i was once
young and
spilled out messy and passionate
dyed my hair too much
worked my fingers to the bone
bled
listened to good music
too loud
faked smiles
loved people deeply
who didn't deserve it.
pulled down the moon
and then the stars
and swallowed them
one
by
one
when i was young i
raised eyebrows
screamed and didn't stop.
burst into
dizzying
clouds of glitter and insensibility.
i wrote because
i thought my words might mean something to someone
someday
i thought i might as well
leave a mark
since i knew but didn't feel it.
i felt but didn't know it.
i'd be here for just a short while.
i filled up notebooks and journals
and sometimes i left them blank
because
i figured saying nothing
is
sometimes saying more than
saying something
i rode on trains for too many stops
because
i didn't know where i was going
and didn't care.
wore clothes that were
too big
traveled in cars that
were
much too drunk
to stay in the lines
based myself on baseless
meaningless
gestures.
didn't keep up with my responsibilities.
was unmistakably human.
pushed people away
crossed boundaries.
lit the world on fire
pretended like i didn't understand
chased shadows
when i could have been enjoying the sunlight.
i cried until my eyes were yellow and puffy
laughed until
my stomach ached and pulsed
sometimes for no reason
shivered and
banked sideways on
shores of quivering destruction
acted like i was
unbreakable
when i was young

I want something big and bold
I want to show it to the world
I want people to scream with delight
When I write something new

But then again, I want something secret
I want to write amazing lines just for me
I want my inspiration to be from something
That’s only from me, lines that are only for me

I want to capture what I really feel
Like how the music seizes my soul
And how I fight for it to let go
I want to be a Wordsworth or Neruda

But then again, I want to be unknown
I want to give my words to only a few
For they mean more than the world to me
Because they are the spirit that breathes in me

I want to tear at people’s souls
Like how people rip through mine
I want people to request my poems
Like they request songs on the radio

But then again, I want no one to know of my writings
Because my writings are my secret companions
I want not a soul to cherish them except I
Because my writings are mine