I cry I curl up and time stops until I'm trapped... totally captured I want to stop I want to smile and hide but I can't I want to keep it in and leave me to be but I know the truth will hurt me my feelings are too loud
Digging holes in the snow, These would be our homes. We are like an old couple, Bickering back and forth on who has made the best one.
The cold had made it to our fingertips, Our red cheeks glowed brighter as the bright flashing light moved closer to us. A loud roar creeps towards us by the second. A rush of adrenaline soars through us as we run away. We are stumbling, as the snow grabs onto our feet after each step we take. We feel the strike of cold shoot through our bodies as we go head first into the snow.
Wiping the bitter blizzard away from our faces, We watch at the last instant, as our whole afternoon is diminished.
We watch the light fade away, With sour faces. As if nothing had happened, Our whole afternoon had been abolished.
White flakes Drifted down to the cold ground Covering the dead grass with a fresh sheet of foam Laughter filled the air As small children ran out the door All bundled up in their coats, hats, scarves, and gloves Their boots left little footprints in the fresh snow as they ran
Their joyous laughter cut threw the muffled cold air As they caught crisp snowflakes on their tongues
Screams of enjoyment echoed from their mouths As they were called back in With rosy pink cheeks and red noses Their shivering bodies ran back through the door
Tonight I dream of red tape Red tape and bureaucratic lines and pens with clickers broken Of hospital waiting rooms with stuffed plastic chairs Little boys and girls patched up with stickers and lollies X-rays to detect cancer and gunshots to close holes Piles of paperwork, absolutely monstrous amounts of paperwork Referrals and specialists and appointments and cancellations And phone calls to those specialists to get the appointments back Crinkly wax paper on disguised autopsy tables Little rubber triangles to test the reflexes we know I don't have Scripts drilled into heads so there's enough time to get bagels before appointment four Hours lost in in-between rooms painted light blue A scratched up child's abacus and abandoned cardboard books in the corner Tied up in mazes of beige hallways I dream of hours spent in a dented green Subaru distracted by books
Last night I curled up with a good book Let ink-stained fingers trace spirals down my spine Papery hands brush damp hair from my face at midnight Caressed with consonants Vitrified with the heat of vowels on her lips We lounged under the moonlight through arched windows Recited lost Latin lines to marble busts watching Bound and embossed together
Words Adorned by graphite expectations Fingers gripping tightly To the chipping yellow nub To the hopes and dreams He’s afraid will dry up Colors Surge through his head Washing gentle waves upon his brain Gentle are not the words he wishes to convey Nonetheless he lets the silence envelop him Fantasies of freedom Gone along with the sunkissed inspiration And will to rise from his seat Choking on the dread that filled his lungs It smells of anxiety and highlighter ink many a homework assignment late or incomplete And of the many many people who may have sat But in this silence too, sink Wishing much like he that they too could be gone In just one easily mistakable blink He raises his head But all he can see is chartreuse and honey yellow Sharp circles and soft triangles is the cast of all his troubles
Here I am on the toy shelf all alone in the dark basement Forgotton dreams of the days where I was played with they seem so far away right now ever since he left for Montana Those rainy Thursdays in April Where I was brought out of the darkness Just seems like any other day now
Day after day I waited Waited for the time when I could be useful Sitting in darkness The only light I ever see Is the dim lightbulb above me
Finally he came home after endless months The feelings of happiness that were so far deep down Started to rise up just a little Only to be pushed farther down He came down the old wooden steps Happiness rose up again Until I saw who he was with Another boy took my spot
As his playmate There they sat in all their glittering glory
i fell in love with you on a friday. you had just flown back from florida the previous day and came to see me play guitar on a stage where the colors are the brightest and give us both migranes.
i fell in love with you on a friday. you held my hand in the back in the dark, stroking my thumb because i was so nervous i was shaking. but everything turned out fine because you were there.
i fell in love with you on a friday. you came over to my house and we sat in my room and at my piano, talking and softly singing and just happy to be together. your mood ring was blue: happy. my silver ring didn't change colors at all.
i fell in love with you on a friday. you gave me four painted wooden blocks spelling out my nickname and wrote tiny messages on the back. i think i hugged you for at least 30 seconds
I've read Orwell and Golding and Dante Enjoyied Twain and Huxley and Bronte Drank Vonnegut, Austen and Shelly Let dusty words fall in my belly I've read books about ships and great trees Chapters of trips overseas I've read piles of fiction without any friction I've conversed with Emma and Jane Tried to polish them off, all in vain And though I like the horses much better than porsches And tar can be overthrown by the sounds of cobblestone I'd rather read books from magical places Then try to end up in philosophers graces
Summer leaves drop with guilt on cold dew grass always when I am not watching my eyelashes seeming to shake them off the branches with each blink I wish to starch them flat with my grandmother's iron and try to press out the brown from their stems til they start to smoke
fall is the only season that cannot be undone that cracks in a day and shatters in a week
and when I draw shapes in the foggy window I watch them fade again and again
In the anticipation of fall colors, There is a smell of the burning of summer’s last great triumph The clouds over the shifting trees gild the ground with a web of drops The fresh rain tastes of quarters dropped in the gutter and wet wool sweaters The grass is spongy and in it’s green strands it holds tightly to the lost dreams of a fading season The soft folds of the hills's silk skirt drift over the horizon The piece of peace that comes with september mornings finds a spot to rest in the deepest part of a lake And all is still.
Some days I swear I can drink the sunrise I could race it to the horizon and back up again And if the orange tint got closer to my reaching hands And the rose mist wanted to waltz around my molars I would just become the colors myself Hands dissolving into rainbows trapped in dewdrops The twinkle in my eye coming to rest upon your windowpane My voice traded to a rooster, my lips traded to a mountain-frame Hair washing over villages of people still asleep
fingers sticky with apple juice holding the straps of my backpack so hard peel my small hands off, they stick to the rough straps slowly jumping up and down on my heels staring at my red brick school the bell rings and my hands fly to my ears the bell is too loud teachers with tired eyes come outside and herd us in like sheep and cattle all our footsteps sound like rumbling thunder echoes throughout the halls a morning filled with ABC's and Get to Know You's then it's lunchtime the cafeteria is loud and I want to cover my ears I sit with my friends a boy comes over yells something about girls and cooties and he runs away screaming back to his table where they are all snickering 'boys' my tablemates exclaim and giggle am I the only one that doesn't understand? the bell rings my hands instantly fly to my ears
You may be shy Or nervous Or think people don't like you (They do, though) But that's okay Shy people are kind Smart Trustworthy Honest They are super trustworthy And let you talk since They know what it's like to be left out They'll be quiet but amazing and kind and smart They hear almost everything Every joke and whisper But won't go and spread it around They don't get noticed too much So they'd be great spies Lots of people like them SInce they are not super loud And instead, will listen to their problems And give awesome advice They are a little hard to read But if you like them, just tell them And they might surprise you and like you back They make the best friends ever And even though they might not have as much as some people They have strong relationships with their friends They don't trust many