Out of a shattered mind,
reveals itself in a reminiscence of the time.
When our bones cracked,
punched,
moved,
collided,
and snapped.

We were free.
Free from the sight of judgemental eyes,
                                                       and words of disgust.

It was me,
and you.

Just Us Two.

We were under a different light and playing in secret shadows. So no one could follow.

We hid from God and his false grace, as we moved from place to place. Up and down and rolling around, sticking to leather as to you I was as light as a feather.

With your arms around me in the tightest embrace,
I know I will never,
                                   forget
                                              your face.

Yesterday night,
as I was crossing the
bridge of the past,
your name was
barely floating underneath,
I looked at it as it was
half submerged,
half breathing,
and my hand didn't reach out for it,
instead, it reached out for my heart,
listened to its beats,
they said walk to the end of the bridge,
and I did,
my hand reached for my hair and cut
two strands to make a ribbon to tie the past,
you loved my hair after all,
didn't you?

Saturday night football game,
surrounded by a crowd of cheering fans,
classmates I'm supposed to call my friends,
but honestly, I'd much rather be home in my PJs,
watching corny movies with my grandma.

"Where are you going?" they ask.
Like they even care.
They don't.

I decide to leave,
but just as I'm walking out,
there you are.

The boy with the brown eyes and the brown hair,
but everything else about him bright and shining like the sun,
with every color that blossoms from the innermost workings
of my aching heart,
The boy that makes weeks feel like days
and hours feel like seconds,
The boy I never thought I'd stand a chance with,
until now.

What do I do?
Do I pretend your eyes didn't just catch mine?
Do I leave, regardless of the fact
that this could be the very opportunity
I've been waiting for?
Do I stay,
unsure if I'd even get up the nerve
to talk to you?

But before I can think about this any longer,
before I can talk myself out of saying the two letters
I should've never said,
"Hi" slips out from underneath my tongue
and wraps itself around my neck
like a rope that, if pulled only the slightest bit tighter,
would've had the potential to strangle every thought in my mind
to silence.

But to my surprise, you smile.
Oh, how precious that smile was.
I haven't seen it in a while,
you know.

So we talk and we laugh,
and you ask me if I'd like to sit,
go somewhere we can be alone.

I lead.
You sit down next to me,
your leg brushing up against mine.

A rusty old picnic table
becomes a spot I'd never forget,
a soon-to-be landmark behind all the bleachers and fake friends,
all the screaming, all the cheering, of people who'll never know
what it's like to feel the way I did that night.

A little boy runs out in front of us,
playing with a small car his mom must've let him bring,
his curly blonde hair bouncing up and down with every step.

You tell me about that time you fell off your bike,
went tumbling down and got right back up
to ride all the way back home.
How your dad called and you answered,
forgetting to mention the severity of what had just happened.
The way your brother looked at you when you stumbled through the front door,
all bruised and beaten up like you'd just been in a bad fight.
The way you walked upstairs,
how you just laughed.

I tell you about anything I can think of,
anything that you didn't already know.
To be honest, I don't even remember what I said.
I was so nervous I didn't even know words
were coming out of my mouth
until you laughed that laugh,
the same one as when you fell off your bike.

Soon, silence falls upon us,
but not the kind that thickens the air
and makes it hard to breathe.
No, the "this is so amazing I'm at a loss for words"
kind of silence.
The same silence everyone needs to experience in their lives.

And suddenly,
in the midst of our perfect quiet,
you do something you'd never be able to take back,
something that meant a lot more to me
than it ever would to you:
you put your arm around me.

I remember feeling so special.
I remember finally accepting the fact
that you could feel the same about me
as I always had for you.

I remember feeling like nothing in the world could hurt me,
nothing could bring me down,
not as long as your arm stayed right there,
around mine.

But nothing stays perfect forever.
Quiet moments fade,
the clock runs out,
players shake hands,
crowds go home.

And before you know it,
Saturday nights fade into Sunday mornings.
And Sunday mornings feel like let-downs
after Saturday nights like those.

A totally an unexpected scene ,
So what did my thoughts mean ,
Should i laugh or cry ,
Over the one who was mine

i'm sorry—
i'm not your youth
or the smiles that i shared with you
so long ago

i'm just another minute
on your weeping clock
shriveling up,
winding
down

Young: dreaming
of impossible possibilities
Unrestrained, untethered from reality
Unaware of the ticking, of the passing
of the seconds, of the hours,
of the years to the end
of eternity.

Climbing
Climbing and
Clinging
to the hope that one can dream forever
and as the feet are swinging
the child, fearless of pain, fearless of the fall, is ever
naive, and never expecting
that one day the dream may end.

For what was once a child is a child no longer

Mature: daydreaming
of the past, yet troubled of the future
Unfeatherd, grounded in reality
All too aware of the arching clock hands
and the hours that turn into seconds
and the days that pass into years
begin to fade into
oblivion.


Falling
Falling and
Failing
to realize that the feet now rest upon the ground
and the child that was once fearless, is fearing
the depths of a future not yet found
forever doubtful yet hoping
To continue to dream at day’s end.

What was gained was equally lost
And with this knowledge in hand
The child finally stands
Holding on to the dreams of tomorrow
Grasping the fantasies of yesterday

Indeed, what once was can never be again
To march forward never to return
What awaits are only questions, what remains are only “ifs”
But what stands tall is neither a realist nor a dreamer

What stands is a child no longer

a swarm of thoughts
as i read
as i write

1. sitting at a desk. i'm not alright.
2. seven birds hover.
3. can i escape the past?
4. is my life all that bad... i'm alright now.
5. bats that circle and block the sun
6. the ruler whipping down on my hands, my feet, my everything
7. souls gather and gather
8. oh the abuse i have suffered from you
9. lists and lists and lists and lists
10. my death. painful or peace?
11. shutupshutupshutup
12. unnecessary dreams and cliches
13. the wooden stick sits by you as i stare
14. the angry yelling words
15. tomanytomany
16. the end.