Skai: Favorites

Feb 2014 Skai

Untitled

Feb 2014 Skai

M

Untitled

If you ever asked me,
"How do you feel about her?"
I wouldn't have a clear answer,
I'd probably tell you something simple like,
"Oh, I love her"
or "I want to **** her and she's
super duper hot"
but at the same time, "my church says that's a sin to want that
and I'm not sure what God wants from me
and to the best of my knowledge, He needs me for some great purpose
beyond loving one person
and I can't squander my future on her"
and "also I hurt everything I love"
so "I'm scared to love her because I'm scared
she'll think I'm creepy or crazy"
and "she's not even into relationships and doesn't think that's important
so I don't even know if a relationship would work"
and "my parents would be fine with it"
but "her family wouldn't be okay with it"
and "we live in such a hard time for acceptance that
if I went outside and held her hand, someone could **** us,
literally"
or maybe I'd tell you that "I'm fighting my feelings every day
and it's a cross I must bear"
and "I'm better off being a nun than falling for people I can't have"
and maybe I'd tell you that "all these complicated feelings,
dwarf in comparison to the huge, overarching,
powerful amount of love
I have for her,"
how "every day I would wake up next to her
and I would put on my shining armor
take my cross up from beside the dresser
burn my bridges on the way to work
if that's what she wanted."

Yeah. I'd probably tell you that last bit.

Feb 2014 Skai

Untitled

Feb 2014 Skai

R

Untitled

i am reading about black holes
and how they are a possibility to
explore another dimension
or to use them to travel in time.
but, all i can think about
is the black hole i call my heart.
i found God through a shooting star,
but what about now?
my eyes can see clearer than they ever could,
and i am scared to know that maybe
when i look into your eyes on Monday
that i wasn't ever in love with you.
i have never doubted in a day
that i have never loved you.
but, the thought is too much to bear now.
i saw the sun but couldnt see the pain
i was blinded by the hurt
and tortured by the pain
and dear, dear God,
i am so scared
because if it is all fiction then
i do not ever think
i will be able to forgive myself nor
the black hole i call my heart.

Jan 2014 Skai

Untitled

Jan 2014 Skai

M

Untitled

I like the way that poems sound
how each line means nothing
except to the author
I like the way they are always addressed
to someone named 'You'
and the way that You will never read them.

Jan 2014 Skai

God, do you love me?

Jan 2014 Skai

M

God, do you love me?

I desperately want to be good enough.
And it's not as easy for me as for you-
even the church doesn't approve of me.
Even God would condemn me.
Of course I'm scared, and I want to turn away,
and tell myself to only trust in the self
and to be great and whole and
self-loving
while I desperately need outside love.
I cannot simply live my life and know
that He is on my side,
like you can.
Following these morals is like swimming up
a
waterfall.
I know who I was born to be.
do you want me to fight that?
Do you want me to try and overcome?
or are you telling me to accept myself?
Easy for you to say homosexuality is a sin
when you've never felt it
and you've never been scared they'll find out
like I am, every day,
and you've never held a girl's hand,
and you've never been in kindergarten and proposed
in front of the class
and your teacher looks at you and tells you
"girls don't like girls"
and then you thought to yourself, "wait...
I'm a girl?"
because every day you'd told yourself and
desperately wished
you would look like who you felt like
and you've never been repulsed by your supposed
"perfect completion" and
"opposite half"
and homosexuality has never been anything but an objective issue for you
and
God has
always loved you.
I don't know if I can survive alone.
I don't have anyone to give me unconditional love-
apparently the only one who CAN,
does not
love
those like me.
I need You.
Please.
I want a straight(or gay) answer.
God, do you love me?

Dec 2013 Skai

The sound of my heart breaking

Dec 2013 Skai

M

The sound of my heart breaking

Thunder.
outside my window.
(or is that the sound of you
writing someone else's name
in your poem?)

Dec 2013 Skai

Potatoes can't see through their eyes (I feel their pain)

Dec 2013 Skai

John Edward Smallshaw

Potatoes can't see through their eyes (I feel their pain)

What will become will become of this day and I wake up to find this day's been taken away by the thieves of the night,is this right,
does the night carry on even though it has gone,does the day have no say in its dawning?

It is morning in my head ergo,I am not dead or maybe I could be.
If the night doesn't see me does the day really free me,do I carry the can for the sins of mankind?
I find in illusion a great deal of confusion,a smelting of fantasy,a melting of freedom.

This hit and miss in me really disheartens me and although I keep trying there's something inside me that tells me I'm dying,it's a shame.
There is no fortune or fame for the runners up in a game just the harsh feel of failure,but if the day should return and I am still awake,there's a chance of a part,a starring role in the affairs of my own beating heart,
is it here
do you know
did the day really come and the night really go?

In cahoots with the Pole Star, I map out a route that will make me fortune,the moon makes me a beggar man and the beggars just scowl,
I'll be free soon not out of tune with my peers,not retreating from the advancing of legions of years.
It's all relative or so they say,
and what will become will become of this day.

Oct 2013 Skai

three years of self harm

Oct 2013 Skai

Redshift

three years of self harm

i look at the burn peeling on my arm and i think about all the **** that got me here
from the red asterisk i drew with a knife three years ago
in the butter yellow room of my older sister's house
when we were homeless
to the childhood summer i spent as a lake baby
in my grandmother's car

i finger the scores of cuts on my arms
my thighs
old, most of them
some too deep to fade
each scar has a face
most of them are
mommy's

i like to remember her from old photographs
sun-bleached hair down to her unblemished thighs
the most inexplicable shine in her face

i think of how different those photographs would be
if she knew then that her daughter hurt her body
every time she thought of her mother

i think the smile would be different

but i look at her now
grayed,
aging...
still smiling.
as if she didn't know
that she made me a tiger
gave me these stripes
as if she didn't know
that it is her fault i am a killer

i look at the burn peeling on my arm
and for once this self harm isn't pretty to me
it is very, very ugly
a big, blistering red mark
marring my freckles
i wonder when it will fade
or if it will at all
i wish i could burn more than
just this arm
of mine.