Sink beneath stars, into icy tacent lands
The world is a reflection, shattered ceaselessly
and mended only ever by her hands

Enter the yawning maw of the dim and thirsty deep
swim the frigid waters till the water is a mist
the potion of the seas upon the shore will creep
and the curtain will be parted by her stoney, frozen fist

The house does rise above, to house the world below
a roof of pinprick candles
through the door we all must go.

They called me Pluto from afar, and I,
Nameless and void, embraced the title
With the force of a thousand burning suns,
Each one like the star I loved ever so dearly,
An immense sphere of fire which had me
Helplessly, hopelessly bound by its gravity,
Caught in its orbit from the beginning of time.

They called me Pluto still from further still,
Speaking my name as the orbit of myself
And their water world drove us apart,
And I gladly, worshipfully rejoiced –
I had a name; I was no longer void.
I was distant still, but they called me Pluto,
And I wore my name like regalia,
A crown upon my lifeless skin.

They called me Pluto still as they
Waded further from the cosmic shore
That was their home, sending probes
That touched the regolith of Mars –
There was life, and light, spreading out from Planet Earth,
So I waited, hoping they’d come for me
Sooner rather than later, tomorrow and not two centuries from now.

They called me Pluto even as they stripped me of my name –
I was ‘planet’ no longer,
And I grew colder and bitterer as I spun,
Because I knew things they did not,
Things about the rise and fall of civilizations.
They did not see what I had seen,
They had not been watching
Since the dawn-time.

They called me Pluto,
And they cried my name
As I watched them burn,
The light of the flickering candle in the dark
That had once been humankind
Flaring, more luminous than the sun for one bright, shining moment,
Then fading.

They called me Pluto in the aftermath,
As if I were the God of the underworld,
Guarding their lost souls from my far-off perch,
Shepherding that which could not be led,
But I was not their God, even if I’d once fathomed them as mine.
So here I wait, patient, eternal, void and barren,
For them to leave me lonely when they no longer
Dare to speak my name from the realm
I am the supposed guardian of;
They called me Pluto.

I'm supposed to be an artist.
I'm supposed to be a writer.
Everything that has happened to
me I have taken
and made it kiss my *******
***.
But this I can not make into
art.

I can not take this memory
and deface it with my hate
and pain.
I did this to myself.
This was a decision I made,
sat in the shower,
and cried for so many
hours thinking about.
This was not forced upon me.
But with her expected
delivery date arriving,
I want to make this some
beautiful piece I can
look back on.

Not cold hands and instruments
put inside my body
pushing and pulling.
I can not make this art.
Staring at the clock and
watching the seconds tick
by to distract myself from
the pain.

I can not count seconds
to forget her now.
I can not count hours
To forget the suction sound.
I just...
I can not.
Make this art.

The reality of my abortion
it too cold and hard
and real
to make this into metaphors,
into some abstract
piece about how life
was taken out of me.

I didn't cry that day.
I didn't cry that week.
But when out of habit I went
to rub my stomach
I flinched. Pluto was gone.

I could feel her sweetness
and strength. I could feel
that I was not ready for
such a strong love,
I was not ready to look
my child in the eyes
and know that I could not
take care of her.

I want to honor her memory
for the strength that she has
passed on to me.
I named her Pluto for she was
such a small planet to me.
A sweet companion to guide
me through the pain that I was
enduring.

I don't think I was supposed
to have her.
I like to think that her
purpose was to make me
stronger. To make me a better
person.

I haven't dropped out of high
school yet because I want a good
life for any child I decide
to care for. I haven't ended my
life yet because
then her's would be a waste.

She grew inside of me for 3 months.
Caused me some intense nausea
and cramps.
She was strong, and bowed down for
no one, stretching my body apart.

I cry for her often.
And I don't believe in much.
But I know in whatever after life
or reincarnation that I may have,
I will see her again.
I will hold her someday.

But for now, getting a tattoo
of my little planet
in the palm of my hand will
have to do.
She had a beautiful soul,
a beautiful burning will.

Maybe I can make this art.
Maybe I can make her smile
knowing that I will always love her.

In last night’s episode, a feeling washed over me

Lonely and alone, I broke down

And within those few moments of emotional inertia

I wept for everything and everyone;

For Prince and Bowie and all the others

For the planet

For my loved ones

and all of their problems I can’t solve

But not for myself, I wouldn’t allow it

I deny myself everything I need;

A person to love and be loved by

A shoulder to cry on

Permission to be weak

Help when it’s needed

A part of me died

and I reflected on how trivial it is

always making things difficult for yourself

Questioned why my life is so hard

As if it’s all some joke everyone is in on

They’re laughing and rooting against me

while I fall back down each time I get back up

Does anyone understand what it’s like in my shoes?

How can they when I don’t let anyone in?

Hell, I don’t even understand my own weary soul

So star crossed and aimless

and pulled in every direction

Searching….searching….unable to find solace

Looking for home in people and places and things

Put a noose around my heart,

hung it for all to see

There is no love for one so smart and strong

There is no place for one so resistant to belong

There is no hope, or so it seems

Impatiently waiting for someone to prove me wrong

To cut these ties

To free me from myself

To make me feel alive

Because **** it, I’m just like a beautiful flower

I thrive in the right environment

I will flourish and bloom

and grow into the best version of myself

Stable, no insecurity

My fruits will nurture you in return

I will love you like you’ve never been loved before

Baby, the brightest diamonds and pearls are made over time

The future’s gonna be good to me

Chin up, buttercup -

with death comes new life

the first time you said I love you was on Valentines day.
On the way back to my house, on a winding street lined with pine trees
You said it as a joke, and that's why I laughed

the second time you said I love you was when we were on your living room floor
vinyls upon vinyls with the wrapping all around us
this time I just ignored it and gave a tight smile

the third time you said I love you it was attached to a quick goodbye on the phone
I hung up before I could react and dropped to the floor right after

because how the **** could you ever love me and not know about the planet of skeletons I have in my closest?
you never seen my bad days or my worst days
you don't know the way I light up and the way I fade away
you don't know the voices in my head or the numbers on my arm dialing a phone home
hell, you don't even know what that means

you can't love me because you don't even know that I'm a planet
you can't love me because you don't know that I gave up being a human a long time ago
and you can never love me because you'll never understand why

Come to me

with those light eyes illuminating in the darkness
filled with lust, hope, dust ... maybe even love

Walk slowly

with each step
making small vibrations in the house I wish to call my home
I want to hear every creak and every whine it makes
I want to hear it breathe

Don't rush
Take your time

I want to see your chest rise and fall-- quickening with each step you take towards me
I want you to bite your bottom lip, or run your tongue over it
I want to see your eyes look me over.

You don't look at me like you only want me in your bed--
but with you, completely.
like you want to see me in your next life (and the one after that)
like I was the Garden of Eden and you were Adam
like I just became your favorite song or movie
like I was a dream-- the one you'll never forget

Hold your hand out now

let me see the blood pulse through your veins
let the anticipation build up

Be steady as you come closer
I can smell you now,
hints of your cologne from this morning
and a rush of your soap from the shower just now

I hear you say my name from your lips
barely a whisper
barely even heard-- but my skin ****** nevertheless

I'm yearning for you
Come to me
Come to me and never go back to where you were before
Come to me
Come to me

*come to me

I live through the last lines in books. Thats where you could find me if you wanted to. Thats where I reside.

I don't mind the dust. In fact, I've grown to befriend the lonely particles as well as the dog-eared pages I used to despise.

But, still- If you want, you could find me. Only at the last line of books.

I am a girl that calls herself a planet.

I do this because I look around and I see that I don't belong. I first thought it was the world that was different, but as I grow older I see that it is I that differs. The things I like are deemed weird. I speak with blunt force and honesty- but in this society that is looked down upon. I am not what beautiful is defined to be. In fact, I'm the exact opposite. So, I choose not to be seen.

Yet, I want to be wanted. Though being wanted is unattainable for a planet like me. I have a house, but not a home. I have parents and siblings, but not a family. I have people to talk to, but not friends. I am alone. It's not that I feel too small for this world, it is that I feel too big. I'm not good around people. So, I must be alone for the better of society. And I'm afraid, that I will be alone for the rest of my life.

That is the burden of being a planet; remaining untouchable.

I am everyone, and I am no one. I am the air in your lungs, and I am your lungs. I am the blood that pumps through your veins, and I am the wind that barely touches your skin. I am your mother, your lover, and your friend. I don't know who I am, but you know who I am. You love me and you hate me. I am your darkest secret, and your favorite memory. I am all the bad and good in the world. I am the rug beneath your feet and your pillow you keep flipping to find the coolest side. I am your bed, I am your home. I am... but then again I am not.

I am a ghost, a simple shadow that no one notices. I am the thing you don't see, but feel. I am the background people in your dreams that you can't seem to remember. I am not even a memory. I am a figment of your vast imagination, I am not real. So you see, this world is so big and its not. We are this contradicting light and darkness that is called the human race. And I may or not be real, but I know you are. I know you are gravity itself. I know you are the big bang, and the space and time continuum. You are here. You've always been here. And even when your bones rot, and your name fades on your tombstone, you will still be here.

You will still lead, and I will still follow.