i'm contradictory at best.i wonder what it's like to look into your face and not want to spill every secret i've ever had. i want to be startlingly indifferent. i want to say i don't care and mean it. i want to be reckless in more than that jaywalking every morning on my way to work sort of way. i want to say something that will completely change the course of everything forever. i want to be the sort of thing people need to invent a new word for, because "cataclysmic" won't cover what a disaster i am.i want to be someone new.i worry about why the air always tastes several degrees colder than your skin. i know there's a correlation that i haven't figured out yet, but my mind doesn't work fast enough to make the connections anymore. i worry that all the synapses are breaking apart and my brain is shutting down. i worry that i'm dying in slow motion from the inside out so no one can even tell. not that anyone would care, but i worry about the most absurd of things. and then i worry that i don't worry enough abo
Love's sad songCold were the notes the violin did playThe day her lover had slipped awayHeavy the weight of her sagging griefShe knew would linger with little relief.Memories sang her a bitter song,A lingering chord, with notes so long.Tears squeezed out from gravelled eye,The whispering chill of a shivered sigh.Wondering now which path to chooseTo flee, and from the grief to loseOr live with drum roll in her breastThoughts once shared would give no rest.The girl she loved had gone awayWith few words from her lips to sayExcept goodbye, and do take careBut nothing in her soul did bareHer love unsung, an empty thingMutual love it failed to bringOh dear God, was this so wrongTo love a girl, to sing love's song?
The stormA black storm boiled the raging sea,Screeching wind tore wave tops free.Hard rain swept in to join the fray,Harsh weather would rule that fateful day.The wooden ship from top to keelRefused to heed the helmsman's wheel.Aided now by two strong crewWho fought to tame the tempest spew.Ship's timbers creaked and groaned in fearAs though they sensed the end was near.All hands clung white-faced to a ropeAnd prayed to God with little hope.The captain stood firm on quarterdeckWatching doomed ship turn into wreck.A mighty wave of a thousand tonsSmashed down upon those mothers' sons."Hold hard now lads," the captain's roar,As rigging snapped and headsail tore.The main mast swayed and then did snapCompeting with the thunder's crack.The once proud ship could stand no moreBegan descent to ocean's floor.Each man thrashed wild in watery grave,Yet knowing not one could now be saved.The captain was the last to die,No living thing did hear his cry,"Bear witness, Lord, we fought
shuteyegot my mama a golden needle, butshe hid it in the hay - told methe sweet things in life are worth looking for over and over again'til your eyes just can't see anymore.
How I Measure LoveYou asked me how much I love you.On a scale from one to ten.I whispered, "Infinity."Because if I took a brush,dipped in our love,and painted a line made of whispered wishes,and passionate kisses,and tried to measure how much I love you,it would stretch to the outer reaches of the universe.And everyone would see that line,twisting and curving,in shades of happy tears and butterfly wings,and say that someone crazy must have spent all that time painting it.Or someone in love.It would cross oceans on the backs of fish,and cover cities, countries, and continents,eventually breaching the atmosphere,to play connect the dots with the stars.It would ricochet off comet tails,and weave playfully between Saturn's rings.It would paint the universe in colors,vivid neons,and pale pastels,that people could see, when they looked up into the night sky.Like the northern lights,our love could light up the Heavens.It would paint the tips of wheat plants,dyeing the field in
the boy jumped over the moonThey told me falling in love would be easy, smooth. But I'm the kid that would insist on running full speed wherever, whenever. My arms and legs were a museum of broken blood vessels, gravel missiles, and skin stained a permanent green. Smooth was never a setting my body could contort itself to.So I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised when I found it hard to fall in love with you. Your coarse lips that would make mine bleed, and my funny way of walking two steps ahead of you, we were an unlikely match to begin with.You clashed with my family, my music, the rain. On holidays you would wash laundry and turn on bad reruns just to have a screen to stare at while you were a million miles away. I often wanted to look through the mail slot of your mind to catch a glimpse of the world living inside you. I never asked if I could get that close, so I never did.Then one day you got sick. A heavy dose of depression so thick it formed smog. "This changes everything doesn't it?"
make like yellow and slow downThis is a story about octagonsand road rage. Well, actually,this isn't a story; instead, thisis a to-do list. So complete it.*Paint a stop sign green,and GO away, one way,says an arrow on someother sign not to follow.Paint this one magenta;paint that one cerulean.Transform an entire streetinto a Crayola crayon box.Park in a no parking zone.Go directly to jail. Escape.Go three times the speedlimit, dumbass driver. Getcaught. Get a ticket. Geta life. Give me your ticket,but tell me it's for a train.Paint the railroad crossingsign invisible. Wait for it.Eat the 't' in train. "Hey,I'm a weatherman now."Flash flood alert: drownyourself. If you survivethe trainwreck, at least.Locate the nearest crosswalk,and backflip to the other side.Please get hit by a bus or caror truck. Get run over by anambulance for the Irony. Diein the hospital. I could hope.<
if my name had quotation marksi hate how you livea "Perfect" life without me;what i hate more, though,is the importancetwo measly quotation marksinherently hold
My name is Nine. What's yours?Oh, hello. Have we met? No?Well, let me introduce myself:I'm your future-husband. Oh?Too generic? Okay. I'm yourfuture-boyfriend. I'm sorry, isthat too blunt? Fine. I'm theboy who'll take your virginity.Wait. You've already lost it?Here, let me help you find it.Let's check in the closet. No,not here. Under the bed, orunder the bedsheets? Nope,nope. It's always in the lastplace you look, so it can't bein your eyes. Or your heart.Now tell me, who are you?My soulmate, my truelove?The one to take my sanity?The one I can call Sweetie?The one I've been missing,the one I've been wanting,the one I've written fifteenpoems for? The one to mynine? Me+You = Perfect 10You're not mathematic? Who cares? I'm nogood at chemistry or first impressions, but Iknow a mutual attraction when I see one.
in love with a dream catcheryou packed your old suitcase full of pink rosesand set out to find where thecrickets sleepusing the moon beams through tree branchesto guide you.you wanted to lay your head in the grasstangle your hair in the sedgeand have music surround you from everyunmeasured inch of earth that equals the outdoors.you wanted to press your fingers into the top soiland bottom soilwhile it was still cool and kept its freshsunset taste.you said everyone's dreams were caughton angel hair-[a prettier name for spider webs]that silvery thread that floats on the wind andsticks to your face.i didn't believe you, buti could see in your eyesthat you were going to be the one to find those dreams.you were going to[be the one to]sail away one misty morning in a boat[without me]just because you wanted to.just because the world wanted tobe explored.when i held youand when you were closest to mei felt you getting further away. it scared mebut i knew you[didn't belong to me]were a wild
You've been on my mind...Quite frankly, you're heavy. Get off.
Judgement"You need to stop doing this.""Stop doing what?""Writing me into your stories.""...why?""Because
it scares me. I'm not this guy that you write about. I'm not some kind of Prince Charming and I'm certainly not a sea God or whatever you like to say about my eyes every now and then.""Oh really?""Yeah. You really need to work on your judgement of people, because this is all wrong. It's like you don't know me at all!""So why don't you correct me and I'll fix my idea of you accordingly.""Well
firstly, I'm a really nervous person.""Yeah. Your hands are either fiddling with your hair or your sleeve, or you're biting your nails.""And I don't like going out. I'm a hermit.""Except to your best friends' houses, or to the animal shelter, or to me.""And I'm dead inside.""Says the boy who hides his tears at the sight of an injured puppy.""I do not.""Yes, you do.""Anyway, I'm not always nice to you. In fact, I really don't do enough.""You're right. Except
Introductions"Hi, I'm-""I know who you are.""You do?""You're the guy who thinks he's invisible.""I have a name-""It isn't important. Because you really don't think it's important.""All right. Since we've started out this way, let me just tell you, I know you too.""Yeah?""You're the girl who is broken.""I am not broken.""You're the girl whose eyes close every night and open the next morning, only to find you have never slept at all.""I sleep well. Besides-""You're the girl who dreams of a happy ending even though she has seen seventeen...no, eighteen unhappy ones in her eighteen years.""Happy endings are over rated. And you're-""You're the girl who wants something bigger, something stronger, just so the weakness in her body becomes something so much more.""You don't understand weakness the way-""You're the girl whose heart broke when she was so young, and she fixed it back together with superglue, but cannot ignore the cracks.""Superglue makes for a good companion, especially when-"
changing your dress or addressi sent you my love,with a big fat fuckingugly stamp on it.RETURN TO SENDERi guess my love wasn't enough.maybe i should have bought youa better ego or pair of sunglassesyou'd only wear once. new clothesto match this month's persona. oh,aren't you fashionable? my fashionof intricate packaging love letterswith pretty ritzy glitzy glitterand a cathartic bow on top.laced with ribbon. purple.no, no, no. TRY AGAIN.maybe the mail glitched?i re-sent you my love.correction: i resent you, my love
In Three Actsmancliff seacliff man seacliff sea man
Destroy This PoemDestroy This PoemTo the person grading this poemTo the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a penWaiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor:Stop it.Dont Patronize me.I did not slave over this with hammer and anvilShaping it into a masterpiece.I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church,Going blind from the pain and the stress.I didnt even turn this in on time.And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class,You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima.No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle.This isnt a masterpiece.Who are we kidding?Youre not going to hurt it, and you most certainly arent going to hurt me.Stop it.Dont patronize me.I want you to destroy my work.I want you to rip it to shreds with sadistic dominatrix glee.Tear it apart from margin to margin;Laugh openly at its crippled, struggling body.Stab throu
Not againns again. Yesterday I......died.It begi
All Forty-fourI hid the scars... all forty-four.I knew that he knew, but he never asked. Not once.I hide a smile because I know he doesn't mind them, but I frown a little at his easy acceptance.Does he really hate them in his heart? These scars. My ever present brands of personal rejection.He squeezes my hand and I look at the ring on my finger. "Acceptance" the little diamonds seem to say.I pull my sleeves down lower and slouch a little more.I know he's seen the scars- those accursed scars- on my arms, but what about my shoulders, my neck.... my back? I escape to the bathroom and look in the mirror. They are still there, I know, but I remove my shirt to check anyway. There they are, white and mocking as they have been for years. Forty-four individual voices saying that I'm ugly. I believe them. Quietly he enters the bathroom, and stands behind me. His reflection remains emotionless as his eyes rove my back. He says nothing, but brushes my hair away fr