My mind is corrupted
by the idea of ideals
The mirror deceives
as guilty seeds grow
A hypocrite in mind
naive in to the bone
I feel like I'm out of focus
Standing by the riverside
Watching day by day fade by, so agonising slow
I feel like I'm underwater
Drowning in the deep
Unable to get a grip, as time slip away above me
I feel like I'm the leaf
Chasing in the wind
Living in the moment, taking nothing for granted
Death BreathThis is not guidance or help
But take my advice
Stop the stupid fight
No inferior dies
The hunger of the broken-hearted
The hunger of the broken-hearted.
He found her broken-hearted.
So he gave her his to mend.
It was all so very good meant.
But his heart was never true.
And when he finally left her,
She had not only cracks left,
But a fresh hole in her chest.
Desperately needing comfort,
She stole the hearts of others.
Finding some peace for a while,
Before the hunger came back,
And drove her to toss it away
To find a new and sweet one.
The hunger of the broken-hearted.
The shadows are whispering
The innocent words that to
The unfaithful soul becomes
The cruel but unspoken truth
Play one more time
the song we played
way back in the days
When life was fun
and time infinite
We spoke no bad
we were innocent
and always so naive
Take me back there
let me be naive again
even if just a moment
The keys are dusty
the melody rusty
From a lost time
were kids were
but innocent kids
With only one colour
Will I paint the world
All in blue shades
All in creme white.
Because we are all one
United and equal
No differences to tell us apart
The dream of us all
Being all as one
United and strong
What would it be
If there where more
colours to see?
A world in a mess
Not one alike the other
If yellow and green
And not red and red
Went hand in hand
What would happen
To the perfect clan?
We should all be alike
A copy of one and another
Not painted differently
Alien to one and other
We should be made
The same altogether
Not formed by strangers
Sickly obsessed with her body
She stands by the shattered mirror
Praising her hateful body
As she decorate it with another red line
Sincerely, Your NotebookHe walks into the room,
his feet stumbling
from the anxiety
that wracks his entire body,
and spits his soul on to me—
the black liquid thoughts left unspoken.
Tears stream down his pale cheeks,
heartbreak and sorry making his lips quiver,
and as his fingers threaten to wrap themselves
around his scrawny neck
and break every bone
they whisk away his deepest secrets
I want nothing more than
to be able to comfort this miserable soul,
to stroke my fingers over his sullen face
and whisper all the things I adore about him,
but I simply cannot.
So I'll let him tattoo me with his depression
and allow him to use and abuse me
any way he wishes
until his tears are dry,
his cheeks are no longer tear-stained,
his lips no longer shake,
and his fingers rest.
After all, it is all I can do.
Please Define Normal For MeThe teacher stands
before the class,
a ruler in one hand.
She taps the board
and pulls out a marker,
writing in black ink
define normal for me."
Not a sound.
Not a peep.
All the students do is stare,
glassy eyed and hardly there.
Once again she taps the board.
Class is still in session."
blink their eyes.
They look again at the board.
She writes her question down.
"Please define 'normal' for me."
No one dares to raise a hand,
but at least they are awake.
The timid girl, who sits in the back,
her hair dyed brightly purple and green,
barely dares to raise a hand.
"Ma'am, do you mean,
from the dictionary?"
The teachers smiles,
looks at the class.
"No, I don't,
I mean to ask,
what does normal
in terms of people's tastes.
What is a normal person,
It's plain to see,
in the faces of the "popular"
what they'd like to say.
But no one wants to offend
this amazing teacher,
I wish I would just die.
That I would run out of power.
That the other's would just stop torturing me.
That the other's would just destroy me and all my parts.
I don't belong here.
I'm an outcast.
A nice guard to play with!
Maybe this time I'll gain a friend!
But where'd you go?
All I see is the leader.
I hide out of fear and come back to see you again!
I want to play!
I steal your torch to start a game!
But what's the matter?
You look terrified, Mr. Guard.
Are you alright?
You're staring at me with those big round eyes.
Trying to talk, I think?
Suddenly, blood splatters the walls as the teeth of a certain one sinks into your brain.
It's my fault.
The one turns around and grins at me.
"Not bad." he says.
I stare at the bloody guard.
It's my fault.
It's all my fault.
I make a whimpering sound.
The one stares at me.
"Ya wuss" he sneers.
All I wanted was a friend.
I was never a writer. I: Halfsleeper
I fell in love, once.
A snowstorm melting from my hair - dripping cataract:
diluted coffee. A dark room filled with language
so beautiful, I almost understood what was said.
Children are getting younger, and this land has no end,
where do you rest your head?
All things are in a constant state of vibration,
a harmony in the space between
our fingers. our hands.
I’ve only ever stopped to listen
it is summer and i want to write you poems
about how it is fifty-seven degrees and i am shaking.
it is summer and i want to crawl through your second-story
window and tell you about the butterfly i saw and named "cloudcityscandal,"
but you are always asleep and dreamless.
it is summer and whenever i sleep i only dream about you, so how is that fair.
it is summer and i don't go to church but spend all my time confessing.
it is summer and i don't discharge static before pumping gas.
it is summer and where is my paradise. where is my sanity.
where is my personal weight-loss consultant and complimentary iced beverage.
it is summer and i am already wishing it were spring.
when i was five i made a green and purple
friendship bracelet at summer camp.
i don't know where it is,
but sometimes it's all i want.
you and i hike up past the clouds until
the rain and cold can't touch us.
we have three bruised shins and two quiet
arguments between us, and we name them summer.
(you climb moun
MatthewThe silhouette in the back seat seems to say,
what's a few more miles per hour?
Jesus, there ain't any cops around at two AM.
The needle on that glowing green dial shivers, taunting.
After forty days of temptation in the desert,
I turned his breath bitter and blue from nicotine.
The illuminated cone of open road chokes the windshield
And he cranks the gas, feeling his back press against the seat.
A rush of lines and blue-grey pavement.
His fists were scarred, probably thought even Behemoth
was wary of his mirrored sunglasses.
And he thinks: bitch, you're gone,
You're all gone.
Bet you didn't say your prayers right.
He grips the cracked leather steering wheel
Cranks up the radio,
His feet brush crumpled cans
Of beer and Diet Coke
And he feels them holy.
I made him proud of that stain on the wall;
Made his fists bruised from scrubbing and scrubbing.
He stops when it gets light,
Wheels kicking up dust under the dead tree,
Bone-white, like fingers in the sun.
The dust scratches his lungs t