One Day

It was the afternoon of the day I died. The church was holding an after school service for the students of local high schoolers because they knew that high schoolers no longer get up at eight in the morning on a Sunday to attend a church service. My parents wanted me to make friends so I attended.  I went into the building and was surrounded by a mass of teenagers talking and chatting while leaning up against the walls. Everyone had a friend but as I looked around for someone to talk to, I found more and more people staring at me. So I made a beeline to the bathroom. The people in the hall eventually cleared and followed the adults into the auditorium. "Should I go? Should I not go?" I asked myself this. The halls were beginning to become more empty. I stayed in the bathroom. The band began to play and I cried to myself. After two hours, the service had ended. A few girls had gone into the bathroom at the time noticing a girl sitting by herself on the toiled but they ...

I try to cut and shape my heart As best as I can Try my best to mold it into the perfect shape Unfortunately, I find as soon as I finish shaping the mold Trying my best to drift off to sleep Thoughts come back into my head Nagging me and pulling at my sanity I want to change my heart So I go back to shaping Go back to imagining you here When you were a kid Worried people would judge you by the color of your skin Restricted from full freedom but with a heart as mighty as a lion You learned to love your chains Began to respect everyone Creating within yourself a motto "Treat others the way you want to be treated" I wish I could do the same Because countless times After many insults  You never were really gone Though you could not take me again Your forgiveness is monumental I almost wonder how to achieve what you have Acceptance of the way things are I look to the past Trying to recognize why prejudices began to fill my mind Only to recognize the past as a dream I can no longer...

Everything decays Everything dies away The brown brick is sick   The trees are throwing up From the cylinder blocks in the old, rusty shack To the dark windows of a building burned from within The walls have holes The sidewalk is chipped The yard is overgrown with weeds That car hasn't been used in months The silos have rusted over The fence around it has fallen over and is sinking into the ground People who walk by carry tremendous fat in their thighs Wires that haven't been managed in years At the tallest of the building A window looks out on the scene As if someone had pushed it open I look but no one appears in the window

I am going down the road The lady is pushing behind me I realize the effect of my actions Pushing myself far away On a road that leads to nowhere I seem to remember a time when I was put together The crystalized windows of the Presbyterian chapel reminding me of wholeness, stillness and perfection As a cacophony of voices reach a crescendo The sun shining on the football field Memories we will remember as graduating seniors going onto the rest of our lives Cinderella finding her Prince Eternal bliss in the comfort of suburban homes and holidays School events and ballet recitals Writing in my diary Waiting for that story that would inspire meaning Inspire hope But I moved on from that world into the country Seeing things in an entirely different light Beat up cars Dusty and scratched windows Butterflies dancing among the trash Abandoned trailers taken over by cobwebs and roaches Trees where you can walk in and cry but no one would hear your name The field were I offered up my virginity ...

Useless That is how I feel The clouds hang over the scene Releasing tiny rain droplets It is the day after my death Each face passing by the scene seems stricken with pity They look as a bystander  They sit with their hand on their waist Smoking a cigarette  Looking on from afar Staring at the ground and struck With an expression of remorse Each person who passes Continues on without seeing the scene Young families living with new promises Innocent to problems that may become upon them The trees are limp and they barely shake The man sticks his foot out again Leaning against the pole Smoking a new joint The clouds roll over, silent and grey

You tell me to trust someone again. I tell you that is near next to impossible to try. Oh sure, I have. Don't think I am going around saying "Screw the World" or something. I try to make nice, pleasant conversation with people. I appreciate their thoughts and musings. I watch them from afar, sometimes knowing more about them than I know about myself. I guess it's just different now. I have had a few lovers. Each one will look into my eyes and try to bring out of me that intimacy they so long for. A connection or something to inspire them and make them believe that they are unique and meaningful to the world. We all want to be meaningful. We all want to make sense and be loved and appreciated. Our struggles, our cries. Our independent thoughts. These things are separate between us and the other world. They keep us around in the same circles, circling over and over. Perhaps it is okay to have this sort of veil between us and everything else because everything else is us...

Cut Scratch Scrape I am afraid It has spread To all of her organs Floating in her veins It has taken her Taken over her mind She will never be the same She will cease to be alive "Well, maybe you were better when you were off your medication." "What are you being, bipolar or something?" "I am afraid you will have to make some changes to the rest of your life that you might find rather discomforting but it is only for the best. You will get through this, finding yourself a new you." "You are just so..." "What am I?" I ask. "You can't even look inside yourself to see what is wrong with you? Maybe your head is really screwed on backwards..." "No, I am trying. I really am." Slap! "Quit your bitching." "I want to hang out." "No. Do you think I like hearing this?" "You used to like me once." "No. I think you were just imagining it."...