Emilee

We could start something.

Something beautiful.

Like the hills that we see everyday in

This world
This state
This county
This town

So close by you and your
Hospital bed.

Every day and night,
For when your Pancreas gives out.
Sending you
Your favorite flowers
When he breaks
Your heart again.

Listening when
You spill your guts
Not planting a seed of gilding sorrow.

But they understand

I understand,
That the only one
You can tell
About what you did last weekend
With your boyfriend
In his bedroom

Is no longer here.

The greatest jewel
Make even the coldest hearts of absolute zero
Melt.

 So maybe they couldn't break the ice,

But they could break your spirit.

Just don't let them, okay?

 If we were one in the same,

 I would hurdle over the mountains

 Cross a dessert just to bring you back 

 The tear you cried last September

 Over someone, something stupid.

The masks we wear make us, 

And I wear the mask of you.

And I don't mind because what I see

Is a radiance greater than the Aurora Borealis.

It’s more than love
It’s less than lust
It’s a bond
That is never broken
No matter what.

Blood thickens air,

As it turns blue to red.

Metamorphosing into something…

Beautiful.

Like your smile.

Like my laugh.

Like the hills.

Train Tracks

I love trains.
Always have,
Always will.

I love trains because they can take you away from places,
bring you closer to places,

Trains can travle like cells in a body,
and trains can blow up in an aray of blaze.

I read once in the paper that a man tried to stop a train
because he read so in a comic book.

I thoguht it was silly because
Trains are unstoppable forces of human kind.

we created force with our bare hands,
and spread it's veins throughout the world
connecting us all like a heartbeat.

Can't you hear it?

I feal the pulse coming now.

Park Benches

Park Benches are a lot more comfortable than you would think.

Not that I would chose a it over a matress.

But benches give something that a bed cannot.

The wooden planks supporting my spine,

as the winter chils wisp around the ground.

THe sun rises and I watch.

Novel.

light is a novel thing.

Something, that I eat instead of food and words,

Something, that I know is mine.

Looking back?

We don't really own anything but fives.

Five fingers
Five toes,
Five diffrent names in life:

parent
sibling
lover
enemy
friend

But here, in the parks

I am in six.

Six senses
Six stages of life.
Six ways to write a poem
and i chose the seventh.

My way.

So park benches give me meaning,
but a matress gives me comfort.

Who said creativity was a walk in the park?
And that is not novel.

Weight does not define me

Caged

They say that a nightengale cannot sing once caged.

Good thing I was never much of a singer.

I used to be really good with locks when I was young.

A modern Hoduni, my friends would say.

But then things were diffrent.

Everything is diffrent, and that's not all that bad either.

Change is inevitable,

But so many people don't understand,

So change has always been a big

Surprise.

Well SURPRISE !

Change changes all the time.

Cages change,

and so does the nightengale.

I don't consider myself a bird,

More of  a snake, if you ask me.

Because I shed my skin and I can walk away whole.

A nightengale cannot.

They can only sing.

But a nightengale can fly.

I cannot fly.

Some cages you just can't break free of,

Some locks can't be broken.

And some skins can't be shed,

And some songs can't be sung...

A body is a most dangerous thing.

Because it honestly,

Is the most perfect thing

Give to a race born out of flaws.


This cage does not fit this nightengale's song...

Rock, Paper, Scissors, SHOOT

No one played with him as a kid,

So it’s justified that when they went

“Rock paper Scissors”

He actually shot.

Boys Are ugly Too...

You know,

Sometimes I wish I was a girl,

Because maybe I wouldn't have gotten away with it.

I sit in health class,

In between the prom queen,

And the girl un-seen.

They are pointed out as

Weakness. Vulnerable to

This…destruction.

But not me.

Because I’m not supposed

To have low self esteem.

I’m supposed to be strong,

Never cry.

Always be in control

In charge.

Complete.

But I’m not.

I wasn’t.

Never have and never will be.

So yes, I guess you can say it was easy.

Easy in the fact that I never got caught.

Because who would put two and two together

Until it was too late?

That’s right.

No one.

Not even the couch when he would pat me over the back

Congratulating me on losing the last 3 pounds to be in

Lightweights.

Now?
I’m just dead weight.

TRASH

She didn’t like the term

“Dumpster Diving”

Even though she knew that’s what she was doing.

After all,

Another mans trash is another’s treasure.

She watched us all throw away our lives,

And she would pick up the pieces

Forming them into a poem

That you and I

Would sneer at because

It still reeked of landfill.

She would dig her fingernails

Into the dirt

Until she stroke fool’s gold.

Broken glass,

Would be made into a dagger,

And empty messages

Placed into bottles set out for sea.

Paper was made into planes,

And plastic into her mothers figure.

She would create fantasies

In her heaps of garbage.

She would sleep with the fishes.

Not because she had a choice,

Not because she had anything else to loose.

She would dumpster dive because

Everyone told her to go

Where true trash belongs.

Inner Demons

Branded by her indigo,
She sits listening through the walls.
It's not like she can walk through them.
So she just listens.

Talking in riddles,
She understands them perfectly.

"He doesn't love you"
"No One loves you"

It’s so funny when oxygen is the punch line.

She likes the feel of her skin touching nothing
But coarse ropes.
It's not masochism.
It’s just murder.

It's not like she can control herself.
If she could, she wouldn't have to scrub herself down with
the cow's tongue at the end of the night.

The moonlight absorbing her sins,
With the chamber pot in the corner,
They say the moon as strange effects on people you know?

Because her mentality is waves,
Thrashing against the rocky shore of his patience.

No lifeguard is around to save her.
No one saves the fat chubby girl,
the lonely girl who never gets the guy.

Girls like that only need to be saved from themselves.

so she woke up this morning and fire three warning shots,
right through his skull.

She stopped fighting with her demons,

Now their on the same side.