to get out of
of their parents-
I'm here trying
to get out of
surrounded by darkness
I don't know which way to go
I'm isolated in my inner-world
I hear whispers and loud voices
I hear music and traffic
I am overwhelmed
I embrace myself
I reassuringly hug myself with petals
wrapping myself up more tightly than ever
I wait for daylight
but even if the sun rises I'm afraid I won't know how to bloom
I am not angry.
I am not sad.
Nothing happened at school.
Or at home.
It's not attitude.
Nor is it a phase.
I just can't deal with talking to you right now, alright?
Or anybody for that matter.
It is going to annoy me.
I will get mad.
And it will be attitude.
If you keep asking me whats wrong.
When I quickly answer I'm fine.
Up in a tree.
Hidden in my closet.
Behind the couch.
Lying on my bed.
Under a bush.
With no one around to ask questions.
I can think.
I can day dream.
I can just lay there.
Be amazed by the smallest things.
Or nothing at all.
It's not so strange I don't want to talk.
Constantly about useless nothings.
I am content.
When I am able to just exist.
Without wasting time and words.
You'd be amazed.
At how much more you understand.
What becomes clear.
If you were quiet.
Noticed more about others.
Discovered things about yourself.
Just sat the
To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home:
the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds
As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,
or plug in your computer,
or listen to music,
or maybe just stare at the night sky from your bedroom window-
(please) remember what everyone else seems to forget;
that being alone does not always equal lonely--
and that sometimes no company is the best company there is.
To the girl who does not speak up in class:
I was once you.
You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise.
You might be the only one who will ever know the universes
tucked inside your head,
because they are beautiful secrets you cannot bring yourself to share,
for fear that they might be vandalized.
When you speak,
I got lost in my own world again.
No set of walls will feel like a prison.
I don't need to leave the house, or my chair, to have fun.
Time spent with family and friends means a lot to me.
But I don't do it just because.
Reading and writing and my love for these don't make me boring.
Living in my own mind comes naturally to me, like breathing.
Of course I don't know what to talk about.
Unless it's deep, meaningful and interesting, I won't say much.
Very good at listening?
I love learning new things and being there for you.
Escape plan: exits, quiet and an excuse.
Over-stimulation is the pits!
Real friends are ha
She becomes the omniscient narrator for the classroom
from the desk in the back of the class [and next to the window]
Her long black hair is combed
Her neatness being revealing how self-conscious she really is
She carries no scent
not of filth or of offensive odor
not of dove bodywash or perfume
not even of the mark of eve
When I capture your fleeting glance
I see the life in your eyes
the millions of explosions
behind your irises that tell me
You are alive.
A tiny glimpse past the corporal--past the dark circles of stress--past all things average about you
but you look away... you say "g-g-gomenasai"
Gomenasai for looking at me
Gomenasai for meeting me
Gomenasai for wanting to be with me
and I young and ignorant will say goodbye [to you and your beauty] and return to my life
I will never hear you again.
begin to wean yourself off of
and social stimulation
until the frame of your social structure
becomes akin to
your composure will stretch thin
across your cheeks
and the shadows sleeping
between your gaunt cheekbones
will begin to look like bruises—
rousing piteous looks from
for all the wrong reasons.
to be picked up
from dusty corners of libraries
who claim they knew you.
they will frame
and shape it
into a grotesque arrangement
of silk flowers.