call it the greenhouse effect or whatever
but it just doesn't rain like it used to.
I particularly remember the rains of the
depression era.
there wasn't any money but there was
plenty of rain.
it wouldn't rain for just a night or
a day,
it would RAIN for 7 days and 7
nights
and in Los Angeles the storm drains
weren't built to carry off taht much
water
and the rain came down THICK and
MEAN and
STEADY
and you HEARD it banging against
the roofs and into the ground
waterfalls of it came down
from roofs
and there was HAIL
big ROCKS OF ICE
bombing
exploding smashing into things
and the rain
just wouldn't
STOP
and all the roofs leaked-
dishpans,
cooking pots
were placed all about;
they dripped loudly
and had to be emptied
again and
again.
the rain came up over the street curbings,
across the lawns, climbed up the steps and
entered the houses.
there were mops and bathroom towels,
and the rain often came up through the
toilets:bubbling, brown, crazy,whirling,
and all the old cars stood in the streets,
cars that had problems starting on a
sunny day,
and the jobless men stood
looking out the windows
at the old machines dying
like living things out there.
the jobless men,
failures in a failing time
were imprisoned in their houses with their
wives and children
and their
pets.
the pets refused to go out
and left their waste in
strange places.
the jobless men went mad
confined with
their once beautiful wives.
there were terrible arguments
as notices of foreclosure
fell into the mailbox.
rain and hail, cans of beans,
bread without butter;fried
eggs, boiled eggs, poached
eggs; peanut butter
sandwiches, and an invisible
chicken in every ***.
my father, never a good man
at best, beat my mother
when it rained
as I threw myself
between them,
the legs, the knees, the
screams
until they
seperated.
"I'll **** you," I screamed
at him. "You hit her again
and I'll **** you!"
"Get that son-of-a-*******
kid out of here!"
"no, Henry, you stay with
your mother!"
all the households were under
seige but I believe that ours
held more terror than the
average.
and at night
as we attempted to sleep
the rains still came down
and it was in bed
in the dark
watching the moon against
the scarred window
so bravely
holding out
most of the rain,
I thought of Noah and the
Ark
and I thought, it has come
again.
we all thought
that.
and then, at once, it would
stop.
and it always seemed to
stop
around 5 or 6 a.m.,
peaceful then,
but not an exact silence
because things continued to
drip
  drip
    drip
  

and there was no smog then
and by 8 a.m.
there was a
blazing yellow sunlight,
Van Gogh yellow-
crazy, blinding!
and then
the roof drains
relieved of the rush of
water
began to expand in the warmth:
PANG!PANG!PANG!
and everybody got up and looked outside
and there were all the lawns
still soaked
greener than green will ever
be
and there were birds
on the lawn
CHIRPING like mad,
they hadn't eaten decently
for 7 days and 7 nights
and they were weary of
berries
and
they waited as the worms
rose to the top,
half drowned worms.
the birds plucked them
up
and gobbled them
down;there were
blackbirds and sparrows.
the blackbirds tried to
drive the sparrows off
but the sparrows,
maddened with hunger,
smaller and quicker,
got their
due.
the men stood on their porches
smoking cigarettes,
now knowing
they'd have to go out
there
to look for that job
that probably wasn't
there, to start that car
that probably wouldn't
start.
and the once beautiful
wives
stood in their bathrooms
combing their hair,
applying makeup,
trying to put their world back
together again,
trying to forget that
awful sadness that
gripped them,
wondering what they could
fix for
breakfast.
and on the radio
we were told that
school was now
open.
and
soon
there I was
on the way to school,
massive puddles in the
street,
the sun like a new
world,
my parents back in that
house,
I arrived at my classroom
on time.
Mrs. Sorenson greeted us
with, "we won't have our
usual recess, the grounds
are too wet."
"AW!" most of the boys
went.
"but we are going to do
something special at
recess," she went on,
"and it will be
fun!"
well, we all wondered
what that would
be
and the two hour wait
seemed a long time
as Mrs.Sorenson
went about
teaching her
lessons.
I looked at the little
girls, they looked so
pretty and clean and
alert,
they sat still and
straight
and their hair was
beautiful
in the California
sunshine.
the the recess bells rang
and we all waited for the
fun.
then Mrs. Sorenson told us:
"now, what we are going to
do is we are going to tell
each other what we did
during the rainstorm!
we'll begin in the front row
and go right around!
now, Michael, you're first!. . ."
well, we all began to tell
our stories, Michael began
and it went on and on,
and soon we realized that
we were all lying, not
exactly lying but mostly
lying and some of the boys
began to snicker and some
of the girls began to give
them ***** looks and
Mrs.Sorenson said,
"all right! I demand a
modicum of silence
here!
I am interested in what
you did
during the rainstorm
even if you
aren't!"
so we had to tell our
stories and they were
stories.
one girl said that
when the rainbow first
came
she saw God's face
at the end of it.
only she didn't say which end.
one boy said he stuck
his fishing pole
out the window
and caught a little
fish
and fed it to his
cat.
almost everybody told
a lie.
the truth was just
too awful and
embarassing to tell.
then the bell rang
and recess was
over.
"thank you," said Mrs.
Sorenson, "that was very
nice.
and tomorrow the grounds
will be dry
and we will put them
to use
again."
most of the boys
cheered
and the little girls
sat very straight and
still,
looking so pretty and
clean and
alert,
their hair beautiful in a sunshine that
the world might never see
again.
and

The ******.
They say that beauty is in the eyes of the
beholder, however the ******
is a gold mine.

Women do not even know
what their possess
many a nation have gone to war,
because of this ugly beauty,
the seven hundred wives of
King Solomon and his three
hundred concubines
a great example of what
the ugly beauty can do.

Infidelity is on the rise,
so many lies,
since the ****** is an embarassing subject
why men lie and killed for it,
For this remarkable commodity

A ****** is like a Van Gogh painting,
it gets lot of attention.
A weapon so powerful
It can break a man down to his lowest
it has a language of its own.
silly words like sup, sup, sup. during loving making
However, that was supposed to be the primary appeal
of a beer to men.

The ****** and a beer have so much in common
they both get their men all the time,
a smooth transportation,
in addition, the lamentation,
****** you are surely number one!
Men incredible dreams,
No matter how destructive or fulfilling,.

.

I chose ice-cream
Over yogurt;
Strawberry, vanilla or chocolate.
Each equally without prejudice
Attracted.
The fifteen year old server
Was kinda short;
The vanilla tub had about three scoops
Remaining,
Stacked hidden like frozen snow-*****
As in war games.
His task would have been daunting
And embarassing,
And I, a humanitarian
From higher education,
An altruist from St. Joseph's,
Could not allow it.

The chocolate tub
Was yet covered,
And the sobbing child's cries
Were hardening in my ears
As Dad tried to allay
His chocolate tears,
Applying the five second rule.
I am an empath
By nature and poetry,
So, turning from chocolate,
Left me strawberrry.
Triple scoop too.
I believe
You thought through
Your choices
Like flavors of ice-cream.
Being imaginative,
I do.

I never told you this,
it's a bit embarassing,
but every wish I make,
I make it for you.

Every penny thrown into fountains,
every lucky stars shinning bright,
every last cigarette of the pack,
is a wish for you

I wish that your troubles will go away.
I wish that you will no longer need those antidepressants.
I wish that you finally get the break you need.

If it means I'll never see you again,
if it means you'll forget about me,
so be it.

You deserve to be happy.

'Hahahaha'
They laughed.
They laugh at my insecurities,
They laugh at my embarassing moments,
They laugh at my face,
They laugh at me.
They laugh, they laugh, they laugh.
They don't seem to care or realize
the whirling emotions within me.
They don't seem to care at all.
They just laugh,
And I don't think it's funny at all.

{ E.I }

Parents:
Overbearing,
too
controlling,
always
out
of
line,
demand­ing,
embarassing.
Cruelty
undefined,
liars,
protectors,
lovers,
homewreckers,
caring, kind, considerate,
bossy,
loving,
sweet,
caregivers.
And definitively
Mine. <3

She came into my life
a karmic explosion
over a pristine
midnight blue
upstate New York
lake,
its breath
damp and warm
and sweet.

Gasping,
labored efforts
expelled a preganant breath,
a prelude to
life.

Blackflies engaged in rutualistic seance.
Lethagic mosquitos emerged
from the evening's sweet mist.
But then raged into frantic spirals,
squealing out futile messages.

Timid pines,
guardians of the ancient site,
loosed their rigid stance,
Prickly spines shivered to the ground.
Anxiously, they awaited rumors
that would quell the fetal dread
that flowed through veins,
invading their bliss.

A bulky mass stirred from somnolent state
in that mud-lined basin,
releasing brown ribbons of agitation,
and inciting a ravenous hunger.

Friendly galaxies,
former guides in his dream state,
abandoned his cause,
flickering a vague adieu.

Having cradled him for so long,
the slick muddy floor now sent him flailing to and fro,
an ungainly dance,
embarassing to watch.

Where once he thrived,
he now gasped for air.

Today in class, I saw you writing a spreadsheet
Numbering girls looks from 1 to 10
You gave me a 7, told me that was alright
But I don't want you to define my beauty with a number
To the government, I'm just a digit
To charities, I'm a statistic
To businesses, I'm only the amount I own
I want to go back to the days when you wrote poems about me
You caressed my flaws and kissed my imperfections
The day you told me I was gorgeous, I looked myself in the mirror
"I'm actually pretty" "I'm like all those other girls" I told myself
But what's changed since then?
When you fell out of love with me, did my importance sink too?
With a clear view, do my downfalls and my embarassing body diguist you?
You were too insensitive to show the slightest bit of affection
So you labelled me, gave me an average and put me in a category
To you, I just want to be human
To be beautiful
To be loved

I spent one of my days, somewhere at the end of October, facing all my fears
I let them through my mind and everyone got infected by bad vibes from me
That day I woke up to some distant rambling of my parents fighting
I found myself falling back into sleeping sweet embrace and awake at 9:30, finding dad sleeping on the stairs.
The day before, mum put oil on my hair and I complained about the smell that doesn't fade away after washing it  four times.

I was thinking of buying books and listening to music but can't because mum is beside me
And I don't like doing anything near her.
I asked her if I could change my glasses frame if I get straight A's for finals
She asked me to find a hammer to nail my bamboo box together
I wanted to show her a picture I took at school with another seven people of which I don't even know three of them
but end up telling myself not to because I don't want her to critize my funny body posture.

My sisters came home and suddenly all in a rush rummaging through some old things behind my closet.
They found a picture of me when I was six and another one when I was eleven taking a picture with my favourite teacher.
I told mum to get rid of my kindergarten ones but she kept them
Next thing I knew, I lost the one when I was eleven.

I saw the printer wire and my sister insisted that we should put it up so mum did and I fixed it. I fixed the printer and clear the carriage jams and all while putting up with all of the screamings going on between both my parents and both my sisters.
I blasted ******* bands in my ears and running loud thoughts in my head.

That day I cut my nails only on my left hand
Later, one my right hand finger is stained from printer ink.

Evening came and dusk came, night came. Midnight came.
I talked to the only person I'm sure I love and reachable. Autumn.
She's 17 and leaving school next year also very worried about her big exam on Nov 3.
She told how her emotional day went that day from how her classmate cried and her teacher cried too so that night
she got into the shower and cried and I said that it is okay
and we talked about biology and saliva and ulcers.
I listened to Good Riddance that night for how it constantly reminds me of people I love: Autumn and Luke and people I loved: Nightingale.

One of my friend also had the same vibe saying she is afraid of tomorrow, afraid of turning fifteen next year just like me.
We laughed about our first day going to school few years back then.
I brought up all those people I used to know and asking myself where did they go?
Or was I'm the one who disappeared?
Night came as I sit on a dying school chair listening to the ******* loud TV downstairs
I made coffee and listen to those voices.
Dad switched off the TV I was left with a strangling silent even with music on full volume.

Unconsciously, I grasped the coffee mug in front of me
clinging to its blistering warmth and started to cry for no reason just draining out the weight of life of today.
I shut my eyes with intent to barricade those tears from falling
but
it just pools and pour out and didn't cease and I just let them be until I hear someone going upstairs.
Oh how embarassing to see me in this state wiping off tears on the sleeves of my shirt where my heart should have been

Here I am in this endless mirage with a mug of coffee listening to the low hum of voices so familiar and imagery of many people that I'd like to take their pain away
just to let them breathe for a while.
I sipped the bitter coffee to the last drip
I tried not to think of those times when I haven't listen to this one song quite awhile
and
just before I press play it crossed my mind what if this song changed
It was kind of disappointing that it didn't but the feelings I had for this song did change
I took a few glance at my bookshelf and lost in this flashback when I used to measure my height on it
and
adding another 28 cm just to see how tall Luke was and it turns out he was taller than my bookshelf
so before I went to sleep on the same night, I told myself that I need to be at least 175 cm.

I lean against my chair trying hard to recall when did those things happened?
It can't be that long ago but
the image is so unreachable in my head.
Today, it's emotional day Autumn said it's an emotional day and
I said strikethrough 'an'
Today, life seemed as inevitable as death is
I'm here with no particular purpose of living set in my mind except surviving against a few little distraction
and
let me tell you this

*I like it.

I watched her walk the halls day after day at school
Dumpy, frumpy with a beautiful smile
The boys called her names I dare not mention
She continued to be bubbly and laugh at their taunts*

Funny though, no one though she was dying inside
Did not know every single tease tore another building block from her body
Never showing how much it hurt, the smile contageous but everyday she suffered

People would pass her in the halls and the guys would cough with some obscure name
They waited at the bottom of the stairs during lunch just so they could tease her more

She wasn't ugly not at all
Not skinny,not fat
Just above average

She would perserverate over what to wear
What would make her look her best
Each outfit would hit the floor as her own mind would say words worse than the boys could think of

She had one boyfriend
Her friends teased her so badly she gave him up
That seemed to bring the dogs on more
They thought it was fun

Everytime I saw her she smiled and laughed ignoring them
I used to tell her she was beautiful and they were just immature
Prom came around and she bought a beautiful dress
Thought for sure she would go

It didn't matter how sweet and thoughtful she was no one asked her
Why?
Because she wasn't a popular kid nor a geek
Just short frumpy Sue of a dairy farmer

She graduated with honors
The frumpy girl was replaced by a beauty
Yet she could not see it
All she could see or hear were the names those boys called

The Valedictorian speech she gave was full of promise for all
Including the ones that didn't know beauty from a hole in the wall
A few weeks later we were all gathered again
This time for her funeral as Sue had taken her own life

She left a note alright
Thanking ones by name
I wish I had done more yet she thanked me for being her friend
I guess she got the last laugh

Her note was no joke
But she made sure to point out every vile thing about those boys
Every mistake they ever made
Each embarassing thing brought them down a few more pegs

We buried her today
I gave the Eulogy
About the girl with the most beautiful smile
That reflected all she was on the inside

Magazines, movie stars, text books, and tv shows
They show the beautiful people on the outside
Teaching children that is what matters most

Teach your children beauty is from within and really has nothing to do with the outer shell
Tell them do unto others as they would want done to them
to befriend the little people whose smile or words inspire them

Most of all teach them everyone is beautiful in some way or other
So they don't have to bury their friend one day or worse yet
You don't have to bury them before their time

Yesterday I was a school going kid
Always Hungry for knowledge
Always Thirsty for lessons of life
Obediently sitting in a large noisy class
Listening and recording every words preached
Hoping they were stored forever...
Or atleast before the exam day was over

Today I still go to school
Twice a week
with a bunch of happy people
We have fun learning!
embarassing ourselves mostly
In the most intellectual way!!
laughing at ourselves for being silly
Sometimes unsure
whether we are hungry or thirsty
But knowledge is like the sea...
Endless and wide.

Rather ...
We are desperate to digest it all
The ZPD, Scaffolding, Sociocultural and Constructivism?
Hey hey whose theory?
And Skinner, Pavlov, Vygotsky and Chomsky
Hope they are here to tell us a story.

To go or to let go
Hard .. dont you know?
Decided to go with the flow...
Determined that one day
We will stand tall
On that humble stage
Wearing that long pretty robe ...
in our hands a scroll...
There's nothing like having a PHD
With your sweat and tears...
and a whole lot of laughters too....
The feelings?
Of course... unexplainable
The experience?
PRICELESS!!!

life is strange.
I wonder frequently
why I am conscious
did the me that I am
spring to be out of
nothingness?

"energy cannot be created;
nor destroyed"

what was I, then,
before I became me?
sometimes, I daydream
and imagine
that before being born into this hell
I was just beams of enegy
shooting out
from a supernova.

flying
past
star systems
and
comets
and nothingness
being almost nothing
no
consciousness
not yet

that is just
a daydream.
I am not religious.
but
the concept of heaven
seems pretty ******
to me.
bliss, ****
I don't want
eternal
anything.

I would get used to it.
living in bliss
would become normal
even if
it is a stark contrast
from the way
I am living right now.

no,
personally,
my idea is that
when I die
my consciousness evaporates
my soul becomes
what I was
before me
and I no longer
have thoughts,
or emotions.
that used to scare me.
it's not frightening,
because in nothingness,
you have no concept
of frightening.

you also have no concept of happiness
but none
of sadness either.
no embarassing memories
or boredom
or headaches
or being sick
I won't even
be able to miss my dogs
for I will have no concept of them.

I am not scared
of death
nor
nothingness
I welcome them
but will wait
until I get an invite.

one of the biggest questions
that used to plague me
was
why does anything exist at all?
I don't think there's an answer
as to why.
I think it just does.
and existence
means
experiencing
all of it
the happiness,
the *******
the anger
and depression

duality
is in
everything

I am not horrible
well, in some ways
I am
but in an equal amount
I am also
wonderful
and the same goes for you,
too,
though I see
each side
of the duality of your being
as something beautiful.

It leaves you, no active power, no direction,
Listless, unable to program, build,- a mockery.
Worst, the low depairing. embarassing shrouds.
Without that centre; a discrete despair - please don't mention.
Hopelessness remains - just so much broken crockery.
Contempt rises from old mates. Passed fluffed up clouds!

i was looking for you
but found a girl named Cacy instead
except im not entirely sure how she spelt it
maybe Kasey?  Casey?  Kacie?
She told me she wanted to start going by Cass (Kass?)
though
i told her that i knew a girl named Cass
and even though it was a lie
she couldnt tell
or maybe she could
but either way she said that the name
"Cass"
was a "fuckable" name,
a name that was bound to
"get some"
and i had nodded with that sheepish grin
you hate
and started to shake
with that embarassing nervousness
that annoys you
and she held my hand and lit a cigarette
she told me that she hated smokers
but that it "blurs the edges"
i told her that i was all edges
she asked why
and so i told her about you
and how i was looking
but how i had found her
and how i very much preferred to have found her instead
she gave me a cigarette
and i coughed because you know i have asthma
i said thanks and called her Cass
and she had smiled because i think she was starting to grow
quite fond of the sound of the name
i coughed out my name
and she told me about how Peter Pan was "hot" and how wendy was the
biggest "****" ever
we laughed
and we smoked
we talked
and we shivered
we went inside
and we slept
and i didnt cheat
even though Cass was quite fuckable
i slept
and dreamt of her rather than you
and woke up much happier than i have ever been.

it's not that my life was / is more interesting than yours, it's only that you idealise details with such grandeour that puts me off, my life was / is like yours, it's only that i love paying attention to details, and the more details there are, the more personal you can become, and in-so-doing, it doesn't matter what the details are, which makes your life less embarassing when compared to the lives of orthodox autobiographical stylicism, the orthodoxy of a many ommitted details.*

when i was younger, i.e. prior to the age of 17
i used to be that fat boy
who was into metal music,
collected pokemon cards,
and liked wwf (world wrestling federation),
even though i was also the kid
who didn't see his father from the age of
4 till 8... and upon meeting him as if for the first time
at victoria coach station, watched the lion king
movie with a certain gravitas religiosity
to consider being a son again
after school for how long i don't remember,
but i miss being raised by grandfather joseph
sometimes, the freedom i would have
been entitled to like my father who was abandoned
by his parents... i wonder where the heraclitus river
would have guided me... new zealand, japan...
china... certainly somewhere east...
dear joseph roth... only major characters are thieves
in films, all the cameos have pockets filled with
pennies and they are losing pennies all the time,
frank sinatra told them to do so...
i'm currently ólafur darri ólafsson from
the film: the secret life of walter mitty... and i have
my shadow again, from the gray that's everyday,
i don't need to fill the higher tier roles of being
recognisable if my cognitive mirror is my self,
i don't, i exercise everyday these days,
four bottled beers around a 3 mile circuit does
my heart proud - i watch the choke brigade of
relentless bedroom experteese run a mile all geared up...
so when i was a teenager, all fat and bubbly i
idealised loving women... what hell that brought me...
thanks for the womb... no thanks after that...
i dearly idealised them, each night falling asleep
i imagined... nothing came of it... one turned out
to be a "reincarnation" of robert johnson's lover...
robert dropped dead right on the stage...
didn't end up a fat and a well versed whiskey poet
into old age like b. b. king - whiskey poet?
yeah... john lee ****** took howlin' wolf's spoon,
then came the clue for the boom oom...
rendition of all possible revisions...
jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way...
rendition? me me, me me, me me me me...
no wonder the crux of capitalism is that one night
in december... guess the surprise...
ancient slavic lore maxim: better a sparrow in your
hand than a dove on your roof...
thumb folded under the index and sticking out
between the index and the *******... what's that?
a fig... co masz? to jest figa dla ciebie!
and where does a penguin's beak bend?
when you show them more than the *******...
you show them the elbow with the arm folded
and tell 'em... this is where the penguin's beak folds!
if you want to lose weight, fatty boy high school crush,
get on your bike boy'o, make those excess lipids
into waterfalls, use your legs to drain the upper body
and you won't have a problem with stretch armstrong
excess skin... during the summers i visited my
grandparents and peddled like mad, my favourite
route was down the 754 route, via krzemionki (flint)
rezerwat (reservation centre), through maksymilianów
where my childhood friend bella the alsatian was born,
and into bałtów, then through wólka bałtowska,
into the masovian voivodeship, through to borcuchy
then onto eugeniów, through dąbrówka, then straight
onto the road connecting ostrowiec with sienna.
the other route... it was in england...
no, wait, that's a lie... my other favourite cycling
route was also in the direction of bałtów,
but in a different direction: through magonie,
boria, stare stoki, ruda kościelna, ćmielów, route 755
through to bodzechów and straight into ostrowiec
(but sometimes through kąty denkowskie)...
my favourite english route though?
i have one specified...
from romford, up to havering-atte-bower,
bournebridge, staplefords abbotts, down ongar rd.,
abridge, through hainault county park
and back home (sometimes in reverse).
so chin hoo fat lost the belly... and stopped idealising
girls, actually lost interest in them...
which is a shame, i quiet liked the fat kid
who put all girls on a peddlestool;
yeah... that could have remained true...
but then he met the girls... and then he met their fathers.

My heart is embarassing.
It bleeds and cries
And loves too strongly
For it's own good.

It loves as if
It has never been broken,
As if it has forgotten
The countless times
It's been left bruised
And bloodied,
Half alive.

It loves so unconditionally
That I've let myself
Be tossed to the wind
And returned to the ground
At the whims of mere memories.

It loves so pathetically
That I do all I can
To make sure my love
Does not come spilling
Out of my mouth
For onlookers to see.

I keep my passions
And my aches away from the world
So that I don't overwhelm
Everyone else
With the love that overwhelms me.

I can't just say how I feel
I can't just open my gates
Because as much as you would like to believe
That everything inside me is beautiful,
It's as ugly as anything could ever be.

I can't just let you know
How pathetically
Embarrassingly
Ridiculously
In love with you I am.

What if you don't feel the same?
That's a stupid question
I'm sorry
I know no one could ever love me
With the sadness I love them

Late night hours, paperwork spread on the bed
all this work for a future she dreads

The hands spin fowards, a black and blue picture
all this pressure like an annoyance filled blister

Like my own, she wants reward with no work
ready to spring, but hold back and lurk

This is a short tale, full of too many words
all here to distract you like a drunken zebra herd

All she wants is security and comfort
nothing matters but her kindfolk's support

All she needs is fifteen seconds of embarassing bravery
but with these scholarly shackles is feels like slavery.

Someone once told me that I was "for keeps". I've never been a fan of any type of label, but I've wondered how he had shelved me in two words.

I've sought out its meaning. Maybe it was the same as how he was always proud of his vintage toy collection. I was there for his quartlery dose of nostalgia. The novelty of us was something that made him grin.

It could be how another liked to treasure letters from lovers past. Only to flood himself in regret. The names and faces garbled in the salt water.

I learned it was not the same as how my neighbour cut the thorns of the rosebushes, and left the buds for him to adore. He always kept the scissors by his bedside.

The only things I have managed to keep are my pinky promises, my drafts from two years ago, and my used bandaids. It's embarassing to recount how unmade, unfinished, and uncertain I've been.

But if I were to love you, I will not tell you you are worth keeping. Holding you would be selfish to the universe. I cannot possess your thoughts and your soul, your charm will pour itself from my grandmother's china. Pictures will not be taken. Maybe just one, to show my friends the uncanny resemblance you share with my favorite poet. I will unknowingly breathe you in, only to heave heavy sighs into your mouth.

We will thrive among white lies and speak about tomorrows with fistfuls of hourglass sand in our pockets. We will borrow light and pay in forms of miles we need to walk.

I have never wanted to be called a keeper, nor have I ever wanted to keep. The world can only afford to lend beautiful pieces of itself.

I waited, I waited, I waited,
and I waited a little bit longer.
Someday, somehow,
somebody had to save me.
They had to, they did,
because I never thought that I could save myself.
And you know what?
I didn't have to.

We wait for the one because anything else would be simply embarassing.
But I didn't get one, oh no.
I got three.
The moon.
The stars.
The sun.

Eventually everything stopped making sense.

There was a wolf knocking on my door, and I was begging him to break it down.
Wolves howl at the moon, that's just their nature.
But he never did.
He spent hours and hours just sitting, just staring.
Waiting?
What big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf.
Big, brown eyes.

The moon saved me from my past.

The stars shone like jewels that night,
the night that I encountered the troll.
Trolls live under bridges, that's just what they're used to.
He asked me his riddle,
I gave him my answers.
All of the wicked games and aggressive glares followed us.
They followed us all the way back under the bridge.

The stars saved me from my future.

For the first time, I saw the sun.
An existence of wanting and waiting was made that little bit easier by it's bright, nourishing light.
The sun made me forget why I had once cowered in fear,
once shaken with anger.

The sun saved me from my life.

I don't remember when things stopped making sense.
Maybe it was the night I tore my chest apart and screamed below the moon.
Maybe it was the night I spoke to the stars and they spoke back.
Maybe it was the morning that the sun made me forget.

Dude i have no clue
no ******* idea...
why i continue to fantasize about chue....
idk...
what is it...
like 8th grade...
you...
the memory
continues...
after these past 2 years i still fantasize about you
....and i cant picture you accepting me...
for who i am
i can't
....like
when i picture you
...like i have to be o some mila kunis, megan fox, kim k typa ****...
its like i have to be this trophy in order to keep attention
...its like i knew you liked me
....and it was an interesting attatchment ill say....
but...
i guess it wasnt meant to be
i was looking for a **** buddy back then
and so were you
we were 8th ******* graders
i was immature af....
i didnt know **** tbh...
i was an air head...
who only cared about boys, popularity, friends, and herself...
i was a ***** lowkey
i wanted to be on top...
of the world
...of that school
...of him lol
but i was on the inside
...insecure
but he made me...
he fooled me
..into thinking he was securing me
....like ****
i was a fool
and i was def crushin on em
but now....
its really embarassing to think about
like....****
***
was 8th...the ****
ya know
that whole shabang
was really messin up
and im done with that past
pretending...
insecurity..
attention..
like....
i am over that
you were real to at the time
i was insecure looking for someone to clench on to
keep me up
motivate me
....but you did the opposite
you were like a demon in disguise
...no offense
i mean at the time speaking
but i dont want to cringe...
when i see a pretty *** girl
i dont need to pretend to be "pretty"
nor what you want
nor be that *****
because im not
...im so much more
....like....****
im done living a life in the shadows
a hidden life
my life...is what is what it is
take it...
leave it
i dont care
you are gone
im never gonna see you ever again
but i mean im sorry we couldnt be friends
but the tide
the flows gotta flow
ive gotta go
take ****
and ill keep it in the toilet...lets say that

I crave it,
the smell of raw earth that is fertile
and pregnant with anxiety
newborn vulnerability mixed with a ****** innocence
desire, pure and unfiltered
in its most childish and embarassing form
the smell of raw earth is what I live for
when the grass has been torn up
and all that is there is possibility
roots snaking and enticing through
fresh ground, the birthing-place
of all things alien
familiar only to other aliens
I am new
and I can smell the newness here as I fill my lungs
with that which has been written and found filled
written and done,
dirt is the ankles of the world
the calves, thighs, and what's between them
forever moving and shifting restlessly, frustrated,
rising and falling beneath the soft fur of grass,
hoping
for the grace and gifts of the gentle soft
baby leaves and sprouts
to come upon the raw earth
and take it to its highest love.

it's morning, you know
we could
paint a still life with our impotent fingers
or cook eggs with every
spice in the drawer
we could
dig holes in the front yard,
bury treasures in front of
button-down commuters get
smashingly drunk forget
where we put them dig
them up and be convincingly surprised.

we could pretend our hands are
****** hands our
eyes new canvases and record
like **** Rembrandts
the embarassing details
we could make a creek of
pillows from one
side of the house to another
roll the entire length of it naked and
end up tangled in each other when they
run out

There is a whole day ahead of us, a whole world ahead of us -
a world of misery separated from us by
firecracker smoke, by cannonsmoke.

We have the house to ourselves
we could duct tape cardboard to the
exterior and pretend its one big
refrigerator box we could
jettison old ball mice and fat computer monitors
into the driveway *****
a campfire in the living room and
imagine that we have rebelled against something
fittingly awful, the modern world scowling at
our rusticity we could
make a tincan telephone that connects the entire
cul-de-sac and dress up smart and
sell it as charmingly as Ma Bell door-to-door

But our refined brains think two things:
*** again, handcuffed to maturity, or sleep.
What a world. What a longing.
What our age must suggest.
What an excuse: your starched reputation.
What courage could come from your bleached conscience.
How lovely to be trapped.

Must I remember?
The scent of your hair
The shampoo's we share
Life is so unfair

Must I remember?
For the couple shirts we bought
It's embarassing,
we first thought
But we wore it everyday,
for the sake of our plot

Must I remember?
Those seductive eyes?
It got me mesmerized
Like the morning sunrise

Must I remember?
This unskippable beat?
As we rode the street
With your lips on my cheek

Must I remember?
As we walk by the shore
It tickles my core
For the "I Love You" that you swore

Must I remember?
For the dreams that we share?
In the meadows we stare
When you embrace me, I can tell

Must I remember?
When I took the toll?
My tears began to fall
For you are my wall

Must I remember?
The moment you say yes?
For the love I express
I was heavily blessed

Must I remember?
The day you said Goodnight?
As you began your flight
An unforgettable sight

Must I remember it all?
As I stand by your grave?
You wanted me to be brave
But I'm forever a slave
To our love which we engrave

                                                        ­                        *Must I forget you then?

                              Theses memories, are they a burden?

With you now gone, It's all a sudden


                                                       ­         What about these wedding ring?

                                                         ­ I cry eveytime I sing,

                          Your favorite melody

It feeds my anxiety



Now I look upon the sky

                                  I can never comply

                                                      As I invoke my tragic loss

                                                          ­                  *For the Love Without Us

Note to the reader: I give any reader permission to give this to their mother. Your mother deserves better than Hallmark. Although you should write your own, I understand not all have the ability. No need to ask or tell me you used this. Thank you for reading this piece I wrote for my mother.

To You


This isn't for you because this pales in comparison
For all the things you do for me, it is embarassing
Yet you endure me every sun and moon
Despite all the people in this world that thinks I'm a loon
But I don't want this to be about me
This is for all things you do, selflessly, for free
You don't deserve what the world has dealt you
Gold and jewels wouldn't be enough for all that you do
Maybe one day you won't have so many burdens
Or will be properly compensated
I can't promise either of those things
All I have are these words of gratitude
Thank you
I wish I could convey this sentiment better
I love you more than I could ever explain in this letter
Happy Mother's Day, even though you deserve a year or later

I want to do the boring things with you.
Like helping you clean your apartment.
I want to meet your friends,
And introduce you to mine.
I even want to meet your parents,
Even if they are crazy Republicans.

I want to be there for you
When you're stressed
And your whole life is imploding.
I'll be the one to pull you from the wreckage.
Sit with you.
Listen.
Make you feel like you can live again.

I want to hear your problems;
Past and present.
Pretty much,
I just want to know you.
All of you.
The bad.
The embarassing.
Even all the terrible things.
I will Love all of them.
Just as I'm coming to Love you.

Because you ruin my poetry;
My rhyming.
My ability for perfect timing.
All out the window.

I know that Love doesn't just happen overnight.
That it takes time.
But I think sometimes
You can just tell.
I don't Love you yet,
But I know that I will.

I've already pictured our lives in my head.
I don't do that.
I don't think about children
Or holidays.
God forbid, my wedding day.
But with you, it's like things have changed.
Maybe it's just me,
But I really don't think
That this is a one-way thing.
You did this to me.
Of that, I am certain.

Just yesterday
We were 12 years old
Plagued by acne and awkward physicality
Attempting to conquer middle school and everything that comes with it
******* too large for our scrawny figures
Pale skin
Freckles painting our faces
Yesterday we were 12
I swear we were just
Giggling about boys between slow dances at whatever bar mitzvah was that weekend
Smiling as they stared at awe at our changing bodies
Sticks blooming into carved wood
Futures as tall as we were hoping to become
Although I myself never made it past 5 foot 2
It was the promise that kept us going
The promise of straight teeth and symmetrical eyeliner
The desire to have boys' hands on our skin
Craving the rough callus against our delicate thighs
There were no cages back then
Our stomachs were filled to the rim with butterflies
Free to do as they please
We never thought twice
Only did
Immersing ourselves in adventures
Back before excitement moved to glass bottles and late nights with crowded rooms
Back when
It lived in our backyards and the mall down the street
The other day
We were 12 years old
But today I just feel old
Feel strange
Feel like I left a part of me back home
I am miles away from where I was at 12 years
But it feels so close in time
Feels like I can still look in the mirror
To find us in poorly applied makeup
In Ill fitting pants and hot topic t shirts
Neon pink accessories
I find it hard to believe
That these people have been gone for six years already
And that for the first time since meeting
They will be apart
We have been through it all
The good
The bad
The disappointing
The awkward and embarassing
All of these years in my life
Have already passed
So why do I feel like they are still stuck to my skin
Why do I feel like nothing has changed at all
I know
That change is inevitable
That time goes on no matter how many times we hit snooze
That we are older and that this is real life and we don't get to choose whether it's easy or not
That we have to face it head on
I know we're going down separate paths
But they have to connect somewhere
I know they will someday
Someday we will look back
And say
Yesterday we were 18
Where the **** did time go?
I don't know where it did
But until we find it
Let's just breathe
Take it in
Go slow.

my dearest will,

you've always brought out the worst in me.
and i kind of have to love you for that.
you know my deepest secrets,
the dark ones and the embarassing ones.

you know i'm a sucker for anything romantic,
but keep the shakespeare to a minimum.
you know i'd give anything to share your bed,
with you, your cat, and a bottle of ***.

you've taken me back three times now,
and i kind of think you shouldn't have.
you know i love you in my own way,
the way no one else will, hopefully.

you know i'm not in love with you,
but i love the way you bite your lip.
you know i'd keep you up all night,
with just me on my hands and knees.

you know i can only talk this way with you,
the words just fall before i can stop them.
you've forever been my ***** little secret,
and i kind of think you like it that way.

you've told me so many times you love me,
but i've laughed them all away.
you know i'd like to say it back,
'with wisdom and conviction beyond my years'.

but this is all you can have of me,
the pieces nobody else wants.
i'm sorry, let's meet up one day.
we can tour nova scotia.

i'll let you kiss my tears away,
and i'll erase your scars.
"how do i say goodbye to you, christmas?"
"you don't, william. we never said hello."

it's the night of fireflies
where emotions seem to flicker just like their light

faint is my breathing
and there is a lack of inspiration

guilt runs through my bloodstream
it has once said to be spoiled

and i long to live in a dream

a nasty infection;
words are stolen by the television
and the anger inside my heart seems to be in remission

for now

lets pretend it never happened
for it was far to embarassing to remember
so lets watch movies on why things are the way they are
reading has become a thing of the past
so lets add another chapter
just because

ask me questions, i don't mind
we can do it to **** the time
the time we have created
just to measure the way the world spins
just to feel in control

maybe i can see all the colors
and am searching for something
i've found years ago


actually no, i've lied
i'm not satisfied

so lets help the wounded,
let us help the blind;

tell the stories of magnificant creatues
that fly in the night==
magically they glow
choosing when they want to show the world
what it is they were destined to do

lets own our history
and erase what was here before.

no one seems to see past my fingertips.

flood warnings
aren't as easily avoided
as i'd like for them to be

Beaten down to nothing
All I ever wanted for love
But instead I received only lust
A tease
A drug that has me addicted
Committing a sin
And a breaking point in friendship

You've left me broken
A disgrace to everyone
An embarassing shame that won't leave
Guilty of a torrid love affair
One that means nothing to me
A cheap thrill to be entetained
And to feel loved
In a distasteful way

Your a shooting star I think
Speeding right between us
And the moon
the sea
Your moving at speeds so incredible
That my mind spins a million turns
Just from the walk of your voice
Your laugh makes me smile
Right here in public
Embarassing the life out of an interstellar being
When you laugh
Your scotch flavored lips
Taste purple or green
Beautiful shining sunlight pours through the car window
Beautiful shining sunlight pours through my mind
This is such a endless moment
One untouched by written word
Not poisioned by a spoken sound
Leaves waving on a tree
Swaying in a gentle song breeze
Listening to the sound of nothing
Hearing all about the meaning of such a  sight
Some things in this world no one can understand
Except the warm touch of a shooting star
Between the moon
Between the sea

We are trees,
growing close together,
branches touching,
reaching for the stars.

We are trees,
planted in the ground,
spreading our roots,
happy with 'here'.

We are trees,
swaying to nature's rythm,
a part of the Earth,
paralyzed by the thrumming of her heart.

We are trees,
we are plants,
we are birds,
we are stars,
we are humans,
holding hands,
hugging profusely,
and full to the brim with kissing.

We are humans,
with awkward silence,
with embarassing moments,
with silly jokes.

We are humans,
writing,
reading,
and writing some more.

We are humans,
we are us,
and it is fantabulous.

Have you ever longed for a stranger?
Do you find yourself zoning out, looking forward to remembering their mannerisms and quirks?
Writing of memories from a time yet to come—it's both hopeless and hopeful at the same time.
To get excited about something or someone coming from a time and place of uncertainty, that should make me feel something else aside from excitement itself.
Fear? I fear not. It's all anticipation running around my haywire of a head.
When you see me or when I see you for the first time,
What will you be wearing? In what color?
Would I be sad and sober? Or would I be happy-drunk?
As embarassing as it would be, we know we'll have to talk to each other, exchange a few words or we could say things enough for both of us to fall in love with each other right then and there.
Would I passively tell you how I hate that week or would I start to tell you about my contradicting dreams of setting out a life of restless travels
and living in a quaint little apartment that sees a good amount of morning light and how it's going to be filled with wilted flowers, antiques and fifteen cats?
I know I would want both although it's careless and contradicting. But this is just one and I have a house full of them.
Do you even think dreams have to be logical?
Do you believe that we have to be careful in order to get to our dreams or do we go the exact opposite way?
I hope you'd share some of your dreams, too. The more careless, the better.
Would my heart still be beaten up to a pulp by then or would it beat foolishly once more like a brand new snare?
How about you? I wonder how your heart would sound, even now.
Is it punk rock one minute and classical the next or perhaps Disney when you're spacing out?
And I can only wish you're not even half of the lunatic that I am, because I know I need a bit of a balance in my life right now but hey, whatever and whoever you are, come as you are anyway. It's just a wishful thought.
Would I even get lucky enough to come inside your room to dance and spill my last ounces of colors in every corner?
To splatter your walls with my poorly-written poems would be another careless dream to add up on my long list.
Would we like the same music? Would you like drunk dancing as much as I do? Would you prefer watching the moonlight or basking in the setting of the sun? Would you fancy my humor? Would we romanticize escaping reality and the city because we know it imprisons us like nothing and nowhere else? Would I hesitate or anticipate seeing you for the second time? Would you anticipate seeing me over and over again even after seeing me cry because I'm too drunk or too sad or too happy or everything at once? Would we surf with the currents or confine to the safety of the shore?
Or do we stay friends?
Or do we stay friends for only a night?
Or do we become strangers, just strangers?
Or do we become strangers again after being fiercely in love with each other for so long, after being there for each other through the sunny days and storms, after being friends, after we were strangers?
If you see me for the first time, I hope my made-up face and my ever unruly, hand-combed crazy hair would make up for my much crazier mind, to say the least.

But may we hurry up a little if we can, answer these careless questions before they pile up.

To my dearest princess,

             I carried you for nine months bearing all the nausea, mood swings and the pain. And I was there to hear your first cry, a sign that you were alive. I was there when you needed me to sleep, drink and go places. I was there when you were crawling then walking and later on, running. I saw your most embarassing moments, your cutest reaction, your passion, your talents and your dreams. I was there when you felt sad and cried all day and remember how you kept looking for me? I was the one you shared your secrets to. I was there when you went to school and got friends. Then you got older and you started cutting me off and saying that I was lame and nagging. But you forgot that I gave you the things you needed when you were little- all those sleepless nights just to keep you still. I was there when you wanted me there. And I am not going to force you to do the same but I am hoping for your consideration. I was there for your first heart break. It was from a boy you never told me about and now I found out that you gave your everything. Now let me remind you, darling that people make mistakes and what we do after is what matters. You don't need *** to prove that there is love. A proof of love is how much time you spend together and not thinking of it too much because you know you'll wait until you two are wed and are truly each other's. Romance is not just a public post on a social media account about how much he loves you. It's not just about the good morning texts. It's about the days you are at your worst and he sees you as if you're still the angel you are. It's when you are on your baggy shirt and he sees how beautiful you are. It's about the planned, nervous, awkward but fun dates. It's him picking you up at our doorstep and telling me that he'll tale care of you. It's about long hand written love letters, poems and arguements worth fighting about. And if you lost someone, they aren't always meant to stay. It's okay to cry because it's a sign your alive, it's what you did the minute you came to this world. You don't need to harm yourself, I'm here and I think you are golden. You are one of life's precious gifts. Please don't hurt yourself, you don't need other people to prove your worth, you have me. Now I know I may say things that offend you but that's my way of teaching you. I love you, sweetheart and don't think that I don't.  You are capable of living and surving. You were destined to shine as bright as the sun, my princess. Maybe even brighter.

with love,
Mom

It would be this one
It will tell you alot
                            
                          Dear

I had a note for you I scratched on this envelope
but it was ruined in the rain
it used to read so well
now the only word not melted is

                         Jessica

Ruined. So I picked up my pencil sure that this time
Just this once I could write words enough to make you mine
but there
alone on the page in naked pencil waiting

                          I

But i can't start with i
that is so selfish
so
i
begin to go agian
trying to make a something out of all the nothing
but its hard to name a poem so how 'bout let's call it

                       Love

No GOD NO
that is way too tacky
what would she think
So embarassing
So childish
So simple
You don't deserve the simple
You deserve the incredible
The awe-inspiring fire


                                  You

and there it stops me
lost and more lost
because when I think of you
all the fire is kindled


                                   You
are my evreything

so i put down this pencil
and write in my head
a future I have seen once or twice
in the lonely corner of a dream



                                     Dear Jessica I love you
                        I carved on that tree
                        In the noise of summer bugs claws birds wings breeze
                        I saw you smile walking towards me
                        Your feet silent on the blanket of the warm grassy ground
                         Your pale feet smeared with mud
                        It was in a june, july or august
                        A quiet summer dream
                         Me and you far out in nowhere
                        As the record singer plays the song
                         "Together"
                            (that song)

                        In a meadow
                          Dreaming
                        I know I felt it in the warm of your hair
                        When you wrapped your arms around me
                        You kissed me soft on the neck
                         I felt your skin as you squeezed me
                         Your eyes were so close
                          Close to my mind
                          and in a moment of your laughter
                           and in a moment of your joy
                                          a moment forgetting
                            life and all the noise
                            
                         I felt your breath sweet
                         I felt your whisper soft
                            melting the glue in my mind
                        In my dream I knew you kissed me
                         In my life you will never see me
                        
                I traded this moment for all that I had
                      and rode the river Styx to the belly of hell
                       and rode the river Styx while humming that song

without a word
you can turn me
from my path,
leading me astray
and then another
minute, hour, day is gone.

you do one little thing
and my mind
becomes a blank canvas,
for you to draw
your funny little cartoon pictures on.

you can turn your head
and glance my way,
and i just melt
and commit with heart overwhelmed
to watching you play
and grow.

there will be a day,
far too soon,
when you will find,
my love for you,
awkward and embarassing. this i know and accept.

but for now, i can lose myself,
basking in the sunshine
of your love.
you are just
a little man right now
but you give a...
whole world of love
and a dollop of joy
and a sprinkle of hope,
in that happy, beeming, sunshine on a rainy day, smile.

you are my little, big, love