Nov 30
idbailey23's picture

Ours

Even though I feel that I do not belong,
I feel that the world becomes easier.

Because I give myself to you,
When I belong with you it becomes easier.
I’m less afraid of myself 
Because I have nothing to fear in my dissatisfaction,
Your love drives me into belonging.
Into meaning deeper than myself,
My own belong is based on me
And better yet
Now it’s based on something more
Something that is timeless
Your love for me gives me more meaning.
I don’t belong, 
But I belong to you,
To you, yours and ours.
Thinking only of myself has no history,
It is only thought,
But we who becomes a they is now
A story,
One I intend many to read,
this ours I've learned to belong with.
Nov 29
idbailey23's picture

Winter Boots


It's the squeak of my winter boots,
As i walk down the hall it radiates, 
Its high pitch annoys the many.

But rather squeaky than soggy.

It's the awkward puffy appearance,
That stands out against the sneakers,
Stand against the ‘not yet’ of november.

But rather warm feet than small feet.

Because what does it matter,
Do my feet bother you?
As much as mine would be wet?
As much as mine would be cold?

I think if your feet were,
It'd be much more of a bother to you,
And I'd offer you a pair of winter boots.
 
Nov 12
idbailey23's picture

True

 Tis' only one who ye' shall know,
the weathered boney her shall show,
doth it may be the worldly known.

but I shall see the hidden thrown,
the armored wounds who hide below 
the pinked hart no longer glowed,
for they shall only know her loved.

In this shattered cove she lie,
​lies and lies ye, know her by. 

 

Nov 11
idbailey23's picture

English Breath


Somehow i've lived english,
Breathed words of love and sorrow.
The narration of my mind is one of a poem,
Comprehending the worlds actions in letters.

In a classroom full of words did she teach me how,
The colorful aroma of poems,
How did she do this?
Turn my mind into a never ending loop of ideas,
A questioning ball of roundabout answers.

Her favorite life is lived through people,
People of stories and how or why. 
Like a piece of vanilla cake,
We wonder where the beans had grown.

She taught me how to wonder
To look deep into the ocean 
To pull out the one blue starfish
And then to let it go.

She's taught me how to know power
True power comes from knowledge within
The omission of my ever growing
Power comes from thinking 
knowing what you don't say aloud

Her english breath seeps from my poem mind
Oct 26
idbailey23's picture

Checklist


To do:

7:30 am- Wake up
8:30 am- School
2:40 pm- Work
10:30 pm- Home
  1. Laundry (if its open)
  2. Food (if its uneaten)
  3. Shower (not too long)
  4. Homework (if your wifi isn't down) 
  5. Chores (Sweep, Dishes, Bathroom, Trash)
~1:00 am- Sleep.

*Approximately 6.5 hrs of sleep*

Anticipating…
Drowsiness
Appetite malfunction
Soreness
Headache
Stress hives
Irritability

Predicting…
People at home doing no chores. 
People at home are getting mad.
Work is busy.
Self hatred.
Depression.

Hoping… 
I can finish that damn checklist. 

Every. 

single. 

day. 

 
Oct 26
idbailey23's picture

The Same


The white walls and white halls are listening;

I listen, they listen, you talk.
About stories of love, 
And their Hatred of stuff 
The bad things being done:

We hear you; 
As I walk by, a fly on the wall, 
no more than a ghost in the hall,

I hear you,
Distantly; as I move through the halls 

I hear one start,

another finish, 

and it never gets quiet.

The quietness would be relieving, 
When quiet comes at least they know I am there. 

It's the sea of voices, 
the bits and pieces of ocean 
That makes me want it more. 

I feel estranged,
Only conditioned to the past social structures;
I'm unused to this way of buzz.
And yet so aware;
Of these faces i've only known brief,
The childhood I do not hold with these people. 

They eat the same,

They work the same,

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