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Tuesday, June 30, 2009


I wanted to ask you what all this was about,
but it was all I could do to keep my foot out of my mouth.
So I ended up struggling with the knots in my chest
and just let the silence take care of the rest.
I can't say I'm proud that I let the chance go,
but since I didn't take the plunge, at least I'm not cold.

I always end up with my foot in my mouth. Even if I don't say anything- actions speak louder than words and all that. It would be funnier if it wasn't me.

Monday, June 29, 2009


a thousand words live and die
short lives
graves of crumpled paper and torn pages
epitaphs written on erasers
scribbled over with pen
never to be read again.

Is it just me, or do you-
I'm afraid to say this, but-
I know you never said that-
Please don't misunderstand-
We were never really alone, and-
Don't get me wrong-
I just passed up the chance, thinking-
What could I have done to-
It's hard for me to describe.

Rest in Silence.

Your presence saps the common sense from my mind
and what courage there is in my heart.
I'd like to end this, but
I can barely get a start.

It's not like I don't want to
I just can't

when I think of you.

I am a superb idiot.

And I think I already have a post called "Cowardly," and it might be too close but they're not exactly the same so I'll survive for now.

Sunday, June 28, 2009


There are no sounds or words for it,
no songs or paintings that come close to it,
no sculptures or photographs.
There's nothing at all, in fact,
that could could ever convey
what it is I want to say.
So I'll stick to what's familiar
and ignore it until we're
thoroughly afraid
of even mentioning its name.
Then the silence, I hope,
will begin to corrode
the feelings I carry inside
of me.
And with time I may discover
that with nothing left to uncover
I will only have to hide
what is empty.

I thoroughly despise not knowing how to express an emotion, but sometimes there just isn't anything I can do about it.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009


Heart running tripping
sprawled panting
on the uneven cement
in my throat.
Hands shaking reaching
for nothing in particular, then
dropping it.
Breath hitching
eyes twitching
all systems in unanimous agreement-
we are nervous.

I hate that feeling. I can give speeches, squish bugs, trap birds/ bats, fight in heavy weapons; but put me in a room full of people I don't know and I get the trembles.


the sweet blossoming of warmth, starting
somewhere between my lungs before becoming
one with the cells that spread outward, until
all of my blood is singing
with a golden glow, the stiffness of being alone
washed away in the flow, it's filling my chest
so that when I breathe out I can imagine
the coil of it unfolding in the air, tendrils of it
caught in the wind and carried away so that
someone else can breathe it in
and say, "beautiful, yes,
thank you, I'm better than okay."

I've discovered that it's completely true- happiness is contagious.
I love it when people make me happy, and I love making people happy, and I love seeing happy people. It's just one of those gorgeous things.

Monday, June 22, 2009


If my words could mend a broken soul,
then I'd make sure that you were whole.
If my words could break down stubborn doors,
then I'd make mine strong and use them more.
But since they can't, I'll waste time a while,
and see if I can just make you smile.

Cute little thing.

Friday, June 19, 2009


I am nearly nude
on the sunny side of the roof,
letting summer's song
soak into me.
The cold, crystalline clink
of ice in a glass of water
Bluejays screaming their anger
(at something or other)
Dogs barking, doors slamming
The swoosh of tires on hot asphalt
The general hum of things
like air conditioning,
that I wouldn't miss
until they suddenly turn


I made myself a tall, cold glass of lemonade yesterday, and spent a nice time tanning.
I love lemonade.

Monday, June 15, 2009


Songbirds are chirpring merrily
among the sun touched greenery
and I am still in bed.
I admit, it is my intention
to stay inside, where there's no danger of rejection
or chance for disappointment.
Now I find myself safe,
but also alone.
If I can't win both ways,
do I still want to call this home?

I'm so bored of sleeping.

Friday, June 12, 2009

March 13

Ohio turns to watch as Spring comes,
as it runs
and walks and pants heavily,
steam clouds of hot breath and rain,
frigid nights that thaw in the day.
Songbirds and mourning doves,
melting snow and the promise of buds
on branches,
a sky bluer than any country ranch's.
Always, however, a constant threat
that it may still snow.
Hold your breath,
Spring isn't here yet-
there are a few more days to go!

This was also for Spring, and doubled as a birthday present for my younger sister that I never ended up giving her. I could just set this to magically appear next year on her birthday, but I'm bored and feeling revengeful.

Thursday, June 11, 2009


It is a wonderfully suspenseful thing
to sit and wait for Spring
where I am.
It's one of those days
when you turn up your face
to the sun, like a flower,
and long to take off your coat.
The air is cold, although
the sky is free of clouds
and very, very blue.
I'm not sure if these days
have a name;
the kind when, through the window panes,
it seems to be
Spring already.
Like an illusion or a dream,
only not.

This is for Spring, whom I miss quite dearly.
The truth is that I cannot stand the intense hot and muggy climate of Summer. I love roses and swimming pools and ice cream but I CANNOT enjoy having my own sweat re-condense on me. Ew.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


I'm prepared to bare my soul,
but it seems as if you already know.
I feel like words are mocking me,
and the natural, solid way of things;
this way of existing.
Words are all I have,
but they
are strangling me.

Does this make sense?
Ignore that- it doesn't matter.
In the end, it's just the
that I'm after.

Almost word for word. You don't mind if I plagiarize, do you?
It seems as if you sometimes think in poetry, and I can't help but to reshape it a little.

Monday, June 8, 2009


The sweet caress of summer sunlight sneaks
its way into the hearts of men. We lay
with simple pleasure in the light, and play
in greener fields, until our new techniques
and secret jokes are mastered. Light barely peaks
above the trees- we wave goodbye, and day
becomes the night. Again we chase away
our cares, till eyelids droop and Sandman speaks
of sweeter dreams. And while we softly sleep,
our skin (in honor of the sun) does shade
itself in newer colors. When we wake,
we laugh and say that red and brown can keep
their place (except your red, of course, which fades).
So welcome, summer; what you give, we'll take.

(a/b/b/a/a/b/b/a, c/d/e/c/d/e)
The first sonnet was wishing for summer to come, and this is the sonnet for after summer comes. I suppose that's what it is, at least.

Thursday, June 4, 2009


I can better arrange words on paper,
they being more volatile suspended in the air.
Either way, it is difficult for me to leave my soul bare.
So I forsake the breath and vapor
of spoken things,
preferring to carve out what I think.

It's true. I fail at speaking.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


I have begun to dream again, a refreshing sight
after so many colorless nights.
About the oddest things again,
like love and school and blinding lights.
Tests of strength and alien wars,
places I have never been before-
I have missed the strangest sights.

For a while there, I couldn't remember whether or not I had dreamed. It's so boring to wake up and not remember anything. I missed dreaming~♥