Unfinishe

the grass that scraped my legs (when
did I start liking shorts again?)
poking up from beneath
the blanket weave. everything between
the partly cloudy sky the air full of heat
and evaporated water and the grass again, crawling
with ants and time. it's like the dentist numbing
my mouth, except it's my brain and
all that I can feel is the hum
and buzz
of something unfinishe








Get it? Anyways.
Fun fun fun.
I feel as if I have more to say about this, but I don't know the right words so never mind.

Down

I had to laugh. There was no avoiding
the bubble of irony, foaming
upward from my lungs and pushing past my
lips, through the tight smile that I
had been holding. Even as I poured
my misery on a piece of plain white
paper, even as I etched a confused scrawl
of pain and bewilderment- even then,
my sentences lifted at the ends.
There was a wedge of blank space
on the bottom right of the page,
as if my words were flying away
or they were climbing a ramp
onto higher ground.
I had to laugh, because
I can’t stay down.





Hahaha! True story. It's an interesting quality. Sometimes I wish I could just wallow in misery like I assume normal people do, but then I realize that it's kind of an endearing quality.
As a friend put it once, "You're like a f*ing fount of hope and optimism. It's a little annoying, but mostly amusing."
.

Cheerfulness

With my feet up on the dash, the world seems
so much friendlier. I have an limitless supply
of smiles, lightweight and easy on the eyes; we
are trading, back and forth. With the stereo blasting
symphonies and orchestras, with the sun blazing
in the sky, with the cheerful politeness and
almost-too-sweet-ness of this iced tea;
the world is where I'd rather be.









CHEERFULNESS, FOR THE WIN.
I admit, I've been harboring a secret love for McDonald's iced tea. It's probably not even tea, but I can't get enough of that cold sugary delight.

Feeble

He said, “I know you want to, but I
don’t because it’s almost impossible for me to
find someone who likes
the things you do, and is gorgeous too.”
I walked him to the door, silently,
wanting to do the ridiculous thing
and comfort him, because
I knew what he meant. Instead I only said
goodbye, locked the door behind him,
and leaned feebly against it. There
was more, I’m sure, but
I don’t know where it went.





"Feeble" is one of those words that starts to sound ridiculous if you say it over & over.
.

I'm

Why am I where I am, why
is someone not with me, why am I
not someplace else? I am not lost,
I am searching.






Guh. I don't really like the way that "I am" repeats in this, but there it is. Staring at me, until I can find a better way of getting this idea out of my head.

Stressed

jittery, like my lungs
are jumping; twitchy,
with my heart pumping
blood so much harder
than it usually does.
fidgeting to relieve
the tension, constantly
squirming beneath
mental duress. all I
can feel is nervous
and stressed.





I'm just on a roll with these semi-awkward & super-personal ones, aren't I?
Wrote this a while ago, back when I was trying to figure out "my future". Ha! It comes and goes. Mostly goes.

Cut

hands shaking- why? body
vibrating, tremors running
through my muscles constantly
and for what reason? not
cold- it is summer
and i can feel the hot
tongue of humidity pressed
against the back of my neck.
arms wrapped around my bent
legs, pulling them in closer
to my chest because I am still
trembling. why?
why?
i am afraid.
i cut the chord, and
i didn't feel a thing.







It took me a while to realize why it was so hard to drink my tea without spilling it.
I'm afraid that I'm becoming a bad person.

Prioritize

knuckle away the tears. red-rimmed eyes
for a character, fictional
and beautiful.
not crying for the days that travel by,
not for the distances between
people, or unchangeable circumstances;
not for tragedies or leaving
your family and friends. instead,
weeping for a book, where
someone dies in the end.





Haha, I admit it! I won't cry for a movie, I don't really cry when I'm sad or in pain, but give me a well-written book where one of the cool characters die & I'll lose it.

Exasperated

I’m having deja vu about when I
had deja vu of having deja vu,
like standing in a room
of mirrors and watching my
reflection repeat eternally
on the panels. It’s scary
and disorienting, like someone
is holding me underwater and I know
I should be drowning
but it’s not working.
Or maybe I’m doing it wrong every time
and God is sighing somewhere, rubbing
small circles where the headache
is, wondering why I didn’t get it
right the first time around.






It's been happening a lot, and I don't hate it but I don't like it either. The other day I had a deja vu, and in the deja vu I said, "Hey, is anyone else feeling deja vu? I swear this has happened before, except then you did something else & I said something else..."
I just sat there until the deja vu passed, feeling glad that someone else had been talking and no one had noticed.

Trust

You pressed the heels of your hands into the hollows
of your eyes, more like hammocks than bags yet still
packed with everything on your mind (so I guess the
imagery is right in the end). Sometimes I doubt if you
think of me of as good friend, because when I ask if you're alright
you tell me that you're fine, and I know it's not true. But then
your dams break and you spill your guts and I offer you tea
and cake, sad with your sadness but pleased with your trust.






I enjoy being trusted, because I tend to trust people.
I really want to explore the "bags under eyes" concept.

Weeks

These weeks between us are tangible things, solid
and intolerably heavy on my mind. For someone
with an attention span like mine, you seem to be so much
further away. Until then I can only sit and wait, not
too patiently, wishing that I could hurry time.






I fail at patience. Which is funny, because I'm almost the most patient person in my family.

Confession

I got hit by a hard decision, and I tried to hide
the bruise from you, but of course it was no use.
With a painful, cold precision, I’ll cut us both wide
open, and try my best to come out clean.
All the words are written
out, and I can’t help but flinch back when
I think of saying them out loud- how will you react?

Lullaby

gentle shush of waves on the shore; sand still warm
beneath me, a solid yet slightly giving support;
moon a silver glowing light, full and soft
through my eyes. these are what I think of
when I'm trying to sleep at night- the
ocean's peaceful lullaby.






I love the ocean. It figures into my writing quite a bit, and it's a little bit of a weakness for me.

Starts

starts of things with which
to fly, sparks that set
fire to my soul- I try
but fail to finish them- idea
after idea condenses into a
few lines or sentences.







I have this habit of starting things, but never completing them. I have an entire word document full of poems that are just waiting for an end.