After-taste

Another day spent lamenting the loss of love and the birth of loneliness
Sprung up like a weed of interruption amidst the flowers in my beaten soul
Beating but cold
I'm but a fragment of the
Sentence I used to be
Can't find the middle or the end because you
Walked away with the words that made sense
And I'm stuck here in the shadows muttering half eaten memories
And gathering crumbs of a love I used to taste, breathe in and know
Now I'm starving
& refraining from acknowledging the look in your eyes
Every time you said I love you, your most painful lie

"Different: The Dirty Word"

I hate feeling like I have to change who I am to be somebody to the rest of the world.

I love being me. Being quirky, different, passionate & able to do things that most don't think about.

Why is being yourself considered such a bad thing these days? If you're not a clone, you're a random lost face in the crowd.

I write. I'm a writer. The company of others can be a bonus (or nuisance) but isn't really necessary. Peace of mind is all I really desire.

Everything is electronic now: all forms of art. It's hard to be seen, be heard or appreciated when you're competing in a sea filled with constant overstimulation of senses. There's no room for people who are merely interested in simple pleasures like writing a letter, reading poetry from a book or sharing a few laughs face to face.

I was jokingly called "grandma" by someone a month ago because I said owned books and refused to read electronic books. I love the crispness of turning pages, the smell of the ink on the page, the feeling of the binding running against the palm of my hands. That's all the sensory experience I need curled up on my couch.

Perhaps I'm a dreamer because I can't go backwards, but what's in front of me isn't inviting or appealing. I'm starved for genuine human connection, affection and attention. Real life and not the kind in reality shows. I want to live a life of purpose. Is that too much to ask?

Life seems to have lost all meaning of originality and excitement. Everyone has access to everything and everyone all the time. There is no element of surprise. There is nothing to look forward to. It's like a world of living zombies. The damage is far worse than I ever imagined it could be.

I'm alone because I'm different. Different used to be a good thing. Now it's like a dirty word.

Hero

In despair
each and every time I
silently wish for a hero
but only you appear
(The one who broke my heart)
With glue and promises in tow
But you look so different as a hero
That I forget underneath it all you were first the villain
I forget I wouldn't need to be saved
If I stopped putting myself in harm's way
I forget I wouldn't need your kisses to evaporate the tears you made fall
Your words dance like bubbles, soft penetrable and limited in their ability to do anything but completely disappear
My fingertips still wet and sticky
with the residue of I Love You's
But that's it -- and I can't be too sure if you were ever here
You've left no traces of an attempt to ever stay

One day

One day I'm going to fall in love, foolishly but for all the right reasons and the person I love will love me -- selflessly, perfectly
The way you never would

She will look me in the eye and I will know that the sounds forming between her lips are merely the cherry atop the whipped cream of her actions
Those words will shape my heart, my life, my present and my future
Into the shape of happiness
You know, that round block you thought fit into the square peg

I'll know that every time our eyes meet she won't be searching mine to see if I recognize the person in front of me
We will be the reflection of honesty and devotion in one another

One day I'll hold hands, watch movies and laugh until my stomach hurts with someone who knows me as well as she knows herself because we live for today
And are grateful for tomorrow
Our dreams are whispers between cool sheets and rustles of morning blankets

Sweet kisses on foreheads and I want you's that linger in a quick glance
This is love? This is love.
Hands that search for the small in her back then gently glide and wrap around her waist
I adore her every inch, every atom of her being
She completes me

One day

Untitled

Stuck at the corner of “I’ll change” and “I didn’t mean to hurt you”

I’m running late for the best thing that ever happened to me

Getting over you

Another detour 

It’s as if I’m meant to be reminded 

That you’re not interested in loving me
Even though my heart is set on being the best part of you
I’ve crashed head first into denial

And the “I love you’s” sound brand new

Untitled

I love you
Fell like shards of glass onto linoleum
Cracked pieces scattered everywhere so the truth could not be recovered
Picking up my heart again with a dustpan and a broom
Stooped low towards the ground listening to the melody of heartache
Smash against reality
Sometimes it's not worth knowing the words to the same song
If you'll only burrow inside the sound to escape
Chastising myself and taking a vow of silence from the L word
The capacity to succumb reduced with my feet firmly planted on the ground
I'd rather stand alone than fall and break
There's only so much of me left

untitled

false truths fall faster from your lips
than I love you can hide behind my eyes
the speed of fear and love at the intersection
of reality
chasing you like a thief in the night
you’ve stolen my heart and run away with it
too afraid to stay and let it beat inside the palms
of your hands
so
you squeeze, I’m without breath, air
i’m starved for your affection
and alive merely by the will to eat

.Click.

Fake friends, fake lives, fake pictures, fake eyes. A generation of photoshopped, cut & pasted lies.

Would they know a laugh if they heard it or does “lol” just suffice?

Real fingers touch skin, lips kiss corners & crevices of bodies that
That keyboards can’t touch, no matter how many strokes
 And with a click you’re forgotten

Love becomes a quote, a phrase, lyrics in angst from misunderstood songs and displaced anger becomes lines of white haste swiftly relocating to nasal cavities, deteriorating from the inside out

Souls inside out

Ripped clean from the hinges of innocence 

Dangling arms and legs, strings that guide and overseeing hands tangled in their provocative ties

There’s no limit even after the edge of the cliff when nothing is beneath their feet but air, because society assures them that to pretend is to care

Fighting for nothing and dying for everything but the will to live, these young soldiers thrown into battle unprepared for the war on their minds as a means to their core

Swept under the rug of misfortune,

Misfits miss this and sequential hits to the possibilities of a socially conscious lift

They’re pinned down by their ears

And dumbed by the slicing of their tongues

Language is the barrier to knowing more


But the men on our currency fold and line pockets that disintegrate the keys to that door

Party of One

You've thrown yourself a party again,
but the only one that RSVP'd is you

Balloons, streamers, party favors & hats. This time you were going big, you said. Party for one?
One.

The only number you can count to since no one else ever seems to exist.

Love is a one man show for you. You flirt, get your own number & forget to call.
You suck at even picking yourself up & following through on a date.

Those nights tossing in between sheets, welcoming your own demons and fighting angels that sought to heal your soul
Suffering is what you do best

So weeks turn to months, years & you wonder what became of that old love you buried on a cold New England day.

It's sprung forth from soil without water, little to no sunlight & an environment of solitude where barely anything can grow,
& became a blossoming tree, beside another tree
that grew from one of its seeds
you see
love has a way of breaking through the toughest misery

Still having parties with only one in attendance while
love blossoms outside your window
all you can do is stare, alone
& watch it become everything
you will never be

.lost lovers.

Say you’re misunderstood but what’s confusing is that your words are like the hard coating on your actions
Unbreakable yet so hurtful
So you crave the closeness of two lovers lost at the end of each others’ sentences
But you’re more like the period at the end; content beads up like perspiration off the skin of your lies
Your eyes
Deep hollow and rounded at the tips
I swear they were made for destruction
Yet you claim you want peace rather than war even though your heart is covered in a bullet proof vest
I stopped looking for hints of me in your smile because, your reasons for happiness left right along with them
I listened as your footsteps grew further away with each sound, each beat of your heart like a low rumble of a drum
I’m no musician but it sounded like the death of passion on pavement

.fraud.

You're a fraud, you
Tiptoe through hearts where locks were left unturned & steal what wasn't yours to take

You leave muddy footprints & smudged finger swirls upon every thing within your path, you're arrogant

So arrogant that you permanent mark your desire to disrespect on the lips of lovers & in between the sheets of other frauds you seek to compete with

Your eyes bore holes & store information in the form
of facial explanation so at a moment's
notice you can recall & reformat data to do your life's work of being something to someone, anyone
Who will listen or who won't but you want them to

You're lost in a translucent web of emotional destruction on the brink of no tomorrow because your selfishness has sucked today dry

Others are just resources to replenish your empty soul, but it still has that gaping hole --- it all falls through you, it's not you or yours to keep

You're a fraud, you
Tiptoe through hearts where locks were left unturned & steal what wasn't yours to take

I've come for my things

I hate the internet

Really? Every relationship, every moment, every thought, every idea of who you "are" is based on the internet. In fact, if I could post this in a newspaper and thought it might even be seen, I would. Instead I'll settle for the fact the maybe one or two people may read this because I'm not half naked perpetrating to get attention. Where are all the real people? Do they even exist anymore? Or is it all just a show to prove who can outdo who? The funny thing is more than half of the people who spend 23.5 hours on the internet are boring, anti social, lonely, awkward people who use the internet to bully people while posting pictures as if they run shit. I'm over it. I'm over the hype & the b.s. I want to meet real people with real thoughts who do real things. Just recently I met a handful of real people and it was like learning to breathe again because I'm so tired of being around/near people who are always trying to compete and be cool. It's so disgusting and pathetic. Like whatever happened to being who you are and that being enough? Now you need the right hair, right eyes, right hair color, right phone, right extracurricular activities -- gotta be seen at the right events hanging with the "right" people. All of it is such a turn off and I feel like the people that are real are becoming extinct. You can't even date people anymore who aren't competing with you. Lame.As.Fuck.