Insert creative title here.sometimes I hate the idea
I rather eat the autumn
skies crushing cold air between my molars
and hiding shaky hands
between pages of dictionaries
and clickclickclicking sounds of typewriters
you asked me why I wrote poems
on the soles of my shoes
and I told you
it was because I wanted to
imprint myself on the earth
then I can create beauty
even if I am not
One Like WaterWe speak.More Like This
We all live.
We all die.
So tell me again.
make us so different
from each other?
When Your Best is Not Good EnoughDon't speak.More Like This
Don't hold yourself together.
Don't fall apart.
Don't pretend it is all going to be okay.
Don't act like it won't be all right.
Don't touch me.
Don't look away from me.
Don't be so needy.
Don't be so grateful.
Don't act silly.
Don't be so serious.
Don't have so much fun.
Don't be so sullen.
Don't love anyone too much.
Don't be so selfish.
Don't ignore me.
Don't love me too much.
And hope? Hope is just a lie you tell yourself so that tomorrow, you can do it all over again.
Dear WriterDear Writer,More Like This
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I am subject to no one person. Out there I am bound to only black on white. Words on a page. Words that can lay seeds within a million minds. Out there I am a story capable of growing, moving, and stealing the dreams of anyone who learns of me…
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. I hate your lack of dedication, your flashes of cru
A Special Moment.I wanted to share this with you guys because it is by far the most beautiful moment of my life.More Like This
It happens to be the day I flew back. The flight back to England was very long, only because I knew what was waiting on the other side and I couldn't wait to see him again.
When I got off the plane, I don't think I have run faster in my life. I stood in front of the area where the bags were coming out and acted like some kind of idiot really because I was literally pacing around it trying to get my bags out as fast as possible. I borrowed a stranger's phone to call Kurt at that moment because I knew when I crossed those doors, he would be waiting for me on the other side. And when I walked out with my trolley of stuff, there he was. Right in the middle wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his arms open wide to grab me, I could see him before I even walked out of the doors at Heathrow. I left my trolley at that point because honestly, I didn't give a damn where it went and in seconds
Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,More Like This
I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing their mother's cigarettes and their father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)
I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My best friend threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that someone like me was not supposed to have such dreams.).
He had hair as ebony as deep onyx and a smile that never grew up (Peter Pan would have been proud). He was magic in soul form, and smelled like cinnamon and the earth after it has rained. His eyes rivaled a lions on the best of his youth, his words were story shaped. His skin was an ink coloured canvas of wonder and even in crayon
I need you baby like i need a simileI need you baby like a daisy needs the sunMore Like This
like a soldier needs his gun
like a cheetah needs a run
And I need you baby like an earthquake needs to shake
like a birthday needs a cake
like a pontoon needs a lake
And I need you baby like an addict needs his fix
like an athlete needs his kicks
like the rabbit needs his trix
And I need you baby like an eagle needs to fly
like a possum needs to die
like an airplane needs it's high
And I need you baby like a website needs its hit
like a smoker needs a quit
like a fat man needs a sit
And I need you baby like an island needs some shade
like a broker needs to trade
like a rich man needs his m
Cinnamon Souls"You're mixing water in your coke again."More Like This
"You do that when you worry."
"I'm always worried."
"No, you're usually cinnamon-in-your-tea worried. This is water-in-coke worried and that is seriously beginning to freak me out."
"What are you worried about?"
"You're going to think it's stupid."
"Well...do you ever wonder about the kind of guy you're waiting for?"
"I think we all wonder about that guy, love."
"I've been thinking about him more often than not lately. What he would be like, I mean."
"Oh. Well...if it helps any, I know what mine would be like."
"Sure. He will be tall, so I have to stand on my toes to kiss him. He will be kind so I can tell him anything without fearing him judging me. He will be strong so he can carry me when I fall."
"Wow. Sounds like you have this figured out. I guess we all have some idea about what our soulmate should be like."
"You know what yours will be like then?"
"No, I'm talking to the li
Complicated"You know, personally speaking, I don't think you're really unwell at all."More Like This
"I'm sorry, are you the one who is sick or am I?"
"There is nothing wrong with you."
"Can you say that again?"
"I said, you aren't sick!"
"Whatever. The receptionist is calling me in, anyway."
"You're a hypochondriac."
"What?! Listen you-"
"Look, just go inside. I'm sure the doctor will say the same thing."
"So. What did the doctor say?"
"That it's complicated."
"Yeah. They need to run more tests and figure it out."
"You sound skeptical."
"You told him that you only get 'sick' in history class."
"And about how your heart races and your hands shake."
"And about how you can't sleep at night and you can't concentrate."
"Yes, yes, all of that, I told him everything I told you."
"Did you also happen to mention the boy who sits in front of you in that class?"
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Tell me something. Have you noticed
Birthday ThoughtsWell, this is pretty much my last day of being my favourite age, fifteen. Tomorrow I must turn sixteen =o=" I'll miss being in the more youthful age, because...I suppose, in America, people do "sweet sixteen" stuff, which I guess means you're a young woman or something! In the Philippines, we do the big celebrations at eighteen years old *O* Sooo...I'm not actually doing anything big tomorrow =u=! I'm going to spend time with my friends at my house. I'm kind of nervous because I rarely have birthday parties. Every year, I travel for my birthday. Usually to an amusement park or out of the country. Once it was Disneyland (which I would gladly do again ^-^). There was also Thailand, Philippines (another one of my favourites ^O^), Canada, New York...even this year, we're still going somewhere! In May, my mom told me, "So, what do you want to do for your birthday?" I said, "Aren't we going to Alaska?" and then she replied with, "Yes, but that's in July, so you should do something for your bMore Like This
Inside a silent room my weather like heart stoppedThe fever in my bonesMore Like This
Is restless and my breaths
are raspy and ragged
As my lungs fold in upon themselves
Inhale. Exhale. Repeat
You ask me how I am
The rock pool blue of your eyes
Glance at the sleeves in which I have buried my heart
Knuckles folded deep into my thighs
My fucking hands always give it away
I grasp for a rope and am met with blurring synapses
Trauma settling itself into my collar bones
I tell you how last night I was contemplating Greek mythology
While caught between a rock and a bottle of Paxil
I think I saw heaven hiding behind my alarm clock
It turned out to be the afterglow of street lights instead
Nineteen stars away from being road killThe taste of your formaldehyde kiss won’t leave my lungsMore Like This
No matter how many times I've tried to turn a blind eye
You seem to linger in the crook of my neck
And at the curve of my hips
I don’t know whether to be glad or to cry
At the fact that your fingertips have left deep grooves in my waist
Even though your footsteps
no longer leave imprints on my front yard
Or on the pavement
Rather you lie beneath the earth
Asleep waiting for a kiss that won’t ever wake you up
I think I can hear the stars cry with me sometimes
When I’m left alone on the flaking swing sets in our favourite park
Drunk and alone wearing your old t-shirt
Embracing a blurry past that fades into the horizon
Reaching out for a hand that's no longer there
Since I'm so attached to people sometimes...Once upon a time in Freshman year, I had this class where there was this boy. He was two grades higher than most of the people in the class, and almost nobody liked him. He picked on people, he managed to get some people in trouble with his persistent chatting...even the teacher would roll her eyes and sigh because of him.More Like This
I can't very well remember what happened, really. I just know that I did what I usually do and tried to be friendly...and somehow we started this silly practice that was just between the two of us.
You see, I had these special "notes" that my sister bought for me once on my birthday titled "Pep Talk" which is really just a joke...you fill in "To" "From" "Date", and "Why you need it today"...and then there are these funny check boxes that say "You can do it!", "I'm proud of you!" "Nobody's perfect.", "You're my hero." and more. Afterwards, there's another fill-in that says, "And furthermore" followed by check box array with the heading "And if that didn't work".
It's Okay To Like Somebody!!Today I had a dash of wonderful!More Like This
It started at the end of Drama class! I was standing kind of alone during that time period in class where people just congregate and chat before the bell rings. Then the fellow who I continually talk about here on my journal entries came up to me! The first thing he asked me was, "Are you cold?" And I then I awkwardly didn't comprehend what he was asking me at first. Then I realized he was asking that because I was wearing shorts *O* Then I said something like, "No? Oh, yeah...? Kind of. I mean, no! No. I am not. Cold." I seriously do not even know why I could not answer a simple question. I'm just awkward sometimes? =o=" Anyhow, then after that silliness I congratulated him on his cool dancing at the rally on Friday. We had one for Powderpuff, and he was one of those guys that dress up in skirts and do a cheer routine. It was really entertaining to watch. And I was telling him how cool it was that he was doing all those flips and stuff! (He honestly di
Drama class blues.Ahhh...Drama class, no...More Like This
I'm sad for myself and my drama class. Honestly, it's filled with a variety of people...but the wrong variety. Here's the types we have in the mix:
1. "Oh, I'm not actually in to Drama...I just needed a VAPA class to graduate"-->Just focuses on getting the grade, and doesn't really have fun in doing so.
2. "I just took it because I thought it would be an easy elective..."-->Talks whenever we're supposed to be doing in-class work, never separates from their phone, complains about everything we have to do, thinks what we do is stupid.
3. People who think the only way to be funny is by making sexual jokes, racist jokes, rude comments, etc...so they gladly use that as their only base for improv...
4. People who laugh tremendously at the people above, which is why they continuously do it.
5. People who are too cool and "hipster" to be part of the class.
I just...==" Ahhh. I suppose it's because this is coming from a person who has a really, really big belief in bei
Victim of a phobia...Recently, I was lighting candles in my room. When I finished lighting all of them, I stopped to look at them, and then I caught something out of the corner of my eye...Something was in one of the candle containers, crawling out. My eyes widened at the sight, and I hoped it wasn't what I thought it was. I stepped back hastily with caution, and stared, alarmed. It was a *pider!! ;___; I stepped back even more, and then eventually ran out of my room. I yelled, "Sisters!!" and then eventually ran downstairs to find them. My little sister came upstairs, and I asked her if it was anywhere in sight, or if it had burned in the candle jar (Ew.) She told me she saw something black within the pool of wax, but I remembered that I had crushed a match into the wax after lighting the candles, and since the head of the match would of course be black, she could be mistaken. She couldn't tell though, because the wax pool had grown larger, quickly.More Like This
Sometimes I wish more people would understand the differ
Fire-Breathing Mother *A*!Oh my!! My mother's birthday is tomorrow, and once she woke up after her after-work-slumber, she started getting all mad *O* The only reason she ever gets mad is because the house is clean, and I guess I understand because her friends are coming over tomorrow *O*More Like This
So my sisters and I tried to clean up the household together, while my mom was vigorously cleaning up the backyard (The party is indoors though...==") MY DAD. OH MY GOSH. MY DAD. Since my mom was outside and couldn't hear, he kept being a dork, and going like "SCARRRYY!!" while looking at my mom and making weird voices and weird faces. "SCARRY!! SCCAARRRY!"
Hahahaha! =v= When my mom is not so nice, my dad decides to add some humor.
After cleaning, I retreated to my room. Then, my dad went "HEY. UGLY." And I was like, "Yes?" And then he came over and showed me some shorts from Marshalls. Then he told me, "Wear these." And I held them confusedly and said, "What...? Whose are these?" And then he told me, "Mom bought it. For you.
I'm Gonna Live on the MoonI’m gonna live on the moon where it’s nice and emptyMore Like This
I’m gonna take a rocket ship and bring everyone with me
And we will be happy
Yes, we will be happy
And what a wonderful life we’ll see!
On the moon there can’t be a single war
On the moon you’re not allowed to break anybody’s hearts
We’ll all just start to stray away from the hate
Oh, I’ll love living on the moon
There on the moon you never have to feel all lonely every-
where on the moon you’re loved and always have somebody
to be there when you need them
to care when you need them
It’s such a wonderful life we’ll see!
We can dance with the stars
And play our guitars
We’ll plant apple trees
And sing in the breeze
And we can lie down
On the ground
And listen to the sound
Of our heartbeats
I’m gonna live on the moon where it’s nice and empty
I’m gonna take a rocket ship and bring everyone with me
And we will be happy
Yes, we will be happy
Snow White SyndromeI seem to have forgotten the sound of my own heartbeatMore Like This
Splitting apart my limbs I've found the source of my insanity
Coiled around veins and arteries
Star dust and a lazy man’s drug
Has put me to sleep under fictitious pretenses
Of forbidden apples and two faced prince charming’s
My deviantART StoryThe lovely deviantART first entered my life back in the muggy summer of '04. It all began with a chance glance across a lifeboat crowded with hundreds upon hundreds of panicking people in the middle of the river Ganges during the mightiest storm you ever did see. Oh, the way she scraped that alarming number of large coconut crabs out of her hair while screeching... It was simply divine. I was taken immediately. Later, she came to rescue me and so I grew to like her for that.More Like This
As the years went on, we became closer and closer, until we shared one body and I simply wasn't sure where I ended and she began. Maybe there was no end and no beginning. What a thought. It makes my mind hurt thinking about it. It really, really hurts. I'm in a lot of pain.
I think it was her big scaly lizards that did it for me at the start. The winged things with violent halitosis. Oh, they were beauties, they were. I got some pleasure out of clenching a stick of graphite in a nervous fist and forging crude
rewindI dreamt I was a necromancer,More Like This
dreamt I was a demigod
who resurrected cultures, peoples,
skin and teeth and bones and hair.
I dreamt I was a logician, clinician,
an imagined anthropologist,
a linguist tinged with dark,
drew dialects into my mouth,
undid a hundred hundred years.
but it's a heavy, pricy spell.
I take the weight of ages and ages.
the yokes of seven continents
clang upon my pale brown hands.
Reminders to Myself1. Every time you feed the goldfish, feed yourself. Even if it's once a day, even if it's once a week.More Like This
2. Carry yourself like a house-plant. Take your body outside when it rains; open the blinds to let it sip the sun. Remember to turn yourself daily, like the world, so your branches don't all grow one direction. Don't leave and forget to take care of yourself.
3. It's okay to draw pictures in the dust and leave them for a while.
4. Couch cushions don't always have to have romantic connotations. Sometimes, they are just another quadrant of what you call home, and all they are full of is lose change, pencils, crumbs, and cough drops, and that's okay.
5. Staircases are for running up on all fours and streaking down on pillows. Staircases are for a continuation: never stop moving. Even if you have to drag yourself down screaming before you can make it back up again.
6. One day, there will be a boy whom you serve yourself up to in your grandmother's china tea cup. He will not take milk or s
People are not medicineI will thaw out myMore Like This
frozen ice box of a chest
I will pump and resurrect
the dead tissues
so I can write about you
I will write about your
drug store Romeo smile
and the way you
hold your hands behind
your head like its the only
thing that will stop it
from rolling off your shoulders
I will write about the way
your eyes crinkle in the corners
and the way your dimples are uneven
when you laugh
I will write about the
tiny vampire footprints
you leave on my skin at night
when we're sat outside
on the sidewalk
contemplating Aristotle and Cobain
Like bleary eyed philosophers
I will write about the way
your fingers flex when you're excited
and how your knee
jitters when you're nervous
and how you like
because they're so much more
than movie theatres and shopping malls
I will write about you
until I run out of words
and I'm sorry
I'm not poetic enough
to cover the breadth of
your firecracker soul
but I hope you know
this is the best
I can do
and I hope
to icarusin the next life you were a phoenixMore Like This
a fiery resurrection
songbird of ash & second chances
when you flew south for the winter,
you made it every time
see for you, the universe was an olympic mountain
jutting out of the ocean, a temple you would never set foot in
an elaborate maze you'd been lost in for too long;
the only love you'd ever known was from the coalfire
of your father's hands in the dark, they were the most angelic
monsters, they were beacons
his mind was the gears of a clock that never stopped spinning
but the light,
the light was a promise to be seen
the fire, a dancing enchanter that never leaves
the future was an echo on the labyrinth walls:
prince, dream of dove and swift and nebulae,
dream like the lone at night for the warmth of day
you were a golden child, waiting to be found in the darkness
the earth is too flat;
you said you'd go up,
thought you'd be a little closer to the gods
your downed shoulders caught wind of the whisper in the air
—the ground is no place
Where are you nowSomething does not stop existing simply because you stop thinking about it.More Like This
But in spite of this I have worked hard at putting him far from my mind.
It was Summer then and his hair was still growing long,
I was still young in a way that exceeded my years,
And he was only just on the edge of innocence.
He used to smile at me like a child,
And I was just learning to crawl.
It was dark then, we used to shut out the stars,
And wrap the night around us like a sheet,
The bustling world shut out and forgotten.
He would bring his lips to brush against mine,
As we fell into small deaths.
It was Winter then and the cold gripped me,
Chill creeping up my white fingers to my chest.
And though he still held me even then,
His touch could not warm me anymore,
I shivered and turned away.
It was past long ago but I still wonder,
If you're making your way in the world alone,
Or if there is another hand on your back,
Another pair of boots by your bed,
And another head on your chest.
Sometimes when I am al
( 4/02/2014 )It’s day twoMore Like This
& I already feel
I’ve been living
out of my suitcase
since I got home,
on the couch &
leaving my laundry
on the floor.
Everything in my refrigerator
screams 12 days too late
& rent money is due.
She’s slapping me
in the face,
that heartless bitch
with the long
& hot mouth-
& having her way with me.
possessionhow much of you do I ownMore Like This
the crescents between
, the inflection of your voice,
your opinions on Descartes
and physics and the
will you spill them into my hands
like red wine,
can I call them mine
a question of enduranceI wonder if my heartMore Like This
will ever grow tired
of its repetitive seizing,
will want more rest
than the scant pauses between
can afford it—
if I will be obliged
to draw it, glistening,
out of my chest, to
cradle it in my palm
like a bird, dark red and shuddering
in its wanton plumage—
if, when it is rested,
(its role in the mean time
having been supplied
by my opposite fist, or branches
of lungs, or sheer
force of will),
I will slip it back into its assigned
and feel it stutter into life again.
I wonder if the stain will remain
on my hand.
ShoelacesIt was on graduation day when I finally remembered where you left your orange shoelaces. I found them in the corner of my bedroom while looking to see where my cap had fallen. I remember it was a Monday. Sunday's heat advisory left the staff feeling uneasy about us in our cap and gowns because even in the auditorium it was hotter than Satan's throne room. Monday seemed much more tolerable. It was the same temperature as yesterday, it felt exactly like yesterday, but it was more tolerable. I remember the weather because it was what my mom tried to use to break the silence, but I wasn't gonna let her break my thoughts of you. I would've much rather she let us endure the awkward ten minute car ride to the school that broke my spirit, burned it, threw it in an urn, and stacked it on a shelf so high God couldn't even reach it.More Like This
You and I had discussed it before. It was bullshit that we'd have to...I mean I'd have to sit and watch as some liar, stoner, asshole, jock, nerd, or unlucky SO
Ways to conquer heartbreakDance with fistfuls of roses, shred their petals one by one and wear their thorns like armor.More Like This
Write your secrets between the folds of paper cranes and tuck them safely between the empty spaces of your castle ribs.
Open your broken heart to hummingbirds, allow them the warmth and shelter of your arms.
Rebel. Tape poetry to your limbs, Cummings and Sandburg and Sexton.
Take a walk outside of your skin for a while, run with wolves.
Extinguish that forest fire that’s been curling too long in your lungs.
Be that lionhearted girl those snobby poets always write about.
Allow that cavern of stars in your throat to speak your truths in uppercase letters, in free verse yet to be proofread.
Write about wars and victory.
Be the hero.
moondust.we live in a world where our lungs are black and outlined with angry streaks of red. we plant diseases and destruction in the holes of our stomachs and watch them grow they shoot up fast and clog up our throats with ashy leaves.More Like This
our fingernails are ripped, jagged edges digging into pale skin and leaving white hot lines in their wake. our wings are crumpled, feathers bent and pressing into the expanse of our backs they're the weights on our shoulders, and there's no space left for anything else.
your tongue is cracked and so is mine. words no longer form, sounds no longer rise. dreams and wishes fall into the cracks as nightmares rush past them out into the open. that breathtaking sequel to life you were hoping for no longer exists we are now aimless, hopeless, and craving for sin.
we swallow moons and exhale moondust; we stray from orbits and into vacuums. but all we ever wanted were the touch of lightly powdered lips against our flesh.
Star SwallowerShe'sMore Like This
her head, a stadium drowning with applause.
yet its seats are empty like the notebooks
where armies of words should be marching.
instead she dismantles clocks
thinking she can play with time.
behind the mountains lurks a darker reasoning
a twisted labyrinth of rationalizations
hidden from the suns brilliance.
Years alone beneath the bleached fluorescent
reading those already dancing in the moonlight.
she is living a literary half-life through them
hiding from the symmetry of the writer.
licking salty rocks of excuses.
saving her secrets for posthumous excavation.
decades of productivity left for moths to chew.
you're throwing coffins into the sea
with each day that passes wordless.
denying us the sweet whistles from inside your skull.
meaningful, impacting stories only you could pen.
Stop climbing broken staircases
towards the pale summer stars of obscurity.
these are still fruitful years of beauty.
remove your armor.
claw beyond your fears.
allow us into your wonderla
LVIII. Pour enterrer la Lune.More Like This
L X V I I I - Pour Enterrer la Lune…
J'ai minuit dans les veines,
La lune au fond des yeux
Et j'ai tissé mes cieux
Dans le vide des plaines
Aux horizons d'adieux
Cendrés de larmes vaines…
Si l'été se fait terre
Pour couvrir mon cercueil,
L'hiver se fera deuil
Sur l'ombre délétère
Qui brille dans mon œil
Où la peur doit se taire.
Ma peau, comme une absence
Sur l'éclat des douleurs,
Étincelle des pleurs
Qui disent le silence
Délavé des couleurs
En toiles d'existence !
Et l'angoisse fragile
Se brise entre mes doigts
En cristaux de feu froid
Quand la braise immobile
S'essouffle de ma voix
Où saigne l'inutile…
Une ligne de fuite
Se terre dans ma main
Où meurt un lendemain
À l'attente sans suite
Qui croise mes chemins
Sur un sol anthracite…
Les vagues sont désertes
Et portent mon regard
Au loin des cauchemars
Qui mènent à ma perte,
Mon âge est en retard,
La blessure est ouverte.
La tombe grise est close
Sur mon rêve effacé,
Un frisson s'est tracé
Comme un lambeau de ros
cadavershe was born with arctic lipsMore Like This
and overcast skin.
her hair fell like fresh snow
and she was far too thin.
her bones in locked closets,
joints creaked and shrieked
like a rotten floorboard
under gossamer feet.
relearning i. stardust scatters with theMore Like This
direction of my pupils –
maybe secretly i am an
astrology teacher, waiting
for a sign to wink
happily at me.
ii. excuse the rambling
nature of forgotten question
marks, but tell me:
would you like to be the
object of handwritten clichés
would you like to whisper
secrets in my palm
and would you
like to be the possibility
iii. air brushes against my
skin like the torn petals
of a flower still standing.
[ hold your head up high, honey,
and tell tomorrow to wait just
iv. so you can figure out
the difference between
patience and having all the
time in the world. ]
v. stardust glitters from the
creases of my hands.
perhaps i am not the teacher
but the pupil,
relearning how brilliant
stars can shine.
WhitmanI am all that grows from meMore Like This
and all that grows from me is sacred—
my hair, dirty roots reaching towards sky,
fed by sky, shifted by its undulating currents
my fingers, spiders, crescents, twigs,
gaunt, blunt, probing, inquisitive...prurient
my ears, awkward conch shells jammed on as if by mistake,
rigid and ridged, elven,
innocent like unexplored caves for children to bound gaily into
resounding with echoed cheers of courage wanting
as if a dozen more children waited within, fearless guides;
my nose, obdurate.
The reach of my eyes knows no bounds;
what walls are there to throw my body against?
I AmI am the shadow, and I am the lightMore Like This
I am the sunlight, and I am the night
I am the battle, and I am the fighter
I am the water, and I am the fire
I am a raindrop just ready to fall
I am the world, and yet…
No one at all.
zero.5. I think I'm afraid of sex.More Like This
It's terrifying that two people can fit together perfectly, without even really liking each other at all.
4. I'm afraid of the day I start replacing myself with somebody else in all of our pictures; of the day I'll see my reflection and wish I didn't have to.
3. I'm afraid of doctors, and medicine.
The first time I took lithium, I couldn't hold it down. So I locked the bathroom door and flushed the entire bottle.
The second time, I couldn't walk more than ten steps without falling.
Honestly, I'm just wondering why they use poison to purify me.
2. I'm afraid of the ocean.
I'm afraid of looking down one day, and not seeing the edges. Of there being nothing there.
I'm afraid of falling and having nothing to catch me.
There's already nobody. The ground is really all I have.
1. I'm afraid of breaking things.
Like, once, I broke my dad's trust in me.
Once I broke somebody's heart.
Once I broke my kindergarten teacher's favorite
Mr MrWith words I cannot utter,More Like This
not even to silence.
You cross my mind,
and hold my heart.
With the pain it all brings,
I don't even notice.
You're the drug that I crave,
Addicted to the numbness.
The perfect melody,
a chorus stuck in my head.
I'm lost with you,
drowning in your fire.
You're all I wanna see,
Dreaming when I'm awake.
I need a way,
just to escape.
AnorexiaMeet a girl named No One, with a heart of shattered stoneMore Like This
Staring at the other girl, the one that's not alone
Girl with skin that glistens, with the eyes of crystal seas
Grin of shining diamonds and a laugh like a disease
Flashes just a glance and soon, she's every trouble's cure
She has everything… and No One's off to be like her.
Eating turns into a crime, she'd rather be away
Thrusting fingers down her throat to make herself okay
Watching as her very bones are seen behind her flesh
There she drowns in tears, for she has not yet seen success.
Minutes turn to hours, and these hours turn to days
Every moment slipping, slowly fading into grey
Rapidly, her body turns to nothing but her bones
As she fights for beauty, as she battles for the throne.
Broken hearts must learn to beat, and this she came to know
Learning it the hard way when her heartbeat grew too slow
Yet, she somehow managed still to shine from what's within
Lying in her casket with her hidden, unseen sin.
Final thoughts ins
In a Little Girl's MindThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesMore Like This
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well…
Society Is Ugly.Society is ugly.More Like This
Beauty is defined by
How you act.
Not by the number on the
Starving doesn't work.
Purging doesn't work.
Pills don't work.
The girl you see
In the mirror is
Just the way she is
Don't get upset because
You don't match up
To the media's
Cutting won't work.
Crying won't work.
Dying won't work.
Society is ugly.
GayI am gay.More Like This
I'm not a disease, I'm not a problem
I'm not an affliction
I don't need treatment.
I don't need help
I'm not sick
I'm not confused
I'm not a sin.
I am gay.
I'm your daughter
Your co worker
A complete stranger
I am gay.
I need love, just like you
I need smiles
I need support
I need a hug
I need a friend
I need a family
I need acceptance
I need understanding
I need you
I am gay.
I know what love is
I know what pain is
I know what hate is
I know what life is
I am gay.
And I need you to love me
The same way you loved me before you knew
I am gay.
And I have experienced hate
From more people than just you
I am gay.
And I wont change.
I wont give up.
I wont back down.
I wont pretend.
I wont lie.
I wont deny.
I wont hide.
I wont hurt.
I am gay.
And that's okay.
All In Your HeadSoft spoken words at midnight, but she's not really there. Yet it continues, day after day, month after month. An endless cycle that you're bound to repeat no matter how many times you tell yourself she's gone.More Like This
Get it together.
Cherished memories that you can't seem to forget no matter how hard you try. And you try, so fucking hard. But at least when you pretend, the wounds don't hurt so bad. They don't burn and ache and make your vision go red.
Get it together.
So you focus on nothing, her, everything. It doesn't matter. You mutter to yourself, to her, to the shadows. And they respond, they shift, morph, drag you down until you're no more. They suffocate your lungs until you're filled with them. Filled with shadows and her.
Get it together.
Time passes faster, slower, sometimes it doesn't move at all. You're stuck until the next time because there is no in between. There's no stop, pause, no intake of breath. Nothing but a constant hum of silence and screaming. So
Bearing it AllAuthor John Green stated once that "Humans tend to measure time within the framework of important events…The event that we're counting…away from is the defining moment of these people's lives and it reshapes their relationship to the world so completely that it also reshapes their understanding of time." During my "before" I was a dancer; ballet, jazz, and tap. It was everything to me and my dream at the time was to someday dance on Broadway. During one of my classes, while doing battements, it suddenly felt as of my hip had popped out of its socket, causing me to fall to the ground. It didn't hurt at the time, but I still sat out for the rest of the class and went to the doctors the next day. The first trip to the doctors was quite uneventful. I was told that it was probably nothing more than a strained thigh and to just take it easy for two weeks, and if the pain is still there go back to the doctor. That was fine and I did as told, until one day in gym while playing DDR I somehow maMore Like This
Airborne sea girl plays with fire behind castlesThe crackling of fires on bare backed bonesMore Like This
Soil seeping into spread eagled fingertips
Where Orion hangs low on the slope of her shoulders
Unyielding her spine splinters the constellations
And great cacophonies of slack jawed gods and monsters
Hang limply along the water’s edge
Hazel centered fingertips turned over their palms
Clasped around her dragon breath heart
Her honey dew arteries resounding
Behind tiger eye flame sleep songs
Behind burning mantle pieces of embellished
Water works falling from the sky
Siren pools embodied behind her pupils
The architecture of her bones
Hides secrets of gold and stone
Laced between her lotus eater half grins
Her name was AmyHair the colour of rust and bones that fell apartMore Like This
We’d eat rocky road ice cream bars
You perched on broken handle bars
And I would press down on the brakes
We were scabs and lacerations
Knobbly knees and smoke filled curls
I remember when you stole your father’s gin
And climbed out of your window
Throwing bed sheets tied like cherry knots
You were the one who taught me how to do that, you know
Brass heart palpitations from running down to the river
After stealing apples
From old wrinkled trees with knotted arthritic branches
Your cheeks were dusted with freckles in the summer
And your eyes changed from green to grey
We made crowns out of feathers and painted mud on our palms
Sticks and stones will break our bones
Fortress of broken glass and found objects
You always loved the tiny bird skull the best
The size of a walnut in your pale palm
I remember the vinyl’s we’d play, and the mix tapes we’d make
I’d always colour in the covers in mismatched co
The Bambi syndrome(Dis)regarding logic and sensibilityMore Like This
I like to sit on railway tracks, feeling the vibrations beneath my finger tips
Just beneath the blood vessels and haemoglobin
The whirring of the air being sucked out from my lungs
Chicken is not a game for the faint hearted
She called me reckless, and that scared her
Because I craved the adrenaline to flush out the morphine
I balance on bridges, always teetering
Cheshire cat grins as we run across highways
Darting blurring hues of monochrome grey and black cars
In the dark, only headlights visible
Deer in the headlight
Then we ran to abandoned warehouses
Smashed windows and ate shards of glass
Drowning them with swigs of vodka
Trying to kill the things inside
Live fast and die young
You were scared and I didn’t care
Because crawling under chain link fences
Leaving behind gasoline trails
And disfigured antlers along the way
Hallucinogens and kryptonite
We chased speed and slept on side walks
Misguided we devoured our demons
GossamerPoetry has gossamer wingsMore Like This
And she flies and she flies and she flies.
She spins her nest out of fragments and whims
And parades it through midsummer skies.
And those who would catch her come stealth'ly
Those who'd hold her would hold their own eyes
And those who would know her would gaze at the clouds
Where she flies and she flies and she flies.
Gossamer QueenIn twirling mistMore Like This
and spinning web
among drops of dew
and gossamer thread
With spindly fingers
and glittering eyes
the color of crimson
though keen and wise
Within the forest
Withing the wood
In dark of night
under black of hood
She spins her thread
with moonlight shone
on mist and dew
Great life she'd sewn
into each inch
of every strand
Great power inside
come from her hand
Her children creep
about her feet
In dark and damp
at last they meet
with their Mistress
with their Queen
of gossamer web
and moonlight's gleam
She looks down upon
her kindred of old
Her eyes dead
and her skin cold
The air once warm
now dances with ice
The wind blows harsh
in a chilling vice
"My children, my children"
she whispers in mist
Her voice drifts over them
like a gossamer kiss
"I've summoned you here
on this very night
to continue my work
in dark and in light"
Her words are like song
a sad and lost tune
floating to the stars
among the ancient moon
"For I am dying my children
Soon my time will come
to join t
Sometimes I Lose ThingsSometimes I lose things.More Like This
Sometimes it's little things.
Things like my ipod or my keys.
Bobby pins and chapsticks often evanesce without warning or cause.
Sometimes I lose bigger things.
Things like my favorite sweater or my school bag.
Things like the reason I came into a room,
Or the memories of what I had for breakfast that morning.
Sometimes I lose my train of thought, or the point I was trying to make or an idea.
Sometimes I lose arguments.
Sometimes I lose friends.
I like to think all the things I lose go to the same place.
A plain white place full of hair ties and dollar store bracelets,
And I like to think they all wait there, patiently.
Wait there to be found.
One day I lost my passion.
It floated away like a helium balloon drifting toward the sun.
But I couldn't let it go.
I chased it into the sky,
Past the moon and the stars and the milky-way,
I followed it into the white place,
I faced a sea of bobby pins and hair ties and chap-sticks.
I faced all those lost arguments and id
The Lover and the LionLover:More Like This
I am made of matchsticks and red ribbons and tiny
sparks of Saturday-morning duvet hopes ricocheting
around my brain into a pattern of torn petals from
daisies. Lovers are destroyers of flowers, we know
this. This is why we belong under trees and in wheat
fields, letting buttercups and dandelions grow between
our toes and around our shoulders. We are made to belong.
Whoever said that a lion is made by birth was
not telling anybody the whole truth. If you would
like to know how, when you stand up, when you roar,
does it feel right? Are you brave? Only the brave can be lions.
a sheep dressing itself in fur and mane will only convince its herd
that it is delusional. You can take the lion out of the desert,
but you will never take the desert from the lion.
Anyone who thinks otherwise must know that you cannot tame what is not willing.
I am made to serve my purpose. To hold anyone who is interested
in the palm of my hands and in the chambers of my heart, to chase
neverlandi'm giving myself ten minutes to grow up,More Like This
and with every minute that passes i am remembering
balloons and party hats and streamers
and the second star to the right,
straight on 'til morning.
every year i write myself a poem for my birthday,
but this year i think i'll write a poem about
peter pan and he'll die in the end and everyone
will be sad. i'll be the saddest though,
because there comes a point in your life
when you realize that you're not peter pan,
or wendy, or even a lost boy.
(how sad, i think, to be lost but not a lost boy.
it doesn't matter though, because neverland isn't
real and now look, i'm another year older, and what
have i even done with my life?)
today i'm twenty-three and peter pan is dead.
my ten minutes have passed and i still haven't
grown up. people around me forget how to talk
to mermaids, and no one claps because no one
believes in fairies, or flying, or themselves.
today every birthday candle looks like a bone
and i still have so many wishes left to make.
Lonely World.She's the type of girl who sings herself to sleep every nightMore Like This
to remind herself that she's not alone.
She's the type of girl who would listen to the same song for hours
as her heart skips a beat.
She's the type of girl who hides her smiles
as she doesn't believe they are beautiful.
She's the type of girl who hides her pill bottles
and drowns her pain
She's the type of girl
who believes in love,
but never gets loved in return.
Black and WhiteYou say to dream in colorMore Like This
Well, I refuse
I live in a world with
fuzzy blacks and whites
Where time is meaningless
and there is no beginning nor end
Blurred at the edges like
a timeless photograph
Mimicking wavy lines
of a television screen
Yes, color can be
beautiful and adds depth
But to me I prefer
living in black and white
Because I like to think
of my life as a classic piano
Or a never ending chessboard
with people acting for pieces
Instead of thinking of a life
that might be lost in a kaleidoscope of colors
Trench CoatIt may be justMore Like This
a simple artifact of clothing
tall or r e l a x e d collars
Maybe even with a broken buckle flapping loosely to the side
But when I wear it
I can suddenly walk
through London's streets
and an untidy 221B
Or face a number of demons
never become a writeri.never become a writer.More Like This
you will become a perfectionist,
picking life apart
with a magpie's eye,
hunting for the beautiful bits
until you can make yourself
a sparkling throne
in the center of a junkyard.
ii.you will write when you're sad.
you will write when you're happy.
whenever you feel something,
you will vomit the emotion out
into some sort of literature.
when you're finished,
you'll be empty
and surrounded by
pages and pages of
everything you once were.
iii.you will try to make
pain sound delicious,
painting over the ragged wounds
with pink paint
and candy-coat lies.
you will learn
how to decorate graveyards.
everyone will play in them,
but you alone will see the headstones.
iv.if you fall in love,
you will turn your love into a poem,
and you will always like your own words
more than you like the real person.
you'll become so selfish
you'll disgust yourself,
but you will not be ab
here's to losing youhey, wow,More Like This
great! you do!
are you happy?
no, but here, have my
see me turn myself
upside down when we run
into each other.
while you are shaking hands
and kissing babies
still smiling for smiling's sake,
I've seen the real you
crying into wine. I've felt you
stain my shirt black-streaked
with hidden away things
creased things, folded
and in the process, you
soaked my soul in
spooning your vulnerability
was better than
in one blind night,
better than the electric jolts
you sent burning up my arms
when you grabbed my hand
one day, out of the clear blue,
better than that first kiss
when both our tensions
dissolved into each other
like butter in a hot pan.
nothing has quite matched the night
when I saw you naked, saw you
emotionally undress for the first time:
SpacesWhen you saidMore Like This
you needed space,
you meant more
between your fingers,
so you could hold
someone else's hand.
There's a devil in my bottleThere's a devil in my bottleMore Like This
he's offering me a trade
one singeing little sip
and he'll burn my memories away,
and I let him burn
the remnants of it down
and from his little bottle
I began to drown.
There's a devil at my doorstep
he's offering me a deal
if I burn it to the ground
my sadness he will steal
and I let him in
to take from me
all the things I don't want
or can't agree
There's a devil on my shoulder
he's giving me choice
let life drain what's left
or pull the trigger just once
and I want to listen to him
what else should I do
the devil's already here
so hell must be here too.
There's a devil in my heart
he likes to speak to me
with petty lies and cheap dreams
and pathetic arsonies
and I ignore him,
I leave him be,
cause not matter how alluring he is
001this place that you speak ofMore Like This
the meadow with the soft green grass
the sun shining through the clear blue skies
soaring clouds that no longer shed their tears
i instead find myself weeping
in this dark and lonely corner of the earth
where all roads lead to nowhere
and where even the smallest fractions of hope
i live in a world
where finding that somewhere over the rainbow
is nothing but,
and will forever be
an impossible dream.
Skin.I love the way life leaves its mark on our bodies.More Like This
Every laugh and smile etched in the crinkles around your eyes and mouth;
Those tan-lines the time you forgot about sunscreen
Because you were so hell-bent on reaching that mountain peak
Or when you just became lost in the gentle lap of waves at the shore;
The scars you got skateboarding in the park at summer dusk
Or when life became pain and it was your only release.
Our bodies are a record of our memories and experiences
They are our travel journals and emotional diaries
Our delicate armour to the elements.
And no matter its colour, its stature, if it's not quite intact
If you sometimes think it takes up too much space, or if it has pointy corners
Your body is the vessel for your soul, and every wonderful facet of who you are
Sparkles from the surface of your skin.
Skin that may grow to be wrinkled, tanned, scarred, well lived-in
Although not always embraced by you the way that others embrace it.
Take the time to explore the s
I Need FeminismI need feminism becauseMore Like This
It’s acceptable to call me a slut.
I need feminism because
It’s okay for a guy to slap my butt.
I need feminism because
It’s my own fault if a man rapes me.
I need feminism because
I should look good for men to see.
I need feminism because
People think it means ‘anti-man’.
I need feminism because
I can’t do things that men can.
I need feminism because
Girls think it’s cool to shame each other.
I need feminism because
The world has higher hopes for my brother.
I need feminism because
My femininity makes me ‘weak’.
I need feminism because
If I act masculine I’m a ‘freak’.
I need feminism because
My boobs are my ‘best quality’.
I need feminism because
I believe in equality.
My ConfessionI never really thought about my lack of sexual interest before society confronted me with it.More Like This
It took me quite a while to notice guys as anything more than "other people", and when I did, it was more a group pressure thing than real interest.
I even had a boyfriend then, but not because I particularly liked the guy. Having a boyfriend in your teens is a status symbol. Have one, you're cool, have none, you're not.
Of course, back then things weren't that clear to me. I went with the flow.
For a very long time, I wondered what is wrong with me that I don't enjoy sex, that It makes me feel awkward and that I have no desire to go out and date. Society made me believe it is wrong to be like that. I was ashamed of myself, of my flaws and my obvious failure of being a full-fledged human being.
You define yourself through others. You try to figure out who you are, and you look at others for guidance, for something you can identify with. But you only limit yourself with that, and not finding si
Stick and Stones, LoveSticks and stones,More Like This
May break my bones.
But words can do much more.
I find them scribbled on notes strewn about,
And I hear your voice when I read them to myself.
They come in soft whispers,
Or thunderous shouts of anger.
They can inspire a masterpiece
Fueled by joy or pain.
They're sung sweetly in sunshine
Or bitterly in rain.
They can serve to begin or end
Something wonderful or terrible.
They are how I know you.
The bridges between our minds.
They are the art of the commoner.
You're lips, a brush, you're words, the strokes
The air is your canvas.
You paint your perception with your voice,
Giving me a portrait of what my eyes could never see.
Will you show me who you are or who you want to be?
With your words, you
Can tell the truth or fool me.
You create or destroy.
With your words,
You love or hate,
You give or you take.
Your words are your choice.
There is life and death.
In the power of your voice.
Noticed in CommittingI started committing suicides. They were small at first, but more grandiose as the months passed.More Like This
At first, I came up with basics: wrist slashing, hanging, overdose, jumping off a building, and stepping off in front of bus. They were all very mundane, really, and if not done properly you just end up living very, very painfully. It was after those routine ways to snuff oneself that I began to get creative.
There was going into a biker bar nude and starting fights with drunk bikers. And when I say "fights", I mean with a knife in my hand. That was a fun night. Everyone was freaked out and angry at the same time. They all wanted to kill me, but they didn't want to touch me either. Eventually, though, they did.
Oh, another good one was sneaking into one of those giant dump trucks at a quarry and letting them dump tons of excavated rocks on me. The driver of the loader always sees you just as it's too late and tries to stop the load.
when writers cryAwake on strong, black coffee drinksMore Like This
Words on paper, liquid ink
Dreams of pen tips, future lies
Tragic stories, quotes of the wise
Nights have carved their dark, deep valleys
In the hollows of my eyes
For you see, my friend, when writers cry
There are no tears, their cheeks are dry
But ink dipped fingers, worn out wrists
Chewed up nails and bloody fists
You see, it's strange when writers cry
Their hearts are true, their words don’t lie
They mourn in silence for a few days
Of paper cuts and tear-less haze
Of coffee mugs and smoky paper
Liquid spills, and water vapor
Sorry dreams and wasted hours
Putrid smells and dying flowers
(Torn to pieces from inside
Tears are hidden by our pride)
PerceptionsPerceptions can guide us, perceptions can blind us. Everything that is our perceptions is everything we ever will see, everything we will hope to be, all our opinions, our dreams. Being true to yourself will let your soar the feathered flights of birds, soaring the heights of the hatred and jealous mockery of the people who wish to do as you did. But with power of succees comes the responsibility of still believing in the things you did before, not to let your being melt away and to be frozen in a personality of condescension and the mockery that you powered through to get to where you were. This frozen mutation will change who you were, what you saw, the things you hoped to be, your opinions, your dreams.More Like This
Perceptions can guide us, but dont let it blind you.
A Writer's Romance-"You're a writer, aren't you?"More Like This
Those were the first words she spoke to me.
At the time, I was packing up, getting ready to leave the library.
I had another long day, spending the majority of my free time at the library, loitering around on my laptop,
Staring at my open wordpad as I contemplated about what to write about.
Just as I was readying to leave this girl, out of nowhere, asks me if I'm a writer.
-"I like to think I am."-
That's the only answer I could give her.
I had taken up writing as a hobby,
But no matter how hard I tried, all of my work felt underwhelming.
Could I get you to help me write a poem?
If that is too much trouble than anything else will do too."-
She starred at me with her big blue eyes,
Long golden hair,
Holding her hands together at her chest -
She was quite pretty at that,
Making me question why such a person would come up a complete stranger such as myself, and ask for something so absurd.
-"Why do you need something like that?"-
Nature is BeautyMore Like This
You're my sunset in the sky.
You're my angel in the snow.
You're my sunrise in the morning.
You're my singing sparrow.
Don't let their forest fires
Burn you to the ground.
It's because you're beautiful
Inside and out that our love was found.
I Am From...I am from Thunder Cats and ninja turtles,More Like This
And Batman movies on weekends.
I am from wrestling matches with my big brother
in the living room.
Lungs gasping for air
After being body-slammed too many times.
I am from apple trees in full bloom
Making a bouquet of flowers
And imagining being married some day.
I'm from home-made meals
And family dinners,
Gathering to watch 'cops' on the T.V.
I'm from "Yellow!" instead of "Hello!",
And 'it's just a movie, it can't hurt me'.
From 'the only thing hiding in the dark is your shadow'.
I'm from "Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned",
Yet no one says a word
And are allowed to believe
Whatever their hearts desire.
I'm from "Sugar Ray" and "Journey",
Chicken sandwiches and steamed brocoli.
From the marriage lost to the silence,
The immature become mature, only to realise it was too late.
Scattered on the floor are notebooks
Filled with poems,
Stories filled with words
That paint pictures in front of my eyes.
I am from the apple
That fell too far from t
Forever and EverFrom "forever and ever",More Like This
And "up, up, and away",
To never together,
And "just get away".
From hugs in the sun,
And kisses in moonlight,
To a cocked gun
And sobs in the night.
From lovely, sweet whispers,
And promises took,
To painfully missing her,
And promises broke.
"Forever and ever"
Isn't really that long.
I never knew that I had her
Until she was gone.
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.More Like This
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Stuck In ReverseWe'd make drunken eye contactMore Like This
While sat on iron bar motorway bridges
Road kill paved beneath us
And diluted stars that hung above us like spirits
Passing bottles of liquor while discussing Shakespeare
I'd hide behind my sleeves
We were scatter brained and tongue tied
Scorched pupils and leaper fingertips
I don't know how to let go of these Polaroid memories
We need to plan our escape because Alice had the right idea
The smell of stagnant rainwater is making me nauseous
Because sometimes painkillers never seem to work
And carving words into one another is the only way we can exist.
ImaginationDid you ever imagineMore Like This
Imagine that you could be anything?
Nothing stopping you from becoming anything
On those days, you felt...incredible.
Just believe that you're young again,
Another chance to imagine fully.
Your're anything you can be.
Never being pulled down by
AnonymousI am the girl who hides between moth eaten paper backsMore Like This
And slips into bookstores and devours leather bound spines
I am chloroform lips bitten down, red and rosy
Ink stained finger tips that fold book pages between my pupils
I'm the girl who drowns herself in coffee and cough drops
While remaining curled between Tennyson and Steinbeck
Wasting days wondering why grass is green
And how it can be greener for others and not I
Then I realized its all artificial food colouring
And polystyrene picket fences
Sticky notes yellowed at the edges reminding myself how to smile
I've pasted them on my skin in makeshift paper Mache armour
But like all mangled words I will be thrown inside a wastebasket
Saved for a rainy day
Writers are all crazy, you know.Letters spill down from a canopy andMore Like This
down the vines,
scatter across the margins to make
a story so divine.
There's a picture show
behind those eyes,
where a lake leaks stories
into a boat full of mad
but for those who think it's crazy
it really is quite sad.
on a rope swing,
between horror and once upon a time.
She obsesses over meter,
and nothing will quite rhyme.
She stares off into the
d i s t a n c e
trying to make some sense
of every idea that flocks her boat
and never will relent.
Her brain is constantly on
Universe GirlsheMore Like This
fell in love
while he was
still a planet;
she could only manage
to fall in love
with shooting stars
in the glare of your eyes.
what more could you truly ask
from a universe girl?
Your thought for the day...."Chase your dreams now, or they'll haunt you forever..." -enigmaticsmileMore Like This
Paper wings burn faster than waxThe gods reside within her lungsMore Like This
She breaths wishes into dandelions
Devouring Saturn’s rings to taste the galaxies
On the tips of her fingertips
Origami limbs longing for the oceans caress
She is the lost siren songs
Hushed to drown out the moons mourning lullaby
And sooth the empty rumbling of the oceans longing
To kiss the shorelines but the horizon is its only muse
And they hang from treetops disguised as spirits
She carves words into the woodwork of her shoulders
Weight of the world, Atlas eat your heart out
Because she wears lucky stars like the latest fashion
The shifting old soul persona plastered between her veins
Speaks of unknown worlds that pulsate with the need
For those sea foamed letters tied together like angels wings
Those wisps of dreamers slip between her ribs
Like a lovers touch she resides between sheets
And slow heated mornings where sleep rests on her jaw
And she speaks in quiet sonnets
Weary sparrow girl
With the soft edged vowels rounded off with
The best years of your life are temporaryThe aching curve of her vulture spineMore Like This
Echoes the motion of her reclining lupine limbs
Folding upon each other like vowels
Like slots of miss-matched thunderstorms
Her dream stained pupils searching
For the days when autumn would break beneath
The slow baked heat of the sun’s empty wrath
And the skies would split like a smokers cough
Emptying those half hearted attempts of ridding themselves
Of those hollowed out lungs
She was a reckless disaster of a girl
Who’d linger behind grave stones and mausoleums
Tracing the heartbreaks like they
Were spun from gold
The vanilla scented tragedies
Spread open their diluted plot twists across her veins
As though she was the salvation for achieving
A youth filled with forest fires and carrousel lovers trysts
Painted across stars to form haphazard constellations
Of star crossed lovers laid out rest
When its three am and she’s awake listening to the night
Behind her bedroom blinds
Talking to the moon because the suns too much of a
For the girl with the ashen heart and jackdaw grinShe was the girl with the autumn limbsMore Like This
All wildfire eyes and bonfire lips
Aching to tear the tress into a clamour of sun beams
And crackling breaths split the sky into a smile
She had forests sewn into her veins
All thick grooves of amber and phosphate
Etched into the curves of her spine and empty synapses
Feline limbs and a lone wolf persona
Hangs on the slopes of her mountain range collar bones
She was the girl that you’d search oceans for
Her glowing fingertips and bird wing bones
Fleeting like the winds got hold of her aching soul
She’d paint constellations on her rib cage
To make the star strewn sky look a little less lonely
mushroom cloud "an explosion", she saidMore Like This
I turned to ask her what she was talking about when I
caught sight of the tv screen, and for the tiniest of moments I caught
myself thinking that there's something beautiful about that much energy and
so much destruction; energy - would it wipe me off my feet? maybe melt the skin
right off of my bones? heat, death and poison, I don't believe there's much you or I
would be able to feel dying in those flames, and I should probably be ashamed that I
Therapists, I don't like their taste.i.More Like This
in 7th grade
i didn’t know depression
until she told me her name,
carving forever scratches
along my limbs like
little love notes on the bark
of a tree.
she stole my rings
and left me hollow.
i had only ever met anxiety
in passing, until one day
he handed me power and told me
to hurt someone else with it.
with an uncontrollable
quivering in my fingers,
he whispered, “ to survive,
you must learn quickly.”
as i shoved the bevel of a needle
into a strangers arm.
so, if a therapist
could talk away my scars
like iodine disinfects,
guide the ships
through the storm of my mind
like a lighthouse-
instead of pills,
if a therapist could
give me the strength
i might just
take my chances.
petaled memories of a younger dreamerI miss the daysMore Like This
when I thought girls
felt like roses,
and the rain
was my worst enemy
I thought I'd never
understand a soliloquy
in all its purpose and
adulthood still loomed
a distant thundering possibility
the open road
was a hobby
flipping cassettes in a car
that's no longer made
on a longer mountain road
the time of life
when you believe finally
in what you never knew
you believed and friends
lived wide hung close
I miss those days
when getting older
felt new and when
I anticipated my first
touch of a rose
Tastes Like...Daddy likes to make meMore Like This
Eat my words.
I see him hit Mommy
And I know she hurts.
So I tell him, to get her
He has to go through me.
And, well, I can no longer walk
And I can no longer see.
Daddy makes me eat my words
And reality starts to flood.
Yes, Daddy makes me eat my words…
And my words taste like blood.