the standstill

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

It comes in waves,

everything

ambition, fear, self loathing, happiness, art,

love,

everything.

sometimes it's so deafening we can't hear ourselves.

lost,

we find ourselves grasping for a former self....

reaching out, dreaming of being the writer we once thought we were.

screaming aloud until we get it,

because all along I've been saying it

with my own two fucking lips.

you've heard me say it,

giving you advice...........giving myself advice,

that solitude isn't for the worst

it's for the better,

and that this too shall pass,

this empty feeling,

this writers block.

when our minds are blank and the silence is stunning

"let us sit in out banality and appreciate it for what it is, even if it means embracing the, all I want to do is get drunk and listen to punk rock stage."

sometimes I need someone else to say what I'm thinking.

sometimes I need to relate.

.........

we'll be free
when you can stop looking in the mirror
stop holding one so close. carrying things to fix who you are
when I can stop being driven
by something so destructive, wishing for the kinda of love
that is only about objects

when man is more than sex
and women stop trying to fix
when we can be ourselves
not driven by sex
not shadowed by failure
the failure to be perfect

whenwecanacceptwhoweareforthereasonsweareandputpurposetoouremotions

we'll all be free
when we can stop wishing
to
be
who we were just minutes ago

the last good thing I can remember

why are we so beautiful when we sleep?
dirty clothes,
messed up hair,
sweat soaked skin,
breathing like animals,

but still
simply beautiful

the first night of poetry

your silence says it all
how we are all hurting you
but that wasn't the plan
you seemed so shy the whole night
me, ashley, and megan were just trying to make it a good time

a good day to die
a night to remember
something we won't want to ever forget
I mean the name game was amazing

you were just somewhere else
maybe thinking about failure

or worried about the future
thinking our jokes cut like knifes
but these knives are rubber

poet after poet we all quietly waited
laughing and joking, drinking and smoking
talking about delivery like we were poets ourselves
like we could push our souls onstage
two feet from a microphone begging to bleed
hoping everyone claps and no yells
"you suck"

the lighting was dim
the counters were made out of some elegant concrete
and there was some guy with a his face tattooed next to me
but I didn't care where I was
I was with my best friend
that was really all that mattered

clearing out like ants
the coda collapsed
I try to drag you where I think you wanna go
but it seems I am wrong
kicking and screaming you let me know
so I push on ahead

walking straight to the front you wouldn't guess that I was shy
hugging someone I amired and laughing for a short time
keeping conversations on the surface talking about you
I was much to scared to speaking anything of the truth
through the doors and pass the chairs
raising arms, coming to save
me from myself and the shyness I've built

you asked her the only thing she wanted to hear
"how to you get up in front of all theses people and talk about past relationships
and ex girlfriends?"
her eyes where so big
laughing she told you something so honest
I cried in the bathroom twice before I got up here

I was standing right there
but I was only backround noise
scenery in a coffee shop somewhere in chico
no different from the abstact art on the walls
I was simply shoes on your feet
taking you there then just waiting quietly

the car ride
you just slept soundly, I hope you were dreaming of beauty
I hope you never take what I say personally
if you need something to cut I am standing right here
hoping to hold you up
I know you would do the same

this is my apology
in case I need one
I am sorry
jokes mean nothing
you know we all admire you
you just seemed like you were somewhere

else

some sort of attempt

conversation, conversation, conversation
listen, dream, do NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT.

Amy: just write exactly how you feel, document youself at that moment!

I cannot even begin to inform this paper how I feel.
sometimes I am scared,
scared of who I am.
I never yell.
I never shout.
I never scream.

in my head its different,
someone just throwing rocks at a wall,
wanting to destroy everything.
I am always screaming.
my thoughts are rich with everything I am afraid of,
but none of them are definitive.

I am always making these statements, and I believe them, but I don't believe in them, but I do believe in them, but I don't believe in them. I believe in change, but I never want it to happen. I hate my writing. I am not even sure I can tell myself how I feel right now or what I feel. When I was younger I knew I was in love with someone if I never thought of them naked. If I never wanted to have sex with them. If I wanted to be around everything that they were. Now I have all these strings I never wanted, but now they're there. I am rambling, thats my feeling. I am not in love with her, but I really could be. I think I might have this all figured out. I don't have this all figured out. This is my head. Wrong. Then right. Wrong then right. I stand defending her because I would be in love with her if I felt she really loved me, truly, but I am not right now. I don't want to be un-optimistic, lest I cease to exist

this is one of those titles popular bands make where it's really long and has nothing to do with anything written

two shoes
two feet
oh the things they have seen.

vomit,
drugs,
failed friendships,
heart break.

always walking away
proud.
knowing that they're part of something more,
they would walk forever
to show their worth.

often quiet,
staying under the table
when conversations take place,
they have nothing to do
but listen too.

watching me,
at my worst,
when I can't stand anything around me,
they whisper to me,
telling me I don't have to be here.
they can take me wherever
I dream.

someday they'll fly
maybe.....

wristcutters: a love story

I think I just fell in love with Shannyn Sossaman

So often we all feel like there is not a shred of hope left, nothing to dream about, that all our days fold into each other, making a huge monotonous disaster. So many of us feel there is no road to travel, so we die, release the pressure, spill it from our wrists.

dead
left to wander in a place less familiar, where no one can smile, but somehow even after we've destroyed everything, crushed, shattered, and smashed all our dreams
there is still hope for love
even after where dead

Zzzzzzzz

I want to lay down
and when I wake up
I want to wake up
next to someone
who dreams of heroes

so long sweet dreams

I wake up around 10:30 and I wait.
I wait for her to call.

No ring just stale air, so I gather my thoughts and take my homework downtown. My phone asks me to grab some keys, which I oblige to do. My friend and I sit in the summer sun laughing and relishing in each others company while the margaritas quickly disappear. One margarita, walk straight. Four margaritas, walk into traffic. We continue our day and travel along. I go to see about a tattoo but instead enjoy Brian's company. He is always so light hearted. The time ticks on and no ring. No ring. I join Aaron and Amy for coffee and we talk about being creepy. Criagslist postings are oh so silly. I finally find myself back home, ready to take a nap, wish my problems away and still no ring. I surf the web for just one second of my time before I unwind to find

Rebecca=needs to have sex with Eric

sometimes I feel
the world is pressing
against my chest
its waiting for me to cave in

are you alone
I am
or at least I feel that way
I am waiting
waiting for you

fighting off demons
telling people they're wrong
that you are more than clothes
that you love me
that you are so important to me

tell me I am right
maybe I am lying to myself
I am sure you can tell
surround me with something real
or world please come in

cave my fucking chest in

this isn't personal, its only against the topic

I want this to be beautiful. 

it's not, 

I want to scream 

till I am coughing blood. 

please don't tell me 

it's my body,

not when your using it to slaughter. 

I have heard of genocide. 

I wish we all could breathe it in,

 

the ashes of those murdered every day. 

genocide is happening right now 

across America, 

a child, I guess, is not a race 

it's to vague of a description. 

fuck .................. 

fuck you. 

I am on the verge of tears. 

I want it to rain, 

right now 

in my fucking house. 

I wish my tears were red. 

don't tell me about your body. 

don't tell me I cannot understand. 

don't scream for equality, 

and tell me I know nothing. 

I don't think I was planned. 

I am glad to be alive, 

that my breath is important to someone;

I wish I was fucking dead right now. 

my heart is heavy, 

and it wont leave my body, 

I want it to go. 

you want to control something, 

control your vagina, 

control your penis, 

control your fucking actions. 

you want to kill something, 

kill yourself.

11:18pm

is there such a thing as angry printing?

god and the devil are raging inside me

it's a war
sometimes I am not sure which side I am on
things I hate
mistakes I make
I continue to do
there is so much hatred I have for myself

I wish I was a plant
able to truly disregard what I don't need
memories
thoughts
actions
let them die
something that is no longer apart of me

God loves me
God knows I am made of clay
that sometimes I am molded the wrong way
my shape is not perfect
it's simply how it was intended to be

repetition

At some point repetition becomes tiresome. The lights dim, but somehow they become something else. Soaking into your skin, night seems like day, days last for seconds and nights become years. One would think that night would offer relief, but my mind won't stop running. It's the only time I feel I really think about anything. It's destructive. The legs of my brain begin to tear apart. They're running to hard, this kind of dying isn't an art. It crushes my spirit and destroys my dreams. Buddha taught that one should be attached to nothing, but what if something attaches to you? Thoughts of times now past play like a projection, reels spinning, playing all the moments where I am not winning. My faults become tears that I cannot dispense. thoughts repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat. Sometimes I think that I was better off a wreck, dirty streets, careless drinking, worthless drugs, and living by my instinct. We choose our mistakes and, oh god we try to forget, but at some point they just repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat.

so destoryed

I call
you sigh
it has been over five days past
I reach and you pull away
I know were all selfish, but I am not trying to hurt you
we all say love
but what does that matter

do you love?
can you tell me you love me with any emotion
lips are lies
they caress me
they push me aside
conversations spread over nothing more than a computer line
when communications are so indirect
life dies

please tell me you love me
tell me by pushing me aside
tell me by making up lies
tell me by failing to call
tell me by your complete absence
tell me something I don't know
or tell me your lies are just as shallow

talk is so fucking cheap
cheaper than the clothes I wear from time to time
actions define
words simply rhyme
they create meaning for seconds and then vanish
if your actions could talk
maybe love would walk
straight from you and right to me