BOY

"Time is hard to kill since I met you…"

meg myers

"I die thinking about you all the time
And knowing its a crime
I still think about you all the time"

He races around the imaginary football field

Clutching the ball before the precious seconds run out

Headed for a touchdown, the winning points,

I stick my head out the door and call him for dinner

Or schoolwork, or the other things that keep him from dreaming

He's hardly pro football material yet

But why do we have to tell him that

The one sentence story game, as demonstrated by my family

(As paraphrased by me) Once upon a time a very nice car drove into a cabin.

The inexperienced driver went by the name of Anastasia Louise, a pothead from another city. Frank and Joe were in the backseat. She drove straight into the building, to discover a lifetime supply of crack and an Australian man with a gun. Thank goodness Joe was a trained professional, and he pulled out his bazooka and shot the man. 

Turns out the man was Indigo Julio Ernesto Ricardo Ramierez the Fifth, not because he was the fifth, but because he had five names. He apparently had been having an affair with Anastasia Louise, and with his heavy Scottish accent his last words were, "Don't let your kilt fall to the ground." (Yes, he was of Mexican descent who grew up in Australia and lived in Scotland.)

Anastasia Louise took a last wiff of pot and died with the weed still in her hand. The lit weed caught the cabin on fire, and the raging flames flew up around frank and joe. Thank goodness joe was a trained professional. He put the fire out by hitting it with his coat, and then used indigo Julio Ernesto Ricardo Ramierez' last words as a code for the voice activated safe. He had a surprising accurate Scottish accent. Him and frank opened the safe, ready to get high and rich off the stolen money they expected inside and the crack around them, but lo and behold there was

...nothing. 

A high pitched Indian accent belted out from a speaker on the roof. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you for my money!" It could only indigo Julio Ernesto Ricardo Ramierez' brother, a man of Mexican descent who lived in India and had gotten there first. 

The end. 

birdy

"But if we're strong enough to let it in

We're strong enough to let it go..."

"won't you

come around and

prove

me wrong?"

home alone

Home alone in the morning
I'm writing myself a story
Manipulating my facial expressions
To match the words on the computer screen
I don't mean
For my thoughts to be displayed from my eyes
But crying is a part of life
Dying is the end of life
And eyes are the windows to the soul
So don't get too close or I'll have to push you away
I'm sorry, you're messing with my brain
I can't write a poem you don't infiltrate
My words twist you into an ugly cliche
And I'm sitting on my couch
Missing the days
When staying home alone was a peaceful thing

I tried my hardest not to be bitter, but all my guts spilled on the page, put your judging to the side or don't bother yourself with my rage, please

Happy two days before thanksgiving day

It's not a happy day to me

Usually my dad and I would be all excited

Making 5 dozen molasses cookies

And the firestation peanut butter popcorn recipe 

Planning our Black Friday shopping too already 

But my life is still a funeral procession

Of cards in the mail filled with distant apologies

And love

As much as I appreciate the five seconds everyone puts into

Signing the festive get well wishes

I wish

That my holiday season could be spent halfway normally,

Without people feeling sorry for us

Because I already feel way too sorry for myself

Without the outside help 

It was August 15th, I think

Which makes it a little over 4 months ago

Yet I can't get it out of my head

How scared I was

And how I made the cliche decision 

To not tell my siblings yet

And now, 4 months later

I'm wishing it all away

Because 4 months is too close to cancer

And 4 months passed in an instant eternity

I have the blessing of "nothing changing"

And the curse of a reality check every time

I look at her, as often as I check my watch out of habit

The fears and depression make themselves at home

In the home that I lost

When I spent 4 months suffocating 

In my own bed

And they tell me

"Let's act as if nothing happened!"

Well you already screwed that up

When you didn't give us any foods to cook

For thanksgiving dinner

Like we used to 

And I'm sorry you try to bless us

And the two teenagers aren't as grateful

We just want our mom back

And the gifts away

Because we know when we were told it was a brain tumor

We didn't know it would be this hard

So happy two days before thanksgiving day

Thank you for trying to numb the pain

seven

"That's the seventh one, right?"

"What?"

"Her seventh boyfriend."

I don't think it matters that much. What matters to me is that none of those boys deserved her, none of them knew more about her than the way her lips felt on theirs. They didn't love her wild laughter, her passion and excitement. Her loyalty to life and to love. Her wisdom. She said yes because she was hurting, she said yes because she was lonely. The thing is, as wise as she was she didn't see that they would never satisfy her hungry soul. And she will always be too much for them.

Yes, there were seven boys who said they loved my cousin.

Yes, she said she had loved each one of them.

I don't think I have a right to judge.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you know anything about him?" Nana asked me.

He better treat her right, he better not say he loves her until he stays.

"He seems nice."

I hate the back and forth guessing

Hopeless contemplating

Why can't two people just say it 

Without constant fear of rejection 

"I like you, let's date"

That's about all that it takes

And I admit I've fallen victim

To stalling and complying

With talking in signs

Walking the fine line

Between "oh we're just friends"

And "I might have feelings for him"

If we could all just put things into perspective

Stop caring what people think

Maybe honesty would be a reality

And I wouldn't cry when I think

Does he think about me

Cuz that's all that I think

About

And if I opened my mouth

Maybe I could find out

But I think without action

I have a plan but really not

When I see him all the plans

Fly out to make way for my thoughts

You say chill

Well, I can't

It's a struggle of mine

Just like you struggle with some things too

Am I right?

when he sees me --- sara bareilles

"…I minimize the guessing game,
Guess what?
I don't like guessing games
Or when I feel things,
Before I know the feelings
How am I supposed to operate,
If I'm just tossed around by fate?"

faded

His voice shook with my hands
A strong man with no plan
And he told me he was sorry
This had to happen

My actions cheapened my apology
An the legitimacy of my claims
But he cried when I explained to him
That I was afraid

A mile on the road, bare feet shrinking from the pavement
Did not prepare me though I had rehearsed my words
"I'm scared mom will die, I just want her back
She's not the same anymore, she doesn't listen, Dad"

"I'm scared too."

It can never be cured
Can only be fought
He took common sense
Out of all of her thoughts
I walk through a house
That doesn't feel like my home
My Mom walks beside me
Yet I feel too alone
She's not the same, Father
She's not the Mom I barely remember
I'm trying to trust you
But it'll be five months in december

All things work together for good?
I hope so.
I have never in my life lost my appetite this much
I have never in my life seen my Dad cry this much

throne - bring me the horizon

"I'll leave you choking
On every word you left unspoken"

Table for Two

"Your smile lights up my eyes like an accident

I'm tripping over my words cuz you're my second language"

~Lamentations 3~

Let them lie face down in the dust,

For there may be hope at last...

For no one is abandoned by the Lord forever.

isle of flightless birds ~ |-/

And the ground taunts my wings

Plummet as I sing

Plummet as I sing

far too young to die ~ panic! at the disco

I've never so adored you

I'm twisting allegories now

Falling

You thought that I was sane?

Well take a closer look 

I'm a kamikaze pilot 

With second thoughts on my beliefs

While in midair

Just in case you thought

I was strong and always fine

The first thing you should know is that

I tell the best of lies

I want to know your ins and outs 

And the places where you hide

Tell me your insecurities

Although I'll never take your side (on that)

I know a lot goes on

In your mind

People say that a lot, but this time

I know what I'm talking about

We're just victims of the cruel world

Yaknow?

Trying to be better than our parents

Yaknow?

But at the same time, falling short.

Like the apple from the tree.

So since you now know I'm insane

And I got to pick your brain

Let's be insane together now

Screw all the cruel world's pain

The morning inched it's way 

Into his eyes

Like the way he meandered his way

Into her heart

She inhaled the fog and the peace

Into her lungs

But even the soft eight am awakening

Was no match

For the thoughts and

Photographic memories

In her mind

On repeat

sorry, but not really it's fun to be cryptic

While the rain was still fresh on the windowpane, the writer scribbled hurriedly into her notebook. Her pen scrawled faster than her brain can keep up with, resulting in a script only legible to herself. That's the way it was supposed to be, right? Right, went her head. Wrong, said her heart. You're writing for him, aren't you?

The only shards of light that escaped the clouds barely skimmed the paper. Darkness gave way to melancholy and though she was used to the way the weather fought with her emotions, this was different. She was writing about him, right? Right, went her heart. Her head thought otherwise.

Her keen observance to the brevity of life struck an odd contrast to her faked emotional indifference towards him. Of course he was the best thing that could have happened to her. But why should she admit it, when she could spill any and all feelings onto the blank page without judgement? Perfect, her head agreed, and her heart sighed. 

The fresh roses on the side table stood as proof of his affection. 

Yes, she couldn't believe it. But she loved him, and never said it.

The heart lodged in her chest and the head squeezed into her brain warred for her best interests as she continued to write. Help me, the ink swirled. I need more time, and the pen paused. Somewhere, at this exact moment someone was dying. And yet at that precise time, someone was being born. And she was caught in the middle of the two extremes, the IV pumping liquid life and her face proving solid death. 

But she couldn't write that.

A nurse and a man walked in, both with heavy news.

"There's nothing more we can do," she told her. He said, "I won't stop loving you." There was a last round of shots, a first round of tulips. 

He kissed her for the first and last time. 

"I love you," she whispered.

"I'm sorry."

Don't Ask

There's a chord progression in your name

Sitting in the notebook on my shelf

I have no idea what I'm doing with it

But I just couldn't help myself

What even is the point of subtlety 

When I'm dying to scream it out

Because "I'll never feel your lips on mine

And you'll never hear me shout"

I'm only scared because

I'm halfway an optimist

[im a goner]

You seem to have figured me out

So let's see

Here's a question

What's the difference between insanity and me?

Sometimes I think

I know what you'd say

But it's a rhetorical question 

Anyway

I just don't believe it when you say that you're fine
Because hurt people turn into liars sometimes
I've said too many times that I'm doing alright
While drowning in pain that I keep out of sight

So if you want to talk when you're supposedly cool
Punch in my number, you sweet little fool

Sometimes I say the stupidest things
But once you say something
You can't take it back
So then I trip over the words
Pull the coat of regret
"I'm sorry I said that
It will haunt me forever
Do me a favor
Just a dollar for the poor kid
If I save up enough
I can buy myself pardon"

"It doesn't work like that kid"
And he follows me around
So I'm spelling out guilt
On my piece cardboard