sil

here's to you, sil, you got me thinking.


Should I ask you what's wrong?
You smile and talk for hours
saying nothing at all.
Your eyes they lie to me
your back I know is strong
but there's no shame in leaning,
leaning for a bit on me.
I've been there before
I can help see you through
Should I ask you what's wrong,
or just smile and lie too?

bleh

im screaming inside
my teeth clenched
and arms locked across my chest
my lungs burn
with the effort to hold it all in
to never let you know
how much you hurt me.
i look in the mirror,
my face is a careful blank mask
and i dont recognize me
those awful dull eyes stare back
accusing.
the walls tumble down and
tears fall
at last.

It bothers me that I hate everything I write lately. Nothing is coming out right! So here is a recent poem (as in I wrote it 2 minutes ago) that's not as horrible as the others have been. sigh. This is depressing.

here we go again :)

Thanks to a certain someone who read this blog and mentioned it to me I am back on track! Hopefully after this big long break I can start writing new stuff and adding old stuff again... here goes...

you
and your shared secrets
your words flow by me,
around me,
but i don't understand.
you know
and you laugh
send looks and veiled truths
i sigh and look away

---

the stars shine down
out of the blackness that is night.
overwhelmed,
i lean back
drink it in until, lost,
i float above to join them
i reach out to touch
just to touch
to know
the
truth.
they flow like water around me
not really stars at all
but tiny pinpoints of hope
that are forever
just
out of my
grasp

i seriously need a new notebook to write stuff in

My life right now has mostly been a waiting game and a waiting state of mind is not a good one to write from. Trust me. I have like a dozen unfinished poems sitting around my house. That reminds me, I definitely need a new cute little notebook to write my stuff in. Otherwise I just write on random scraps of paper or in the twenty million random notebooks I have lying around. So this is my shot at writing straight onto the computer without doing the whole pen-and-paper method first.

...


...


...


okay scratch that I'm going to find a freakin pen and write til my hand falls off and then eventually put it on here.

untitled as of right now

i limp along
tired, bruised and broken
i ache with every heartbeat
beaten
no tears fall
they dried up long ago
you and me are like a train wreck
just waiting to happen
a big bomb with a short fuse
every time i walk away
you call my name
make a promise
i turn around
and just keep coming back for more

suicide for you

stabbed your knife
through my heart
twisted it good
then pulled it out

you left me lyin
on the floor
you were my best friend
i could have sworn

i hear the sirens
coming near
i'll be dead
before they're here

you left your knife
and your prints
the police will know
that you did this

someone's pounding
on the door
i grab the knife
and pull it close

i wipe the handle
smear the blood
it's the last thing
i'll do for us

i know you'll stand
right by my grave
wearing black
and feigning pain

pretend to wonder
with all the rest
why i would end
my life like this

10/27/2010 1:30 am

dREam

I am a dreamer
but my dreams are reality,
stone cold
and just out of touch.
I sink beneath cool waves of darkness,
clumsy and slow.
I drink the air around me
and choke.
I am empty inside
and the memory of warmth
is killing me.