But what's new?
Self help books and Internet searches will never fix it.
and if I have a child,
I will warn them so many times.
But I'm still the crazy one.
Who could never be loved.
You told me you had a dream I jumped into an ocean.
I'm sure it doesn't scare you anymore.
Aug 2016 · 1.3k
I started smoking **** again,
in hope maybe it could help me understand how your mind worked.
because when you smoked, you seemed happy.
something i could never manage to make you.
i had done it a few times but,
not as much as you had.
i realized this-
it made the music sound better,
the sheets warmer,
the sky darker.
i wanted more.
but drugs can only do so much.
my mother found out.
no more.
you don’t need to tell me nobody will love me,
you actions spoke loud enough.
you hurt me.
i have lied to you enough, in hopes to keep you happy.
but it had just made me feeler emptier.
I want to put myself first, but that just makes me “mean”.
because thats the only word you ever used to describe me.
but i never told you no one would love you.
i just said you hurt me,
and it was best we couldn’t speak
and i wasn’t sorry for being upset.
because even after everything, i still don’t hate you.
i just wanted to put myself first once,
because i am broken down clock tower.
i’m not whole.
i don’t work like i want to.
i remember what you said about my favorite poet, being untalented,
i remember when you got angry at me for being introverted
for being sad.
thats what i was most of the time.
and i know it wasn’t fair to you.
dating the sad girl.
that thought no one could ever love her.
you knew i was scared.
i told you that was one of my fears,
and you write it down
to make a quick poem out of it,
because you know it will hurt me.
but I’m used to it.
you bought us the same notebook for christmas,
i still kept it and write in it every day,
even though it mean nothing to you,
it meant everything.
i now know what you wrote on the bench.
you lied to me.
you never loved me.
i know you didn’t.
you said it in the poem.
they told me everything.
a little over a year ago we came together
but a little over a year ago we fell apart
because some people are not meant to be
that's how it'll always be
that's how it'll always be
and when you left i asked myself
“did you really come back just to leave?”
i had so much hope.
we had plans.
poems on the walls.
i saw you as a part of my future.
but i was just temporary.
a little toy.
last week i cried in the airport.
surrounded by strangers
no one asked what was wrong.
i don’t remember how you smell anymore.
and the first time you left,
i forgot how your voice sounded.
but this time you made sure to make it haunt me.
you stole my soul,
i think it was when we made in the graveyard.
when we walked back and my body hung limp,
the end credits should’ve rolled,
but then you said
“thanks for being patient with me"
i love my manipulative ex girlfriend
Jun 2016 · 476
a new start
My metaphors for you
were oceans homes and Suns
more like corner Suns
drawn in crayon on a piece of scrap paper
with a smiley face drawn over them with a cheap pen
almost out of ink
with the sky only reaching to the middle of the paper
violet instead of blue
and the flowers bigger than the people-
this was you
and color went outside of the lines
and I hung it up on my fridge
with alphabet magnets spelling out
"first love"
but I can draw better.
it's ripped off the fridge,
the magnets spell out
the flowers are smaller than the people
suns don't sit in the corners of skies
the sky reaches higher  
it's a usually a bluish color, never fully purple.
colors never spread outside of lines
this is reality.
you are old,
drawings don't get hung up on the fridge anymore
nor good grades
Just doctors appointments on your calendar
bills that need to be paid
and your grocery list
your new drawing gets thrown away.
Nine to five job
Cooking dinner
not loving who you sleep next to,
this will be all familiar soon.
because you are old.
but deep down you know
it doesn't have to be this way,
because now you have new metaphors
he shows the nature parks in your state
and when you look at him on top of you you think
this is better than a corner sun,
all the realness surrounding you makes you feel good
you don't have to draw it out anymore,
no smiley faces on paper
because you feel the muscles on your face form into a smile, and the ink does not run
you can be whatever you want
a beautiful watercolor painting
Your colors mixing together,
a beautiful far from perfect  masterpiece,
that doesn't need to be displayed on a fridge to be seen
oh boy oh boy
you’re sad again i think it’s because of them
you have these dark brown eyes i want to get lost in.
they are as deep as the soil in my grandmother's garden.
your gaze nourishes and brings bright beautiful things to the earth,
yet you are crying over somebody who does not care for gardens.
Apr 2016 · 293
i don't even know what i am anymore
Apr 2016 · 264
i said no.
Apr 2016 · 1.4k
You eat their food
Listen to their music
Appropriate their culture
But you can't even admit
That their lives matter.
Actions speak louder
Than words,
That's a fact,
But how can we make a change
If we can't bring ourselves to talk about it
it's not your fault
For what your ancestors did
But it's your fault if you let it
remain the way it is,
A flag still sits
on the wall of a garage
a sick way to express "southern pride"
the line of heritage versus hates gets crossed when
hate groups like the kkk
still carry that flag.
we call them the minority
yet there are about 1.5 billion of them in the world
they are not a minority
you just see them as a less than
because you can’t admit
the racist ideas ingrained in your head
you did not choose to be this way
but you can choose not to.
It's easy to ignore racism
When you're the one benefiting from it.
hands up don’t shoot.
how many lives do we have to lose,
to understand the consequences of our ignorance,
how high is the body count going to have to be?
if they gunned you down
what photograph would they use?
the one at your graduation
standing high tall- smile like stars
would they use one of you holding up the *******
wearing sweatpants
tired eyes, no stars.
look at your skin,
that will answer the question
we don’t care if they can’t breathe,
or if they're on their way to college,
or if they're just barely thirteen.
and you know it’s wrong
you know they aren’t thugs or criminals,
so next time you utter “all lives matter”
remember the movement,
Remember who you're silencing
remember what policemen, the government, the media, the school system, our country needs to be reminded,
that yes all lives matter, but
yours isn’t the one being jeopardized
because of your skin.
Apr 2016 · 950
shades of blue
I let my hair grow long
until it's brown and thick
we're sitting on the floor
wine on our lips
the records playing
we're both getting lost
you've become so bored
of the place you once called home

you no longer smile
when you see the city you once loved
there's not as much comfort in the shades of blue
little do you know they're all shades of you
i wish i could get lost in your shades of blue
i just want to get lost in you

you're becoming bored of yourself
and the places you used to go
I wonder when you will get bored of me
and my hands you liked to hold
or the shades of blue in myself
i tried to hide
but they couldn’t help showing the times i  held you
when you cried

i don’t want to admit it
but i know you will go
because with people like me
what is there to love?

I’m just this crumbling sidewalk
you avoid on your morning commute
i’m the car in the junkyard
with bullet holes
my arms are rusted shut
but i will still reach for you
after it all

i’m not sick of your shades of blue
when i wake up to the curves of you
in the morning
the familiarity does not bore me,
it comforts me.
but it’s not like that with everyone
i get bored easily sometimes
but not with you.
my favorite city remains my favorite.
no matter how much I'm in it
I want to see the shades of blue
every day,
in your eyes, in your hair, in your lips, in your arms
I want to get lost in you with every step I take
on my crumbling sidewalk soul
These roads lead to you,
i am so so blue
Apr 2016 · 462
about being pure
when i turned seventeen
i was no longer a ******’s dream
i smoked that dope
and i watched my lungs burn out
while an uncaring girl took everything away from me
i don’t feel like my body belongs to me.
what does it mean to be pure?
is anybody really sure?
what’s the context of the line in this poem?
what is this metaphor truly about?
i want no lies just love
if it means i won’t ever be happy again
please just tell me.
so i can prepare for it
when she dies i die.
but who am i to stay in a sea
of endless melancholy?
the drugs will carry me off-
there are colors found in
the shades of black
they glow  red and blue.
oh the shapes they make
are so beautiful
will it be easier now
that i know i’m alone?
i feel sick when
i think about home

yr moms lying on the couch
looking at the sky,
does it make you sad
that one day she will die?
in yr bed do you
want to disappear
would it make it better
if was there?

the roof is the color of coffee
and yr eyes are the color of the mary jane you inhaled
that night in a damp shed
and your laugh echoed till it got trapped in the walls
while your friends tried to sound deep
about small things
your arms will hurt from every inch of them you have torn,
but remember it's all your fault.
there's nothing to be upset about

you watch the sky change from grey to orange.
you want your sadness to turn into passion.
But you're still stuck on your couch
Wondering when beautiful **** will come out yr mouth.
but when it comes out
Do you slit your wrists
want the bad to leave
There's nothing pretty to you
about being clean
there's flowers on her arms
and cuts on yours
you still have a lot to learn
about being pure.
Apr 2016 · 314
****, I'm listening to bright eyes again
I want to lay on crumbling church steps
with yr big white t shirt hanging loosely on my shoulders &
reaching my knees.
There are two bruises on my knees
Almost identical,
I think it means something,
but I'm not completely sure what that is
there are people walking on
the empty streets: looking -
I do the same.
I think we're looking for meaning, or something close to that.
I fly to Portland, I think I might find it there.
on the way I look at the Rocky Mountains,
they seem to hold infinity .
And I can see the curves of the roads,
And the rivers,
it reminds me how everything is connected somehow.
i wonder what the roads will lead me to.
Quinn and Madison said they are moving to the clouds
to escape from the world.
I look for them in the sky,
I don't see them, but I know they are up there,
my roads do not lead to clouds any time soon.
I don't find it fair.
but I'm afraid of heights anyways.
I'll conquer my fear one day,
just not today.
everybody I know seems like they want to get out.
whether it's to Oregon or the clouds,
they know it's better somewhere.
the people who are content with staying scare me the most.
they think this is the best
they will ever get.
they spend their weekends in basements, doing the same **** they did last week.
that's not for me.
I don't know where my road will go,
or where I will be twenty years from now,
but it does not end here.
There is a whole world outside of Fishers, Indiana.
this town is not how real life works.
there are dreams I've slept through
and forgotten-
but leaving is a reoccurrence.
The air in Oregon smells like pine trees
and everybody I meet
take effort to get to know me.
Apr 2016 · 317
anything or anyone
She doesn't mind the cuts on my legs
she still eats me out on her basement floor
she doesn't care about anybody but herself
I won't let her eat me alive
I wear a sticker for my silence
on my chest
people ask why I'm like this
I won't talk to anyone about anything at all
Get me out of your head
Get your toxic tongue away from my legs
I want to wear a crown of thorns on my head
I wanna go away
I want to say goodbye
I want every feeling inside me to die
I want to crawl in a hole
I want to wear yr skin
I won't talk to anybody
about anything at all

You have a toxic tongue
Always making me feel sick
I don't want to talk about it
there's nothing more for me to say
but I keep writing about it anyway

you want to eat my corpse
you want me to die
you wanna see my sweat
You've already seen me cry
you sure like seeing all your lovers cry
you don't feel anything at all
But you feel me
But I don't want to talk about anything to anyone at all

the queen is dead and so am i
slam my against my apartment door
you kiss my neck
you wanna take a break
you don’t care about anyone or anything at all
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