Focusing on the
of convergence, standing in the hall
Burning me so wonderfully
Smell of smoke, and the attention comes
Men in white coats, so dutiful
Please don't put out the fire-
Dead Man's BellsKnock-Knock, greeting a dead man,
Offer him some tea.
Cup, saucer, brew
floral heart medicine,
a dose- times three.
Dead Man's Bells
ring up the walk,
and he's almost finished the cup-
We just drink and talk.
FlashlightsI run on the line, the straight line
Between the metal boxes
Filled with Things
Run, run, on the dotted line
Flashlights, explosions, silence
Fifty HorsesWe set out today.
Fifty men and fifty horses
Each a member of the armed forces.
We marched through the rain,
We marched under the sun,
at times it almost seemed like fun.
Supplies ran low-
We didn't care-
We were nearly there.
When a tree re-appeared,
Spirits began to sink.
And they disappeared- naught to drink.
When we were almost there-
We met our foe.
But we couldn't even strike a blow.
So here lies fifty men and fifty horses.
Each a brave member-
Of the armed forces.
BoulderI am a knife.
without a handle- a grip-
i slice at the Truth
speeding merrily through spiderwebs
Until a boulder blocks the path.
it laughs-Silly knife!
I am too big.
Ha Ha! I am too big! I am too-
ThunderingToes kiss the ground
to the unknown-
the Big Lie thundering
in my head
cupping me gently
over the madhouse
I'm so happyLook at the moon
its half full
Reflecting the low tide
It drains my face
Making me a model
I'm so happy.
My feet squish
the salty sand
A temporary imprint
On the earth
Laying down on the bed-
I'm so happy I could die.
Cause theyre afraid of thunder.
I need a partner
To swing from,
And I want her.
I'm a wolf in wool
On the dance floor.
CandlesI've set out candles
Rose petals and romantic stuff on the bed-
You love me too
Im still often in love with you.
your poemyou tell me on a thursday that you can’t find
the god inside of yourself anymore, that
you think that you are finally
too much honeycomb and not enough human
because lately everything has been slipping
through your fingers, and you don’t know how you can
keep holding yourself together anymore.
if today is the day that you look
at the stars and you no longer
feel their burn beneath your bones,
i will show you the blanket i tried to make
when i was eight, and i will tell you all i know
about the string theory, which isn’t much, i admit,
but i do know the basics,
and that’s that everything in the universe
is composed of strings that somehow
loop onto each other infinitely.
so whenever you feel like you’re
walking a tightrope without a safety
net below you, know that you are
thousands of tightropes strung together,
and one fall will not kill you.
i have never told you about the way
i can feel my pulse skitter to a stop
in my wrists whenever i hear you laughing
Little GirlThere sits the girl with the things in her eyes
Monsters, destruction, and sweet butterflies
Hopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screams
Beautiful dresses now torn at the seams
Crayons and paintbrushes, villains and grins
Young, gladsome innocence, hatred and sins
Little red houses on roads left to fade
Gorgeous moonlight shining off of the blade
Blood pouring out as she cries her own name
Knowing she's forced to take each bit of blame
She could have stopped it and left it behind
All of these things in her troubled young mind
She could have saved them if she dared to try
Rather, though, she left herself there to die.
Now, others watch as she sits on the ground
Keeping their distance and letting her drown
In her own worries and things she won't tell
Waiting for her mind to kill her as well.
Depression Isn't RealDepression isn’t true, my dear
Depression isn’t real.
It’s just a silly tragedy
You’ve forced yourself to feel.
Anxiety is fake, my friend
You wonder why it’s there.
But others have it worse than you!
Stop forming false despair.
Cutting is dramatic, love,
It’s ugly, and it’s dumb.
Why not just get over it?
Is the attention fun?
Suicide is stupid, dear,
And selfish, if I may.
Get over yourself, darling,
Can you hear these things I say?
Why aren’t you replying, love?
Oh, where could you have gone?
I never meant to hurt you, love,
Did I say something wrong?
Why aren’t you replying, dear?
Depression isn’t true!
Oh, but yes it was, “my dear”...
Just maybe not for you.
it's okay to not be okaysometimes it’s okay
to sit on the floor of the bathroom stall
and let your feelings gather- it’s okay
to let them pool like a lachrymose lagoon
as the inside of your stomach does summersaults;
I know these emotions can’t be tenderly released,
they’re not soft waves kissing the expecting shore,
let them pour out of you like tidal waves-
release the tsunami from within you
and I know sometimes the tears will sodden your pillowcase,
they’ll be juggernauts- those brackish beads
cathartically-cartwheeling down your flushed cheeks;
but remember how even the clouds
may cry tempestuously today,
only to make room
for much brighter days
so I promise you, darling
it’s going to be okay.
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,
And so thou shall remain.'
I will not let you have any other before me,
Nor can there be any after.
For it is your soul that I have shared
And it is your soul that I do take.
Your worship is the blood that flows through me.
Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.
I have accepted that which is torn;
And if you are not whole before me,
Then by my will and word,
You shall be made whole.
So fear not this frigid world,
Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.
I shall take that which has been torn from you
And weep life into it,
Until only warmth remains.
For thou art already mine,
And so thou shall remain.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:
I did not ask to be birthed
Into a cycle of stagnation.
I did not ask to be told,
That my dreams are achievable;
Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.
I did not ask for a failing system,
Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.
Nodding eagerly at one another,
As they wait for an inevitable death.
This I did not ask for,
And I am certain that most of you did not either.
But it is for that reason,
And for that reason alone, I say:
That it is up to us,
We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,
To create a system that is better,
Than the bitter shackles of the past.
Justice is what I long for.
Justice for MY people.
a list of things colleges don't want to know1. i have a cactus named atticus that i bought
on the day i thought i was going to die,
and i never forget to water it, not
even when i forget how it feels
to breathe without my lungs rebelling
against my brain.
2. sometimes talking feels like walking on gravel
in a Georgian summer heat.
i try to keep talking anyway,
and hope that eventually
my voice will lose its softness and grow calluses.
3. once, a man whistled at me
outside of a grocery store from
the safety of his car.
four years later, i still haven’t stopped looking
over my shoulder.
4. i drive too fast and i take turns too sharply
and i never put enough sugar
in my tea and i could probably survive
on watermelon alone. i’m left handed
and once taught myself to write only in capital
letters to piss off my seventh grade english teacher.
5. i have never felt closer to my father
than when we stayed
outside till two a.m. in november and watched
a meteor shower.
6. there are some things
i don’t think i’ll ever
melismai have heard that every woman
is either ophelia or the queen,
either too much or not enough,
either drowning or swimming, either
dying from grief of living with guilt.
but i have run past enough finish
lines in my life to know that sometimes
you give up and sometimes you keep
going until your legs hurt and your
what i mean is that i used to forget
that there once was
a version of me that did not
know the twelve shades of blue in
your eyes or what words to use
to describe them.
what i mean is that i still catch myself
thinking about that time i saw
you singing in your kitchen with your
hair down, dancing around to the radio
in a shirt i thought i had lost months ago.
what i mean is that i’ve started
ignoring you in the hallways
because it’s less painful than looking
at you and not knowing what
our problem was always that we
had too much water, too many novels
written in the backs of our mouths,
too many bones for our skin, too many