what is this feeling
lurking around within the confines
of my head
and my heart

its not numb
but it is neither happy nor sad
it is hope for later
it is hurt from earlier
it is undefinable
what is this feeling?
is there a name?

one single, solitary tear
it will always be alone
few drops may merge on its path
but the wind will separate all

and to what do we owe this
separation, this displeasure?
Pushiness, infatuation. Love.
Five days, and it's already gone?

As I lay sleeping
my heart runs its course
and in days of passing
will fly like a horse.

But knowing not its loss
of life through its' thoughts,
knowing not it's embossed
wherever it trots,

My mind and heart
will surely live unafraid
for numbness is art
and has no need for aid.

paragraphs
sentences
words

things that describe me
and my worth
and my meaning

one day perhaps i'll be told just what those
paragraphs
sentence
and words
are

but until then
i get the attention
i deserve.

A time to start pondering new wishes
and how close you know you can get
to them before the hours chase you
back to the cot where you started

he wanted an uptown girl
but she was from down home
country

that sugar shaker was just
too sweet for him to
handle

When someone needs you and you're too far away
or when you're not sure if you're what they need to stop the hurt
or if you're what's causing it

I can't believe i have the ability to say
what i've wanted to say for so long.

Mine.

it feels so foreign, so strange on my tongue. But i like it.

i just wish now
that we both have the courage
to explore this word
to its fullest extent........

I pledge allegiance
to my heart
to live unafraid
in a world apart
in a dimension of fear
to have hope and love
in times where I tear
to rise up above

I pledge allegiance
to my heart
to let it rule
or tear apart
for of it I have fear
to lose hope and love
but i'll not shed a tear
but wait for attention from above

happier than i can remember
sadder than i can remember being
as the sparrows sit on my windowsill
and sing in dirge
I'll cry with happiness
and mourn with joy

I have what she wants.
It's mine to enjoy.

Somehow I'll make it up to her.
Somehow, repay joy.

shaking, shaking,
all i know is shaking
quaking, quaking,
you warned me and i'm scared

Do you know what you desire, she breathed at me.
I do, I said, my breath creating spirits from the whirlwind of my lips over the snowbank.
Tell me*, she muttered, her eyes creating criss crossed laser sections of white fluff beneath us.
Never.

My heart is having a hard time staying in my chest where it belongs.
But it can't just keep floating around like this-
soon, it'll run out of oxygen.
Give it a temporary home?
Or maybe not so temporary.
I digress.

Sometimes I wonder
at the marvelosity
that is our universe

we can give and create
we can love and debate
we can push and pull
we can die.

but yet in all this sparkling madness,
this canvas that has yet to be covered
why are there so many blank spots?

The curious thing is,
I'm too busy helping others color their lives
to give any life
to mine.

hate me, hate me,
go ahead and hate me
slate me, slate me,
you know that i am lost.

harp me, harp me,
you know you want to harp me
start me, start me
onto the path of spirals.

change me, change me,
try if you dare to change me
play me, play me,
for the game i am.

but love me, love me,
why would you ever love me?
you're above me, above me,
and i'm just on the ground.

Sometimes, I stare at the ceiling
what's there can become a metaphor
in little over a metasecond

cracked paint,
peeling away and revealing the surface beneath

dry plaster,
crumbling in some spots where you can hardly tell

It's funny how when a poet needs to vent
they can find something-ANYTHING-
to write about.

The wings of the sow, they bled with tire
and wear and love that did perspire
in bold red beads across her back
where feathered things did slake and slack.

But fly she wouldn't, for fear of life
and judging, based on that stereotype.
So if you chance to see her now,
she'll be naught but a flightless sow.

I introduced the birds to the flock
the dove was awkward, the sparrow, excited

but the falcon towered
and the partridge left
and the starling was left to cry
with the eagle just standing by

and who, you ask, who, who am I?

I am the flamingo.
Do I belong?
Not I.

it filters in
uninvited
unwanted
unneeded
yet sometimes the little wisps wish to escape
but can find no way to find a way
out from between the floating
minefield of dust particles

And so my heart
is dark

I am not throwing away my shot
*Although it seems with you, I never had one.

How didn't I get here is the real question.
How didn't I become the person I am?
How didn't I lay down my life for you?
And how haven't I given up yet?

I wish I had a one and only.
Like, the one and only to rule all one and only's.
A best friend. Someone to love.
Someone to tell everything to,
Someone to hold and who will hold me.
I wish I may, I wish I might.

I wish I had the gift of inclusion.
Like, inclusion into all groups and areas ever.
A free entry card. An easy pass.
Somewhere to call home,
Somewhere to feel free to be me.
I wish I may, I wish I might.

I wish I had the heart they say I do.
Like, the heart to trump all hearts.
A caring heart. A selfless heart.
Some way to stop hurting,
Some way to stop thinking.
I wish I may, I wish I might.

I'd like to pretend for a moment that I was a poet.

My words could mesmerize
and my glance could be seen to be more philosophical
than Socrates and Plato bound together
in chains of writing
and time

My very breath would wisp along the lines of insanity
and my heartbeat, keep time with the frenzied
dance I keep my toes working through
on this tightrope
I have strung
so tight and high

And my heart?

It would be taken.
And it would be happy.
And not confused.

I hate feeling like I'm dropping bombs.
And it's always on someone who doesn't deserve them.

You never asked for me to confuse you or to make you wonder how to put your feelings into words.

And Im so sorry I would ever even deign to pressure you.

Don't associate with me.
I'm toxic.

I wonder what's for dinner.
I loved that steak we had the other night.
Well, kinda loved. I don't eat much anymore.
Maybe I can finally fit into those Guess jeans since I've lost so much weight.
I mean, it IS picture day tomorrow.
Oh God, what am I going to do with my hair?
I'll curl the top maybe.
She said it looked nice the day I did that.

Ah, can't think about her/it/that.

Do I have any homework left?
I don't think I do....
My planner only lists things due Thursday.
That reminds me, I have to come in early Thursday,
I have to meet with a teacher on the third floor.
That's close to her locker.
Maybe I could say hi.

No, no, no. Concentrate.

Okay, so outfit for tomorrow!
Picture day always comes around so fast.
So I'll wear those jeans- they fit now-
and maybe that white top.
Does it look good?
Maybe I should ask someone.
Her opinion matters the most to me.
What would she think?

No, I'm not going to bother her.

I'm so tired.
Life is just tugging and tugging at me.
I don't even feel like me anymore sometimes.
But I feel more than like myself when I'm around her.
I feel alive.

So just this once, I'll let myself dwell on her a bit.

*It's crazy that it only takes one person to make me feel truly alive.
And that person isn't me.

I won't ask for much.
Just a head to confuse,
a phone to blow up,
a heart to scar,
and a mind to blow.

Nothing crazy.
I want to be in love with you.
I want to fall deeper than I'm already falling.
And trust me, seeing my thoughts as they are now,
that might be an almost impossible feat.
Gravity has nothing on this.

So tell me exactly, when?
Why?
Maybe.....
...please?

Ignorance filters through the air likened to a plague
as the screens fill the silence
with plasticized glowing.

What adventures are we missing?
Ivanhoe, Dunsinane, Middle Earth?

Between the pages of our very busy lives, we miss
the written out thought processes that inquire
after why exactly we are so hellbent on
radiating our only pair of eyes out of our skulls
with the futile use of nonrenewable energy.

How is it that something so natural, so ******
between the lines of our genetic makeup
can be filtered out all within the means
of a filtered lense and a shining
artificial light?

I digress.

What if I were to tell you that what I deserve
makes up only a pinch of
you that makes up
you?

One day, perhaps, I can show you
what exactly it is that makes
you so alluring, so
you.

But until then,
arms. Please.
Only the arms from
you.

There are numbers
that add up to
the madness that is
my heart.

They subtract fuel from my being
and divide me
from my goals.

Hashtag Madness.
Hashtag Maniac.
Hashtag Morbid.

Perhaps a hashtag
is really just a buffer.

To fall is to              y
                    l
f  

To live is to
                 d
                             i
                                      e

But to fail is quite folly
For have you even tried?

Hello, and welcome to my personal wormhole.
My depths of despair,
my heaven,
my escape,
my life.

Your terminology may vary.

But read yourself into the depths of your being when you see this:

My life. On a screen. On a page.

It may not be pretty, and it may be written like the homework of a kindergarten child in need of a penmanship lesson.

But here it is.

Enjoy my experiences, scream at the agony, laugh at the joy, all of it is here.

You once told me you could read me like a book.

Now is the time for you
to be checking
your answers.

In the silence, there is a sound.
Nay, it cannot be heard
by the naked ear
but rather by
the naked eye.

In the darkness, there is a light.
Nay, it cannot be seen
by your barren eye
but rather by
the passers by.

Watch your love, and watch your life
For in itself, beauty's strife
will take a hold
on your lowly, downed life.

Unfiltered lenses cover eyes
create a day where no one spies
on hearts of truth and hearts of lies
no one hurts and no one dies.

Beauty is in the unseen, unheard.
And one day, one day
more lessons shall be learned.

Dowse me in the spirit of consciousness
until that inner dwelling where I've chanced to hide
is incinerated with the fire of a billion moons

Until I can forget the hurt I've caused
to a sparkling star
a dying planet
and a lovestruck machine.

Grant me the power to hold in my gloved hand
the ashes of the past
and to further crush them
until they can't infiltrate
the filters within my dreams.

And then, pray give me endurance
that I may learn to dance among the constellations
with the grace of a newborn faun,
to fall and to stumble among the comets
and to learn to love
with the disadvantage
or a hurling meteor.

For what good is there
in claiming to know togetherness
when you live
in a
**BLACK
H
                      O
                            
                                
                               ­           L
                                                    ­                                E

I'm alright.
quick breath
Really, I'm all good.
quicker breath
I am fine, right...?
quickest breath

I'm a ****.
shoulders hunch
I'm a leech.
thoughts bunch
I'm a child.
head crunch

I'm so tired.
slow breath
I need sleep, a life, friends.
slower breath
I'm alright.
*quick breath

It isn't so much the realization as it is the process.
The life blood that contributes to it, the feelings that emanate from every wavelength of it.
It's the doubts and concerns and hopes that line the path with light or darkness, all the pathfinder's choosing.
It's the way.

The fluttering purple bejeweled wings
Spanned in diamonds from ogre's rings
Make her heart and her mind start to sing
When his presence is felt in a room

Give my heart a flaming rest, set down from up on this pedestal
And away from this oaken throne

Let it drift away on the undulating waves of insanity
And fade into the fogs of memory

Mark it with your own decided determination
And withhold your silken vocal strands from uttering a word towards mine

For who can forget what was never there
And who can regret what was always fair?

To love is to forget
All the pain that you regret
Every time you let your head
Tear your heart and soul to shreds

With the whole world weeping into her hands,
Alone on the brink of salvation she stands.

Waiting for an ice shard to free her from time,
Lingering on the edge of a new silken rhyme.

What, once she steps, will Fate for her devise?
Will she, once flown, fall to her demise?

Think not on this, we shan't, for shame,
For unlike to our thoughts, we all are the same.

So tottering over the unknown she will stay,
Red tears shining nuance into the new day.

And once, perhaps, we shall see her soonafter
When, as is hoped for, she'll exist in our laughter.

She shall dwell in the crevices of downtrodden states
And between the rusted old heart's prison gates.

Her solace shall be in the hands joined as one
And the world she once jumped for as she fingered that gun.

"Ma! Ma! Did you see her? Over there!"

"See what my child? Tis impolite to stare."

"Ma, Twas an angel! With fiery red hair!"

"Dear one, come now,  please halt your stare."

"But Ma, see Ma, o'er yonder she stands!"

"Impertinent child, you heard my demands!"

"Dear Ma, sweet Ma, see you not her flam'd strands?"

*"No child, I see naught. Now meet my demands."

I don't like the feeling of
My affections for another
Fading into an abyss

When time is your enemy
You have two choices
Race the hands
Or get crunched

Perhaps one day
I'll understand just why
Those flowers we keep on the counter
Wilt so very fast.

Alight upon the silken waves of nostalgia
And love me like you did

Yesterday, I was tired.

Today, I am numb.

Tomorrow, I will be strung tight.

And after that, who knows?

when they pulled her down the stone steps
down to the dungeon
where they put all the little girls
who had done everything right

when they locked her into her own private heaven
in the golden dust
where the cherubs all sang
a new dirge every night

i was there, when she was too perfect
i was there, when there was just too much light

A sweet substance used as a means
to forget

Open those eyes, I know they have something to say.

And if you won't open them, I'll open them for you.

I had thought things were going well.

2:40, two days in a row.

I can't tell what your triggers are, she says, Perhaps small spaces. Or loneliness.

Someone, please, I'm slipping and just need one thing.

I need someone to rework my cogs and wires to help reprogram this mind of mine.

I need arms to hold me, platonically, romantically, I have no preference.

Whether it will last or whether it will last only one second, I have no care.

Why? Why am I always the one left behind?

I can't keep holding people up from down here on the ground.