My Question In Need of an Honest Answer

what do you like about me?

borracho y loco

the tortured ones are bi-polar,

and we know they make the best art.

Somehow, that didn't work out for me.

My work is mediocre... at best.

Well, doesn't that suck?

Laura says we're all crazy.

What makes life normal?

And maybe she's right.

This summer isn't normal for them.

Borracho y loco,

it's crazy and fun.

But why does it make me feel normal?

Why is their wild my dull?

Why do I need such thrill?

I'm called an introvert

and yet my brain needs stimulation.

Their crazy is my normal.

Ain't that strange?

I apologize

for the lack of poetry. I'm sure that my emotions will boil over sometime soon, and then you'll have more to read!

dearest partial percolation,

my current state of emotion,

I would very much like it if you would have an explosion.

You see, I like bursts of inspiration,

strong blasts of boiling over emotions.

But, right now you lack devotion

to our writing cause. Some conviction

would be nice, emotions.

Jeez, it’s like I’m the only one looking out for our preservation.

Anyway, time to go. You know, my occupation.

Sincerely,

PM

p.s. I love how normal you make me feel

Something

is what we're searching for

some thing to describe

who we are

what we are

how we're special.

But, something is a throwaway word

the word we use to describe the shit we don't care about.

Still, something is something special too;

it's all we have to describe the unknown:

what love is

how to find yourself

feeling alive.

Something is something confusing,

and all I need right now:

something to hold onto.

untitled 2 7-7-10

What doesn't happen doesn't matter

nor does what we want necessarily count.

Our lives are not meant for regret.

I'm here to say let this moment pass.

Let this feeling of worthlessness and rejection

be something of the past.

Let the moment pass.

But heed this warning:

do not let them restrict your desire.

Please, want. Dream big.

Let your heart soar

like the kites we used to fly

when dreams were reality.

I want to write.

So, for today I'm a writer.

I'll not let you take that from me.

I'm creating my destiny.

untitled 1 7-7-10

sometimes you knock

but no one comes out

sometimes you think up a poem

but have no pen to write it down

sometimes you think you're strong

but get knocked down

sometimes you think you're smart

but get showed up

sometimes you wonder why

and you wanna cry

but don't waste tears.

sometimes life sucks

but you've gotta try

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I'm so close to happy

I can feel it rolling as a wave in my mouth,

building in power like the anticipation

you feel as you bite your lip before you say the word

fuck.

Fuck

fuck

fuck.

Fuck you

is what I say to all the people who don't believe.

Believe in me!

because I am going to be...

something,

for just being is worth

some thing.

Now, I'm not sure what that thing is yet,

like I'm not sure exactly who I am,

but I know this:

life is worth living

as long as your heart is still beating.

people like you

people like you,

people who don't judge

for a little summer fun.

people like you,

people who don't mind my crazy,

who think it might be a little normal.

people like you,

people who have seen me cry,

people that knew i wanted to die.

people like you,

people that listen to me whine,

and people that invite me to dine.

people like you,

people who are true.

people like you,

people that keep secrets.

people like you,

people that I can trust.

people like you,

people that I love.

I Dance with Daniel

We live in a world of pretense.

You expect something of me.

When we walk,

when we talk

we are judging.

We love categories.

But not with him.

With him I dance.

I know the steps,

like they've been there all along.

The steps are me,

something so familiar but frightening.

And when I'm with him I don't think

of which steps to take;

I feel,

like when I feel the music I dance to.

With him I do not pretend.

He knows who I am,

and that is refreshing.

This is not a tango we dance,

it is more like a pas-

it's slow and entirely open.

If he places me in a category

it is not to tell me that category

is somehow unacceptable.

When he judges me,

he deems me worthwhile.

He won't read this,

for that I'm happy.

But I wish I could tell him:

thank you for dancing.