NumberOne i remember playing wedding with the comforter from a hotel bed. she was my groom and we made a pact, right there, in front of the sink and the mirror, the open closet. my wedding dress was peach, i was getting married in an apple orchard in october, and the air would be sweet. or i was getting married on the end of the pier barefoot the wind would be playing with my hair and i would be smiling so big turning to the person beside me... and there my daydream ended. i was happy then when all i knew of love was playing dress ups with a friend. the color of my future wedding dress was the most important decision i ever had to make. --RoyaBoya NumberTwo
"Here I am" Here I am in front of the sink the mirror and the open closet Here I am staring blearily into my own reflection Looking for something I never find Applying lipstick carefully (mother only praises when I'm made up) Here I am watching the water run down the drain and for a second maybe just a few seconds I imagine it was red and my arms are dripping my wrists are turned to lace to lovely lattice work the razor fallen to clink on the white porcelien I imagine the water was mixed with my own copper blood and suddenly the copper taste is in my mouth and I know I've bitten through my cheek Here I am looking into the sink Like it will grant some relief some happiness Bitterly licking the inside of my mouth so the copper can send shivers down my spine Here I am Even my reflection doesn't matter today Even my reflection doesn't care today and here I am forgotten even by my own reflection standing here in front of the sink and the mirror Shivering naked just out of the shower watching the water run down the drain here I am do you care Do I care does anyone care about anything here I am in the midst of everything Of things exploding of the world ending and beginning every few minutes for someone and I'm looking into a mirror just staring into it Looking for something I never find never will find here I am pretending my arms are dripping like melted candle wax glistening and holding some power we can't understand here I am. NumberThree By Carrie. I'd like some criticism and comments because i haven't written any poetry like this before and I wonder if it's coherent. carrie at nbtsc.org Through all of this, I am: Fragility united is strength. I am an unanswered question, the answer was wrong. This land is the land of forgotten, of hate, and those who must dwell under it. To live.... The tides inside me. ebb flow ebb flow ebb flow, breathing freely I know. The woman unhappy, the girl timid, and the flowers: they are fake. To sit in a shop window all day..dew of plastic, greeting the sun, who is already crying hot tears through a sky of last night's sleep-smudged makeup. To be an effigy of nature alive, blooming. To be fake. To go home timid, behind thick walls, blank maternal space. The smile of a timid girl is a secret prayer I receive and understand. A smile for you. The woman walks walks walks unseeing. Behind unhappiness, behind unhappiness, behind unhappiness, there must be happiness. This i hope for you, stranger. Concrete is real and i fall into myself on a pebbly bench, through all of this, i am. NumberFour This land is the land of forgotten. Don't come here on a summer evening And pretend you know me, Because you don't. This land...stretching yawning fields of golden corn Baking beneath the tawny sun, Vibrant colors and hues, And music Colliding together to form...Us. You and Me, holding hands, Stealing kisses under the big old apple tree. Boughs like strongly muscled arms, Petals soft and rosey, like my cheeks, Delicate as a bride's dress in June. This land is the land of forgotten. Seashore of distant memories, Echoing reminiscent fog. Picking up the days we spent together Like pebbles on the beach. Then swing your arm wildly, Skip those memories across the water, Like the stones I gathered with you On that day that happened so long ago. Take the boat off across the tossing, clouded waves, Hold no prisoners And maybe you'll get back A little bit Of what you've given. ~Becky~ NumberFive Skip those memories across the water, I'm done with them let them sink to the bottom grow old and mossy. I will never venture beneath those waves again I will never see them see those cold stones like your heart your eyes I do not have to hold them close. I can sit at the edge, water lapping at my feet I can watch the clouds above the horizon and be happy. My eyes will not stray to the dark I will not wonder what goes on below. I will sit, drawing in the sand, and if I come across another pebble I will throw it in so it makes a splash. --RoyaBoya NumberSix So it makes a splash. So what? What the fuck do you care about what I say and how I say it? I was born to make a splash baby. My oppinions are like crows flapping around, Each one trying so desperately to be heard, But all the crows are squacking so wildly That all you hear is noise. But I've gotta say them, just the same. Because if I don't let my voice be heard, Who's going to speak for me? You disagree with me. You pick my logic to shreds, Like the carrion eating birds on the side of the highway, Wings shining in the sun, Stench of carcass making you choke and look away. And so I choke and look away. It's easier than arguing with you. With you I never win. And the ideas go round and round in my head, Spinning like a merry-go-round, Until finally, I explode. An explosion of words. Bright, hot, meaningful, potent, vitriolic words. So it makes a splash. What do you care anyway? ~Becky~ NumberSeven I was born to make a splash baby born for the waves and the sand and the sky above born to dive deep and deeper born to break through the surface to inhale salt air. i was born to the ocean baby, born to swim born to fly in water. Born to splash you and pull you under drag you to my underwater kingdom. Oh god i never thought you couldn't breathe where i have lived my entire life. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry the seaweed has always wrapped around my neck, like a necklace, never strangling me the salt has never stung the way it made you sting. Were you born to fly? Maybe you were floating on the clouds when you looked down and saw me splash because I was born to fins and you were born to wings and there's only two minutes a day when the two can meet. --RoyaBoya NumberEight you were born to wings born to cloud nine and rosy cheeks and laughter and i don't understand why you persist in believing your mother is the earth I tell you, you only came too close, once and the gravity of the situation sucked you in I tell you, you were born to laughter! I tell you, taste the tears and savor the salt Your blood is energy not a trail of pain and your wings will hold you I promise if you only start by spreading them open to the winds.
NumberNine ---Mother My mother isn't the earth I thought so but I woke up and saw the bitterness behind the eyes I saw the homophobia I saw the shallowness I saw the inperfection I saw the hate I saw how she hated me in her own secret way for who I am for kissing a girl for not putting her above everything else to wanting to shine somewhere else she hates me for being so free when she isn't for being so open when she's so scared for being so old when she's just growing up My mother isn't the earth she isn't anything but my mother who I never thought could hate but who suddenly hates me and what I've become. ~Jasmine NumberTen My mother is the earth. She is under everything. So many of us; who notices? we walk over her, we drive, we pave, we scar, we poison, fast, so very fast, eyes fixed on a better future. Tomorrow. Never today. Never right now. Later. I tell you we are dying, this existing til better times. But we have for so long... Oh Mother, Mother of mine, of earth we are and earth we shall return. Dust to dust. Peace. --Carrie NumberEleven "Scar Dust" Creepy the way breasts suddenly curve Suddenly stretching out in funny places and suddenly situps are strictly needed to peel away hip flesh. It's depressing! Notice how the boys seem not to speak in prose and I say whatever shit is on my mind Poetry unmasked now I am not standing near my sink I am here, I am typing what I think But shortly before over someways apologies for not loving and band recordings and love or lack of from fucking stepmothers. I love blue. I love you, too. ~Maggie NumberTwelve I say whatever shit is on my mind Poetry unmasked the deepest vein tapping it like treasure. It echoes through the vaults of sadness the hidden laughter the rich earth of emotions I tell you everything and you tell me you have black lungs disease miners disease minors disease, i am too young to hear this. I say whatever shit is on my mind and you extract it until my poems run dry. --RoyaBoya NumberThirteen I tell you everything and you say maybe someday. you closed the door and my fingers were caught i forgot that you were in that room, with your warming fire and i was outside in the cold. i'm sorry i didn't mean to pry i just forgot that we occupy different spaces. so now i'm resentful that you know so much about what goes on in the outside world. and i'm harboring a grudge despite myself that i don't get a look at what you keep inside. Maybe if i left this baggage at the door you would be more welcoming But i thought all my openess was reciprocrating and now i'm left standing out in the cold wondering what you meant when you shut the door. Number 14 You are behind a closed door. I am under the sky. I speak of sky. Look up at the sky! And remember your feet on the good earth below. Between earth and sky, of earth and sky are birds. To fly! You speak of doors. Open doors, closed doors, locked doors, secret doors, windows for seeing... Rooms, to contain and seperate. Keys to the secrets. You are behind a closed door. I am under the sky. --Carrie Number 15 There is no time for me to cry today there is only time to work to laugh to pretend to fly there is no time for me to cut today there is only time to live There is no time for me to be myself only to find out who they say I should be No time to be free Only time to remember how fucking stuck I am no time for exploding for being brilliant no time to cry no time to admit I'm not okay only time to smile only time to pretend only time to not be me only time to lay awake only time to submit No time for this. ~Jasmine NumberSixteen No time to cry just time to think how sorry i am that this didn't work out Time to dance the dance of the seven veils The dance of the golden sheilds The dance of tomorrow today forever You laughed and gallons of red blood flowed out onto the floor And i guess i never realized before just how much pain you think Just how many needles cut inside your throat That you would accidentally drop pools drop rivers oceans of blood Oops You looked embarassed but you couldn't laugh it off and i wouldn't So we sat there in silence And i didn't have time to cry So even though i didn't really have the time I just said I'm sorry. ~jennyrose Number Seventeen (the year I am) I'm sorry! Sorry I am just barely surviving sorry I am sadder than you yet happier than her and freer than him and angrier than them because they never think do they? They only know the smell of white paper And files and formats and staplers. But me.... I'm nobody! I'm nobody! I want another nobody here To hide you in my closet, dear Oooooo ahhhhhh the wind cries Ooooo ahhhhh another soul dies Every morning I see the same dead animal In the middle of the parking lot, This grit this concrete these faces No, these are not safe places, But nothing here can be quite as dark Nothing here can slash quite as hard Nothing here can make me cry (whimpering like a dying animal (eating myself up like a cannibal) Like the glass sheets of my own mind. Yours truly, --Eireann NumberEighteen "In the middle of the parking lot" life is like le pomme de terre. if you do it right.. it'll have holes in it. and a long comes fate, to mess with the hive collective head. A head that was once boggled by millions of flying rabbits. and those rabbits, by virtue of there good nature, were done in. like me. But speaking of Fred Durst I think he's a very good song writer if you compare him to....Death....with a tan in the dark black forrest of my soul with ribbons on. But dogs don't really think all that much, all they do is shoot big things of mucus at snow flys. when i remember this. it blackens my shoes. must find the polish man, must find him. but I don't really think that my own ass has to be so polite. god forbid she should be so right If I had a little lovin from my dead Clinton. then maybe i would open my mouth and put some lint in. Scott, that is not a hamburger, but it sure can dance. oh but fertile eliphants can't romance Johnny Cash is my bitch, but who really cares? I'm just a fool in Spades. and all i really want out of this life, is little french maids. because i am like a shoe, and you are like toast. because when antie ellis says love matters the most. love matters the most. but if I thought about it, I really couldn't say that I understand it, pop music that is... but now were back to the parking lot. it's just me. and my gun. in this snowy parking lot. i think it's night time. i can hear owls. i will take the gun. aim down. put a hole in that motherfucker. my foot i mean. -Sean Connery. NumberNineteen i am like a keyboard and i am like the fingers that try to type without stopping i am like the letter r i am like the record button on the tape player beside me i am like recording over a tape that you meant to save forever. i am like corrogated cardboard i am glue that won't stick to the cover this is all there is i am the rehearsal the broken lights the shadows the gray i've been that way for too long. i can't remember what was underneath the clock face that gives me a wish 12:13 and all i want is... for my fingers to run forever i think i wished for a moment to last longer than a minute i think i wished for continual wishes for a set of arms, of course, to see the beneath of the underneath to see the way it works the hows the whys and to have the answers to the questions why is it worth it anything. i am like the question mark and i want to be the save button. --RoyaBoya number 20 i think i wished for a moment to last longer than a minute and the sky burned down. closed in on it's self, giant fist closing going deeper into itself, the sky, kind of like a penis fucking... and then i am cold and colder numb. i don't beleive in love i won't. and i won't let you fall that far with me, though i know you want too. i know that you might already be there, that scary love place, you might already be there. i tried to tell you not too. i said, many times, very loudly, very clearly: "please do not fall in love with me. don't hurt yourself, i will hurt you. i don't want to but i will, i know myself, don't set yourself up for pain. i know you've had enough of that." but they don't listen. damn boys who believe that they will be the ones to change you they beleive that they can make you see love in their eyes. they try to burn your heart with this brand, burn love into you and you will beleive it, you will feel it and it won't be bad baby, no, it won't be bad. it will be love. and they don't understand how i don't want to believe, because i don't want to get broken someday. i'd rather never feel than break like that because when i break i am never coming back. i will burn with the sky and my eyes looking at yours trying to see love will be the last thing to go. ~sarah compton~ NumberTwentyOne i know i want to look deep deep into your cool somewhere eyes giant fist closing bring me closer closer ever forgetting something i never could remember sliding into a rhythm of bliss of angry matrimony you dance higher than smoke you amaze me your deepness fills me like a giant fist closing bringing me back to the starting point your eyes are furious irises closing in on me closing in on swallowing me not like a metaphore but like cold hard metal reality you're swallowing me. ~jennyrose NumberTwentyTwo you're swallowing me and my metaphors are lagging your teeth are sharp and shiny and my tongue is hanging out. i wish you would talk to me more aid me in my teeth obsession my voice obsession you and your voice which leaves me drooling and all i can do is sit biting my tongue licking my lips waiting to be swallowed up oh i want to be swallowed by you now. how my life changes in the lifespan of a poem. --RoyaBoya NumberTwentyThree a poem. a strong poem. a brave poem. an excellent poem. like the one in my pants! hah!
NumberTwentyFour a strong poem that stands against the wind of your voice. but you billow in my sails and this poem glides right along beside me. NumberTwentyFive The wind of your voice pummels my mind and i hear your voice carry swelling and it fills the crevices and fills the basement and the attic and it fills the air on my street and the mouth of the child and the ocean and it wraps around the mountains before continuing to fill the nooks and crannies and the emptiness in everyone's hearts and it creates the answers to every unasked question and fills the hollows of every spine of every seductive shoulder blade fills the safety deposit boxes and heals the pain that hasn't even been realized yet its the cure and the power and the force and the voice and its yours and it fills me. ~Jasmine, for rachel compton and nao. NumerTwentySix fill the nooks and crannies and the emptiness with your recipe for a perfect day. The hollows inside my teeth are sealed with the sound of your voice over the phone you make me brilliant i wonder if you know that, because of you i rise so high. but you told me not to let myself be defined by just a boy one guy is not enough to ease the pain, change things, smooth the rough spots or make things better. but i like things rough so they can break off chipping in the sink and on a cup sharp enough to hurt if i want to bite. one boy is enough to sink my teeth into one boy is enough to make me laugh. and really that's all i want, a chance to laugh. you make me laugh. because of you i laugh. just a boy, that's all you are. but laughter defines me, and /you make me laugh./ --RoyaBoya NumberTwentySeven really all i want today is to go play outside to pretend that this isn't just another suburban street, suburban backyard, with it's shallow pool and barbecue to wear a long dress, and walk barefoot in the garden while the sun comes at a slant and the flowers glow yellow. or sit inside, at the warm brown table, watching the green things grow. birds singing and i can almost understand them the light coming in is a streak of gold i want the roof of our house to lift up so i can see the clouds, and pretend i am still cleaning like i am supposed to be. really all i want today is exactly what i have and that is perfection. NumberTwentyEight "Stitches" this is me, she said, just like i am supposed to be leaving me so I could smile on at translucent skin and eyes watered down: She beat it soon, fast, hard and was back to being brilliant - blood-orange hair shining like new strawberries showing off stitches and patches of cloth taped to her tummy. We still jumped in the water though the doctor told her not to we still played spoons the basement still smelled and we still limped out of the lake - soaking wet, feet caked in moss and slimed with fish - all shiny bathing suits, stitches in sides from swimming ready for lemonade. ~Maggie ~~~~~~~~~ NumberTwentyNine "barefoot" I love to walk barefoot along the deck. over to my block I go. step up. barefoot. my feet readdy to enter the cool water that feels warm on my cold feet the cool water that caresses me, flotes me, pushes me. barefoot. I feel alive, I feel... barefoot along the deck. Monika NumberThirty I feel the sounds of trumpet coming in through the static, through my cd player i hear the sounds of my parents talking the rain outside and i hear the sounds of you. you're thinking of what to say next. you're laughing at your table, what i wouldn't give to be sitting there too. just watching you laugh watching you eat. how do you eat? i don't even know how you laugh. i just know what i am thinking. i am hearing the sounds of energy coming in through, pumping life and energy to my fingers. i am hearing my parents, the rain, i am hearing the rain and wishing you were here to walk through it with me. i am wishing i was throwing mud at you and watching you laugh. i don't even know how you laugh. or if you dance to a trumpet, or to your own drum. but i can hear your thoughts, and i wish that i were in them. NumberThirtyOne my parents, the two who hold the most confusion for me. the ones i love and begrudge, stimultaneously. i don't know how to please you. i try to be the best, the youngest, fastest, smartest, most enthusiastic, the best. i try to walk quietly when you are sleeping i try to hold what you hold dear. but i am not the daughter that was born to you, i am not the sleeping child you stared at adoringly, that slept between the two of you that you fed, that you changed, that you used to sing to. i sing to myself now. i stare at the ceiling, in my room, alone and when i am sleeping you are watching the clock annoyed, at my teenage sleep habits. i hate being the stereotype but more, i hate the feeling of unconditional love running out. /this is not how it's supposed to be./ i should be your superhero in a towel learning to swim, picking you flowers. i should be laughing, running, finger painting. forever young. but the songs i sing are not about childhood. this is not how it's supposed to be, but /this is how it is./ NumberThirtyTwo i should be laughing right now, i really should. i should be remembering that you love me and he cares about me and you are all here for me instead i am thinking that my name has too few letters to stand out that my mailbox had none today, that i was too tired and sick to even look. today nothing shone, it just swelled like poison like sharp fangs had bitten down and not let go. today was red and blue and cold and burning and nothing seemed worth it. the machine--pressed duraflame wouldn't light, the rain wouldn't stop the pillow wouldn't fluff. the phone didn't ring and all i could do was close my mouth, bite my lips, avoid the pills, turn my head from the water. the flu, a cold, a fever, it didn't matter i tossed and turned slept for so long. today was full of aches, and no one came to relieve them i missed you more than ever. you are my medicine, that's what i think, and i promised never to delete my thoughts. i would make a full recovery if only i could open my throat and say how i caught this disease from you. if only you would prescribe a cure. --RoyaBoya NumberThirtyThree If only you would prescribe a cure, Instead of fucking around, playing doctor, Making me ill. Making me wish you'd do something Anything Instead of just being you. Hot and cold, Loud and soft, Inside out and upside down, Churning burning yearning, But it just doesn't do any good. I wonder what makes you tick. I wonder why you do the things you do. And why do you burn me every time I touch you? Hotter than a chimney on fire, Aren't I good enough for you? I just hate the way you are. So cold. Cold like twilight in the arctic circle. Seems like I could stand outside your door Beating my arms against my sides, jumping up and down, Trying to keep warm, Forever. And you wouldn't come and find me Til I was frozen. Then you'd stand there staring Staring at this hiddeous ice-sculpture you'd created And mutter "Oh well" under your breath, Then walk away. I just hate the way you are. Always playing doctor, And never prescribing a cure. Do you want me to die? ~Becky~ NumberThirtyFour Seems like I could stand outside your door Beating my arms against my sides, jumping up and down, screaming with my head tilted back making a fool out of myself forever without you even opening the door a crack, not even an inch to peek out. to see what all the fuss was about. it's always amazed me how uninterested you could be so i would dump it all onto your head and shoulders, trying to make you sink, to see if you would struggle then, if you would kick or lash out at all. i wanted a reaction, maybe that's all it was. maybe that's why i stay outside, night after night, that's why i SCREAM SO GODDAMNED LOUD can't you hear me? why don't you listen? I AM NOT INVISIBLE and i am here i will stay here outside your life forever if you don't give me some kind of acknowledgement, tell me, please. i am alive. --RoyaBoya NumberThirtyFive I am stepping outside the door into the wet, I am walking away from
the homicidal yellin unfrightenable I will Stay here I am breathing hard deep breaths I am in the rain I am barefoot I am wet I am dancing I am looking at a mountain that is covered in lights and I am thinking how a man's desires can ruin a whole view I am dancing faster than ever now you'll never capture this on stage/ this is what I am born to do/. I am unbound small breasts and i am laughing at the moon which doesn't matter which is hidden 'neath the clouds. I am walking I am rain NumberThirtySix (for jenni) I will Stay here I won't think about this too hard I will just smile and say thank you and blush just a little. I will do everything I can do dispell your fear of horrible rejection. you make me wonder who made your brown eyes wet with tears. you remind me of bambi i can hear a shot in the woods. you run and flee, so fast i can't help you but you have the sweetest eyes. you hide in the trees and dart in and out of shadows but bambi has grown up before its time. when you saw her die, i wonder, did you have to take her place? you are stuck somewhere, your back against a tree watching the bullet in slow motion. you are stuck inside this dream, your past it's somewhere i can't find, i don't know. your eyes are so big, and scared and then they turned hard and experienced your eyes are so big, and they can hold so many tears. --RoyaBoya NumberThirtySeven Your eyes are so big and they hold so many tears and watching you I don't know If I can hold back my own emotions or if they are rolling down my cheeks in drops of salt sad,sad, so sad why? do I cry like this I can't do what I've always wanted and grow out of crying even though on the days when I am running throught the feilds of corn and tomatoes I don't think of the afternoons spent dampining my pillow Don't associate the rain falling all around me with tears it is joyful to lie on my back with my clothes stuck tight to my skin and raindrops falling down my face like tears. Franny NumberThirtyEight it is joyful to lie on my back and watch the trees from my window. i can smell the insense burning the light coming through at a 3pm angle. it reminds me of when the whole world tickled me and i didn't mind laughing. we would all lay on the floor in here, after showers the light would play around our smiles and the dust particles danced his knees were the mountains i would climb and his beard was the field i would run through his hands would pull me across rivers and hold me close. he could do no wrong. we would walk outside, our small suburban city with it's straight cement sidwalks and i had every crack mapped. i think now, if only i could tell when i would crack, that easily. if only i could tell when to swerve, to avoid a crash our street has trees, they were so big then. i barely have time now to notice when the leaves fall and i am so preoccupied i trip over those cracks i knew so well. but growing up is not without it's joy and my house, my home, my room, my street has grown with me the light still hits the same wall at the same 3pm angle even if i am not there to see. --RoyaBoya NumberThirtyNine the light still blinds me if it is too strong just like everybody else. if it's too bright i still have to close my eyes i still see spots my eyes still hurt. just because i can see what is inside myself because i'm a little more open in that respect you seem to think i have super powers and x-ray vision but i see colors the same way you do. my vision stops at brick walls the only difference is i can turn my eyes onto myself and you think skin is as thick as a brick wall. --RoyaBoya NumberForty i have super powers and x-ray vision but sometimes i go home and cry because being strong isn?t all it?s built up to be no matter how many people tell you ?be stong? don?t be so strong that you have calluses on your heart don?t froget the rose petals floating on the pond don?t forget the time a sideways glance meant everything to you turn your back and squeeze your eye?s and be brave but not to brave, not os brave that you don?t ever sit at home on the rug with your guitar and sing love songs hoping they will float out the window and drift to someone who needs them don?t forget that someone loves you don?t forget to cry. NumberFourtyOne You... sit at home on the rug with your guitar playing the songs no one knows no one wants to hear but you can't get them out of your head beause they're engraved in your memory. -jennyrose NumberFortyTwo your guitar playing the songs no one knows. the songs that you never knew until you sat on your bed and cried and the tears came out in strings of pearls and notes, and this was the only way you could get your voice not to crack. singing songs no one knows, words you'd never heard before until they said them, until you felt them until your heart pounded them out a perfect tempo to match the strums of the guitar. when you cry into the air you can't grab this music back and you are amazed at how comforting impermanence can be. NumberFourtyThree tears hover in the air like a broken string of pearls falling all around me i'm struggling to pick up the pieces of my heart i'm scattered sadness that's rolled into all the little places where i can come upon it unexpectedly the slightest thing reminding me like a white chain around my heart the more i break it the tighter it gets /jenny/ NumberFourtyFour the more i write the more life ties itself around my neck the rope burns a good reminder of cause and effect. i guess i can't complain, i guess no one types these words but me. but sometimes when i want to let it all hang loose and i want to dangle from some high up perch when i want to let everything release my words come back to haunt me. the ropes tighten around my wrists and block any blood from flowing. and sometimes when i want to let it all flow away spill out of me my words grab onto my arms, pinch my shoulders, twist my fingers make tears spill, but not the blood just the words. i guess i should be grateful, i guess but sometimes words hurt more than anything else. NumberFortyFive When I want to let everything release, I look at the world from the side, peripherally, indifferently and I wonder, is it beauty that I see, is it the pain of life, Or perhaps the rage of it Or fear of it, Or is it none of these, does it simply exist am I simply aware. When the world spins like a man falling from a mountain top I breathe life into it instead of retreating The stick on the ground could be alive The shirt you wear could talk The hand you hold could be your last And the only thing you know is the world is a strange place, a wonderous place. To let everything release, To leap unaware into the desert of my mind I see the question unasked but often heard I turn my face and /see/ it from the side. NumberFortySix simply open your mouth and sing without thinking simply write a poem without stopping simply lay down your fears and let pain wash over you in a river instead of a stampede. simply avoid the flowers when you walk simply smile your fears are the biggest fears in the world and you dunno but i do know i know how to simply love and be loved i know the bruises you get on your arms when you fall too hard the sounds of furniture crashing with you the sound of your voice echoing in a dark room. simply put, i understand. but you have to understand the difference between trampeling the flowers on your heart to death and simply doing weed control. NumberFourtySeven the difference between tears of joy and tears of sorrow are the spaces between the drops when i cry a tear a second, and they pile up like the miles from here to you you know i am missing the way you touch my cheek and smooth out all the worries. but when they stroll down my face like a nice long walk at night, watching the stars, then you know i am making wishes and know they will be granted. but tonight time has slowed and my eyes are dry i have no room for sorrow inside of me but no room for joy either. because you are a million miles away and even if i cried all of my tears that ocean wouldn't be large enough to reach from you to me. so why bother crying at all? --RoyaBoya NumberFortyEight reach for the radio to change the song "lonely girl" is stabbing this girl in her lonely heart reach for someone's hand to squeeze when things get scary. i have old lady hands tonight, i think, my fingers are short and you can see my veins i follow them down through my wrist past the scars from times when lonely meant tortured nights and desperation. tonight lonely means biting my tongue and letting somebody else do my singing for me. NumberFortyNine biting my tongue and letting somebody else do the thinking the decision making i have my own decisions to make i have to decide why i’m standing here in front of the mirror looking at my cherry smooth lips and eyes red from crying into my pillow decide why i don’t look quite right and i put the makeup on the mirror hold still so the lipstick goes where my lips appear in the reflection blue eye shadow blush and mascara and eyeliner all pulled out of my mothers drawer and when i burst into tears and move my face the makeup without the face left behind scares me is that all i am, the false outer layer waiting to be smeared and wiped away an unblinking shape on the bathroom mirror? Number Fifty I have to decide why I'm standing here. Am I here to make myself begin, do I stagnate am I doing well? As I look into the water flowing past through blades of green and nourished grass I see a vision of myself in there. It exists regardless of the human hand of God It stays no matter what the sun decides to do It makes the land alive no matter what lies near. I am that river. I decide to make myself go on, Not forgetting that I am out on a wing But remembering that I am here to grow wings. To BE wings. Sometimes I think that the best way to live life is to forget But I was wrong, Any master of stories Or tribal man will tell you, The best way to do things is to remember. I remember one night long ago When the sky was deep blue and clear, When the skies were strewn about with stars that know. I remember the way I looked at it, into the infinite. I remember the laughing that echoed through that night, Laughter shared between my best friend and I. I remember loving everything about myself, And I hated no one. There was no reason to believe that anyone could do me wrong. And I knew that there was only way that I could have a wrong done to me... through my own resistance for change. 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