yeah, i write poems. it seems like i only write them when i'm really fucking depressed, though. I've been going through a lot of bullshit and I'm recovering, slowly. part of my recovery is writing these damn poems. so, get out your hankies, folks. and enjoy.

poems.

(yes, they're all by me. duh.)

"I'm beat down and half brain dead, the long lost king of fools I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid enough to stay with you."                      -Green Day, "Stuart And The Av."

i am lost alone and uncomfortable something is missing why do i continue to torture myself when i cannot change a thing is there some magic word that should be on my lips that i can utter and make everything okay again? stop infecting my brain i just wish you would go away but i don't, really i wish and i wish and i wish and all i ever get is what i don't want maybe i should stop all this wishing confronting my fears has never been so useless confronting myself has never been so painful confronting you has never been so unfortunate. i used to think i understood but all i understand is pain and confusion where the hell are you when i need you most? in your own realm of pain and confusion, i suppose. funny how yours is decorated just like mine.

sleep is like a dirty bandage that covers my mind it only hides the wounds but it does not heal them i want to fly but my wings are gone i've walked down so many paths that i don't know where i made that fatal wrong turn. all i see are dead trees unlit fireflies butterflies with broken wings and only one path dark and narrow and there is no one to help light the way no one to hold my hand while i tread on the clay and stones i am afraid i am alone i am lost here am i dreaming? cold fear rushes through me heart pounding my teeth chatter my limbs shake i must walk into the unknown and i must do it alone.

cold hands around my neck squeeze until i lose conciousness peace rest next time, just keep squeezing so that i don't open my eyes and see your beautiful face and wonder if this is the last time am i dwelling? well, can you blame me? now i'm nothing.

i'm taking a walk as far away from you as i can get until the invisible cord that connects us finally fucking breaks. there's too much pain too much confusion just... too much. maybe i'll come back maybe i won't but before love turns into loathing i have to take a walk. a long, tiring walk, the kind that makes my thighs ache and my feet cramp so i can balance out the mental pain with the physical. if my mental wounds were made flesh, i would be a charred heap of ash but  i'd rather be a whole person so the next time someone hurts me (and they will) i'll be just numb enough to take it and walk from it again.

i've been lying here for hours in this cold room insomnia wrenching my brain along with the thoughts and the silent tears and the words i cannot speak watching you sleep your eyelids twitch your breath unintelligible dream words and all i can do is sigh as i watch look away, I can't close my eyes i'm only hurting myself no part of me is numb, yet it's like everything is wrong with me at once i ache my guts churn violently my head throbs and my heart won't stop beating. dammit. i don't want to be here hurting but i can't move and i doubt i'll feel better anywhere else anyway loud music on the radio outside and every fucking song reminds me of what i won't have anymore.

I hate holidays. especially my birthday. but just when the depression from how shitty my personal holiday was starts to go away, along comes VALENTINE'S DAY. Valentine's Day, the scourge of all holidays. Every Valentine's Day, just like every birthday, is the same. i always cry all day. So fuck you with your bouquet of red roses and fuck you with your heart-shaped box of chocolates fuck you with your ugly, cheap teddy bears and lingerie and expensive perfumes. If that's love, then I hope every Valentine's Day from now until i die, makes me want to commit suicide in several clever ways.

Holding you here it feels like nothing ever changed so why do i feel like you want me to let you go? i'm not ready for that and i don't think you are either but you can't see through the fog that drifts in front of your eyes like i can you can trust me. i will remain here until the end. will you?

where is my mind? it never left, silly girl. not like everything else. will i remain apathetic and angsty forever, or will a brilliant and shining ray of light see me through? you've come to me once again, in your cloak of mixed emotions; your confusion is enough to freeze my soul. when you gonna make up your mind? when you gonna love you as much as I do? patience. patience. patience. it is all i have left it is all i can use it is all i can hide behind until you come back to the real you.

Sometimes I do stupid shit, and I have to wonder why It’s all such a waste of time when I do anything to make myself cry. Maybe I have it in for myself, maybe I like the pain Maybe I’m just confused and alone and I don’t want to be Because I’m afraid Solitude is such a frightening concept Because I can’t remember what it’s like But perhaps it’s waiting for me with open arms And I should embrace it Or  live life the way everyone else wants me to. No, I can’t do that Not anymore I have to face my demons And progress to the next stage Or be forever trapped in this neverending circle Of insecurity, lust, hate, and everything that I don’t want for myself Or for you.

If I die today, I will come back to haunt you. I will watch you sleep, I will long for you. I will come to you in your dreams and make you walk into the places that you are too afraid to go alone. I will guide you, I will love you, I will possess you. You’ll remember me like a melody, and you’ll wonder what it is about me. But you will awaken alone and cold And you will long for sleep And when you do, I will have gone. When you need me most is when I will have to leave. Life is just funny like that.

Days go by And with every moment I miss you more. I'm sorry that I am so selfish I wish I had a clue I wish I could be everything to you. I miss your touch And the way you smile And how you always make me feel wanted, loved, and worthwhile. I know I am all these things to you, And you are all of these things to me, But for what it’s worth, I’d take everything back To have my one and only best friend here With me.

You have fire upon your fingertips and yet I want you to touch me. I must be blind, I must be numb. But I am not. If only I were, then maybe I could know bliss. When you look through the blue flaming windows of my soul, do you see yourself, or do you see fear? You are not the one who should be afraid, love. I am shaking and cold. I don’t know warmth. it knows me all too well and that is what keeps you coming back. But the warmth is not enough – it is not solid and real and it doesn’t take away the cold shadow of doubt that hangs over your eyes, blinding you to the truth. Will your fire nourish, or will it destroy? Jane says, “I’ve never been in love, I don’t know what it is.” She only knows if someone wants her. I long for emptiness now because I know it is coming for me soon. It is coming, it wants me, it wants to eat me alive and swallow me whole. And you won’t protect me from that. So I will eat your fire and save myself from your destruction, because I cannot go with you. You can slither away into your dark cave of loneliness, you can breathe your fire on one who will be nourished by the flames. This bird must fly, and she can’t do that with charred and broken wings.

Scituate Harbor, circa 1996. nights spent sitting on curbs covered with wax the sound of skateboard wheels against pavement the occasional scratch of a deck against a curb. fugazi playing on someone's car radio. the door ajar, the volume at ten. a bottle of dew in one hand a marlboro in the other talk of who will inherit a chunk of Brendan's lungs when he dies-so we can scrape them, smoke the resin, and get high in his memory. heading to the snack bar at Purity (that's where the conversation about who's in Brendan's will was...) watching the cashiers count out -  and glad I'm not among them. looking out the huge glass window random skaters across the small parking lot doing tricks in front of the bank. into the old land rover on a quest for weed, man... "You got any buds, guy?" incense burning as we huddle together in back holding on as the shockless jeep bangs over bumps in the road. back to the harbor boats stirring quietly the whirring of wheels on pavement. laughter. nofx. skateboards. cigarettes. i miss those days.

Jamie. the scent of big red gum the final episode of the wonder years my introduction to White Zombie The Cure and "Bob". a book with actual pictures of hermaphrodites! toaster strudels never with enough frosting. tales of ex-boyfriends the way she wore her eyeliner a sweet, yet subtle southern accent. eyes like that of an infant I wonder what she remembers when she thinks of me.

I can feel the silence echoing in distinct vibrations through my head sadness the only feeling interfering like silky black ink billowing into the crystal clarity of my mind, and of my silence. I know I should speak, the music is too loud, my voice is too weak, I keep my eyes open and my mouth closed. Wandering effortlessly across the pavement and its lines, a sweet smell infiltrating my senses until I am numb. I can smile now but the smile feels forced, like I have no real feeling; i have become the mask I wear and it is a tight, uncomfortable fit. "Sleep. Those little slices of death. How I loathe them." Oh yes, how I loathe them, but how I yearn for them. Love and hate, lust and violence: a vicious circle neverending. You come to me in your cloak of mixed emotions, and just being in your presence is enough to make confusion arrest my brain until I cannot think for myself anymore. I need my independence. I need to rip off the mask and just be. Solitary, alone, taken care of by fate and my own decisions. The healer is far too wounded to mend any wounds but her own, and she sleeps to heal. With sleep comes more confusion and fate is becoming that dirty whore that she has always been afraid of becoming. No drug can cure this internal turmoil. Only time, love, and a stronger hand of healing. When she comes for me, I will be ready. And when she takes me into her arms and I can smell her sweet, pale flesh, I will become healed and I will become whole. And the darkness will never have felt so inviting and warm.

you are the secret i'm possessing a scarlet feverish dream with no escape. fog is somehow clearer stone is so much warmer chains are tighter and all i feel is the drifting the dreaming the wanting the waiting. tease me with your mystery and wonder oh daddy, you're the king slither around me bind me tighter taste my flesh my blood my soul when i can no longer wait only then will i be whole.

for a good friend. there is something to be said for fate. some don't believe in it. some believe too strongly. i know fate somehow brought you to me, and i'm glad. i'm happy. there is something to be said for jealousy. some have it. no, everyone has it. it's just that some have it more than others. i'm sorry. there is something to be said for love. some will never know it. some will know too much. i have that curse. sometimes i really wish i didn't. there is something to be said about understanding. some can understand. some won't. you understand me so well. i don't understand you yet. but i will. fate. jealousy. love. understanding. there is something to be said about all these things, but it would be better to not say anything at all.