All ready to
But you can never reach the
Your soul is
You are an
Chained to the
the sky has left me.my therapist said
that i suffer from kalopsia.
i've never been so high
from an ailment and so low
from the drugs.
because a rose
could be a dying leaf
and the difference to me
is only structure
i'd be a fool to not find the beauty
in your fading eyes
and freckled hands
all of which trace my spine
in slow-motion when i can't sleep at night
or think of the constellation you've asked me
the name of.
beauty is most dangerous
to those who find it in others,
so now do you believe me
when i say how much
you're killing me?
eigengrau.you had poems etched into your collarbones
and paint seared into your skin
i felt sure i'd never read anything more beautiful than shelley's elegy
and certain i'd never look at a painting that challenged the grace of
but what i loved most was the tragedy on your lips
bloodier than kennedy's shirt
but that spoke so sweetly and smiled
like nothing could ever be broken,
but david is threatening to collapse
and venus is missing limbs
the jesus and guests da vinci brought to supper
in fresco crumbles.
can fade and break and fall apart
and be just as broken as it is
so it's okay if you want to cry
i'll brush the hair away from your face
and dry your tears
and everything will be okay
stars are dying, and i don't care.my professor asked us/one day last week/what success meant for us/and everyone around me/had dreams and goals/doctors and nurses and lawyers and teachers and college graduates with big plans/and all i could think to say/is that for me success/ is:
going to sleep at night
and actually wanting to wake up
the next morning,
looking at my medicine bottles
and taking the suggested dose
instead of three or four extra;
or better yet
not needing them at all,
looking in the mirror
and being able to say
"i love you"
to the reflection,
to have a better reason for living
than not wanting
to hurt my brother
to actually care about
what happens to me,
to stop crying every night
in the middle of the night
when i wake up
and can't go back to sleep;
to stop crying in class
with my head down
so no one sees,
to stop needing cigarettes
to stop my hands
to stop peeling the skin
around my fingernails,
and for once in my life
to sit down at my desk
and write a poem
my chest is caving in.i envy people
who have their lives
and know exactly where they'll be
and how to
it's almost midnight
and i was walking outside
not daring to think about life
seventeen years from now,
because i'm just worried
about making it through
the walls are beige.my poetry
used to be different
and maybe not worse
and i don't like the change.
is killing me
I've never felt so
by work that is so easy
it feels like a job
just to make ends meet,
but i don't have a family
so why am i stll here?
suffer.do you ever get the urge
to run outside
through the rain
and throw away all your
like freeing a kite
from it's string?
what am i supposed to do
if it isn't
rimbaud was her favorite.i loved watching her smoke
while putting on
she'd leave the door open
and stand in front of the sink,
before the mirror,
sometimes dressed in her own underwear
that never matched
or wearing my sweater
that was too big
for us both
or wearing only the air
she'd leave me in bed
and wink at me
in the reflection.
were always blue
and her smile
was always dangerous.
she'd sing off-key
to etta james
and underline her eyes
and i'd hum to her
clair de lune
while she coated her lips
in a matte taupe
that almost matched her skin.
then she'd twirl into the room
and open all the windows
and pull me to my feet
and we'd dance to whatever music
we each made up
in our head.
my hair still smells like her perfume
no matter how many times i wash it
and my mirror seems so empty
who is she dancing with
i can't feel my voice.the best years of my life
are killing me
i don't know what my mirror
or what other people see
when they look at
do they see the lines i feel
on my face
and do the tears
leave stains on my cheeks?
can they smell the pills
on my breath
and do they notice the gravel
piled in the caverns of my collarbones
from the boulders pushing my shoulders down
how does it sound
when my heart beats?
is it hollow or does it beat
if someone wanted to save me
would i let
my lungs are numb.i'm jealous of a dead painter
because i know that if michelangelo was alive
he'd paint you on the ceiling
with the other angels
and trap your body in marble
his eyes grazing over every inch
of your olive skin
to try to make his art
as beautiful as you
would he cry at night
when you went away and he
looked at the canvas or stone
and realized that not even his hands
could create something of your stature
i'm jealous of a dead painter
because if he and i were standing side by side
he would have the courage to ask
to paint you
and i would look down at my shoes
and write poems about you in my head
that i would never speak to you out loud
i'd say he would win your heart
but the three of us all know
it wouldn't even be
I know you're scared,
And I know you're blue.
But, trust me.
I won't hurt you.
It's no secret
That you hate my friends,
The Crystal Gems.
You think they're a menace,
Something to fear.
But, I promise you.
You're safe here.
They won't hurt you,
Because you can't hurt them.
I wish it wasn't like that.
I don't want to hurt you,
I want to be your friend.
I've come to notice
That Homeworld doesn't know love.
They think Garnet's an abomination,
And my mom's a traitor that should be gotten rid of.
When really, they're just Gems,
Like you and everyone else.
They want to do good for the world.
They just see from a different perspective,
Just like you.
Earth isn't bad.
Sure, some things can hurt you,
And some people are mean.
But, it's a beautiful place,
At least from what I've seen.
You must feel trapped
Without your tools
To keep you from
Losing your cool.
But, you don't need them
To be yourself.
You'll do just as good
As anybody else.
Just please understand me.
I've felt fear
Forgotten HallsAn ancient, sprawling maze to me,
Familiar as I grew;
It housed the rise of many
And saw the doom of few.
Never did I stop to think
Of those that came before;
All I saw was my own path,
My own tracks on the floor.
And now I see it once again
Its age making it new,
Strangers faces alien
The air of nineties, too.
I stood there when they tore it down,
Laughing with my friends.
Not once did I stop to mourn
The era come to end.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
I'll Wait by the WaterThis is the place where our memories began.
A creek at the bottom of a canyon,
red cliffs on either side and a giant
pond dam to the north that wildflowers grow on.
Paths that we created through the woods
and up and down those copper canyon walls
while we pretended to be wild Injuns
or wanted outlaws being hunted by a posse.
You were on your knees,
in the middle of the creek,
when I found you.
A neighbor girl, trespassing.
I had a mind to chase you off
until I asked what you were doing.
You looked at me, smiled, and said,
"Catching crawdads. Come help!"
After that day, we spent Springs and Summers
building fort walls and chasing frogs,
skipping stones and arguing baseball,
sharing comic books and trading punches.
You could hit as hard as any boy I knew.
We had our own bridge to Terabithia,
our own kingdoms of knights and castles,
won the World Series with back to back homeruns,
settled the Wild West and discovered gold in the mountains.
My parents thought you were imaginary
until I bro
How to Live in 2015Be born. That’s the easy part.
Beg for new toys or take someone else’s.
It doesn’t matter. Being selfish as a child is normal.
Being selfish as an adult is normal.
Get dirty. Stop taking everything
so seriously. You’re going to die.
Don’t worry, everybody does it.
Don’t fall in love, love is not a hole
to fall into. Run into love, headfirst.
Bite your tongue until
you can taste the word no.
Give away your secrets under a pseudonym
for someone else to sell.
Chop off your arms and legs to pay for college,
realize tuition rates doubled.
Get a degree. Find a job. Hate your job.
Find a vice. Keep it closer than your breath.
Find God in an alleyway.
Lose God like a set of keys.
Die and be reborn as a memory.
Die and be reborn as an afterthought.
Die and be forgotten.
an atheist's prayerdear god,
i planted no tulips in autumn
and no tulips came in spring.
how silly of me, then
to mourn the empty garden,
to long for fields of amsterdam,
to kneel at night in cold dirt,
i’ve learned there is
a certain ache in lacking
a thing never had, that small itch
whose relief is two seasons past –
so god, if you can hear me,
know that i am homesick
whose name, like yours, i know
but whose flowers i cannot see.
TapestryThe morning is a tapestry...
tripping over last night's grace,
I watch you weave your skin
and shake out your hair -
soft teal and jonquil
shadowing your cheek
as the curtains part between your hands.
Threads tangle as you turn,
dawn is a gentle lover,
and the tumble of birds
plaiting their soft notes
lingers on the pillows
where your smile is my undoing.
OC Meme*Copy this into your Meme..
-Choose 10 of your OC's
-Answer the questions
-Then tag 3 people
1.) 3, 7, 4, and 9 go ice skating. What happens?
2.) Its Christmas!!! 5 throws a christmas party and invites three people of choice. Who does he/she invite? What happens?
3.) 6 catches 2 dancing/singing to the 'spice girls'. What's 6's reaction?
4.) 1 and 10 are stuck in a janitor's closet. How the crap did they get in there?
5.) 4 confesses his/her love for 8. What happens?
6.) 3 walks in to see 6 and 7 making out in 3's closet.. What is their reactions?
7.) 9 and 5 have an argument that soon turns into a fist fight. How did it start? And How does 2 try to break it up?
8.) 6 and 7 are getting married! But 8 is in love with 7. What does 8 do?
9.) You here a knock on your door. You open it to see every one of your OC's bursting in to your home. What do you do?
10.) 2 admits to you that he/she killed 9. What do you do?
11.) Everyone gat