"rec" poems
Megan
my partner in crime
my bumble bee twin
my best friend
Best friends since second grade
that's.... what 15 years now? 16?
Sleepovers at eachothers homes
Pixie stick highs and slushy brain freezes
Trips to my grandmother's,
for a Harry Potter Marathon
Rocking out to Halestorm
Daughters of Darkness through and through
Foil art doodling and reading through the night
Did I mention the trip to Walmart?
ten at night just for a loaf of bread?
Screaming at eachother, throwing punches
Calling names so bad tears start to form
Saying we're through we're done mo more friendship
two minutes later laughing stupidly together
Our favorite place, Weedamo woods,
High Rock, queens of the world
I visit those memories in my dreams
I miss my soul sister my best friend for life
I miss being able to call you up and yell
*"YO ***** come get me I need to talk."*
You're still my bestie and you always will b
This separation don't forget is only temporary.
I'll move down there soon
and together we can rec havoc once more
until then please don't forget me
I know I haven't forgotten you.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
.
**•som
ething.was
broken.today•
some.pi eces.and
.an.item. were.lost
•somet hing.for.
which.m y.heart.h
as.to.pay •somethi
ng.inval uable.in.
cost•wo nder.if.e
ver.I.may .find•wo
nder.if.I'l l.get.it.ba
ck•wonder.if.life.w
ould.be.kind•won
der.if.it'll.cut.me.s
ome.slack•while.
I.grope.around.i
n.the.dark•whil
e.I.search.for.w
hat.had.gone...
missing•whil
e.I.try.to.rega
in.the.spark•
while.I.conju
re.light.from
.inexistent.k
indling•ple
ase.let.me.r
etrieve.it.•
please.giv
e.me.just.
another•
please.le
t.the.fla
me.I've
.lit•rec
over.t
he.ne
edle.
to.st
itch
.me
.ba
ck
..
.**
together•
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
She's on the bench now,
Our gift to rec soccer...
"Two touches and a pass, Hannah."
I remember when rolling on the floor,
Tickle-induced laughter peeling
Was our Sunday joy.
"Keep your head up--Look! Hannah!"
Even in her shady sideline spot
She has more grace than the others.
"Hannah, you have to work on speed!"
Now a long-legged beauty
Running in the sun.
"Shoot. Shoot! Hannah! Shoot the ball!"
Unaware of her dad
Encouraging...
Guiding...
Screaming!
"Goal!"
As if these days were all for me.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
this is not a ******* poem, but you could see it anywhere else i could post
and we can't have that
we can't have me talking to you, texting you, writing about you
and it's not ******* fair
i miss you
you won't talk to me anymore and i don't know what i ******* did
no one talks to me anymore
and i guess i'm not fit for ******* friendship
and i said it was okay if you don't always wanna talk
but you were supposed to still stick around!
i'm glad you're ******* happy
really, truly, i am.
but ******* i just wanna talk to you again.
you're driving me ******* crazy
and you're not even doing anything (but that's the problem isn't it?)
i wanna talk about when i'm scared and tired
and i wanna talk about when you're scared and tired
and i wanna be there for you
and honestly i want more than you just being there for me
when im about to throw myself out of a window
cuz everyone's ******* there when im about to **** myself
i want someone to be there when i'm not, too
i want someone to like me and talk to me (and keep talking)
for some other reason than
"you looked scared"
"i just didn't want you to be completely alone"
"you shouldn't **** yourself, i'll miss you" (well that's sudden)
and i thought you did. i thought we could talk about stuff that wasn't that
i thought we could talk about waffles and popcorn and annoying perfect people
we could talk about parks and rec and about being gay
we could talk about skateboarding and first kisses
and i hoped it would last more than just a little while
but i guess i was ******* wrong
and i always am
and im so mad at you for not responding except when i tell you
im gonna die
im so mad i never wanna talk to you again
**** you for leaving without at least telling me why
but please come back
i thought i had a friend
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
This is to all those misfits
To the Romeo car-washing in Inglewood inlets
To the Hippy selling crystals on the Venice boardwalk
The Magician swallowing 8-balls at the Huntington Beach peer
The Rapper selling CDs in the Ranch Market parking lot
The **** tatting in a makeshift garage
The Poet slinging chapbooks at cafes and rec centers…
Not androids pontificating from lecterns
But grimy roots burrowing deep
Seismic rumblings toppling down
Insured ivory towers
Smashing pilled-paradigms beneath Docs
Hustling and slinging
In the forbidden outshacks of civilization
In tents, over barbed-wire, beside shards
Desperate and burning
For neither Truth or Beauty
But for LIFE
They do not tap wrists
No, they thump chests
To feel it beat
To feel it rage
For fugitive fugues
For new eternities
They embrace
********** romance
Graveyard necromance
The holy hunger for change
Defying commercials and charts
Shivering and howling on streets
Waging guerrilla war
Liberating cubicled-hearts
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
healing:
*verb (used with object)
1. to make healthy, whole, or sound; restore to health; free from ailment.
2. to bring to an end or conclusion, as conflicts between people or groups, usually with the strong implication of restoring former amity; settle; reconcile: They tried to heal the rift between them but were unsuccessful.
3. to free from evil; cleanse; purify: to heal the soul.
verb (used without object)
4. to effect a cure.
5. (of a wound, broken bone, etc.) to become whole or sound; mend; get well (often followed by up or over ).*
reconciliation:
*verb (used with object), rec·on·ciled, rec·on·cil·ing.
1. to cause (a person) to accept or be resigned to something not desired: He was reconciled to his fate.
2. to win over to friendliness; cause to become amicable: to reconcile hostile persons.
3. to compose or settle (a quarrel, dispute, etc.).
4. to bring into agreement or harmony; make compatible or consistent: to reconcile differing statements; to reconcile accounts.
5. to reconsecrate (a desecrated church, cemetery, etc.).*
The task
painful and cumbersome
is to decide
if both can be.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
It's the week of Giving
Thanks, and I'm thinking
Of the magical place of
My Dreams, the
Dream-state I existed
In my childhood.
Google maps is SCI-
Finite, and does this place
Justice like a squid
Quoting Revelation 1:
9 - the Island of Palmos.
But at least the squid
Was half-right -
Middle Park Lagoon
Had an island.
It wasn't just the little farm
Pond full of alligator snappers,
And indelible fish (carp, anagram:
Crap)
It was the surrounding woods,
The Leopard Frogs I could not
(And really didn't want to)
Catch. It wasn't the shoe-
Stealing muck-mud, the
Barely-4-foot deep water.
It wasn't Duck Creek flowing
Next door, flooding often,
Its waters spilling into the
Waters of the Lagoon, depositing
And withdrawing wildlife
At will.
It was my escape-pod in the
Mysterious Spaceship Earth
That was 1968-1984, for my Dad
Ed Scheck, was Supt. of Parks
And Rec in Bettendorf, Iowa.
He oversaw all the parks, the
Pre-Waterslide-Pool, the Bike
Trails connecting Davenport
To its bro/sis city.
My Dad had to work a lot
And me in the park was like
Me visiting Dad.
The Lagoon frozen when we
Had Iowa winter, and a very
Popular place to skate. I think
I loved the Lagoon more frozen
Than liquid. At night, I would
Cut through the houses on
Fair Meadows Drive, listening to
KSTT-AM blasting on the speaker
Attached to the light pole.
It was the scariest part of my day,
That little freezing trip from
Lagoon to Home.
And about the best.
In 1979, at sixteen, I applied
For employment with the
Parks Department, and that
Meant summers working at
Palmer Hills Golf Course.
And, winters, supervising
Middle Park Lagoon.
I got to skate out on the
Ice, the ice that would turn
To the watery body I loved
Most of all, and miss, to
This day.
From 1968 (5) to 1984.
The math doesn't add up;
Magic has no columns that
Add up at the bottom, because
Magic is bottomless.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 10:09 AM UTC
Oh, my dear.
The time we’ve spent together has been the greatest.
I've loved hanging out with you, etc.
But with this new found technology I think we need to talk.
Here’s the deal. There is just not enough time in the day.
Lost is my number one priority right now, as is Weeds, Parks and Rec, and Breaking Bad.
You try to communicate with me at the worst possible times.
My PS3 controller turned off during 30 Rock and now I have to get all uncomfortable and turn it back on.
Can’t you see I’m busy and that I simply cannot answer my phone?
And your solution… Nay. Your “solution” of me simply reading the plots on Wikipedia has cut me to the core and you have crossed the line.
Yes, it would save time. It would also be the worst thing ever.
It’s clear that we are not compatible.
It’s not you, it’s Netflix.
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 5:11 PM UTC
i spent a week
in the behavioral center
psych ward
mental hospital
they said three to five days
they said they wanted to monitor
i spent a week
simplistic routine
group and rec therapy
all so they could see
why
i was feeling the things i felt
asking questions
getting personal
i spent a week
new medication
new friends
new experiences
new diagnosis
all from the psych ward
i notice it everywhere now
why i do the things i do
bipolar
a simple word that explains
EVERYTHING
it all makes sense
the decisions i make
that i wouldn’t normally make
it all makes sense
the racing thoughts
twenty four seven three sixty five
it all makes sense
the excessive shopping
with money i don’t have
it all makes sense
my mouth and my brain
racing
but not on the same track
it all makes sense
i spent a week
in the psych ward
-k.l.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 9:22 PM UTC
A Grande Iced coffee sweetened with whole milk always
supplied Trey, the Zombie, with energy. On a bright yellow morning
Trey sat down on a canvass deck chair outside of Starbucks.
He puffed on his e-cigarette. Then he took a sip from his plastic cup.
And as he tasted the refreshing creamy coffee, he remembered
what it was like to be a human being. Before the infection decimated
the world’s population of men, women, and children, everybody
was killing each other with double barreled shotguns, sleeping
with their best friend’s girlfriend to prove that they were not
in love with their best friend, forcing girls and women of all
ages into cramped basements leaving them with a bowl of
white rice and a cup of water, telling them that they had to sleep
with strange men who lived in America and other countries polluted
with lust and desire, or else they would get sent to the bottom
of a swamp where the Alligators roamed the muddy shores in
search of flesh. Trey remembered that he had been a college student
living at home, working as a tennis instructor part time at the
rec center down the street from where he resided at.
This little girl Amy bit him on the ankle. It was the first time
he had taught her how to hit a topspin serve with such
velocity that the tennis ball would bounce off the service box
and rise over the chain-linked fence, where the zombies were, crawling
over and up onto the hard courts. As Trey drank his iced coffee
he realized that life was more pleasant now. People didn’t shoot each
other anymore. Closeted gays and lesbians didn’t sleep with their best friend’s boyfriends and girlfriends just to prove that they were heterosexuals. And wicked men with shaggy hair and yellow teeth didn’t buy young girls and women from cramped basements and **** them because they had the money and the motivation to follow their lustful desires. No. None of this happened anymore. Now that the Zombies had taken over. Everybody just went to Starbucks, and drank iced coffees sweetened with milk.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 10:26 AM UTC
Coiled, grey March –snow patches slow to disperse on the townscape -
trying to turn the year.
A grey plume drifts through the low sky, like smoke but not smoke,
slow to disperse
reforming and palping like a long streak of foam on the sea; a grubby bag
turning, plastic and drifting
dividing in the sky: a shifting exclamation mark pulls out of shape
turns pale to vanishing, is gone.
A sound like pages riffling, like a thousand paper fans rustling, a darkening in the air
turning in the low light all together
wheeling , breaking, re-combining, stretching again. Sky geometry.
Still that dry whisper-clustering
of many wings holding close formation, turning and swooping together.
The cloud is back, is gone, is back again – endlessly
The grey light feels unnaturally late
above the Eagle Rec
starlings are moulding shapes, most beautiful murmuration.
The complex maths of defence – stay close, stay close –
turn, wheel, stay close.
Against the pale dusk the moment stretches beyond bearing,
that high, remote plasticity floats on as the light hesitates
dragging out the turn towards darkness.
The hawk must be near, striking into the crowd -
spin, turn on a wing-tip, wheel close, divide and turn: with luck
she will take your neighbour.
The black bunched crowd drops as one, to roost, to rest.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
What is fantasy?
False fantasy confession
Understanding by analogy
The fantasy of me
Counter brainwaves
With thought guns
Deceive me
I am a self agenda
Schools are found
In the background
School mask
Real me
Real mask
School me
Fat
Sad
and
Bad
Submissive
Fantasy
Villain
Happy he should be
Look down
Straight Shot
Straight up
It's up
Fantasy is theater
Acting like a character
How many writers in a snare.
One by one making a dare
School of thought thought up
Subscribers indentured to strange
What a hollow soto
A thin man's polo
Stripped with dread
Woe on theater
Theater is the past
Back in history
****** get hit by disarray
This is a history made this way
Only character hits from these paypools
Not so obvious doc!
Try to be less conscious!
Tu lewai to LA FENESTRA
I'm playing the tropes
That I loathe and despire
Even I hide my own words
Get a thought recorder
Shipping and packaging is free for the day.
250 of the most popular
Words arranged in draft sentances
I am a fantasy! U play in.
Don't worry
I am an expert attorney
Trained in exquisite self fantasy
Proffessor of Future Fantasies
Or maybe Garfield the nat
"Sneekky rouououttttt. I know the truuttthh.
It's a parks and rec
Adventure sketch
I am declining
I've lost my health
This issssnnn'tttt FAIR
Director "CUT!"
IT COMES FROM THE HUMAN MIND
HAAUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How can you
Teach
Them
That
CAT
IN
THE
HAT
???
??!
?!?
!??
!!?
!!!
@
#
$
Fantasy
Divorced
From mys
elf
Argumentative
Prentinsuous
And
parsimonious
Who buys it?
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
I do foolish things
when I’m blue
when I’m sad
and missing you
I do foolish things
like dancing all night
foolish things
drinking everything in sight
foolish things
shopping til I drop
foolish things
somehow I cannot stop
doing foolish things
when I’m blue
when I’m sad
and missing you
I do foolish things
watching ‘parks & rec’ all night
foolish things
drinking coffee until daylight
foolish things
dragging friends on crazy romps
foolish things
somehow I cannot stop
doing foolish things
when I’m blue
when I’m sad
and missing you
I do foolish things
acting like spring breakers
foolish things
herpy-dirping strangers
foolish things
acting like some whack-job
foolish things
but somehow I cannot stop
doing foolish things
when I’m blue
when I’m sad
and missing you
I do foolish things
making badong decisions
foolish things
I’m in an awkweird position
foolish things
I’ve begun precrastinating
foolish things
a change is indicated
so come back soon
cause when you do
there are foolish things
I want to do with you
foolish things
foolish things
crazy foolish things
foolish things
Aug 19, 2023
Aug 19, 2023 at 5:26 PM UTC
Author: Kristen Stevens
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Current mood: feel like breaking the rules
I have this friend, we'll call her Kat,that insists I be social at least once a month. As per her request she wants all the Sept. birthdays to go have dinner. I think it's an excellent idea. We are fun girls. Although that many of us in a public setting together might make people run for cover. In addition to the social dinner, I went to a Pampered Chef party where Kat was also attending, yet she says it doesn't count as my social event for the month. She won't even count my upcoming trip as "social". Phooey on her! She has said "if I'm not there it doesn't count." I say she was there so it should count but apparently that rule is flexible. So I will have 3 if not 4 outings in Sept. I don't know about this. I might go into overload.
I should try to make the point that any isolation I'm trying to achieve is merely training for the inevitable day when _________(fill in the blank) happens and we who are left are living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
[ASIDE:wow that sentence was long and overly complicated and run-on as well] I wonder if she would accept that response. " But Kat I'm trying to simulate how alone I will be when the majority of the people are dead, mutated, or the walking dead. I need to train, 2012 is fast approaching." Nah, she'll never buy it. sigh
Oh also there's a new training manual at work I think it's next month's staff rec. Everyone needs to supplement their Z.S.G. knowledge.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 8:09 AM UTC
she had her lingering pale blue eyes
and long blonde hair
skin like paper
dotted here and there with freckles
She was the first
way back when
in the first grade
her name haunted that old farm house
she was the first
A friends sister
back in the sixth grade
she was two years older than me
and **** it
she carried it well
I'd sit next to her
on the sofa
waiting for my friend
to come down the stairs
so we could walk to school
The short brunette
who loved the Chicago Bears
watching that super bowl
in the rec room of my parents' house
truth or dare
a peck on the lips
my seventh grade conquest
bathed in nostalgia
I don't remember who won
I don't even remember who was playing
high school came
and brought with it
a new field of roses
some of them wilted
all of them perfect
I told her she would have made a great mother
and I meant it
my best friend's girl
The little church girl
little robin red cheeked
prom night photos
suits and dresses
and smiles and holding
crystallized in the flash of a Nikon
The girl with her guitar
and her poster
*carpe that ******* diem*
her upper teeth
came out below her curling lip
and when she smiled
a hint of gums
a hint of pearl
the one that time
placed out of reach
in some other place
with some other people
For one night
there was the blonde bombshell
she came to town once a year
like a hurricane
a natural disaster
that I stood outside waiting for
with my umbrella
The ones who were smarter than me
the ones who loved me
when I didn't
the ones who laughed
at my smart *** comments
the ones who were there
to pull me from
the flipped wreckage
of the silver hyundai accent that I miss so much
the ones who wouldn't take any of my ****
the one's I see walking by on the street
the one's I only see behind closed eyelids
the special love I have for all of them
all of them
my baby blue
Oct 9, 2013
Oct 9, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
i'll die of a bottle cut my neck lays, drips
Waiting for re sus citation
Wanting rec i pro city
tickle down monopoly
Aye diabolical necklace ripped
Watershed light on Plateau Vistas
Wishful thinking washed up beached whales
Supernovas pangyrize death seen shaded in roses.
i dye bottle called negl i gents
Water wars UN nest estuary
When pet roll eaves seed li n e wall
its cash flow exsiccate ration al
If i could fold lyricigami tighter
you could read or di gest and
your actions would still gather
dust on the shelf of apathy
You would kick coke bottles
filled with hot air and promises
on the sahara ocean shore and
wonder why waves didn't clean
the sand off your feet.
Take your hands off the wall
its time you can't by and by
demarcation in between
life in blood air in water
put oil in sea
what seed grows money
what Sun loves Farther
away to love Slaughter
Earth mother dawn gone
man i p u late den der her
thirst is everything a
mess age nad e bac le
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
in the trenches
battling rattling prattlers
straddling irritated malcontents
brandishing education
via the internet –
limiting access
trimming excess
brimming with confidence
lifers in academic dress
blessed by family members
proud of a child’s accomplishments
allowed only to wear non blue regalia –
cell-in after dinner
no-yard, no rec
lock-down at the correction facility
eight by eleven printed paper
symbol of hard work and determination
in the face of contempt and mistrustful eyes
lies –
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 1:51 PM UTC
Nostalgia is
The laughter down the rec
As we poured beer
And did milk shots
Nostalgia is
The camp fires
The boys added hairspray to
And panicked
Nostalgia is
Your arm around my shoulder
Protective and proud
And very nervous
Nostalgia is
The Daisy chains
And gossip of
Who kissed who
Nostalgia is
The innocence of
Running wild in fields
Till the sun came up
Nostalgia is
Our beating hearts
Under the duvet
Hoping your brother didn’t hear
Nostalgia is
Knowing it’s just a memory
No longer to be
Repeated
Nostalgia is
Looking at old photos
With a half smile
And chest ache
May 21, 2024
May 21, 2024 at 7:13 PM UTC
Happiness was a boy in a rhino sweater and giraffe pants whose lips tasted like soft serve ice cream.
Happiness was a boy who loved video games and hookah and baking cookies, a boy who could name every episode of Parks and Rec, a boy who loved spoken word and also burritos, who saw finding new bands as a sport.
Sadness was a boy who walked everywhere, a boy who never finished high school and was sometimes still drunk at 9 am.
Sadness was a boy who's eyes closed their curtains to me, who's heart slammed it's door to me, who's body said "come on in." A boy who said he could never love me the way he loved her, a boy who said he didn't think he was "ready for a relationship," a boy who put me out like an old cigarette.
But I'm sick of all these emotions.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Listen to stories as I spill
Cuz this something that's too **** real
Hard for you to dodge my lyrical collage
So step with me into this reality first
I woke up then I looked up
I see it's a l
Past quarter to nine
And woodys on
At twelve
But forget that verse cuz it was only the spirits in a thirst
Called up a few homies while I'm laying in the bed
Watchin' Wilma and Fred then a thought occured to my head
I told my boys we should go out
Maybe a stripper club or diner
But either way we need to roll out
So I got dressed made sure I was good looking
Check the mirror even it was shooken
Got a make move moving real fast ya see
Cuz I gotta my Posse to G -E -T
My Posse on MLK My Posse on MLK
My Posse On MLK
Now once I pulled up in the big black truck
Ya know the big Tahoe where I tie hoes? Get it
Naw I'm just clowning thinkin a groove so we can start soundin'
Off to beat our vocals meet
We acting real silly up goes the dilly
They playing throwback of Magoo and Timbaland on the track
Way back up jumps the boogie all in me
Now I'm amped with my Posse
We ready to get it crackin'
And no stoppin' us G
Like Reggie Miller on three top of key
Where we all love to meet
We check each other make sure we fresh
Cuz the girlies love to test the way we dress
So we now in the street bass bumpin' with the beat
Gotta admit I had to roll up a swisher sweet
Nothing to see here haters cuz we gettin ready to raid ya
My Posse on MLK My Posse on MLK
My Posse On MLK
As we make into the club I'm feeling real good
But I hate that songs scrubs
Girls stop fronting djs cutting
Got everybody in the club jumpin'
Mens is grinding on girls behinds and
And there me and posse in long line and
Next thing ya know they move us to the front row
VIP status man I'm feeling the baddest
Once we got on set
I told the dj to change the rec so I can show em
How cold me and posse gets
Once I touch the mic their was a long silence
Microphone screeching
But stop once the rhymes started preaching
Everybody nodding having a good time
Out comes the rhymes break em every time
Throwin' hards thrills so ya better chills
Or else my Posse going to rearrange ya grill
Now that ya in a trance with my music
That's makes ya dance
And all this time they had nothing to say
Cuz my Posse to Ill from MLK
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 12:49 AM UTC
Everyone on my floor is drunk.
And loud.
And I live near an airport.
And that's loud.
And I'm coughing up blood.
And I did too many drugs.
The odds are that I will probably be alright.
Nothing to worry about.
Another line to write another line.
Thank you spell check,
*****
And a good episode of Parks and Rec
For making this write possible.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
I just wanted to say thank you.
I wanted to thank you for helping make me who I am.
I wanted to thank you for pushing me forward when I was satisfied.
I wanted to thank you for being upset when I let you down.
and for lifting me up when I wanted to frown.
I wanted to tell you--How grateful I am.
Not only for writing me a letter of rec.
but for writing to me when I felt wrecked,
and for keeping your room open after work was “done”
Because I know, secretly, that room was your heart
even though your sarcasm made that fact hard to tease apart.
I wanted to let you know I am happy.
Not terribly happy, not without problems.
But happy enough where I can get up every morning
and complain about growing into a better person.
I wanted to let you know I totally identified with
what I imagined your fears where when you first left for college.
And that I hope my fears will also help others when they leave as well.
I wanted to tell you I liked watching you cry.
Which probably makes you roll your eyes,
but it let me know, I could maybe, one day, be as strong as you.
I wanted to wish you prosperity, and hope, and love.
Because my aunt just had a baby too,
Whom I met this past winter
And I swear,
when I looked in her little her eyes
I saw the Universe.
It kinda funny that they named her Jasmine.
I wanted to tell you, that sometimes I re-read the letter you wrote me for graduation.
Especially when I feel the world is only filled with desperation,
When I need motivation,
When I wonder what in tarnation I’m doing with my life.
Sometimes, It's hard to miss home--even to miss friends.
I know we all are probably too busy to miss each other all the time.
But I wanted to say,
Thank you.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 12:09 AM UTC
I always somehow missed your passing silhouette
but I saw your eyes cry thunder,
saw your sweetly shivering pen-scratching-paper
in the cold streetlight
I never thought I could feel so disconnected
I was wrong.
For that and for other things. I
meant to share things. With you, with anyone I
meant to do things that are worthwhile I
meant to find the things worth living for I
meant to grasp the hands of the world tightly and never let go
I didn't want to be swayed,
and I'm swinging at the whim of drifting cobwebs
I found myself on the concrete again, tonight, throwing questions at the sky
The parts of myself worth keeping are atrophying, I thought
So I thought some more.
EVERYONE deserves love. I'm tired of scratching the snow waiting for an answer. I want the world to change. And it's not me, it's the rules that broke me. It's the rules that bent me into un
rec
og
niz able
shapes.
So then Why, I asked. One word. Crumbled as the cold set in, and I cried in the moonlight.
That was when I thought of you and the things left unanswered. Mostly I use you as a way to think about myself. When I was with you, I stopped asking questions, I think.
I need to learn how to be alone. I need to learn how to be with people and not stop being. I'm raging so freely lately that I'm dreaming again of you and of the times I kissed you and the times I should have, but mostly of the time I left you...
No regrets, hon, no matter how much it hurts.
So.
Here, again. Alone, again. The apathy is back.
Sun on my back, moon on my back, cracks
in my skin. You win.
May 1, 2012
May 1, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC