angst poetry

Echoed between the rapid rate of which my solidarity flys through the vines of life so tangled upon my need for self exiling and my pursuit of progression rings flat. Like a soft dimmed note seeming to mock a call of more diluted easily digested time  of life, I don't listen that often. Something about repetition and insanity knits me close to the examination of my life, like a shirt corner grabbed by a child to stay in tow with their parents through a cloud of blurring strangers. I too am a blurred child holding onto corners, ones with lots of smoke and mirrors. Though I'm self consumed I often doubt doubreflectionsthe reflections, flashbacks of my same facade often bring me to a dark place, a look I've seen before. Something about the medication I take to cure being kidnapped by the past, human contact keeps me well, ivory skin and watery eyes are doses I seek daily. 

Echoed between me is the finish of lines I've crossed,  

Smudged and faded, 

I value transformation.

Echoed between the rapid rate of which my solidarity flys through the vines of life so tangled upon my need for self exiling and my pursuit of progression rings flat. Like a soft dimmed note seeming to mock a call of more diluted easily digested time  of life, I don't listen that often. Something about repetition and insanity knits me close to the examination of my life, like a shirt corner grabbed by a child to stay in tow with their parents through a cloud of blurring strangers. I too am a blurred child holding onto corners, ones with lots of smoke and mirrors. Though I'm self consumed I often doubt doubreflectionsthe reflections, flashbacks of my same facade often bring me to a dark place, a look I've seen before. Something about the medication I take to cure being kidnapped by the past, human contact keeps me well, ivory skin and watery eyes are doses I seek daily. 

Echoed between me is the finish of lines I've crossed,  

Smudged and faded, 

I value transformation.

Echoed between the rapid rate of which my solidarity flys through the vines of life so tangled upon my need for self exiling and my pursuit of progression rings flat. Like a soft dimmed note seeming to mock a call of more diluted easily digested time  of life, I don't listen that often. Something about repetition and insanity knits me close to the examination of my life, like a shirt corner grabbed by a child to stay in tow with their parents through a cloud of blurring strangers. I too am a blurred child holding onto corners, ones with lots of smoke and mirrors. Though I'm self consumed I often doubt doubreflectionsthe reflections, flashbacks of my same facade often bring me to a dark place, a look I've seen before. Something about the medication I take to cure being kidnapped by the past, human contact keeps me well, ivory skin and watery eyes are doses I seek daily. 

Echoed between me is the finish of lines I've crossed,  

Smudged and faded, 

I value transformation.

You were all I ever wanted

I gave up my life just to please you

It was never enough

There's always going to be some girl prettier, skinnier

Better

I was never enough

I tried so hard

I loved you more than I loved myself

I put you first

Even after you broke me time and time again

I turned to you to put the pieces back together

Honestly how messed up is that

The one who broke me was the one I craved to fix me

I craved your kiss your touch

Just hold me I'd beg

Just let me breakdown

How did you continue to hurt me

After seeing all those tears

(well that's all i can do, guess i'll come back to this)

I love you,

I love you so much.

The thing is it’s blind love,

I love you, but I might not trust you fully. Read more »

The power of the silence that befell the crowds.
The children playing with their toys, the moribund lifestyle that feeds of the stress and sadness of those caught in between the gears of existence.
The prisoners with their ankles and wrists in chains, the hopelessness flowing down their arms as they work the factory line, producing useless knickknacks for the people who enjoy the little amounts of entertainment that feed a system of social blindness. The chains rusting from the oxygen that swept across the skins of those locked inside the prison cells with the four walls containing the likes of censored knowledge and false superiority.

This is the world we live in. The one where we pay for our water to some unknown mega-corporation. Our genetically modified food to some corrupt business person who pays his workers minimum wage.
Our electricity from dirty sources of energy carved out of the earth’s soil.
Close your eyes,
and imagine,
158 different opportunities.
for an escape.

  Read more »

An arythmic tapping of blood-red nails on a carnelian purse blends into the clack of maroon patent-leather pumps on hardwood floors, bobbed hair whispering secrets into this Medusa's ear. A cool, delicate sneer froms on her porceline face, white teeth flashing under pomegranite lips. AShe surveys the room, no emotion visible under her mask of amused derision. She pauses briefly at a framed mirror, examines again the pale face and dark hair. "Mirror, mirror," she murmurs,a smirk twisting one corner of ther lips. Her brilliant crimson dress hugs her waist, shoulders, a plunging neckline an invitation to the colorblind. Warning colors--danger. Stop. Keep away. She turns away, walking briskly into the tiled hallway. Her eyes dart from door to door, seeking the number she knows will be locked. No matter. She has her key--of sorts. She stops at 257--the door is barred, chained, with its own warning scrawled in blue and orange. She moves through, melting through chains and bars. They fall as she passes, clattering to the floor. Her facade falls as she enters, eyes stretching wider and reddening to crimson, skin tightening until her bones stand out sharply; iron skeleton under paper, stark shadows forming against her pallor. She grins, revealing glistening, white teeth--sharklike and serrated. She nods to a creature in the corner. She knows it, that being, with its green tinge and long limbs--too long, sinews standing out as it moves. It shifts forward, moving towards her with a jerky, crablike gait. She waits. It will speak first Read more »

It could not be in just one place

Or even Just one time

It would have to be here and then there

And not but in addition to later

First the sun would shine Read more »

It could not be in just one place

Or even Just one time

It would have to be here and then there

And not but in addition to later

First the sun would shine Read more »

Howie Day's Collide.

A sweet song,

Explaining the connection

That two people share.

Describing how one,

Lives for the other,

And how the other

Supports that one.

Opposites attract,

According to

Howie Day,

They do too.

He sings,

"Even the best fall down sometimes,

Even the wrong words seem to rhyme,

Out of the doubt that fills your mind, Read more »

Needle noses hold the rouged swell of my lip,

peel away from my teeth and latex fingers press 

against the temples of my jaw. 

Agape, you can see my secret:

a dandelion head with perfect white spores clean

against the pink swell of my tongue. 

I hope you are happy now. You have catalogued

the shadows in my brain, 

pinned them like butterflies to display boards.

Their iridescent wings fade as the dust gathers in your office,

but you don't have to ask questions

anymore.

It is your misconception that dead things do not change.

Depressive Bisexual Female. 3.84 Average. 17 years old. 

I am not a mystery anymore, I am facts and numbers. 

You love static precision which by my definition

is an oxymoron, but you

my Precious Accountant, you

love a good fantasy especially when it's yours. 

Take an x-ray, sweetheart,

look at my lungs. You will place two fingers

diagonally across your mouth and your brows will furrow

shock and concern,

but my god, look at my lungs and see how

forsakenly beautiful they are.

They are filled with dandelions, honey,

they are dead and full of darkness, my love, 

but you stopped seeing

the potential for life 

that those tiny seeds have when you pinned me

to your corkboard and pronounced me

Deceased. 

  Read more »

There once was two men,

They were brothers, in fact

They had a deliberate plan,

To destroy one's homeland,

Tamerlan and Dhzohkar were the names,

One of them, in their head, had images of very violent games,

People then came from near and far,

To run, that is traveling either by plane or car,

Running for the kids in Newtown,

But nothing came out of this tragedy except for a frown,

On a poor 8 year old's mother's face,

Who didn't get to finish this race,

All because of two men.

Very stupid men, may I add.

Syncopated movements and slow motions,

Swallow me into a harmony of us.

In this world where you can replace the broken bits of me and let me hope for something good.

But you build me up, and tear me down.

I can't control myself, I want you, I can't have you.

You taunt me with your actions and trick me with your words, all with a smile on your face.

And I am just trying to move on but you keep pulling me back.

I'm suffocation in my pain and feeling the aches in you as well.

I am holding your weight and you don't even know it.

I could try to walk away but your slow motions memorize me. I want to stay.

The light touches my skin and yet darkness envelops deep within me. 

Is this what it's like to love you?

It's these simple questions that trick my mind and remind me to keep with the rhythm of reality.

It's dreams like this that keep me wanting to drown into a sea of sleep just to unearth such thoughts. 

She is... a... superhero.

Like no one Earth has ever seen.

No! You say?

I am wrong?

Let me tell you,

You will see,

That I am right.

She is stronger than superman,

Faster than lightning,

Has a mind sharper than a genius,

And a will more powerful than 40,000.

She knows the meaning of laughter,

Runs to the pain of cries.

She is always there,

No matter the early day,

Or the middle of the night.

But you turn away,

My dear friend,

Exclaiming that I am crazy.

No such person exists in the real world,

These are characteristics of thise that belong in comic books.

Read more »

It's the lost solice between the suns rise and it's falling apathy,

for those who can't see anything but the dim shadows behind the moon

and the rugid bruising of crators planted on the mind,

Restitution of stolen hearts only comes from the moments of fluttering eyelids

and frantic travels through the dreams that elude to be,

something inspirational as, you.

I can't cull meaning from diluted oceans,

floundering on the washes of color

toning down the affection of a mollified smile,

muffling the invective language tattooed

on my brain,

ingoble worlds render nothing but,

a cascade of a wan and wobbling world.

The town completly destoryed

Their is an unkown reason why the plant was one fire

The nation is having a tought week

The bombs, the town in Texas completly destroyed

The nation is at shock

I'm not tied up to anybody

would want to be though

I apear desprite

that may drive girls away

I am unatractive

i am overweight and have pimples

I don't like being single

There is a way i can feel alive

Blood, tears, anger, joy running in a river through

my spine to my toes up through my legs,

I begin to dance through

my arms into my fingers pressing down on strings.

There is a way i feel alive

when i feel my heart not in my chest

but in my throat.

there is too much feeling filling the cavity behind my ribs:

It pushes my heart and my tears to my head

where my words aren't enough

where the tears that fall down are filled with joy

and hurt and sorrow

And every color in between.

There is a way i feel alive

when every ounce of my flesh tingles with feeling

sobs and words and then silence.

in that one second,

when i am motionless and the only thing moving is the earth

spinning like a top,

when i know might fall off if i let go,

it is ok.

I am running.

Running from death.

Running from life.

Never looking back I run,

From the future,

From the past.

In to the dark solidtude.

Away from the bright pain.

I am running.

Running from people.

I am running from me.

Who is "me"?

I don't know,

I have ran to far

The history that screams of my past

The times that moved too slowly and the ones that went too fast

It seems as though there are two separate sides,

The good, filled with joy, the bad filled with lies,

The times of happiness I love to remember,

For the cover the pain of the bad that’s as cold as December

And yes, I promise that I know, that I realize

That everyone’s past is sprinkled with lies.

And it’s not the lies that bother me,

It’s the scars buried deeper, that only I can see

It happened so long ago

How could these memories affect me so?

But they don’t just make me sad,

It’s so much more because some memories are just down right bad.

I find that a single word or a quick touch can be too much to bear

For they bring back memories that truly make me scared,

I’m not just describing a “bump in the night,”

I am saying, a true, bone trembling fright.

Now that I am older, seventeen to be exact,

I always thought that I could push these memories back.

But instead I find,

These times, more than ever, are on my mind

Knowing that these things once happened is not what disturbs me,

It’s the affect they have on how I am to be,

The smallest, tiniest of things can trigger an act,

And I am mortified of how my body and mind will involuntarily react,

How do I not know that some simple words will cause me to degrade?

Or that someone’s touch would send me into an upsetting rage? Read more »

70 times I look at my face in the mirror

I smile at myself to make myself feel better

then feel stupid and turn away

not wanting to be one of those girls who practices looking pretty in the mirror.

When I want to cry

I laugh and pretend I’m in a movie

I imagine the cellos swelling up in an uplifting tune

and sun shining like reflective plastic through a window

glittering on the black circles under my eyes.

In a movie I don't need all that concealer Read more »

I don't want red meat I just want the B-12 tablets I can swallow back without tasting

I don't want flushed lips I just want lipstick to color them

I don't want the headache to go away I just want enough Advil to master it

I don't want to sleep I just want the coffee to kick in like the adrenaline of falling

I don't want to cry I just want to throw up the ball of nerves that chokes me

I don't want the pounding behind my eyes to give up I just want to surrender

But I eat the red meat and take the melatonin and cry quietly as Athena works on my skull

as if I’m her father god of thunder

If I was the god of thunder every day would be a storm

there's nothing like the earth rattling as if somewhere down there is a jail of starving wolves

there's nothing like the sky roaring as if someone threatened Ursa Major's baby

there's nothing like the lightning that gives a show better then MJ

there's nothing like the quaking windows that stand their ground so bravely

although they'll be replaced next year anyway.

  Read more »

I am right, your wrong let's stop this before it goes on too long!

 I said you were wrong, you said you were right, If this keeps happining there's gonna be a fight!

Now were agreeing like good people,

And we're shaking hands on top of the steeple!

I hear a bad noise!

Oh no! my phone is broken!

Life is ending

Hope

Hope,

it is in your heart.

In that boy’s heart too.

The mother sparked it though, Read more »

I hate your hate

You’re so irate

you don’t see the fate

of those who suffer. Read more »

Everybody thinks I am independent,

a complete puzzle,

I know where I am going,

I know what I need to do in order to get there.

Wrong,

Wrong,

Wrong,

Wrong. 

I am alone, 

but not independent. 

I feel the need for something, 

something to put some jazz into my every day life. 

But what?

Not a boyfriend.

Not a higher GPA,

not a new band to listen to.

A new version of myself?

Time to relax? 

Time to write?

Time to play sports? 

I just don't know anymore. 

What is the solution?

Is there one?

How do I find time to do stuff?

Why has society made me care so much about my grades?

Why have I let it?

I just don't know anymore.

I am tired of trying.

Trying to do well,

to get the 4.0 GPA,

to succed.

Sure I have a 4.0,

but i just don't know anymore. 

You try to do well to get into college, 

so you can have a good life.

But why is there just this stereotypical version of happiness and success?

What if my success is being homeless and hungry?

It may not be yours but what if it's mine? 

You can't just think it's dumb because it is different than yours. 

Or can you?

I just don't know anymore.