Today These Two Things Scared Me.

one.
The Children here play baseball using bricks as bases.

two.
I've never realized how many teens don't graduate school untill my friends started dropping out like flies from the dry sky.

The Perfect Explaination

i eavsdroped on two girls talking loudly next to me.

"You don't know what a grapefruit is?!"

"No!"

"It's like a giant orange that tastes like shit."


And oh how right she is.

Some Things You Shouldn't Swallow

It's like how sometimes on wednesday nights
your too tired to make dinner so you look in the florecent lit fridge for
some left overs

And sometimes the leftovers you take out are from weeks ago,
like that spaghetti
from when you had a good day at work.

Some nights i watch you eat those noodles, sucking them down.
Me knowing the noodles have started to mold, yet not saying anything.

It's alarming to me
how you can't tell the difference between
a steaming hot sauce and the sticky pink slime.

Whistle for The Choir

Eyes closed
My body
Comfortably curled on the couch
Fingers entwined
Longing to be tangled
With legs and arms.
I’ll settle for nimble fingers.

Distances being mapped out
Behind my eyes
From here to your home
From here to your life
From here to you face.

I couldn’t stand to think of distances
I let my hand slowly fall away.

Silence and people breathing
Became a lullaby
Starting to sleep
And you wake me.

You stood over me
Blanketing me in the chill
Of the summer night.

Van Gogh's stars look like eggs.

Laying in the dark of my bedroom. It's ten twenty and I should be sleeping, but I can't stop wondering why I let that one glow-in-the-dark moon stay stuck to my ceiling for so long. I used to have a galaxy of stars and moons and planets stuck to my ceiling. I probably convinced my mom to buy them for me on one of our trips to A.C. Moore. All the planets were unique, all the stars looked exactly the same and all the moons were trying to be unique, but all had the same number of the same sized craters. One Moon is left standing now, well, technically sticking to my ceiling. Every star and planet has fallen out of my pseudo sky over the last 6 years.

This one last moon is almost completely centered in the middle of my ceiling. A dried up rose is pinned next to it. Where I got this rose I don't remember. Why I leave that lone moon on my ceiling I don't understand. Maybe it has become a representation of who I was, because I never noticed it until now, glowing in the dark.

The puddy like glue that I used to keep the other constellations sticking is still cemented there above me. The puddy marks are just random dots of glue, but they seem more like scars to me. It's like the false sky that I pasted up years ago was a representation of who I thought myself to be. As years passed I found out I was not any of those things and the stars and planets started to fall. Before I began my junior year in high school I had an argument with my parents in which I exploded and shouted that, “If my ten year old self could see me now, I would hate me!”. That is when I had one last moon to stare at all night. I had the one last piece of myself that I knew, and that was only the fact that I existed.

Now, I am soon to paint the whole night sky on my ceiling like Vincent Van Gogh. It could chip away, but only if you had the right tools. It will be a new representation of who I can become and part of who I am now, because I am no longer one lone moon, I am a galaxy again. I am my own night sky dripping with color and swirling with lights.

The Irker

It's not like you could just tell the wind to stop blowing and it would. Your not God. You tell the wind solemnly that since it will not change it's course, and will not warm it's edges, you must build walls around you and a roof to guard your hair from stray breezes. So you've finally, slowly, built up your guard. You start to remember the feelings just a little breeze could give you. To play in the wisps of your hair and neatly place it behind your ears, because he likes to tease you, and he knows it makes you feel like a child, and it irks you. But you smile because you get this feather duster feeling where your heart is. You remember and it hurts now,you yearn for the wind, and you want these walls to fall, but, You've forgotten the door.

Don't Worry, His Bark Hurts More than His Bite.

If i could show you once or twice
how it feels to pay the price
of letting impatience and pride walk tall,
and you would surely bear it all.

If you would sadly start to shed your hair
so i could calmly notice that trees of hemlock line your brow
then kisses of lips i would allow.

Then if you could kindly just pretend
to care a little more that you do
beacuse the water dripping from my face is saltier than dew.