pale
speech

Planet silhouetting atlases
of worlds we'll never know.
Their histories repeat,
through mushroom clouds
of soft pink explosions,
crying their fears for us to feel.
We watch them live and die,
admiring the beauty of life and death;
only I weep when light eminates through their wars.

When is
               "I could've done
                                           -Insert Dream Here-"
Too Late?
                  Is there something holding you back?
No.
        Really.
                    What chain are you secretly,
                                  possibly unknown to you
                      Burdens your shoulders?
Why do you bedraggle your hopes
                                                        Thr­ough the mud?
Beating them relentlessly
                                           Until solidly convinced they are
                                                           No More.
Because you
                    were never good enough anyways...
                             never could have done it.
Doesn't matter why.
                                  Any reason will work.
You.
          Do Not.
Need anyone else.
                             Feed yourself confidence.
Build from within.
                                Want to know how?
It is actually very simple.
              You know those Hopes?
Those
             or That
                             One thing
                                              You want So Much.
Pick it up.
Go Ahead.
                  Yes, You can have it.
The only thing is.
                             It tends to be hard work...
Many tedious hours.
                                   But the moon stays Full
                                        One Single Night.
It's whole perfection lasting fleeting minutes.
                        Yet back around it comes>
So will the
                  Pride
That fills your mind,
                        body,
                        soul,­
                                 This total complete bliss...
How is that not worth those hard
                                                        Sing­le hours?
It can't be
                 It's Not
                              Because all those hours are Fun.
Cherishing,
                    True,
Though struggled
                               They brought forth New.
A quiet new skill
                             known only to you
To bring Forth that Bliss
                          That single adventure sought by You.
Think Back.
                    Was it really just the one?


**Aug 24, 2013

our love
is a record
the tension of the static
the clarity
clearer and more beautiful
than before
it fills the room with music
begging us
to become lost
in its melodies

Last night I prayed
Softly, peacefully, and still,
No strain, no grief, no disbelief,
No doubting of His will,

Last night I prayed
Softly for His strength,
Since I am weak.

Then with peace-of-mind
Worries and stress left behind
I quietly fell asleep.

Crisp air envelopes my lungs
and I breathe deeply taking in August's monologue
I fade into Summer's passing song
Holding tightly to the moment and every loving thought
because too soon it will be gone
The grass beneath my feet tickles my playful nature
Where once as a young hopeful observer my toes knew the sensation
Intimately
I am morphing into a different breed
As cunning as a fox
I let the fear displace and grace the day with curiosity
and ambitious velocity
Ready for anything and everything to come my way
No longer waiting
I'm joining the chase

The flowerlike
animal perfume
in the god’s curly
hair —

don’t assume
that like a flower
his attributes
are there to tempt

you or
direct the moth’s
hunger —
simply he is
the temple of himself,

hair and hide
a sacrifice of blood and flowers
on his altar

if any worshipper
kneel or not.

Dear "adults",
I hate it when you look down on those of us in high school,
As if there's some sort of unspoken rule
That the time we spend in such a place
Is supposed to be sublime.

"Stop complaining."
I'm sorry, I assumed that when you asked about my day
I wasn't supposed to mask what I say
And tell you that everything is swell.

To what extent will you dismiss my discontent
Toward the discipline with hardly any discipline nowadays?

"You'll miss it. Just wait until you get into the real world."
The "real world"?
Why, suddenly, is my world not real enough for you?
From all I've been through in my life,
High school has presented me with the most strife, and so
Since when is a bit of resentment
Unjustified?

The nerve you pride
Yourself in having, presuming
That there is any amount of artificiality in my reality
Is infuriatingly consuming.

How can you think we could make any sense
Of the difficulties surrounding anything but what we've experienced?
This I cannot comprehend.
But maybe you want us to pretend?

"How was school today?"
Oh, it was okay.
I only dealt with misunderstanding,
The pressure of classes being so demanding,
The difficulty of self consciousness
That is amplified each day by bullies' relentlessness.
I only endured mental exhaustion
From switching subjects each hour, without option.
I simply struggled with your expectation
That colleges should long to give me an invitation,
Even though I'm being forced to commit to
A life plan I've made based off the little I've been through.

School is a privilege, we know,
Yet, so is possessing a job.
So why, then, am I a snob,
When you're allowed to 'complain'?

I realize that life could be much worse for me,
And someday high school might seem like a breeze,
But until the day comes when I become aware
That the troubles of high school cannot compare,
Let me have my time to vent, please.