A Letter to My Attackeri.More Like This
I feel their eyes on me, feel their desire.
you peel me, inspect me, tear me in two
in search of the things you want,
pluck me apart like a bundle of grapes:
you look at me and first see my polished shell,
your perfect idea of a haven,
but then again, you never truly see.
I am pieces, body parts, lips and breasts and legs,
and you run your fingers over all of it,
treating me like some sort of toy to play with.
god, can't you hear me screaming inside?
"you tempted me, you asked for it," you say,
but don't you understand?
nobody asks to be hurt.
nobody wants to be pushed, forced, ground into dust.
did the short hem of my dress
entice you to rip it from my body?
who gave you the right to touch me,
to steal me, to even set your eyes on me?
you vicious savage, you uncontrollable mutt,
you worthless little snake so keen to burrow.
as you silenced my screams, did you ever consider
that there was a frightened girl beneath you,
a real, living, breathing person
When Media Kills Mourningi.More Like This
I remember once,
While discussing the horrors in the media,
A teacher mused that
If we mourned for everything in the news
We would go insane.
At some point,
We have to become a little numb,
To body counts,
Until it happens in front of us,
Until we can see it.
West Nile Virus
is quite serious.
An early warning sign
Is dead birds.
Please contact animal services
So we may prevent human outbreaks.
A bird was in the yard,
A mourning dove,
Its chest heaving heavily,
And then I thought it might have a broken heart.
We wanted to help
But how could we?
I simply wished
I could give it my love.
And no place would take it
Until it had died.
on wanting to be thinnerthe world is in the palmMore Like This
of my hand when I
wake up next
to your cream-white skin
and bones - they’re
both the same color now
and I don’t know
whether to be proud or
that in spite of the past
biting and writhing its
limping way back to you,
you’re still in my bed,
breathing and more
and though you could be smiling
you’re still holding your
it’s still there.
you’re still here.
the sky maps itself in the irises
of your muddy eyes when I
find you talking about
licking dreams and dust off
an acceptance letter to
you told me that only
in the crevasses
of an ill-tempered blackhole’s eyes
would you find enough
end yourself without
ending the world.
but you would end me,
you did end me the day
you told me your body was
not a temple - mine or yours -
and that no purge
would be bloody
enough to make you stop
corpses from your very lips.
the heart of the Sandman rests
between your beate
Dark Crevices.Dark Crevices.More Like This
Little one, monsters do not sleep under your bed.
They prefer to procure the space inside your head.
And all those white lies your mother told you
Are from made up fairy tales she once read.
When you woke up and begged for her presence.
Shaking, snivelling and waiting for her to console you.
You never had the need to perform any form of penance.
As she would make them vanish by only uttering a sentence.
All those proverbs and warm words your mother sold you,
Are there to assure you when she is not able to watch over.
But no amount of prayers, dream catchers and four leaf clovers.
Can protect you from what prowls directly above your shoulders.
And all those white lies your mother told you.
Shaking, snivelling and waiting for her to console you.
All those proverbs and warm words your mother sold you.
Will not help when the demons decide to take a hold of you.
ShyIn my world there's fun and adventureMore Like This
In your world I'm quiet
In my world when I talk, I don't hinder
In your world I hide it
I've got so much to say
I think of talking, but wont
You won't hear me anyway
I try, but then I don't
In your world you call it Shy
I want to come out
truly I try
but I hold back, no doubt
I just want to be friends
and make people grin
Reflected InspectionReflected InspectionMore Like This
Here I am again examining my disfigured figure in the mirror.
Fondling my fat wishing I could trim it down with a pair of scissors.
Relentlessly poking, prodding and picking at my face.
Leaving behind nothing but a black, coarse and scabby trace.
Furiously patting down my cheeks begging them to be smaller.
Standing on the edge of my toes willfully imagining that I am taller.
Folding my ears inwards commanding them to decrease in size.
Hysterically trying to find the beauty they said existed in my eyes.
Scrutinizing my nose using my hands to mould it into my desired shape.
Impatiently withdrawing my stomach to wonder how I would look if I lost some weight.
Slapping my overlapping thighs repeatedly, persuading them to become firmer.
Grasping the pair of scissors at my throat with the intent of committing my own murder.
Thinking to myself how can anyone ever find me remotely attractive?
And how can I ever expect myself to be regularly sexually active.
With me looking
Puberty.Puberty.More Like This
I just see it as you trying to control me,
Trying to turn me into something I’m not.
It’s like you want me to be sad, depressed and lonely
And that is why you break and regulate everything I've got.
Can’t you see I am doing this for your own good?
That I am trying to protect from all what is bad out there.
If I didn't do it, I can guarantee you that nobody else would.
It was never my intention to turn your life into a living nightmare.
You’re not protecting me, you’re preventing me,
Stopping me from taking and making my own decisions.
Even before I say or do anything wrong, you’re correcting me
And that is why I go to all these places without your permission.
As long as you are under my roof, you will abide by my rules.
You cannot see it now but in the future you will thank me.
That means I want you to go to and come straight home from school.
Recently your attitude stinks, so think before you speak and get an
Intangible Tangent.Intangible Tangent.More Like This
They say God only gives you what you can handle.
But lately I have realized that this cannot be true.
Every blow has the potential to blow out that candle.
So there is no guarantee that everyone will pull through.
What happens if you can withstand the disturbance?
Will you be constantly waiting for the next wave?
Imagine waking up knowing what lies behind the curtains.
Confined behind the undefined lines of a close shave.
Perhaps we all possess the prowess to overcome any obstruction.
But not everyone has the belief that they can persevere.
We are all victims of a much bigger incomprehensible construction
And there will always be some that succumb to that deepest fear.
What will you become if you somehow conquer all the obstacles?
Doing whatever it takes to ensure that you will survive.
Blaming others for what you have done refusing to be responsible.
Knowing this is the person you had to become in order to stay alive.
In the end we have no choice but to make do wit
Your Poetry SucksYes, roses are redMore Like This
And violets are blue
But you have to understand
Who said they had to,
Its about imagination
Emotion and orignality
Not the reiteration
Of dead men's practicality
They are your sentence
To a world that has to listen
As you create the difference
Whether it be
With angst poem against love
Or how you set your heart free
To fly like a dove,
For these words
Whether or not they be true
Their beauty and ideals
Will be used to define you,
Hope ,in fact, has feathers
And like a caged bird it sings
But these words will only be tethers
That strip you of your wings,
Those are their words
Meant for their time
And meant for their herds,
But this your time
Meant for your words
And whether they be meaningful, stupid
Or completely absurd
I'm sure they'll be amazing.