The Bed Is A Monster With Blankets As Arms
If you find yourself knocking on my door,
Ask yourself how you got here.
Think about your decisions to get out of bed, put on clothes you probably didn't sleep in, do some basic hygiene care, maybe eat something thats over 200 calories so it almost counts as a meal, grab the keys you could find, and drive through light traffic to my house, step out of your vehicle and walk to my door.
Thats half a dozen of small decisions you’ve made today.
And maybe you didnt think much about them,
But its probably 11 a.m. and I only got out of bed to let you in because you knocked more than once.
It can be any day, and I will still prefer my bedroom to the people-infested outdoors, unless its a good day or past 6 p.m.
I dont know how to change that.
#unfinishedpoem
Kicking Depressions Ass
I don’t need to have a better day, I need to feel better about this one- Neil Hilborn, The Future
Most days the bad day crawls out of storage, walks in front of me and spits at my feet.
The spit is brown. I dont know why.
Or, the bad day is a cat that loves to knock all my unpleasant memories off the shelves in my head, so I have to go pick them up, and of course remember them.
Or, the bad day is whats left of the boys who sewed themselves into my skin when I wasnt watching. I kept all their bad habits.
The first one hid my seam ripper and I am too stubborn to buy a new one, because it has to be here somewhere. I am trying to pick the stitches out with my hands, and I just end up bleeding all over everything. I keep wasting money on bandages instead of a seam ripper.
The point is that I dont know how to make a bad day turn into a good day all by myself.
I need to hear your voice on a phone call, see your smile, feel the positivity roll off of you in waves.
I need them to smack me so hard I almost fall.
I need to be reminded often that I’m loved.
Asking for validation and reminders of the good in my life is,
honestly the most difficult thing about getting better.
This sickness wants me to be alone, wants me to have no other option but death.
But Im not done yet. I thought I was, once.
Sometimes we get so sick that taking our medication, going outside, talking to people, seems pointless.
I once told my mother that I’m a bomb about to go off, how I was so scared of taking everyone with me.
I don’t think like that anymore.
I am trying my best to get better, I promise.
I am a plant in a garden. I feed off rain water and sunlight, I just need someone to give me some help every now and then.
#unfinishedpoem
Even gods must sleep Or even gods do not want to watch the horrid acts that are committed in darkness Or gods are an emotionless thing that
Come into the house, hang your coat upon the hook
Ive never seen such eyes like yours
a hunger behind the irises
your mouth is full of thorns
ready to pull apart flesh but the kindness in your smile hides it
And I, I am clad in red, like blood or
The deep hue from the days final drag to someplace that is not here or
God closing his eye, even gods must sleep
The water between us hides my malcontent
and your misunderstandings.
and hopefully my body.
Let us meet, become one, let teeth, mouth, tongue shove its uninvited way into me
you sing let me love you.
The sun dips into the horizon
God closing his eye not wanting to watch
Not willing to see
Nails drag against the paleness, the sharp tiny teeth
The dark swells up, fills every space
I sing please stop
We both ignore each others song.
The Scissors
To be honest,
My stress was at its peak.
Nothing helped, not even smoking.
I ran a bath, tossed in a bath bomb.
Carefully placed a pair of scissors on the bathroom vanity.
Stepped into the tub when the bomb dissolved.
The scissors were there so I could cut. The scissors were there
because when the stress got this high Id normally bring them out. The scissors
knew what my skin felt like, they had been brought out often. The scissors
know their purpose and their place and hadnt been brought out in months.
The water cooled. Bubbles popped. The scissors sat, unmoving from the vanity.
They went unused that night.
Instead, I thought of you
One Night
I got to fall asleep next to you.
And what a god damn privilege it is. And I woke up,
every moment you stirred because my brain still thinks you want to kill me in my sleep
but I wake up smiling, every time.
Wake up next to you, to again fall asleep next to you. Nights pass within one.
A weeks worth of simple rousings.
You brush against me, my whole body tingles to your touch.
I am a crackling fire, and you are either trying to tame the flames or make them bigger,
I’m not sure yet.
You wake, completely and hold me. Your skin so soft and so warm,
I didnt realize I was freezing until I touched you
I got to see you two days in a row, got to fall asleep next to you.
Got to kiss you like three dozen times, each kiss giving my lips a deep hunger for more.
The heart knows time is passing.
Knows I will have to go home at some point today,
back to my bed that you cannot sleep in.
But for one night we shared a bed. Shared a space.
The next morning I opened a crack in time, peered into a possible future of waking up next to you every morning and my heart pounded with such a force I felt dizzy.
Closed the crack,
Drifted back to sleep in a bed that, for one night, was ours.
The Proposal
I wish I could do better by
you cause thats
what you deserve
you sacrifice so much of your life
in order for this to work.
Yes my bedroom is a disaster that is a burden to clean.
I go to bed when it is technically morning.
I sleep in too late.
I make plans, and cancel them the day before they happen and I dont know why.
Sometimes, I cry in the shower,
or before I go to sleep,
or anywhere there isnt another body.
They are signs of
Signs of
Signs of
I just find myself doing these things.
While Im off chasing my own dreams
sailing around the world
please know that Im yours to keep,
my beautiful girl.
One cannot tell a girl that loves too deeply
that you might just disappear someday
Leave Florida unannounced, go off to
somewhere else in the world and
never call again.
She will almost cry
stare out the Ikea window.
Her head full of water and glass
She willl try her best to be perfect for you
perfect for you
perfect for
fear
When you cry a piece of my heart dies
knowing that I may have been the cause
if you were to leave
fufill someone elses dreams, I think I might totally be lost.
You jump back and forth between promising me forever
and wanting to disappear
I will always avoid that Starbucks parking lot.
I refuse to write poetry for my significant other.
But my head is full music
full of water, and glass.
Full of all the grief that was once love but now has no where to go.
The love I wanted to give endlessly out of this fountain
that is my body, stuck this thick grey sludge
is clogging every pore.
You dont ask for no diamond rings
no delicate string of pearls
thats why I wrote this song to sing
my beautiful girl
One cannot tell a girl that has far too much hope
that this is the song you would propose to her with
as if she needed a sneak peak
as if it was coming so soon
she will feed far too deeply into the fantasy and bet her whole soul on forever
dream to fondly of the world you two would create
love you with so strong a force
she might break
might brandish
will
lose the fight with
a knife
I wish I could do better by you
cause thats what you deserve.
You sacrificed so much of your heart,
in order for this to work.
While I'm off chasing my own dreams,
sailing around the world.
Please know that I'm yours to leave,
My beautiful boy.
For Love Of Lace
I hate watching boys tear you apart.
I hate watching this fabulous supernova of a girl give herself to dwarf planet boys who dont deserve her
I hate watching from the sidelines as people rip your heart apart in your hands
I have always believed you were strong enough
You were always strong enough to take it
You bore it all so beautifully
You made trauma look easy to survive
Made bad days easy to get past
Your struggle was always something you were never light about
You always knew exactly what weight it made you carry
And it didnt bother you that much
In fact
It baffled me to see you cry
And you somehow could only cry in front of me
it made me feel special somehow.
I always felt it was just us, and those boys, they were just trivial things.
And I knew that it would end.
I knew the trinkets would probably win.
I never dreamed it quite like this.
My starry eyed girl
With skin made of star dust
A nebula heart
And wise cracks smart enough to make you smile
She was never meant to be light
Not supposed to be easy
This submission is earned but not so quickly.
A bit bratty. But shell melt your ice crystal heart.
She says no, and she barks back.
Her bite will hurt.
Because it has to.
Because she is tired of boys telling her it wont.
Her talk, her smack, her “mess with me lets see what happens” point blank dont fuck with me attitude is not just some act
Its her skin
It is not meant to play nice when she is mad.
But when she loves you?
Its different.
Its a warm sun.
A labyrinth of surprises.
It is beneath her skin.
She is the warm light bubbling up from beneath.
This static electricity.
She is everything she needs to be.
For herself.
Remembering
http://vocaroo.com/i/s1F582qEqyAa
This is a poem about my friend, who decided to jump off a bridge a few years ago and my incapability to remember him.