Underneath the water,
My flaws are clear and tough,
I am forever shrinking,
but never thin enough.

My reflection is distorted,
Or so they tell me so,
But they don't understand,
They don't see the things I know.

So its time to stop speaking out,
I'm too far gone to save,
I don't hear the words I need,
The answer that I crave.

And every day, so carefully,
The numbers slowly rise,
Despite the suffering I do,
They tell me only lies.

It makes no difference what I do,
Or which foods I eat each day,
I will never look the way I want,
No matter how much or little I weigh.

I carry the clothes on my body–
a plain t-shirt and sweater leggings–
attempting to stay warm and keep cool.
I carry my backpack,
my heavy, heavy backpack,
to carry the things I can’t carry in my arms…
my books, pencils, papers, and keys.
In my arms I sometimes carry more books,
sometimes a cup of chai, and sometimes, nothing. Sometimes
I wish I carried a little bit more time;
then I could carry the things I’ve left behind.

I carry all the parts of me simultaneously, and I am full now.
I carry my eyes, for without them, my path would be blurred,
and I would be ignorant.
I carry my ears to hear music and dissonance and
I carry a heart to feel the soundwaves and make sense of them.
I carry my nose to hold the sweetness of a flower in my lungs,
and skin to caress their soft petals,
without plucking them.
When I carry nothing, I sleep,
and in my dreams, I carry the clouds and the stars beyond them.
From there I may see the things I have yet to carry.

I carry my own weight across the populated Earth.
I carry my own gravity and the light of the sun.
I carry the stars from my dreams, and from them,
I create constellations in broad daylight.
I carry my heart.
I carry the soundwaves of voices like
space nymphs, singing songs I want to remember.
I carry the sight of people coming closer and drifting further from me,
escaping and re-entering my orbit,
an arm-length or a light-year away.
I carry their images and sometimes,
I reach for their silhouettes and I try to feel their thoughts.

I carry my heart and it is full.
My heart is filled with emotion,
and my emotions are the Earth’s turbulent winds
across a golden, sun-kissed field and
the sound of a waterfall crashing into
a pool of water at the bottom of the valley, and
equally the eye of the storm in which
the world is a spinning oblivion,
but here, it is quiet.
My heart is the recollection of times past
in a yellowed, well-worn tome awaiting a reader and
the diary of someone whose story begs to be forgotten.
My heart beats for someone to understand its journey,
but it longs to understand what it beats for.
I carry the silence and the music alike;
I carry the Earth and all its wonders.

in sleep,
you lay
open
letting the night sky
grow emptiness into
a joy
an infinite dream
an ocean of poems
an idea,
a voice,
falling from the stars
and kissing you on the cheek
laying flowers beside you
gazing lovingly at your faults
your love
and your presence
there is always a sorrow and a darkness
a sense with a constant wish
to sit on your chest
making it hard to breathe
toxic smoke
twirling around your nostrils
making a home out of your lungs
but if you listen
if you listen
there is a loving cleanliness
that is stronger
beating ever brighter
watching as you rest
and imagining the sunlight
that your eyes will create
whispering the safe word
and it is all going to be okay
breaking down the great walls that surround your heart
the room that holds the ways to no longer have to guess
the room that holds all of the answers you long to possess
finding dead parts along the way
signs of only having lived and survived
wandering around the room
realizing the walls really are gone
and oh no—what is going to happen to your heart now
the aching feeling in your stomach
is no match to the power and purity that is to come
meet me at the window
you will lose your breath
but there will be a true escape
full of a growing stardust
and stability
that will put shame to the label that reads “fragile: handle with care.”
and you will ask yourself,
but is this a window or a mirror?
and then you will realize that this question is the point of everything
alluring the tongue of the hidden rays
that shines onto a finally revealed trust
thrusting itself upon your shoulders
and you cannot ignore it now.
a deeply powerful realm
that you have fought so tirelessly to find
reflections will always be reflections
but reality is never a constant
it will be hard to prevent yourself from rebuilding the walls
but take a deep breath
revel in the lightness you feel
and do not forget to remind yourself of the burden of its opposite
it will be even harder to grasp this new feeling
this new reality
but it whispers to you
endless
moonlight running through your veins
illuminating your beautifully constructed being
there is no reason to mourn the loss of so much dead weight
the heavy shadows that have finally drifted away
and soon,
once you awake
you will realize it wasn’t just a dream
the reflection will disappear
only to become a reality
and i promise
i promise
you deserve this beaming experience
that is burning with comfort
and entities pulling love into your fingertips
the intense knowledge that you awake with
the truth floating all around you
will embrace you in its arms
and there won’t be any more questions
but an early thirst to continue to chase after this luster
with a surrounding magnitude
that grows stronger off your heartbeat
and in the morning
when the flowers are still there
the anxiety will not be
and you will gracefully arise
an unknown entity
with a force so powerful
no words will be uttered
but spoken unknown
embracing continuously
what it feels like
to be so
free.

a woman's work is ever ongoing
she cooks, washes and does all hubby's mowing
the list of her daily duties quite long
she's never free from these demanding tasks
her days are as full as the fullest flasks
at no time is the housewife taking spells
every minute rings in requesting bells
few assist they're off singing an easy song
whereas the underpaid maid grinds tough stone
her hands worn down to barest possible bone
women carry tons of bricks a real heavy freight
not for one second will they idle or laze
they're running around in the busiest haze
by week's end they do feel a loading's weight

I am not Atlas.
I can’t carry the weight the world on my back,
Watching from below as
symphonies become sorrows
And hopes become hopeless.
As hearts stop beating despite the flowing
Of blood through the veins along scarred wrists.
And bones fracture after words stab into
Discarded bodies with lifeless heads.
And maybe Atlas didn’t have this problem.
Maybe Atlas could bend his knees,
Perhaps they were sculpted to shift that way
But, even if I wished upon the brightest star
My knees would not bend at the hands of chaos.

My inspirational weight loss journey,
It's like being in Street Sesame,
Just keep saying, "No cookies!"
And no ice cream or choccies!
So, as well I'm gluten free,
I did reduce by 35 kilos, you see,
My inspirational weight loss industry!
Let's hear it for, "Good for me!"

rolling nimbus sky
heavy black rainbow clouds swell
burdening winds load


words in the wind

The anchor weighs down the boat like a weary and uncertain heart. Aching and rusted, these chains increasingly weak as each roaring wave strains it more and more. The wooden sides of the boat are at maximum capacity, the mast already torn from the storm’s massive winds. Tears of god flood the deck as the storm grows nearer.

From inside the cabin sits a wise man upon an uncomfortable rusted chair. He no longer looks outside for signs of damage to the boat, as the boat is all he has left and he cannot handle worrying about it any longer. The cabin floor sways out to the open sea from the undertow, almost as if a magnet is pulling it away from the safety of the shore.

In just a few hours, the strongest force of the storm will be here. In anticipation, the man simply sits and waits in the vessel, fully prepared to go down with it, still clinging on to a clouded hope that his home will withstand its toughest test.

The man asks himself just one thing as he waits … “Will my heavy heart stay grounded through the toughest of times, or will the winds pull me drifting into the lonely sea? Time will tell. ”

I died drowning
Drowning like the rest of America
Trying to breathe under the numbers
All of them telling us that we're failures
I died drowning

It was more so a ****** than an unfortunate event
I blame society
Piling papers and statistics on teens and the to be's
We're shoved into school at the age of 3
For that I blame you

I blame you for my death
The air was extracted from my lungs
All 78% of nitrogen and 21% of oxygen

Geometry fried my brain at exactly 112 degrees
Physics pushed me off a cliff and I accelerate by 9.81 m/s
World History murdered me with every war and battle

English killed me just like every author
Band beat me to death like a drum
Weightlifting dropped 225 lbs on my throat
The play acted out all of my deaths

I didn't die just drowning
I was beaten, burned, shot, choked, mocked and everything in between.
I was murdered and I  am still living

I am here to convict the killers
They say it takes a village to raise a kid
But what does it take to **** one?