X equals O
I equals YOU
Why can't they be there too?
DustDusty fingers move quickly,
When they are sickly.
Clean Fingers make haste,
because they don't have the time to waste.
Lopsided FeelingTears run down my face, I cry
Inside and out but you dont know why
It because of your skull of steel
That my thoughts dont turn your wheel
Im weakened and starved by your words
But that doesnt meant Ill allow my flesh to be eaten by the birds
I amI am the child that waits
I am the child that fears
I am the child that worries you'll never be here.
I am the teen that hits
I am the teen that cries
I am the teen who is always asking 'Why?'.
I am the adult that works
I am the adult that fears
I am the adult of the child that waits for me to be there.
Excerpt From FB Fan-FictionThree hundred sixty two days, Kyou reminded himself with an indifferent voice.
The cat couldnt figure out that out of everyone that he could never see again, why did she have to go. Why did she have to leave him in the shadows. Why couldnt she stay? Within his mind he kept replaying the scenario constantly over and over again in his brain even though he knew the answer. The carrot top shook his head fervently trying to shake the images of her delicate kind face from his head. He was foolish to love her, to care for her, and to try to protect her.
To try and defy God...
The wind blew solemnly tossing hair in his face. Closing his eyes he let stray strands of hair tickle his furrowed brow. Fat puffy grey beasts rolled around the sky soaking up its moisture, they growled with pleasure as they began to approach the Sohma residence. Just as the young man stood up and began to file out curses towards the clouds he heard the petite slam of a d
august's skeleton.Sunburnt freedom of July
we come tumbling in the auburn joy of boredom
down the spine of summer.
And spelled in the scabs on your knees
is the innocent insolence
scuffing the corners of your memory:
all hyperbole, grinning toothless bravery
swallowed in your father's coat,
whipping around corners and slipping
out of a chiaroscuro childhood.
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
the ringyou brought me to some hippie store
and told me you wanted
to buy me a ring.
i was content to sip my juice
and go home, but
i followed close behind you
into a world of incense,
tea, and jewelery.
i asked you why,
why a ring?
you told me plainly
that you didn't buy me enough stuff,
and that rings were cool.
(i thought your ring was ugly,
but you didn't need to know that.)
so you dragged me over to the counter
and told me to pick one i wanted.
(i thought you were flirting with cashier,
playing the 'look at me,
buying gifts for my cute little sis' card,
but then i realized
that it's just how you talk to people.)
i chose a little silver ring
with a wave on it.
you asked why i picked that one,
and i told you it just looked pretty,
what did you expect?
you shrugged and bought it for me,
and let me get a notebook, too
(and it still smells like that day-
potently sweet and intoxicating)
while you picked out some incense
and got offered some free tea.
i walked out
with the guiltiest look on my
Dear MomDear Mom,
Thank you for taking care of me
those eight months I spent
curled up in your womb,
slowly being knit together
and listening to your heartbeat.
I appreciate that time
you spent with me then
as much as I appreciate
the time you spend with me now.
But somehow I didn’t know
that when I decided to leave you
one month early
to become my own person
and to learn how to be a woman
you wouldn’t be as close
as you once were,
and I wouldn’t be able to listen
to your heartbeat anymore.
And every night I find myself
curled up in the same position
I was in years ago
and wishing for a heartbeat to listen to,
even if it’s not yours,
because I hate sleeping alone
and it’s not something
you can get used to,
even after fourteen years.
To My SisterYou dress like a Disney Princess,
And play with pretty dolls;
Your laughter warms our hearts,
Your smile lifts our souls.
You stumble when you walk,
And you can’t say my name;
You dance to invisible music,
Everyone says we’re the same.
You have curly blonde hair,
And big brown eyes;
A smiling flower of a face,
And chubby baby thighs.
You will grow to be big,
And you will change;
You’ll learn the world’s scary,
As much as it is strange.
If I could give you one tip,
And know that you’d follow it,
It’d be: be who you are,
Live like there’s no tomorrow.
Don’t strive for beauty,
Don’t live for lies;
Find beauty in living and
Keep putting beauty into
Other people’s lives.
skin rifts (yearning / identitease)Tēnā koutou katoa.
Greetings to you all.
there is a rift in my heritage and it begins with skin;
i have never wondered why i do not seem to fit
E rere kau mai, te awa nui mai, te kāhui maunga ki tangaroa.
My ancestral river flows from the mountain to the sea.
Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au.
I am the river, and the river is me.
if i am the river, how am i drowning under the driftwood heavy weight
of twenty years dissonance and cacophony and isolation,
of twenty years waiting to find who i am supposed to be;
if the river is me, how have i never learned to flow
with it's might and history?
Ko Ruapehu tōku maunga,
My mountain is Ruapehu.
i am born white and wailing in a mess of blood and flailing limbs
and my father's parents rejoice in my european features and pale skin.
i am born and all throughout my youth, my mother is mistaken,
mistaken for the babysitter, the
aren't you proud of me?
Haven't I done enough Daddy?
Am I not your little girl?
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
but can you please come back?
I promise I'll do better.
I promise I can be perfect.
Don't you love me?
Look I drew you a picture,
will you come home now?
Where did you go?
Please come back.
Mommy says you don't care anymore
but I know it's not true.
It can't be true.
You don't even call anymore.
You said you loved me
and that I was your princess,
then why aren't you here?
Please come home.
I want my Daddy back.