Things to Work on

audio

These eyes are dammed--
built up from the weeks of unfeeling
bullshit.

My eyes are brown.
They have been for years.
It's all the shit they hide.
You think that's a smile.
You think I want to laugh.

I WANT TO CRY

I want to cry for every person
who ever learned
words can always hurt me.

These sticks, these tones,
they scar and burn me.
These words cut me
like razors across the soft
skin of my wrists.

I want to cry.

I want to cry for mothers who will never see their sons,
and fathers their daughters.

I want to cry for custody battles.

I want to cry for the soldiers on the fields.

I want to cry for anyone suffering,
for mental disorders and psychopharmacology.

I want to cry for Zoloft and Paxil and Ambien and Prozac
Abilify and Lexapro and

not feeling a FUCKING THING.

I want to cry for you ripping and pulling and shredding my heart.

I want to cry for the God that disappeared on me.

I want to cry,
and this long sigh,
this is me knowing I can't.

I can't cry.
I cannot ever, ever let these tears fall,
because I have to be strong.
It's a promise I made.
A man says forever,
and I won't walk away.

Dear God, Remake Me

I sit in my room listening to the music of my friends
and I notice that I want to be different.
Not from them, but from myself.
There's so much music on Tumblr today.
There's such a need for music today.
In my head there's a void to be filled.

Do you remember when I was BRILLIANT?

It's hard for me to reminisce

It's hard for me...

I want to dance. Do you understand?
I want something to occupy my whole being.
I hate when people ask if that makes sense.

Does that make sense?

I hate myself, but you can't save me.

You, tall, redhead, and freckled cannot save me.

Neither can you.

No one can save me.

Do I need saving?

Jake

18 and hearing me
without any chance of sound
to be alive without a doubt
he'll be the best that he can be

self confidence from years of doubt
means that he knows what he's about
and that's a smile, a silly joke,
a heart of love behind a mask

but still you see if you try
that someone cares when you cry

my writer's block interrupted by a back spasm

Next to Normal plays as I lay
on the ground of my dormitory box.
The music is slightly sad and picked
for the purpose of an angsty mood.
The scene includes past and present
journals strewn about the floor.
I read the old and stare at the new.
The snow is heavy and there's nothing to do,
like there's nothing in my head.

There's nothing in my head.

I move to stretch my back
and pain shoots down my spine--
neurons telling me that was a bad idea.
I wish they would warn me first.
Like, when there was a knock on the door
that I could have ignored.
But I opened it and you walked in.

I opened it and you walked in.

And now you need what I can't give.
There's music playing in your head.
It says love will come, but it's not here.
It says pain will end, but it is here.
This is pain, shooting through you,
and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

untitled 1-5-11

I want so much to feel right-- to be in love and have a purpose.
I want so much to feel right.
I want it to the depth of my core.
I want it like brittle bones want milk, like writers want words, like lovers want each other.
I want it so much that I'm rocking back and forth in my chair.
back to the undefined emotions and destructive mood swings.
forth to hope filled days and emotionless nights.
back to drugless parties and sober minds.
forth to round white tablets and oblong green pills.
back and forth I teeter totter on the edge of meaning.
I'm so close to finding myself that it's like I've already lost just when I've begun to win.

Syllable Soliloquy

Lonely candle in the night
burning quickly burning bright.

Passion consumed passion pursued.
Passion for the words unused.

Hope for the better. Hope for the right.
Hope for lovers holding tight.

I'm trying to hold on
to keep searching -- to find my way.

You promised I would make it.
You promised the stars would shine.

You promised the clouds would clear.
You promised there would be light.

I promised to try to fight
but I'm burning quickly. I'm burning, right?

I'm fading quickly
I'm out of sight.

Believe Me

I stare her plainly in the eyes
honesty is the placement of the syllables shared.

She looks back on me hands
in her chin and eyes twinkling.

The night is early but feels so late.
The stars are hidden but burning within.

Burning as brightly as the hair she bobs,
the passion she fails to recognize she owns.

Tomorrow is for dancing.
Today was for talking.

Where from there? I'm unsure.

Surely everything has a place.

Believe me and we'll get there.

Poetry

i want to write poetry
poetry about sunshine and rainbows
because this world needs something to smile about

i want to write poetry
poetry about first loves and first kisses
because my world needs something to dream about

i want to write poetry
poetry about siblings and mothers, fathers who care
because my world needs some honesty

i want to write poetry
poetry about rags to riches and magic in wishes
because this world needs something to hope about

i want to write POETRY
the kind of magic that words cannot contain
the stuff of fairies and tales.
i want to write poetry.
words that move and inspire
words of our heart's desires.
i want to write poetry
reasons for living
and the dam to these damn tears i'm crying.
i want to write poetry.
anything for poetry.
someone give me some fucking poetry.

Late at night the poem calls.

late at night the poem calls
and to the page my pen falls.

late at night the wine flows
and to your bed my body goes.

late at night the streets are quiet
and the moment whispers try it.

late at night the moon is bright
and life around seems just right.

Is there a specific person to whom you write your poems? Have you shared them with her?

There are sometimes specific people to whom I write, and other times there are not. I would most definitely not share with him or her. However, I keep a blog of poetry, so they may find it all on their own.

Whatcha wanna know?