"talia" poems
Dear Talia,
I don't want to be a tortured artist.
I don't want to be depressed and I don't want to be anxious.
Competitive sadness and disorders treated like accessories disgust me.
The world glamorizes mental illness, and I don't understand why. There is nothing romantic about being mentally ill just like how there's nothing glamorous about a broken wrist or a torn medial collateral ligament. There's nothing romantic about constantly being afraid that the world will fold in itself and **** you with it. There's nothing romantic about feeling like you could break down and cry at any moment.
This is the first piece I've written while being medicated.
I want it to be Christmas already.
The world dreams itself a halo, but can only attain horns. The halo is an illusion and the horns are an idea.
I'm due to take another Lorazepam. Would I look cool to the kids who idolize dysfunction and misinterpret pain as style, if I were to take one of these, with water and a distant glance, in front of them? Geez, to have their approval would to have everything and nothing at all.
I'm not sure why I've written as much about this as I have.
You.
It is 2:48 am and all I can think about, in this moment, is you.
I can't wait to spend Christmas with you. I can't wait to wear bad Christmas sweaters, and be the couple everyone hates, as we sing Christmas carols and spread holiday cheer.
I wrote this poem a few minutes ago. Sometime around 2:30 am. I'm not sure. I'm exhausted:
I sat on the edge of my bed, and on the edge of my life,
medicated to the point of pointlessness. Soft.
It was the nineteenth, not the twentieth,
and I wished I saw the fireworks with her fifteen days earlier.
My gasps tore the shingles off of the house.
And they hung suspended above the hole in the roof.
And God stared down into my room, as the shingles swirled skyward.
"I see you," I said, "but I don't believe in you."
I left home and ran until I was a dream that had passed itself.
I hope that was okay.
I love you.
Yours,
Joshua Haines
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
Up until my insomnia meets me
I lied when I said I forgot
I was scared what you'd think
If I said that I love you a lot
People have only cared for minutes
Leaving me to care for days
When I look at you all I can think
Is please don't go away
I can see me in your eyes
I dream of dreaming with you
I can trace your scars with mine
My thoughts are bleeding through:
My Talia, I know what it's like to not be seen;
what it's like to be alone in a crowded room.
For you, my star, I want you to know:
that no one shines as bright as you.
I can taste you moving on my skin.
My gasp is air you sustain.
hand in hand, under an umbrella
with you, I am safe.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
I had a tough therapy session, can you listen?
She said, "Talia, you can't live in the psych ward."
But what am i supposed to do when every time i drive my car i have to pull over because i can't see anything but car accidents?
I'd never cried in front of my psychologist until she said that suicidal thoughts might be something i have to live with.
She said, this is bpd.
I said thank you.
She said that if i continue to purge at the rate i am going my heart will stop before i turn 18.
I couldn't help but think that i hope it does.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 1:35 PM UTC
Dancing around a whirlpool,
Yet laying on soft, sunny grass,
Clouds streaking by above me but,
All my eyes see is Talia's hand slipping,
Over and over again the image plays.
I shut my eyes and rolled onto my side, and I can see the present day once more.
Stepping over blades,
Afraid of being cut again.
Dancing around a whirlpool,
Eventually I'll get caught.
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
I know it isn't ordinary
Aware it's not necessary
Not a typical routine
And something you may have never seen.
But today is my birthday
Something I do dare to share
Because I remember it well
I am not sure where I was born
Was it in Texas ? Was it Vermont?
Was I raised in Brooklyn County? Or maybe another country
But for sure I remember it well
The street where I lived was amused
Or was it the street of Hermon?
*** I am a little confused
Where I lived after I was born
But I remember it well.
I exchanged messages with *** the newsy,
Amalia and Dalia, Gallia and Talia
And Peter and Teddy, and Geter and Freddy
I met friends all over.
A poet, a lawyer, nice pictures, and posters
Young friends, sweet babies and also proud mothers
I remember it well
So Happy Birthday to me,
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
Today is Talia Shire's birthday and she's turned seventy-four.
She starred in the Rocky and Godfather movies and more.
Talia Coppola was her original name.
It's not surprising that she found fame.
The Landlady was my favorite movie that she starred in.
She also gave great performances in Prophecy and Old Boyfriends.
When it comes to Talia, there are two things that I know for sure.
She is very talented and millions of people love and admire her.
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
The sadness that we are feeling is too painful to ignore.
People are very sad because of the death of Roger Moore.
He starred as James Bond seven times from 1973 to 1985.
All of his fans are mourning because he's no longer alive.
He became an actor who many people would admire.
In 1991, he starred in Bed & Breakfast with Talia Shire.
When he became an actor, he chose a career that would soar.
Sadly, millions are saying goodbye to the talented Roger Moore.
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC
He died 25 years ago today, which is a quarter of a century.
He produced 'Never Say Never Again' with Sean Connery.
He was born in 1932 and was a man who people would admire.
First he was married to Judith Deborah Feldman and then to Talia Shire.
He was the executive producer of 'Rad' and 'I Am The Cheese'.
When he produced movies, they were certainly sure to please.
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC
here - take. have it
in your hands. does it smell
like fear
or the absence of noise? does it think
like you or does it do things you never wanted? does it make you gasp
and shiver? do you dream of it in the night and
does it make you believe in things like smiling
when you should be begging forgiveness and kissing in the pew and the rose garden / heavy wrinkled hands
prying back the curtain to
watch them go at it by the bus stop?
if so.
this is love. hold it close and tight and real gentle. like you’d touch a star ;
unbelieving. that the light doesn’t burn you flesh through to bone
but sinks in, grateful
for a home.
queer, beloved | talia b. ; @raggedhearts
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC