Words are a gift I seem to abuse
notebooks and pens all strained with misuse
my speech is fragmented, a point is not given
yet somehow words cause me to just keep on living

a text from a friend, an email from you
a post from a person who knows what to do
I read an article about people like me
and pray to a god that I'll someday be free

to write what I want and to write it so well
and in such a way that no one can tell
That I'm trying to hard, or I'm just spit-balling
That I cling to these words to keep me from falling.

We put people into boxes.
One look at an appearance,
One shake of the hand,

One sentence spoken tells us all we need to know.
When we're proven wrong we cower when we should grow.
Instead of learning, we call one person different and shun the rest,
everyone else like them put into another box where we never test.
Test ourselves if this is wrong, or just a trait that helps us survive.
Because assumptions based on stereotypes are surely the way to thrive.
Everyone has different boxes, and everyone thinks they're right.
We'll tell ourselves anything to help us sleep at night.

The problem lies not with the boxes themselves, (though make no mistake they're not exempt from blame),
The problem is what we do with these cages, and how they're used to inflict pain.
People who don't agree are deemed to be hostile, and thrown in another shed.
We need to talk, find some common ground, be able to disagree without blood being bled.

It''s hard sometimes
you send me the invite
without proper foresight
I don't understand
nobody sees me
I'm no longer free
to sing what I need

Feelings frustrate me.
When I have them, I'm sad.
When they leave me, I'm numb.
Most of the time, I hover just between the two,
in sight of my sadness but just far enough away
to feel nothing.

I stare at the guitar resting on my thigh,
hating the way my legs look and the stupid clothes I wear.
I wonder why the more I play and the harder I strum
the worse my hands feel the next day.

I don't want to succumb to a miserable existence.
I'm feeling less and less sad and more anxious.
It's a storm twisting and roaring in the darkest pit of my stomach
and leeching the life out of my brain and my thoughts are
so loud.

I can't feel love towards anybody who doesn't exist in my imagination and sigh when another friendship falls into the abyss of neglect.
My identity laughs as I stumble around this dark maze,
growing sick of this pointless game of hide and seek and cursing myself for running the batteries out of my dim flashlight.

Sometimes it's bearable.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and my scars don't burn, and my brain isn't screaming in my ear.
Sometimes the music I play sounds better, and sometimes the friends I talk to understand when I need my space and when I need to be loved.

Sometimes, I'm able to sigh in the crisp autumn breeze and feel comfortable in my own skin without having to write down my feelings in meaningless free-verse.

I see them when I close my eyes
At night when I dream or in day when I turn my head
I know they hear my desperate cries
When I see them fade away into nothing again
I hate to admit that I try
To see your face in their crowd, and to talk to you
My head compulsively lies
Telling me that they are there and that they care

a great white wall silently stands

I tried to paint a mural, what an artist
I guess I forgot that my talent departed.

You came along, and you tried to draw too
Painted my mistakes white and started anew.

But your hand slipped, and were unsatisfied
So you covered your shame with another coat of white.

We tried to put thought into colors on wall
but discovered even together we couldn't at all.

After a time, the paint started to peel
giving way to what I no longer feel.

When nobody was there to hear a sound
I came back with a hammer and broke the wall down.

Inside my dream you seek destruction
An endless cycle of death and corruption
I seek to fight, and end the pain
But I am just a small disruption
With a study beat you march right on
Unknowing of all the hate you cause
Or maybe you see the coming rain
A storm of emotions you have spawned

Not many see what has become of me
Just some more initials carved into a tree
That’s rotting, that’s dying, from an ailment unknown
And nobody knows how much we’ve all grown
Conveniently ignoring the things we can see
Conveniently forgetting where we carved out our memories.

A car drives on an abandoned road
I sit in the passenger seat
Hands on the wheel, no sign you'll slow
and my heart begins to beat
faster than it ever has before
I don't trust you in this ride
I said I wanted the gas to the floor
but this wasn't what I had in mind

Because suddenly you're in control
of every aspect in my life
To bad you never listen
to what I have to say
oh how I wish, to find a way
to open my door and fly away
but to bad you never listen
to what I have to say

The speedometer hand is creeping right
How did we get this fast
All you want to do is fight
I just want to breeze past
the thoughts that hide in the back of my brain
seem to be gaining in numbers
let all just pray they ease the pain
and make it so I can recover

Because suddenly I'm in control
of every aspect in my life
It's supposed to feel like freedom
But I just want to say
"oh how I wish, to find a way
to open my door and fly away"
but to bad I never listen
to what I have to say

A car slows on an abandoned road
I sit in the drivers seat
hands on the wheel, no sign I'll grow
and I just taste defeat
I hoped you would be beside me
when I turned my head
but empty air is all I see
something else I just misread.

Whenever you're near I lose my mind
It hopped out of my head and lags behind
Following me on my quest to find
the one who made me lose my mind

I took a left onto state street
ran so fast I couldn't breath
I paused and laid down on concrete
I thought I saw you on state street

It was just a false creation
a figment of my imagination
I carve out all of my frustration
pain is just a false creation

So whenever I see you I fill with dread
From all of the words I left unsaid
For all of the nights I spent misled
The way I made you full of dread

Another idea flitting by
Going of to soar in the sky
Leaving in my creativity
Another dead ideology

Isolated and secluded,
Paranoid and confused
Getting some peace and quiet
Without appreciating the view
The trees they sway above me
While I sit here alone
In the thickening silence
I just want to be heard
The world’s not crashing down,
I’m just falling up
Searching for a sign in the sky
To find some piece of mind
Not to say it isn’t nice
Getting some time to myself
It’s always fun inside my head
Staring off into thin air.

You hate me for me
Not for what I did, said, chose
Not for who I love, hate, listen to
You hate me for me
And it feels nice

A young person sits on an empty park bench
a hat obscuring their face
tears sparkle in the sun when they fall to the ground
as their heart begins to break
the wind abruptly dies when the sobs begin
a token to their sadness
the trees stop shaking in the absent breeze
and the leaves cast a blackness
the shade that the young person feels
shelter from the burning sun
they conceal their emotions with a mask of pain
while their thoughts began to run

Why?

Echoes in my mind.

Why, Why, Why,

I want to like you.

Smart and cute and loyal,

but I do not.

Flirt, Smile, and loving the feeling of being loved.

While knowing I can never feel the same.

I wish I had wings for arms
and could fly free in the air
But I'd probably fly too close to the sea
and my wings would loosen and tear

I've been called many things.

Cute,
Short,
Tall,
Ugly,
Pretentious,
Cynical,
Loving,
Kind,
Manipulat­ive,
Creative.

A homophobic slur from my neighbor,
A "fine young man" from my parents,
A disappointment from myself,
"Ashley" for a time, because I asked my friends,
and "messed up" from those who overheard,
"Smart and brave" from my therapist,
and "a sin" from those sermons I watch sometimes.
The thing that scares me most,
is that my name means nothing to me.
It's just another thing I'm called.

You always break
And try to take
The things we make
And try to fake
For all our sake
Why can’t you wake
And see the faith
In what we create
You say we sin
That we are a sin
And more akin
To dirt than friend
And what you send
To keep us in
The closet dim
Your hearts of tin

You make my want to curse
why can't you let me in
I tried so hard to get through
your loud and horrid din
I mean *******
can't you take a clue
why the hell would I be here
If I didn't want to talk to you
No I don't want to get food
Or go out and chill
I want you to tell me what is wrong
or someone else will
I'm sick, I'm tired
and I want you
to tell me what is going on
so I can help you through

I know this is harder
than I will ever know
It's not my right to get mad
It's not like I'm a pro
I just want whats best for you
and for you to talk to me
so I can help you through this
and for both of us to see.

Large and small
Silent and lonely
Still and antagonizing
Only if only
I took a hammer
To tear down the wall
Found it took more
Than a hammer to fall
The mighty divider
The conqueror of lives
The god who determined
Who lives and who dies
So it wouldn’t budge
No it wouldn’t break
Not until the earth
Decided to shake.

People say "I love you"
as if it were just that easy
for all of them to say
with a completely straight face
that they feel an undying,
passionate emotion for little more
than a passing acquaintance.
"You're just cynical,"
they say
"Because you've never felt
the way I feel"
While that may be true
I believe I see clearer than they do.
or my favorite
"You have attachment issues"
as if ripping your heart out
and sloppily covering it with
last years holiday wrapping paper
and tying it up with a red bow
and handing it to the first stranger who
so much as glances at you
isn't the definition of attachment issues.

But when someone I know
someone I care about
someone I feel an intense protection for
someone who has put up with me for
so long says
"I love you"
It hurts when I can't say it back.

A soft melody I heard you play
You’re fingers danced along the fretboard
A ballerina of song
Your voice was jagged and hoarse
The voice of hurt
But you sang with such beauty
Your fingers bleed as the dance
Spills onto the wood
The steady tempo
Begins to quicken
Your jagged voice cuts deep in my wrist
As the melody grows frantic
And swells to a volume so loud
I wept with joy

Rain, rain
Rain falls down
Spinning my whole world around

Tears, tears
Tears cry out
Sobs no louder than a shout

Ink, ink
Ink bleeds dry
Kiss your reality goodbye

Pain, pain
Pain I’m done
Everyone thinks that bleeding is fun

Stop, stop
Stop we’re cruel
Suddenly mental illness is cool.

I tend to go through life crashing
like a ball from a cannon
in a bright flash of white and a roar of sound
I breeze past what's important
and tend to hurt those I love.

I tend to go through life fighting
with my words and my hands
punching out my imaginary enemies
berating those who I love
the ones who I called my friends.

I tend to go through life crying
at all the suffering we have caused
of all the things that I've done wrong
and all the nights I wish
that I was with you.

I tend to go through life walking
you might pass me on the street
I have a far away look in my eye
and my hands are clenched in fists
my mind is filled with you.

Melodies flow with every step
As your feet slam down a beat
Your song flows and ebbs
As you smile so discreet

It may seem like another walk to class
But I hear so much more
My demeanor changes as we pass
And my heart begins to roar

Guitars play and trumpets sound
As your voice floats up high
It's hours past and I'm on the ground
Seeing you in the sky

I watch you on the movie screen
you're shining face I've only seen
in my head with hills of green
a landscape only in a dream.

I hate conflict, but I’m always looking for a fight. I just run away when it’s my time to step into the ring.

The curtains are drawn tight in the windows of my soul.

Creativity eludes me in the imperative moments, yet comes in waves when the time is so inconvenient.

The people who are the most cynical are the people who have been hurt the most. So why am I so cynical?

A soft breeze
Moonlight cuts through the dark
As a soft layer of snow sits
"Look," She says
Staring up at the stars
Pointing to the constellations
"Look," He says
Staring through the window
Pointing at the warm, bright fire
They get up
She glides through the snow,
He trudges towards the house
"Come," They say
I long for Her curiosity
I envy His self-preservation
"Choose," They say
I glance between the two ghosts
No longer a peaceful night