cover your eyes.i remember i came over to your houseand we watched them fall.we crouched in front of the dimly glowing boxand tried to figure out what we should be feeling while we watched it all unfold in front of us.we knew we were watching people, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands leave this world.but we just saw smoke and we heard reporters screaching over one another trying to comprehendit while maintaining a professional appearence.but we knew that all humans watching this were trying not to break from the completely overwhelmingflood we were all feeling.i noticed you were crying.you didnt know anyone personally, but your heart was always the biggest and i'm sure you were tryingto make peace with someone up there and wondering why them, and why not someone else.and i know you were never a religious person, despite your upbringing, and in that moment when peoplewere emerging, exhausted, confused and thankful, i knew you never would again. how could any god possiblypick fav
at best.i tired to sum it up in a way that i knew your addled brain could grasp.i'd gotten used to simplifying things for you when you were like this.but from my perspective, this give and take of ours left me feeling like i waschasing that bus that turned up earlier than my brain or the timetable wasready for, and i try and run across the street to reach it. sometimes i do,and i get to rest and breathe. other times i almost reach it, but as my foothits the other side of the road it pulls away and i have to sit there and hopeit comes back around before it gets dark.it was a clumsy way of describing it at best.but i felt right with how much of it was up to somehigher unseen power that most of the time seemed against me.
against this cold.maybe if i had drunken more milk my bones would have been stronger,maybe if i had not read so many magazines i wouldn't have spent all of my senior year tearing myself apart and trying to puke my insecurities out.maybe if i hadnt had spend so many nights out with him,maybe if i had have gone to colorado with you that summer.maybe if i had have picked those fucking secrets out from beneath your teeth,and peeled them from under your tongue.maybe then i would have been able to stop you.maybe then i wouldn't be here.maybe you would.
theres got to be another way.you made me so damn sure if i ever had the chance to burn something more substantial than just some metaphorical bridges.like maybe i could set myself of fire and be reborn or just have a complete re do and try my luck at the draw of life again and hope i get an existence that doesn't make me want to just go extinct or curl up in a ball.or at least one that had some better timing cause i'm sick of finding my way back into your life on days when all you smelllike is death or him (which to me is the same thing) and i always smell failure and utter rejection on myself when i finally make it back to my apartment after shuffling around the city like a lovesick zombie or just a lesser version of whoever i think i would be if you would stop choosing him over me.like last night when he left, you came around and it was like once he leaves your field of vision you forget about him, like hes a god damn doctor who villian. and we talked about pocket relics and how you found the movie stub from
your parents dont need a ghost.i couldn't sleep last nightcause i kept picturing youand then my memory trippedand i remembered the summer we spentcramped in your tour busand how before i opened my eyes completelyyou and himlooked them same.and i felt my heart stopimagining how your parents must feel.and then i stopped againthinking how he must feelevery time he looks in a mirror.
You Deserve to SmileDo what you have to do to be happy.Eat an entire chocolate cake,Swallow all the pills you need to take -'Medication' isn't a dirty word.Wear a princess dressOr a band t-shirt withJeans in distress -Boy or girl or anything in between,Stand before that mirrorTake a twirlAnd see how beautiful you are.Go for a run,Have some fun,Watch Netflix until your eyes burn,Curl up in bed -Take a vacation from your head.Phone a friendAnd talk for hours,Or stay in your roomAnd wait for the darknessTo end -No need to pretend,Just do what you need.Paint a pictureOr write a sonnet,Or just sit stillAnd breathe -Things willGet better.Pick some flowers,Take hoursJust for yourself -You are just as specialAs anyone else.
Can You Hold on One More Day?I read a poem about a boy.Who had lost all of his pride and joy.He wore his heart on his sleeves.Which were stained red,From all of the blood that he bled.The boy died...By the blade of a knife.That he ran up and down his wrists.And I couldn't help but cry.That poem was fake.There wasn't such a boy.It wasn't a true story.But... Then I began to realize.That just because it wasn't that specific boy.There are others just like him.Begging for death.Slitting their wrists,And hoping to die.Because so many times,They've tried,And so many times,They've cried.But nothing gets better!I just wanted to say,I've been that boy.At some point.I felt that way.And I just wanted to say,I am so sorry.I know it hurts but hang on another day.Another month,Another year.Please, stay with me dear.Don't join that boy,No, not tonight.Stay with me,Please?
Suckerpunch SweetheartRed lipstick war paintEyeliner eyes.I am a soldier in my own war;A force split in two sides.I am a force of natureBring about my own raptureAnd I’ll bring you to your knees.Say pleaseLittle girl lost.Cut off my hairCut into my skinPretty princess girlCardinal sin.Let me inLet me in.Sugar in my veinsAnd poison in my heart;I can turn bloodInto a work of art.I won’t go there againWon’t do itI won’t.HandsA sea of handsAnd andsIn my head.A universe inside.Dead.Icy skinFiery eyesNobody knowsJust what's inside.
Bullied On Our Friendly Website DA There was once a two authors on a website that wanted to let their opinion out.But a famous author set to put them out.She took the flame of these little author’s hearts making them burn from blue to red.And here’s what she said,“Your little fire shall extinguished because I want you to get the Fuck Out!”The tiny authors wept and cried.Wondering was it because they picked a side.Maybe if they had gone with the flow of everyone elsethey wouldn't have suffered being a different self?The small male author thought it was too much to handle and left.But the dainty female author stayed behind. HoweverThe light within her grew dimmer and dimmer.And its glow became barely a shimmer.Her originality became to be like everything else she owned: plastic.She wasn't real anymore; just another author following the trends.All hope was lost.No one to come save her.Sadness reigned within her, making her shallow and pale as Frost.Nothin
quirks.when i was a child:i loved to steal.i would go around my neighborhoodand steal lawn ornaments.at daycare, i would steal moneyand toysand food.once, i stole my next door neighbor’srabbit statute.when my parents confronted me,the lie was smooth and solid:i saw so-and-so take it.--when i was a child:i loved to lie.i would make up storiesto get reactions out of people.to see if they’d believe me.for fun.once, i convinced my friend charlottethat i had twenty-four hours to live.when she burst into tears,i had to bite my tongueto keep from laughing.--when i was a child:i loved animals.i would lock my dog in the closetand in the bathroom.a lot of my neighbors left birdcages outduring the dayso i set all of the birds free.once, i imagined what it would be liketo kill an animal.then, i imagined what it would be liketo run over it repeatedlywith a carso i did it with my scooterto a rose i foundbecause it was redlike blood.--when i was a
Eternity Comes Only Once ...In a dream of eternal youthwith beautiful eyes and unspoken truths,dancing on a thin thread drawn by Selenain a blue night when all four winds talking about peace;...In that unique poem when loveshines more than the Sun God on your ring finger,weaving lasting hopes on a delicate cobwebin a white day of the beginning of all beginnings;...In a cold afternoon of Decemberwith memories which surrounds the Arctic Circle,melting everlasting snows that floods the time, paradoxically, leaving behind them the fire which burns your heart;....In the black hole of a single moment,with pain, with answers, with courage, maybe with joy, or Not,Waltz with the time between seconds,Eternity comes only once...
absent resolvei.i cradle my hopewith both hands,as if holding it closewill give it the warmthto stay alive.when you come nearit flares and rustles,begging to take flight;yet i am both caressand cage.ii.we have confused our signals,mixed our drinks andnever together.closure looms ominousbut i would rather forgetthan be caught in thisluminous void ofperhaps -iii.i am weakand perhapsyou are blind,we, silent,are nothingperhaps we could beeverythingif only we spoke.iv.enigma,you have unknowinglytwisted yourselfin helical fundamentalsabout my identity,shaped me inabsence andthe embers ofa chance.i wish i knewwhen to releasethis frail hope.v.we're both drunkand you're shaking,caught in a momentneither here nor now.entwined fingersbring you back tothe present, and i lingerbut you are eager to eclipsethis vulnerability,so you run.vi.i'm too afraid to ask,but at least the question'sanswered:we're both cowards.
bound in retrospectpart i.let's talkabout wreckage and dreaming,about nights wept weary,and how city limitscompress to claim youwhen you run.let’s talkabout slippingaway early mo(u)rningand choosing dark over light;how eventually i stoppedwishing upon starsbecause really,what’s the point.let's talk;there is no true wayfor someone this self-consciousto let loose streams ofconsciousness,but i'm trying.interlude: youyou,you are an immersionheartbeatracing down my spine,along vertebrae as ifthey belong to youbut they shouldn’t,not now.you,you are long-limbed eyelashes,a study in faux-reluctance.you are a cagei never could penetratealthough you never had much troubleignoring my reluctance;penetration became a gamei never won.part ii.let’s talk;this was never a love story,but add enough adjectiveand i guess it can bewhatever you want it to be.warped to your ideal,turn me to my better angleand hide the flaws;hide the fa
Demons Can Feel TooI'll admit that I'm a demon.I'm cold and cruel,Hateful and quick to anger.I'm flawed.I prefer darkness over light.But demons can have feelings too.I can be hurt, offended.I can be sympathetic.I can care for other peopleAnd I can love.I may be a cruel being.Excessively so at times.But that doesn't make me heartless.Though I may seem so,I'm not.I do have a heart.And I do use it.Just not often.Because the problem with having a heartIs it can be broken.And I don't want a broken heart.I think maybe that's why demons seem so cruel and hateful.They're just afraid of getting hurt.
internal.sometimes i feel like your skeletal systemi wrap around your translucent skinand protect the soft pinkflesh within,i guard your heartand your lungsand keep you upright.you don't see me,but without me you'dbe nothing.