Friday, January 11, 2013

Hiatus

Hello everyone,


So sorry for not posting lately. I've entered a hardship and for now: the Pretty Project is being put on Hiatus. HOWEVER, we plan to be back at the end of March--- so fear not, fellow pretty people:

I'll


Be



BACKKKK



- Hayley Michelle

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

The sound of glass falling

Leave your reasons on the bathroom sink
Take a deep breathe
feel the water inside your chest
and keep breathing in.

The sound of glass falling
breaks the concentration
circling the drain--

Leaving you thinking---

what was I doing--- or why didn't I do---

So maybe not today.

But there is always tomorrow.

Monday, November 12, 2012

To Be Hated

HELLO EVERYONE!!! Due to SANDY, we have been quite off track. However, it is going to take a lot more than a hurricane to de-rail this train! SO we are continueing scheduel as planned. ♥

So this week is Sucicide and Bullying week. TO start, I wanted to share a good friend of mine's post about what I am wrighting today. Her post inspired me to write what is below. Check her out, subscribe: She is the creator of The Bing-Love-Purge-Hate Campeign!!!!

http://bridschwartz.blogspot.com/2012/10/102512.html

Kenneth Weishuhn

"Mom, you don't know how it feels to be hated."

You don't know how it feels to have that knife in your throat-
So I can't speak up about it.

They were too cruel to to stab me in the back;
So they took their empty words and violent threats to the world.

They  put my names on their lists.

Written on the bathroom stall,
inside the hurt locker of their minds.
In the wispers of their rage.

Mom, you will never know how it feels to be hated.

To have those hands in which were made to comfort,
turned on their back sides- against my face.
They sound in my ears as they scream FAGGOT
forever on the answering machine.

"Keep Hanging in there"
I wrote on my inspiration walls.

I did.

And even when I took that long jump from my bed to the undiscovered contry;
They still hated me.

I hope you never know what it is like to be hated:
But I was told that death knew how to love more than life.


Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Breathe...In....Out

I don't remember how to breathe,
I must have forgotten along the way;
Standing on the cliffs over looking
The mountains that sink into
Water or something deeper.
Who needs air when we have nerves.

Right?


I am right, right?

Well maybe I'm left.
Turning into the elbows
Off the roadway
I parked and sat there for
And hour or so
Repeating those words on the
Screens spread wide
For everyone to see

I was terrified,
I am terrified that everyone would see
Will see

Saw

The remains of my youth
My passion

That rejection letter stamped on my hands
Branded into my skulls and bones
Agonizing with the sounds of
Absolute and un-promising

Failure.

Time goes on,
Time heals everything
But failure--- failure is wasted time

And you can't get time back
You can't replace or pause or steal or hold onto it

So I can't hold onto me.


Because I am failure.
Inside my blood
Boiling to a frozen state of
Anger
And Rage
Utter disappointment

Because you were my net
But I feel through into the arms
Of the mosh pits

So the world can see and comment on my life
As a post with the words
On top of our car roofs
By the edge of the cliffs


If this was a post you'd comment

Jump


And maybe I would
Because all I have ever wanted to do is please you

But maybe...

Maybe I'd just suspend my legs
Over the world and cry wolf
So you would come running down the sidewalks
screaming fire
Clearing out the movie theatres
To save me....

But this is not gone with the wind:
And I know you "Frankly, don't give a damn"

I don't wear curtains.

So I freak out because
I'm just not that girl

I go into my roof and hold my
Lungs in a hug
Until they burst, or feel like bursting

And then air rushes through my body
And I---


Remember.

How to breathe.

In
And
Out

In
And
Out

Then my feet lift

And I remember how to breathe again.


In

And

Out

Monday, October 22, 2012

Fish Girl

Starting the 2week blogging session about bullying and Suicide. This is a very serious topic; and I hope I can honor that in which so many people buckle under the stress and strain that a bully can put a person through....
But today, to start: I wanted to talk about the bully.
 
***
I never thought about her.
 
Not often, I mean.
 
That harsh radiance
That exuberance
Of her ever fainted frown
 
I...
 
I never really paid attention to the crown of her head
Split down the middle as hair began to form
Covering up what could be mistaken
As thoughts but I never really paid attention to it
 
So maybe they were,
But maybe they were the truth.
 
That would explain a lot.
 
That would explain everything.
 
She had beautiful wrists.
Tiny and nimble
Wrapped around a palm when I grabbed onto her
From pinky to thumb
Oh, hush tone now.
You talk too much without saying words
Just sounds
That no one can make sense of
So no one comes to rescue you from
Under the garbage bags…
 
She smelled of fish.
 
I remember that.
 
That guttural urge I got when I looked at her.
 
She was a fish
She belonged in water
She floated to the top
Upper belly
She can't swim
She was pushed in
She
 
She sank to the bottom of a test tube
Swiveled around
Passed in the papers
 
She slept with the fishes for all I know.
 
Now we all know, I guess
 
But water would never be the death of her,
Because water is like concrete:
It held her down as it filled inside her ears
Ringing and popping like
Fireworks in her eyes
Blinding everyone else
And they never saw what She
What I…
 
She was invisible.
 
The tiny little rock floating in orbit
Around the planets and stars
I knocked her out of orbit
Crashing into the earth
But she must have burned up in the atmosphere
As she descended
 
Down
 
Down
Down
 
Down
 
And hid herself in the earth
Away from the sun beams
Away from the stars and away from...
 
Sometimes I wish she never existed,
But days like this I hate her-I..
 
She never did anything but breathe the air in which
All creatures share but I
I guess I took it too personally
Because I'm not good with sharing
See
 
I'm the girl who hands bigger than her head
Who goes to hug and strangles instead
I can't lift your spirits
But I sure can lift you into the air; high
Throw you into the dumpster left for the night vultures
I can't –
 
I can't swim either
But I don't sink down into the earth
 
I stay.
I sit.
 
I shy away from those thought bubbles bursting from her head
So maybe...
 
Maybe
 
Maybe that's why I smashed it into the lockers
Maybe that's why I covered her head in day old lunchables
Pushed her into the pools of everything I just didn't want to hear, to face;
 
To be---
 
I never payed attention to her.
I guess everyone else is now.
 

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Paper Planes and Rubix Cubes

You’re enjoying this...

I think that's what hurts the most.

The smile on your fingertips
As they forcibly lace into my hair
The comfort of the bed-side
Holding me unbreakably
As I am covered in a knife called kisses.

These bones, like paper planes
Leave nothing but dreams and paper-cuts
As the Rubix Cube of my mind
Is colored in black and white
Endlessly being picked apart at your leisure.

You'll never understand.

Then again,
It's not like you're trying to.

I want to run away from you
But these feet were made dancing
And certainty not for back-tracking
I have been watching the waltz for so long
I can barley count the rhythms
Of my own heartbeat.

One
.
.
Two
.
.
Three
.
.
It's disgusting.

These paper planes can't fly,
They can only jump and hide.

I don't hide,
I can't hide,
I won't hide.

There is nowhere to hide.

Because the facts are that monster don't live under the bed,
They're lying next to you in bed.

And I'm just glad you’re not a necrophilia,
Just an insomniac.

I've stopped sleeping.
And with that, dreaming.
Because it has gotten to the point were
I can't tell the deference between
Nightmares and Reality
And dreams are just hints of the future
That don't look too bright for either of us.

Please.

I'm not going to fight you,
Because fighting is immature;
And I'm not going to kill myself
Because suicide is selfish.

I'm not going to talk
Because selling out is weak.

I can't do anything....


And it hurts that you enjoy that.

Monday, October 15, 2012

How To Spell Love

I'm a fool
But I'm not stupid.

So don't think I don't feel the arrows in my back
When I turn and hug you
Saying it is going to be okay.

And yes: I was lying.

Because nothing is the way you need it to be,
I thought I could lean on you
But I fell down into the grave
You dug as you buried me under
Your guilt and this feeling
You like to spell out on your forehead
Like a neon sign.

Labels.

All over us;
Like skin almost, but not.
Seeping into my veins with words of truth and exaggeration.

Hello my name is...
Not important.
But what is, is the placement.
See you stamp it out in block letters over every surface you see
Claim it to be yours.

You see, I am not yours.

I am me.
Mine.

And this label you try to brand into my memory
Like it's been here all this time
And you’re the only one who sees it.

But you’re not that special.

I see it, I just don't hear the bells
Until you clang them against my forehead ringing them
Into my cerebral asking me if
I can feel it now.

You tell me to spell out the ways I love you;

I can barley even say I love you to myself,
And I can certainty not say I love you to someone who
Holds hands with barbwire wrists
And uses they're lips for cursing the others that pursue kisses


Don't ask me to spell out love for you.
It's something you feel.

.
.
.

I don't feel anything anymore.