singing* You just called me, "Beautiful."
Now you've got to be mine foreverrr.... (2x)
--repeats in background for duration of poem--
  You just called me--
I hate that it's so easy.

Now you've gotta be mine  foreh--I hate that its so easy to please me
when you say things
that makes me think that you see me
as who I want to be
and the way you say it,
it -it touches me
I'm naive
-
-
I want to believe
-
-
-
-You just called me...
I want to trust you
I want to believe your intentions are true
and its not me in a fantasy
but its you just
-
-
-
being you
you just called me beautiful
All you did was call me, "beautiful."
but your words spoke to my soul
cause I know you know things about me that I don't like to show
and I think you've dug something up in me
that was unknown
and odd
and free
and foreign
-
-
-
now you've gotta be mine foreh--*
and willing.
and unencumbered
-
-
-
-
-
-
You see? Now you've gotta be mine
cause I'm too fragile
-
-
I'm too exposed
you can't break into my heart
and unlock all these doors
that've been guardin who knows?
-
-
no, this is a two person job
-
-
you shoulda watched how you talked.
-
-
and now you're mine.
you gotta be mine.
you gotta be mine.
you gotta be mine. *repeats till fades out

Kept sittin my notebook by my bed like I was about to write
Thought it would motivate me
All it did was make me feel guilty every night
Sittin there mockin me
Making me feel like less than myself
Like I lost all my artistry
I didnt start cause I didnt believe in me, honestly.
Like if Im gonna write it has to be special
It has to say something
Be visceral
Prolific
Live beyond my life expectancy
Be better than my last piece of poetry.
So I didnt.

And it sat there.

Quiet crickets.

Quiet light of moon

Quiet cars along the road
--Go'n be home soon

Quiet AC on too late
Quiet humming charger in the outlet
Quiet bathroom 'cross the hall, water dripping from the faucet

Quiet floors while set'ling in
You're too old for all that whinin'
Quiet creatures awake before the sun
The signals when it's shinin'

Quiet indistinguishable shadow still yet so foreboding
Oh, you're just a pile of clothes that I never got to folding

Quiet drafty window singing with such vigor and such soul
Catch a chill from that night air
Might catch a runny nose

Quiet thoughts-that handsome stranger, worries, deadlines, dreams, 'n stuff
Quiet bedtime playlist streaming
Clearly you were'nt good enough

Quiet poem bursting from me my
Admonition of defeat

quiet quiet.

too much quiet-

quiet, would you let me sleep?

2:46am 8.30.18

I used to loathe when tired, those who erred to disregard the pull of thoughts towards the complexities that make us who we are. Or perhaps the tug they never feel, the stinging ***** within the soul. That scratch that must be raked by nails until one feels they fin'lly "know."

I loathed the hedonist's sweet relief
The gratification and tunneled vision
The scarless frames, the husks they may be,
The innocence of things unseen-
I once would wish that I could be so null to that which mattered most. Its relative, but even still I wished that I was like those folks.

11:36p
8.28.18

You make me smile somewhere deep
Where I'm more me

The ground?
The ground is gone. Im floating past sunsets and sunrises
Im floating through hellos and goodbyes
Im floating below the heavens
And just above the singe of hell's fires
I'm floating with my debts
I'm floating with my pains
I'm floating with my future and my past
I'm there
Suspended
The air is thin
My breaths are small
But just enough
And I see it all
I feel it all
But numb to consequence
I've kept my drive
I'll hold my loves
But I float amidst the cares
They graze my skin and float away
The ground?
The ground is gone and I feel its gone forever

Folded ripped and unfolded
You see the symmetry and its beautiful
But when you take a step closer you see the emptiness in the tears.
You see the valleys left behind in each crease of every fold
The rugged edges of the rip
Fingerprints left from a sweaty hold
Yes, upon closer inspection I am but the sum of my parts
And often all my parts appear to be disasters
And often they are
I trot around like a work of art
But few see what it took to get that way
How I was folded ripped and unfolded
Few can't see past what it took
They see the holes left in me but not the pretty shapes
And some see the shapes and I wish they'd acknowledge the holes
Still even fewer can comprehend the resulting work
And frankly, Sometimes I'm not sure I do
But I manage
A crippled work of art made beautiful by how neatly she was torn apart
I struggle to hold my new form in the wind and amongst viewers
Try to look like something relatable
And not like life spent too long on me
Worked till it got weary and persisted when really it should have rested its eyes
I try
To uphold my form as though every overworked corner and tear isn't centimeters away from destruction
As though the slightest snag or tug won't leave me hanging
Noticeably Deformed and mishapen
But I stretch and I retract with grace
Perhaps this is how I dance now
my life a pas de deux of trying to hold it all together
Just folded, ripped, and unfolded.