Speech ImpedimentChoking on the words,More Like This
that just refuse to come out.
Even when the silence makes me bitter..
(with the things I'll never say)
And even when they do I'm left;
- Stuttering over the phrases,
that I'd rather not articula-ate.
When letting you in,
to my he-ar-ar-t is near impossible.
When it's been so brok-en-n before.
(that it's buried itself behind these walls)
- And slurring the words,
in a rush to get past that point.
Hoping you missed the pain
- So much that I'm nervous nearly to the point of sh-a-aking,
and still trying to bitebackthetears,
hiding all of my fe-ea-r,
all of myinnervulnerabili-ity,
(tha-at is stillsoscared)
Freedom to SpeakI can’t raise my hand in class in fear of slipping.More Like This
I can’t read aloud with fear of pausing.
I can’t talk to you or anyone else in fear of rejection.
I am not a retard.
I am not a freak.
I try to speak out but my sentences are finished.
I try so hard to finish them my self;
by ticking my tongue against the roof,
by clenching my jaws together and grimacing
by moving my head to the back or the side,
using great amounts of strength to force the words out.
But it is always finished before me.
I can never say what I need to.
I don’t feel human anymore.
I don’t feel like I belong with the other normal speakers,
But you say I do!
So let me speak!
Let me finish my own sentences without you getting in my way!
Don’t tell me to take deep breaths or slow down,
I have tried that before, and it only works a while.
I’ve took all the classes,
I’m better than before.
I can speak.
just be patient,
I will show you that I can speak.
Do Not Spare Me Your PityWhat good are these eyes that can not see?More Like This
What use are they to me?
If I require a hand to take a step,
Did I move at all?
Wouldn't it be better to simply fall?
If I can not eat, if I can not sleep, and if I can not breathe without machinery am I a living being?
If I can't ever be alone how can I gain a soul?
For is not a soul acquired through acting on your desires?
Is not your soul shaped through your actions and dreams?
How can I gain a soul if everyone always does everything for me?
The fate they confine me too makes my heart grow still for I would be a tool used and discarded according to the master's will.
I am no tool and I am not blind for I know what it is that I want to find.
I know who I am and I know what I will be.
The line they want me to cross,
That line between help and dependence is thin indeed but I will not cross it for I will remain free.
Wordsif only the words swirling out of my mouthMore Like This
Crashing into each other like train wrecks
And screeching to a halt leaving skid marks in its wake
Would straiten out and move accordingly
Like the soldiering ants in their strait little lines
Following each other with perfect speed
Perfect spaces and an even pace
If only words werent so hard to say
No more constricting syllables tying me in knots
Squeezing the breath from my lungs
And causing stares
And fears coupled with rising tears
I would be that person laughing in that room
Or that person presenting on stage
Not that person pulled by rage
But a normal person without the difficulties of speech
Without the train wreck of words
Jumbling me up until words are nothing more than a mass
Of incoherent nothingness
My thoughts are suppressed
every time I show weakness
every time I open my mouth
Cautious but useless
my bedspread is white and so is my coffin.i can feelMore Like This
the night closing
the stars are breaking
empty glass bottles
inside of my
mouth, and they taste like
ambien. bitter, then
but you still can't close your fucking eyes
little blue pills for
eyes– it was winter and i
dreams of nothing more than
nothing. the devil
tied chains around all the
vessels in my
body. laughed, and by god i
laughed too (and laughedandlaughedandlaughed).
this will all be over soon i swear i will take everything off your skin and bones and burn it up
and then january took the world
in it's grip and i
drowned in the snow that
will never hydrate the
can you hear that it's the night and it's so beautiful so come here darling and we'll watch the sun rise and set and rise and
poem for the girl who told me life was meaninglessevery winter, it freezes so unforgivinglyMore Like This
that i can never believe that next spring
there will be flowers bursting from the soil.
but i know you don’t care
about that. you want footprints in
stone, but all your shores are filled only with
sand and i understand why you said what you said but
i know a man who drove trucks in Vietnam
and now drives a bus full of children to school
every morning. don’t tell me that doesn’t mean
anything, not when i’ve seen the way his hands
grip the steering wheel, knuckles white tight.
not when he carries pictures of his grandkids in his
wallet, like dog tags around his neck.
we have built civilizations on these salted fields.
don’t tell me that doesn’t mean anything,
when it’s the only holy thing i have ever seen.
we have survived. we will keep surviving. we
wear our humanity like uniforms we never hang up.
our wars are never over—we will
always find a cause good enough to hope for.
and i look at the vetera
HorizonBeautiful.More Like This
Oranges, yellows ,reds, blues and purples.
People would kill for a view like this,
But the one it cared about, didn't even notice.
'I'll be back soon' 'Maybe tomorrow?'
They were all lies, did you recite them?
You said I was special, he said you lied.
I guess he was right, since that horizon's still there.
Another month's past, and I'm still waiting.
Where are you, Big Brother?
Why did you leave?
Was it because I'm too weak?
Lookit, Big Brother, I'm big and strong now.
Still, why won't you come? You said you'd come soon....
Brother, I'm sad, my eyes are watering,
But I guess you don't care, since that horizon's still there.
How long has it been...
Since I've seen your face...?
Your smile, your eyes?
I've forgotten your laugh, the color of your hair.
I love you, Big Brother,
I became stronger for you.
You said you loved me,
So why's that horizon still there?
Finally, it broke, shapes can be seen.
Ships with your flag, coming this way.
I was starting to lo
Where Dreamers Go To DieStocking shelves with ketchup like old men stock wine cellars,More Like This
Fondly remembering good friends with each bottle slid into place,
Fondly remembering their wives and their children,
Fondly remembering their funerals.
It's hard to say why I feel the way I do.
Most likely an overreaction -
The only type I seem to have as of late.
It's as if this place is an affirmation of all my fears,
With dirty plates and clinking cutlery,
With fake smiles and false laughter,
With the way that,
When that uniform is donned on,
I cease to be human,
And I commence life as a living machine.
This is the cage in which I'll be trapped if my aspirations fall flat.
This is the place dreamers go to die.
Forgiveness takes twoThe words are strugglingMore Like This
to tumble off my tongue,
and despite having
a fleshy cushion
to rest on,
they stain my teeth
and sting like acid
"I'm sorry," I stutter,
but the bitter taste
doesn't leave my tongue-
not because the words weren't true,
but because I know
I won't hear,