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Day 244She has her wings now, frail like a butterflies.
But, she wears them proudly, as she shines
in this glittered spectrum of her new self.
She's almost near her inner perfection.
Becoming the one thing she has always dreamed of.
Taking more interest in her self,
she realizes that she can finally fly.
She sees that she isn't a stupid winged creature.
She is an intelligent and beautiful butterfly.
And now that she knowsknowsknows,
she's ready to take flight.
Day 243It feels so nostalgic to be holding papers written
in my fourth grade hand and looking through photos
at a girl who never really stood a chance at love.
I was innocent; with awards and straight A's and the ability
to turn a phrase and keep too many journals.
I wrote poems and drew on the sides of my notebooks.
And there were stories about wishes for cherry rain
and taking my mother out to dinner.
I had loved my mother.
And happiness didn't lay in my heart for myself, but for everyone else.
With the only hate on a misconstrued view of my dear father.
And during those days, I kept notes that belonged to others
and little messages were scribbled onto the corners of my papers.
"Julian's head is so big" or odd mumblings that
won't ever make sense to me now.
And as I look back at these phases of my life,
I begin to wonder and almost miss this stranger that was me before.
Day 242I'm tripping over myself aimlessly
and trying to find some stability.
I'm losing control of my thoughts and footing
as each step is a step
towards another mistake.
The world is sloping downwards
and this hill is becoming dangerously steep.
I can feel myself tumbling along,
waiting for the world to just disappear beneath me.
My emotions are at an angle,
too sharp and too odd for my own good.
I'm suffering from the projections of my mood;
I'm dropping in degrees with each foot.
And as I walk, there's no direction,
no destination to steer me to better places.
And I know I'm going to lose
myself to these drastic life changes.
Day 241I want to tear a hole into my chest;
where my heart beats
and myself drowns within a mess.
I'm dying on the inside
and I want everyone to see.
My fingers poking out of my lungs,
my hands aching to be reached.
I'm calling out for help,
scribbling words into my skin.
Cut, carve and curl my edges,
until every space and every crevice and every crack
is filled with pointless ramblings.
I'm so broken.
And a monster eats away at my thoughts.
Chewing down my common sense,
until I slowly wither and rot.
I'm an almost complete nothing,
trying to hold on, but feeling myself slip.
If only my dreams weren't of kissing within fires
and drowning within oceans
and the moon crushing my very being,
perhaps I would be able to pull myself back up again.
Day 240I'm an achy-breaky- mess again.
Coloring outside the lines in blue hues.
I'm scribbling myself in tired circles,
digging the crayon into my paper skin.
A well marked misshapen reminder
that my life is just a shape.
One that doesn't ever end
and continues to meet up at the corners.
And when I'm crumpled around the edges,
torn and broken and crinkled in the mind,
my thoughts and feelings get tossed about aimlessly,
thrown out with the rest of life.
Because I'm simply blown over,
dragged under and forgotten.
I'm just this little Miss Piece of Waste
that's put out in the trash when no longer wanted.
Day 239There's a fear for every fellow;
my heart is bound to feeling scared for others.
While he drowns within a pool of sharks,
I'm trying to save another from a bottomless pit.
So dark and alarming,
all I can do is panic.
I reach out before she falls
and watch while he tries to fit in.
I'm trying to save everyone,
but inside my head I know it's too much.
My memories scratched down the walls of my conscience,
and I'm trying to ignore the marks.
But, my heart tends to fail me
and I can't stand my own wits.
I'm trying and trying and trying
to fight my fears for them,
even though I surely won't win.
And as my temple crumbles
and my walls come crashing down.
I will surely drown within my fears again
because since the beginning,
that is where my heart has been bound.
Day 238Let me take your words
and tie them with pretty little bows.
for your papers and feelings.
I don't care for their meanings.
I just want to dress them up and pretend I can stand them.
And you ask me why I'm dancing so slow,
twirling a knife and carving into my soul.
I'm taking you out.
I'm removing you from my chest.
I don't want you to be a part of my past.
And you watch me curl and fall to the floor,
a throwing of foul words and feelings vomitted.
You make me sick.
And I'm so tired of all of this.
I just want to take your hits and be done with it.
Day 237Go ahead and just let go. I'm
Over trying to hold
On to you and your hand. I
Don't want to be your friend.
Boy, let's stop playing pretend. It's not like
You really believed we were friends to begin with. And
Eventually you were willing to say goodbye someday.
Day 236You have me chasing you through my dreams
trying to hold onto something that just has no hope.
We are racing down dark hallways with too many doors.
I don't know which one to open.
I'm afraid of the memories each one holds.
And you can't quite grasp why I grow tired
of trying to get you to understand.
My words aren't enough.
And the distance to you changes everything we had.
I wish you could see that this friendship is a pile of dust.
A mess of my fallen words that slipped off my tongue.
I want to cut, cut, cut them into my skin.
Try to comprehend them.
Memorize and understand.
Because I can't quite figure out where things got out of hand.
And you can only whisper me your sorrys,
trying to give me something to hold onto.
But, I'm done, done, done.
I'm no longer wanting to be your friend,
when you clearly have proven to me that from the beginning,
I really wasn't one.
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
Day 116You try to fool me with all your lies,
covering up a face so strange.
But, I know what you're like on the inside,
and I find the monster beautiful anyways.
You say your bad luck walking my way,
and I just dismiss it all with a kiss.
I don't care for such superstititions,
I just live for what is and this.
You try to convince me that you're not worth it,
and you throw words that are never too nice.
But, I keep holding on like crazy,
because I can relate to living a difficult life.
You say you don't understand my actions,
and you pry me with questions and obscene words.
I just tell you it's very simple darling,
that I am the only one who can see your worth.
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