Day 471:

when you speak
my teeth turn to milk
melt away like butter
like dairy
i am soft in your shadow
breaking
always
trying to live up to the creases in your palms
i want to create destiny too
but i am mortal
and simple
silly that way
with my skin
and stories
the ones you dont read
there are walls everywhere
we've found a way to hide there
be beautiful in our creations
the pictures we drew in the back of our closest
refusing to share
but wishing the other would sneak a peak

Day 470: sometimes, i dream in your prismacolor still

"I hear heartbeats and see crumpled paper when I sleep"
they tell stories of other palms
and skins
and bloods
i wonder how i fit there
if i could scribe you a letter than would make your heart stutter
would you read me proper
beautiful
i wonder
there are so many secrets we've come to be
broken in our own histories
pursing ourselves to be more then we are meant
and allowing our own failure to occur there

Day 469: fear

the body will bend
if you let it
teach it
otherwise
shatter
try to hold it too close
to safe
break yourself in your expectations
or exceed them all in bravery
your bones are malleable
myth is brittle
break them into powder
show them what you are made of
show yourself
too

Day 468: starrs

give me something new to breathe
in a kiss or
in your skin
hard
cold
soft in the same way
hold me backwards
the way i dont usually let you
tonight
lets me constellations
show our stories
to anyone
worth watching

Dsay 467: distance has nothing on difference

Sometimes I wonder if your silence comes from you mission
From my speech
From the sides of prop 8 we were made to stand on
But I want you to know
I could really care less about marriage
There are bigger fish to fry
But I wonder
How your prophets would feel about me at your reception
Someday
I was already not welcome in those temples
Even back when I was straight
I still didn’t have the right breeding
beliefs
trust me,
I understand the exclusive
Or at least I have learned to
But we used to be the ocean
The white wash
Now we are just propositions and picket lines

I am no more a sinner than you
I am no less human
So if its easy
You can love me like I am judas
Like I made some kind of mistake
That need forgiveness
Or you can love me like family
The kind we were when we still had secrets and silence
And questions we couldn’t ask
You can love me like that
I think
You are capable at least

Now
We sit an ocean a part
But I don’t think it’s the distance as much as it is our differences
You have stories piling up in blog posts
I read them all
Someday I wonder if you’ve ever read any of mine
Or if breaking this way is easy
For you
For the divine
For the enlightened
I think not
But can be sure
I am sure I don’t know you
I am sure I miss you
But not of much else , these days

All I know is there used to be a chord tied to my index finger
That could have extended beyond the pacific to you
Could have build bridges like golden gates
Or tunnels
There are ways to connect things separated by seas
Separated by distance
But maybe
Maybe im nieve
Maybe there is no way to hold on
When we stand on opposite ends of picket lines
But you should know
Im here by default almost
And maybe you are too
If you’d like
I’d put it aside
We could meet by the shoreline
Grab our boards
Pick up our mother tongues
Paddle out into the sunrise

Like we used to

Day 466: creation

They say it was dark
Before the burning
Before the explosion
Before our bodies melted into oceans
My father says it was dark
Po uliuli
The kind of darkness your eyes cant adjust too
The kind we haven’t adjuted oriperly from just yet
The night
He met with more darkness
Made love
Gave birth to the slime
Gave birth to our bodies
And blood
And the parts of ourselves we don’t show enough people
Our shame
It was created in darkness too
They say
That is where the secrets are
I think that’s what they say
Im not sure
I wasn’t listening
Then
I try to listen now
To make up from everything forgotten
Like the silence
Like the darkness
all the things before the fire
before the burning
before
everything hurt

Day 465: a letter of love

if you're wondering where i've gone
you can find me at the tip of your tongue.
on the words im not ready to hear.
loving you like you never left-
like i never let you go.

Day 464: hemmingway is a bitter old man- he has no flava

the man waits
the woman she cries
and there is an expectation to touch
but no one does
they sit
waiting
nd crying
watching the cars leave
wishing they were driving
or riding along
somewhere away from here
there is a child crying
and mother who doesnt want to listen
but here
there are no children
just the man
and women
waiting
and crying
wishing they were driving
wishing they were gone
whole
near the children

Day 463:the night

i often leave in the night
where everything that is loved is forgotten
in your darkness
in our silence
in the parts of forgotten skies
and constellation
where we left the moment of our bodies
dangling in your doorway
praying to be noticed
i levae then
when you are asleep
and i know you are breathing hard
and heavy
like you are alive
more than you are awake
i leave then
before the pain sets in
before the sun rises
and can show us all the scars
we have ignored
pretended to forget
that will never leave us
to be

Day 463:the night

i often leave in the night
where everything that is loved is forgotten
in your darkness
in our silence
in the parts of forgotten skies
and constellation
where we left the moment of our bodies
dangling in your doorway
praying to be noticed
i levae then
when you are asleep
and i know you are breathing hard
and heavy
like you are alive
more than you are awake
i leave then
before the pain sets in
before the sun rises
and can show us all the scars
we have ignored
pretended to forget
that will never leave us
to be

Day 462: cypher

often time i am afraid of speaking out of turn
so you can find me on the corner of your tongue
in your silence
in the parts you've hidden
in the darkness
where everything is moist and beautiful
but terrified

remember the cyphers in the center of your kitchen
where we learned that speaking out of turn was the purpose
so we flung our songs from our bodies
through our fingertips
in our breaths
in our stories

there are secrets there in my silence
in my fear of speaking
in that insecurity
the parts i am afraid to show you,
so beautiful in your strength
so strong in your beauty
i want to be that kind of sure
someday
in the middle of your kitchen
speaking out of turn
turning myself
inside out
from your speech

Day 461: Breathe again

Written to this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOwvpRZKR4I

We left the weakest part of ourselves in our tracks
Walking away
We learned how to pretend not to look back
But you’ve got a glow I cannot forget
It is yours
It holds the scared parts of my skin
The parts that shiver easy
The parts that remember the fire in your cehst
And call you everything
And forever
And breathe
And life
Remember that
When we were everything
The sky
The distance
The ocean
We were all of it

We live in the cracks of sidewalk pavement now
The open parts are rare and dangerous
We avoid those steps
There is nothing but pain in full view
Those are the parts that are easy to remember
Your smile
Your skin
Hard to forget
That’s why I haven’t yet
I remember all the language we used in tongues
And skin
And hearts
All the dialects
The conversations we held over each others chests
Now those are fragmented
And almost forgotten

All I have
All I need
Hold me in your hands
In your breath
Search for the beautiful parts of me in the streets we took into distance
The strong parts are gone
But those can be rebuilt
From the ugly
From the scared
From the remembered
From the young

We can relearn to beath
You know,
Its possible
The answers are there
In the porch lights we left on
When we said we wouldn’t return
And hoped in our skin that we were lying

Day 360: send me the moon

Written to this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RyV6653EUIc

Remember those days
When we wore our hearts on our sleeves like diamonds
Now they look more like smudges
Reminders of yesterdays
And promises for tomorrows
They make me uneasy
Make my skin flutter
Make me walk backwards
And remember the days before moonlight
Before we noticed the stars are brighter in certain skies
Before there was a color called “greener”
Before we learned what it meant to be breathless
And shattered
Before we knew what empty was
When everything was whole
Those are the parts of the universe I left with you
Under your sheets

There are constellations here these days
We call them by names
But I remember when we called them gods
Promised not to forget the ones we prayed upon
And that was enough
At least it was for us

Remember when we called distance the space between our fingertips when we embraced
When the ocean was just where we learned not to drown
Now
We look at her like the miles she holds between our lips
The wet air under our pillows
the emptiness we feel in the back of our throats when there is nothing left to say
and no one to confess to
when secrets were about crushes
not loves
we didn’t use those words then
but we felt them
under our skin
between our short breaths
when everything was infinitely simple
life was a bluebird on a shoulder
the only trouble was that we hadn’t yet learned to fly away
but at least we knew then
how to stay

DAy 359: nothing but nonsense

‎"yesterday was simply what i was, and tomorrow- even that will be gone"
in a world where skin is only as thick as ripped pages from poetry books
we leave pieces of ourselves behind in time
in rhyme
schemes mean we arent playing fair
but fair aint loving
fair aint killing either
she said we aint playing fair
but shes not the one paying prices in tears
i've got the scars to prove her mistakes wrong
got the eyes to call her demon in the middle of darkness
we are gone

Day 458: the fall

the orange maple leaves here remind me of you
remind me of us
hanging from a thin branch
weak
helpless to gravity
how we are stunning the way we fall
flutter
like feathers
crash like diamonds
stutter in the wind
sometime we make music in our quiet
sometimes we make silence in our tears

the trees change slowly in this season
its hard to notice by the day
until the branches are left bare
until theres nothing but twigs
and then you remember them being whole
but you dont remember the transformation as much
how nothing happen overnight
the way it seemed
how it tooks months to build and fall
how we took months to build and shatter

winter is coming soon
the environment is preparing itself in ways we forgot to
but spring will come after
the season we never made it to
maybe this time we will plant in safer climates
in places where the branches stay sturdy
and flowers bloom through december
maybe this time we'll pull caution back from the wind
lay it in our roots
remind ourselves of all we have lost
all that we have left
and all we have yet to gain

Day 457: thinking outloud

we wear activism in are skin tone
some of us are more authentic to the eye then others
some of us have more heart
some of us are broken
but we are all in boxes
we paint our neighbors
black
and red
call it a process
call me an ally
call you the prospect
who are we fighting for
not for each other im sure
barely for ourselves
there is always an enemy
today shes ,sitting in the mirror with brown eyes
chuckling
how far have we gone backwards
that we colonize ourselves

its raining in california
but its warm here in the midwest
im wondering if i left a part of me where it should be sunny
a part of what i am fighting

Day 456: hmm

im writing you songs on the inside of my wrist.
lyrics youll never read.
melodies ill never forget.
you have a way of leaving your taste behind
in your tracks
they are deep
carved
i can feel them
under my skin
like blood
cold
i am trying to sing to you in this space
but there is no sound in this vacuum
no wind
nothing changes but change
and time
nothing stays quite the same
either

im not sure what there is to say but silence

Day 455:

some days,
i want to crash into you
others
i rather just dorwn

454: secrets

Ive been meaning to tell you about the texture of your lips and palms
How they seem to sink into me
Deep
How your breath hits the back of my neck like bullets
Makes me stand up straight
Makes me wish I could do the same to u
I wanna to crash into you
Most days
But I keep these secrets hidden under my tongue
Where you can find the scars of passed loves
I want to lay there with u and feel beautiful
Take my hair down and let u count each of my insecurities
You'll call me stunning
And I'll wish I believed you

But when we kiss
Something seems to break through
The woman I am afraid to be breaks through this skin
The dust settles
Things make sense
Even being call beautiful
Its something I can feel with u
Naked on my bed but..
Those are scary feelings
They don't come out easy
So
I have to force myself not to tell you about how each touch of yours I've memorized
How I've written them into poems
And I've lined the inside of my skin with the taste of your tongue
I try my hardest not to write about you
Not to think about u
In your silence
I try to call myself distance
And call you the ocean
But I am a light house
Looking for lost hearts to bring to shore
And you may not be lost but your shining like a sinking ship
And I'm imaging us both
Hitting the bottom
Sinking in beauty
Suffocating in our pleasure
Praying to have enough air
For at least one last taste of your skin

Day 453: BRCA1/2

i've always wanted to be more like my grandmother
i should have listened when i was told
to be careful for what i wished for

Day 452: cold

the darkness is cold
your skin
burns under my blood
under your breath
i feel you sayin everything i wanna hear
but nothing that i need
i wish i could write you to this page properly
but this world is full of nothing but distractions
and i am failing at keeping my head on straight
my eyes on the horizons
my body is crumbling
the weight of your hands stings
there is nothing here
but cold

Day 451: short story: Hearts Heavy like Pennies in our Pockets

today instead of writing a poem i wrote a draft to a short story. yes. i wrote all of this today.. does that count?


Hearts Heavy like Pennies in our Pockets
Draft #1


When we were young, we would run out into the cornfields to the train tracks that ran through Birdseye. We would dodge the stocks and play hide and seek- we played all sorts of games. The biggest game we played was at the tracks. We threw pennies into the tacks to see what the weight of our changing world would do to them. We’d collect the flattened copper the day after and give them names; we’d make up stories on how they had been deformed. Jenny’s favorite was nearly sliced in two. She named it cash- we weren’t that creative then. One day when we were 8 Jacob brought a Philips head and we carved our names into the steel. Jenny, Nick, Jacob, Julia, April and Katelyn; each name was written in our own handwriting- mine was the worst- I hated the way my Y’s were always uneven. The tracks were old so some of the plates were loose so one day jenny pulled at the plate under her name and realized they was room to hide things and that’s when we started leaving parts of ourselves at the tracks.
That’s when we were young. And curious. And scared of nothing but the speed of the bullet train. That’s before we were afraid of the world. Before we were afraid to grow up. Before we were peter pans and wanted nothing more then to be gone- To never-never land. That's before we started throwing our bodies into them. Because we were trapped here and we wanted out- and we always said the trains would be our only way—if only they would stop here- if only Birdeye would build a station and we could board them with all our memories and baggage and leave this place behind us. We’d imagine a new world beyond the steeple of our single chapel and the water tower on oak road. We would dream of freeing ourselves from these picket fences.
Our parents used to tell us stories of the town before the trains. How things were slow. But Things still feel slow. The trains still pass by every afternoon and sometimes even the night trains come through. Birdseye Indiana still doesn’t have a station so we are 16 and 17 now- still watching the world change around us while everything here remains the same. Jenny, Jacob, Adam, Nick, Julia and I. we’ve been in the same class since kindergarten. We were best friends once- the kind that hung out in public. But we have a different relationship now. Jenny was the first of us to follow through. To throw herself into the afternoon train that passed through the empty cornfields that’s is Birdseye Indiana. We made the pact last July- when we realized that getting out of this town wasn’t nearly as easy as we had imagined as children. The train still didn’t stop in Birdseye and so we got used to watching the changing world leave us behind. It seemed like the only way to over come was to find a way to use the train to leave this place in our past.
We met under the water tower after we had all received an email from jenny about some kind of emergency.
“I think it’s about time we get real” jenny started
“About??” Nick was always the first to ask questions.
“About getting out- its not gonna happen. And if we don’t do something we are gonna die old and bitter just like everyone else in this stupid place”
“Soo… I mean, what are we supposed to do? It seems kinda pointless for you just tell us that—we know we’re not going anywhere fast.” April said.
“We need to take things into our hands.”
I looked around to see I was the only one understanding where this was going. I imagined a conversation like this to be a lot more emotional but it really was pretty logical; at least jenny made it seem logical- and we let her. Jenna had joked about this before. That the trains were the only way out and if they weren’t going to stop we’d have to find another way to escape. Somehow it always went back to the trains. Jacob was the first to speak.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asked.
“Yes.”
That was the last we really talked about it. Jenny would be first because it was her idea. And after that we were to flip a coin to decide who was next. There had to be rules. We all promised to follow through and to write letter. The letters were really just technicalities, its something we had heard of people leaving behind so we thought we should be consistent. We also all had to promise not to mention the pact to anyone- especially in the letters.
I think we all had our beliefs for what would happen after it was our turn. Where we would go. Jenny already thought she was going to hell so she wasn’t worried. And I think most of us just decided to follow out of curiosity. I know it sounds crazy- but crazier thing shave happened. But not in Indiana, not in Birdseye. Nothing interesting or crazy happened here. That was the problem- it definitely appealed to us to be the first and only interesting thing that ever happened here- that we could go down in history. And of course on top of that was the whole taking control of our own boring lives.
The town dealt with Jenny’s death in an awkward way. The teachers refused to talk about it and the principle, who was also the mayor, sent home a one page letter with a help hotline number requesting parents to talk to their children. It was all really formal; too formal for the kind of town that everyone knows everyone else. And of course we didn’t talk and our parents were either too terrified or too stupid to know that we’d be next so they kept quiet too. In the mean time, we just kept running for the tracks.
Its been 3 weeks since jenny’s been gone. 3 weeks since we stood in the hallow chapel under the stain glass and the bare cross. After the funeral we all gathered at the tracks. Where we grew up, where jenny died, where we were all to die. We lined up n front of the plate with our faded names and pulled Jenny’s favorite coin from under the steel track. We took turns flipping the coin deciding that the odd man out would be next. This time it was Nick.
So then it was Me, Jacob, Adam and Julia sitting in the middle section of the chapel in the same black attire that we wore to Jenny’s funeral. I think we all wanted to cry, but I can’t be sure. We sat in the second row right behind the family. Nick’s younger brother was sitting in front of us, bawling. I wanted to tell him about the pact. I wanted to remind him that Nick loved him. I wanted to comfort him- but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So instead, I just put my palm on his shoulder. It was becoming more and more clear that we were affecting the entire town. Families were crumbling around us but somehow that didn’t make us second-guess what we were doing. No one second-guessed anything until Jacob was gone- because the way he left shook us all.
After Nick’s funeral we all met back at the tracks. We flipped coins and they decided Jacob was next.
“I guess its time.” He said. Deadpan, like he had been waiting. We all were waiting as patiently as possible.
“Do you know when you are going to do it?”
“Thursday.” He let the words slip off his tongue as he jumped from each side of the tracks, flailing his arms through the corn stocks, as if he was examining his target. We all just watched.
That was the last time I saw Jacob. Now we were back in the chapel. Julia, Adam and I- in our finest black attire that we had worm less then a week ago and then again a few weeks before that. We sat in our same seats. In our same shoes. In the same order except now the seat next to me was empty- that was Jacob seat. This was getting familiar and it almost made sense except now there was uncertainness in the air. There was something especially unsettling about his funeral. Jacobs mother claims to have not found a note. So to the town it was unclear as to whether or not he ran into the tracks or slipped. But we, Adam, Julia and I, and anyone who grew up here knew those tracks like the back of our hands. We had stood at the edge of the tracks since we were 6- we’d learned not to trip. We knew logically- he ran. But there wasn’t a note. And we never want to believe in something dark if we don’t have to. So we say that he tripped. That he was misguided- Cuz we all were. Because to a small town there’s nothing logical about a boy running into an oncoming train- even if he is the third to do it in half a year. So we as a town decided he fell and decided not to investigate while the rest of us in the pact wrestled with the idea that maybe it was an accident. That was the problem; he left everyone with questions- even us. Now this wasn’t something against the town because we felt it too- it wasn’t supposed to happen like that- we were supposed to be in control.
When Jacobs mother walked to the casket I started crying. I think Julia started crying too because I felt Adam readjusting himself to hold her hand. This is the first time we had cried since it all began. At least it was the first time we cried in front of each other. Jacob’s mom gave a eulogy about integrity. About strength and will and she almost made it through the entire thing without breaking down. I swear she looked at us square in the eye. That’s when the real tears came. Because Jacobs mom figured it all out. And even if she didn’t she made us feel like she did- so it really was the same thing.
When we got to the tracks Adam was the first to speak,
“what the fuck was that?”
“I think she knows,” I shrugged
“she definitely knows do you think shell say something, “ Julia chimed in
“its hard to tell, but how the fuck did she find out?”
“First of all, Adam, Calm down. Second, I don’t think Jacob told her- if that’s what you are getting at,” things were obviously faling apart- I tried to keep them together.
“whatever, lets just get this over with.” Adam reached under the steel plate but instead of pulling out jenny favorite coin he pulled out a piece of paper. “don’t do it.”
“What?” Julia asked.
“That’s all it says, ‘Don’t do it’.”
That fall is something we carry every day. Adam, Julia and I. we meet at the tracks every July and cry. We remember what happened and we remember our promise to keep our pact secret but more importantly we remember Jenny, Nick and Jacob- we remember how they left and we let them. Somehow that makes everything so much more heavy. We don’t throw pennies at the tracks anymore- and we try our hardest not to throw our bodies. We have a new pact now- to live for them and to remember how stupid we were for not speaking up so they could live for themselves. The secret never got out- because if it did we would know, this is Birdseye- if one person knew the whole town would by know. Or maybe we all know and its something too dark to talk about, I don’t know. All I know is that instead of carrying flattened copper in our pockets we carry a piece of Jacobs letter. We carry a piece of his forgiveness and we hope that Jenny and Nick feel the same. We pray that we will see them again- and that someday the train will stop in Birdseye- that everything we tried to do actually made a difference. We pray that we wont be stuck here forever with heavy hearts weighing us down like pennies in our pockets.

Day 450: tugging along

cover me with smoke and magic
make it all beautiful
name me mysterious and lovely and beautiful
all those things you wish you could be
here with me
we can play mirror games
call each-other beautiful
and ugly
and remember how the words sting that way

Day 449: your lips

This is a poem for the texture of your skin
The lines on your lips
The taste on your tongue
For the softness of your neck against my lips
I have dreams of skinny dipping in your irises
Of swimming behind your corneas
of leaving parts of myself behind
Call me the vulnerability of secrets
The silence between your breaths
Pressed between my breast
You are a story that should be written
I am a poet who sometimes forgets to write of the worthy
But I think u are making me Better at remembering.

Day 448: forgotten the same

Jumper

Tonight
there are 9 names running down the list of kids we will memorialize
the template is familiar
we light a candle in our mourning
its something I’ve seen before
im used to this kind of sadness
the names are common
like holly, Billy, tyler and justin
these are people I could have known
these are people I could have been
people I have been
and I know I should be crying
thats familiar too
but all i can think of are the train tracks
Running along university
and the 5 crumbling bodies falling under
the ones with names I’ve forgotten
and all the other children
who were gone without notice
without us calling it tragedy
cuz we gave those words to Michael and heath
but tragedy
is not a drugged out celebrity
tragedy, is a girl having to throw her body into a bullet to be remembered
tragedy is our children dying
The ones running from something too big and fast to ever be free of

And I know,
I should be crying
But all i can think of is how long we've been running from these tracks
how long we been swallowed under
Taken asunder
the silence is gripping our vocal chords like the plague
so this,
This is a poem for the forgotten solders
For the children who didn’t learn enough reasons to live
This is a poem for the forged
The bodies beaten into sidewalk calk
The vigil callers
The ones who bring the storms
The tears come quick when its close
When its raining in California
During fall
It is easy to cry
But not so easy to feel
That’s why its taken me weeks to even write
For the names we trace in face book status history

To the boys I’ve never met
Here are my apologies
for the black and blue bruises
for the FUCK you FAGGOTS
i am soo sorry
To the girls
Quivering in closet liners
Hiding beneath straight jackets
Straight edge smiles
Switchblade wrists
The ones dressing into the genders they were told they had to fit
Trying to fill the hearts of men who will never fill their own

We are the same kind of forgotten
Bodies
Like our secrets left in the back of our dark closets
The same kind of hatred
Colored red
And black
Call it scarlet
Call it a letter on my chest
We are the young
Dying
Quick to jump
Run
Slash
Gun
Hanging on
Only by our necks
Waiting for someone to catch us
Or catch on
Waiting to be found where we’ve been hidden
With letters we never should have written
Waiting for a salvation
That’s too slow to come
Falling off our own burnt bridges

This is a scripture for the broken
For the ones sill breaking
For the ones barely surviving
I’ve erected a wall in your honor
Around my heart
With your names tattooed to the inside
Where all the severed memories are
Its made or plaster
But it looks like marble
Call my fear beautiful
Then break me easy with your sledge hammer
i’ve traced a place for you on the inside of my wrist
where I’ve held all my lessons on living

This is an epitaph for the tired and lonely
The ones who slipped under without noticing
Or the ones who just
stopped
running
The ones swallowed by iron
And rope
And left there likes old westerns
Like a damsel
Distressed
Wearing scars like accessories
Looking for answers in tissue lining

This is a eulogy for the ones who fell
And the ones who were pushed
For the kids who’s hands got tired of holding so they hung form other extremities
Or flung themselves into oblivion
for the kids who were tired of waiting
and the tomorrows that don’t seem to ever arrive
for the beauty in the broken
and the ugly in everyone standing upright
like nothings even happened
For the kids who are still trying to live through it all

This is a talisman
For the ones who are still here
The ones trying to remember a reason to live
Trying to forget the names and statistics
Trying not to let the falling stars turn everything to darkness
But its dark
We know
Its hard
And cold
And the moon is not shining nearly as bright as we need it to
And the suns been lying to us
Cuz we’ve got only thunder in these chests left

This is a song for the storm
And the train
And the bullets
And the blades
And the bridges
And all the things that were or will be broken
This is for the hearts that are still crumbling
For the foundations that still don’t hold us
For the pillars that are still falling
For the children that are still running
For the parents who still wont notice
For the teachers who still cant change
For the country that still wont speak
For the president who’s forgotten the taste of bigotry
honestly
For the people who been convinced otherwise
For the ones who are ashamed
And sewn quiet
For the last screams left
The bottom of the tracks
the back of the bus
The inside of a barrel
The edge of a blade
The distance in the fall
The darkness of a closet
For the difference in hanging on
And falling over

Tomorrow the news will be quiet
So will the president
So will the teachers
And the governor
And maybe even your parents
But there’s a sea of crying hearts
Weeping in your distance
Wondering if they’re next
Wondering how to stop the pattern

Someone, somewhere is screaming into darkness

Beautiful child,
this is a melody for your lonesome soul
because I know, the right play list can pull you back from the edge
the right kind of song can bring you back to believing
I promise that You will never be alone
As long as someone is still running
And someone is still falling
we will be The same kind of beautiful
With ugly secrets hiding in our pockets
letters that never should have been written
in regret of our silence
tonight
all the good poets are writing
writing
writing
writing
but a pens scratch is barely audible
and face book and twitter are still stuttering
so Tomorrow maybe some of us will speak into the darkness
Call out your names
Tattoo them to our vocal chords
And remind ourselves
That we are all
The same kind of lost
Children crying out
Praying not
to
be
forgotten

Day 447:

the ocean just got a little more narrow
i can see you on the horizon
happiness travels fast
i feel you moving on
i feel you loving yourself
i feel you love
far away
beautiful
a little less broken

stunning as ever.

Day 446: score

remember when we said
we wouldn't compare ourselves with syllables
our metaphors
weren't compatible
and we said
it didn't matter
it was expressed emotion
inherently beautiful
inherently profound

but we put sunmbers to your scars
call one more beautiful then they other
say why
why
why
why

we are not there with you
we are detached
placing you on broken pedestals
watching you fall

445:Dreams

call me by the wrong name
in the middle of the night
oscillate to someone else's heartbeat
just for tonight
let me be someone else
in your dreams

Day 444: trophy case

on the good days
i feel trophy like
gold like
sterling like
platinum sometimes
i hang on walls
pedestals
performed perfection
i've got my movements practiced
i feel like the picture you leave on your desk long after its over
a scar
something left behind
and tangible

on the good days i feel like a catch
like something to be won
and worn with pride

today
today i want to feel human
with skin
with
heart beat
beastly love like
we are full
like everything still works
but instead i feel like im hung on your wall
watching the spaces change
the seasons leave
like falling autumns leaves
we are changing it seems
but i am still a trophy
the kind that stay there
leave dust marks
absence
felt when
im
gone

Day 443: witness

so me where it hurts most
like fracture ribcage
where it taste like burnt toast
where everything is dark and chalk like
uncomfortable
show me that nasty scar
the purple bruises
i want to kiss you in those fragile places
where your weakest parts touch god
i wanna be there to witness

Day 442: sometimes i have no idea

its something beautiful to watch
but something else entirely to feel
we've got that kind of sacrificial love
like poets spilling stages with blood
we are the cut throat lovers
like yesterdays
call me beautiful look into my broken eyes
find something more human
than either of us could ever believe
you are the whole pieces that seem to be missing
a reminder that theres something beyond my skin
that has yet to be felt
properly

Day 441: you are not my moon, sunshine

i left an empty green bottle back home
hoping it would sever and sharpen by the sea
where boys learn how to break hearts
and girls learn how to cover up
an ocean that forgives more than it should

i left a beautiful girl there
crying
watched her fall more in love
let her become more attached
home is where you learn
that fooling yourself into love only slows the process
of a broken heart
only makes the shatter last longer
only breaks a little harder
i left her there
where only lost promises could hold
no tomorrows
i left her with a cord to hold
to tie
a bottle of vodka
a camerca full of memories

we are all shattered here
shaving ourselves into compact version
i wish i was strong enough to have love you right
to have help on
to not have remembered the other i had before you
its not a matter of giving up
and second tries
of what you lack
of what i deny
its the fact that my heart is like the ocean
it only reacts to the moon
can only conjure mountains from gravity
only call the storm through night
but theres no doubt that you were my sun
shining
the brightest part about me
teaching me to cast shadows
to leave something in my wake
to pay more attention
to see beyond routine
i cant hide the truth with you shining on me
cannot pretend to be moved
when in your light
we can see everything
especially the cracks
where we crumbled
especially the mistakes
we tries so hard to hid