Give UpShe wanted a freeze button, a pause button, a wait-and-come-back-later button.But such a button did not exist, so she settled for the next best thing.A stop button, a quit button, a give up button.And when she pressed it, her life snapped off, and that was the end of the 21st Century girl.
Carnationsit smells of death and cigarettes and flowers. people are muttering apologies to a smooth wooden box. i am busy talking to air.i half expected him to be here, standing here, making people laugh instead of cry. that was his talent - laughing. mine is disappearing. no one notices as i wallflower my way to the back of the room, then slip out into an unfair, unair-conditioned reality.the sun is shining outside. i can hear it as it mocks death. cicadas chirp, people are smoking, and the world is still spinning - clearly it has yet to receive the memo i sent.he was supposed to be here. i sit on the curb, playing with ants, waiting for him to show up. he's the whole reason we're having this party (if you can even call it that). i wait for him to drive up from the carpet shop in a shiny silver car. every time a silver car rushes past on the road, i cross my fingers, hoping it'll realize it made a wrong turn and then it will come back and he'll get out and everything will be ok.e
DeliveryThe breeze carries memoriesWrapped in silk and tied with bowsTelling stories of somewhere else,A place nobody knows.
LightOnce upon a timeI traveled through the tunnelInto the lightJust to see what was there.And what I foundWas a dim little lamp.
Bad DreamsI've been having nightmares about reality.
She Saw a Shooting StarShe was a girl of romantic ideasAnd idealistic dreams,Falling apartWhen her 11:11 wishesDidn't come true
Morning RoutineShe wakes up to dew-drop kisses,Tasting of coffee and sleep.She drifts outside on the morning breeze,Looking at the pink sunrise cloudsAnd breathing in cool, crisp air.Leaves dance around herAnd rabbits run to their holesAs rush-hour traffic rushes pastCreating sonic booms in silence.She brushes her feathersAnd takes flight,Beginning the rest of her life.
Pretty GirlI'm pretty, right?
No?Well, let me eat lessAnd tan more,Burn my hair to make it straightAnd spend all my money on clothes.[Am I pretty now?]
SinkingShe was the ocean-eyed girl, spending her time weaving intricate stories while sitting in front of the TV. The TV was her life. There she traveled to the moon, to Egypt, to a world where everything was perfect in its own imperfect way. Drama was dramatized in the TV. Families were perfect in the TV. People won big in the TV.So she watched, and her eyes were drained of the ocean and eventually died, dragging her with them.Because she didn't know she was sinking into the world of lies and flashing lights, which whispered stories in the night, beckoning to come a little closer, listen a little harder. And eventually, her world changed to pixels. But she didn't mind.After all, who doesn't prefer life in HD?
UntitledDear me, The girl you loved isn’t that person anymore. Is everything what you thought it would be? You need to understand that she’ll never be the same again. Are you happy with yourself? You only love her because you remember what she used to be.Forget her.
FamousIf I become a famous poet,I won't be remembered.[But you will be]
BelieveBelieve the lies you tell yourselfIgnore your aching heartBelieve the love you think you feelsit still and play your partBelieve the smile you plaster onIgnore the tears cryBelieve the joy you think you knowIgnore the pain inside
Got YouThey say there's plenty of fish in the seaAnd some sharks and some dolphins too,But as I'm drifting right alongI can't help but think of you.So let me cast my golden rodFar and deep beneath the blue,And maybe I'll catch a better fishThat'll make my dreams come true.
Worth a Thousand WordsShe painted allof her essays.
MoonI can't imagine that kind of emptiness.
Memories"Abbi don't!" I shouted, just before the hose drenched my church outfit. She giggled, and despite being miserable and wet, I smiled.Making her laugh always made me smile. Even as a seven year old."You're gonna get in trouble with Amma." Almost as if on cue, my grandmother came into the back yard. "Cole Jason Bartholomew!" she shrieked and when I pointed at Abbigale, she sighed. "Abbi Nicole Rose, what have I told you about picking on Cole?" She smiled innocently, her cheeks flushed with pink. "She wasn't picking on me." I pouted, crossing my arms. "Please, she could take you any day, Coley." Amma said lightly, stroking Abbi's hair. I stomped off, away from the sound of their giggles. I smiled as I left though, because making Abbi laugh always made me smile.______________________________"Happy thirteenth birthday, Abbi." I said with a grin, strolling up her driveway. She returned my smile, and jumped into my arms. "Cole! I thought you said you couldn't ma
StarsThey make me wonderWhy I feel so alone.
The Catholic AtheistShe says angels are the ugliest creatures. She tells me they're undeniably perfect, an adjective we strive to attain in our world, only to find we are ignorant when it comes to knowing the true meaning.She says they're so aesthetically beautiful that our eyes bleed when we see them. She is certain they are the reason why the blind can't see.She says our ears ring when we hear their voices, loud and clear in the night. She swears they are the reason why the deaf can't hear.She says our hearts shatter into a one thousand and six hundred seventy-nine pieces when we touch them, and then are quickly reconstructed using a hot glue gun. She is sure they are why the lovers are suffering.She says angels are why the world is full of sin and pain and loss and death. She knows this to be the truth, as she sits there, broken wings fluttering and halo crooked atop her head, and I cannot argue with her.
BlurDo you love me?Do you not?Must I wonder 'till I rot?If you do, you won't regretAnd if you tell me, I won't forget.
Please, Push me AwayI'm starting to n-e-e-d you,I'm starting to depend on you.& I'm starting to want you way more then I already do.From my past, I know that this feeling is dangerous,& All that's going to come out of this is b/r-ok/e-n hearts and salty tears, I'm going to hurt you, &
DisenchantmentI said your eyeswere ripe for stealing,but my fingerprints lied.They left a strange future behind us -dissonant,a discourse that bruisedlike braillebetween my gums.Don't sleep so loudly.you whisperedwith sightless hands.The boy next doorcan hear youbehind these bars,and disenchantmenthas left its ghostinside our pockets.
ShroudShe weaves a dress upon the loom,her neighbors knowing it's a shroud,window dressing for a tomb -she weaves a dress upon the loom.Forbidden fruit has scarred the womb,a stranger's face amidst the crowd,she weaves a dress upon the loom -her neighbors knowing it's a shroud.
The HighwaymanThe highwayman with dread-dark eyes,his stolen coat a wanted prize,will covet treasure, great and small.His wicked heart shall claim it all.He'll roam the woods and hidden glen,the emerald loam, the fetid fen.He'll shun the hunter's warning call.His wicked heart shall claim it all.He'll take the daughters of the houseand steal the husband's loving spouseand leave the corpse beneath a pall.His wicked heart shall claim it all.
WasteWe've ruined the lakes, the ponds, the streamsand marred our soil with urban dreams -Eden blighted by machines.We plot and scheme; we plot and scheme.We scorch the earth and sear the air;our poison, seething everywhere,destroys and leaves our country bare.We do not care; we do not care.Humanity has learned too lateour Eden is a fallow state;and what we've sown will nere abate.We reap our fate; we reap our fate.
Tame MePlease don't be in lovewith someone else; you could bethe one to break me
not quite a birdup in the air,suspended.is this the closest i'll getto heaven?gravity doesn't workagainst me,just yet.one moment of peacebefore i plummet.
SeerSlip the breadand coinunto my tongueand I will sing the future,waning like a brace of geeseand lighting the autumn sky.The threads of many fingersmake picturesfor our sons,their reeds taking flight,the grey pierce of canyonlike a steeplethrough my palmand the deft swaddle of irona cumbersome giftfor skin.And I shall bake angelsfrom clayand seek wisdomin the tragic discourse of worms,settling itself into the landscape.
WishesI wish on stop signsAnd kisses,Warm blanketsAnd coffee.[Because stars always have been a bit overrated]