I read what you write

Around 2 am I grow bored with the silly game I waste all my time on.
The world is silent except for the hum of the computer and everyone is asleep but me.
I remember that the world is empty and open Robot Melon.
If I read everything, I will be able to write something amazing.

Something is wrong tonight, when I read I feel sick and knotted up inside.
No matter how much I read, I cannot be all of you.
I need to stop pretending.
I need to write like me.

The Poet's Voice

When I read a poem, I don't hear my voice in my head.
I don't hear what I think the writer sounds like either.
It is always the same voice(s), a girl and a boy who are the same person.
They are the same as the words on the page, the words on the screen.
(Is there a difference between them anymore?)
When the words behind my eyes want to live on the page, born through the pen,
I hear the voices again.

This time, they aren't reading old words from a screen, they read me my life as if it were written.
"A man and a woman exchange text messages, both talking past the other."
"A woman with nothing left but enough to live for watches imported English television and laughs."
"I am wearing a purple hoodie too thin for anything, and pants too large around the waste."
"He said... She said..."

The voices are dim, the words blurry, a hand cast out to touch the ephemeral poetry of my mind passes through them like metaphorical smoke or that fog thick enough to breathe.

The coffee.
I thought about it at 6.
Brewed it at 7.
Finished at 8?
Drank at 9.
Sipping the rest now, at 10 pm.
Why coffee at night? Because it makes the words clear.
Crisp, delicious, visceral and within reach.
The voices can be heard, transcribed, they are manifesting now, through the fingers on the keyboard.

I have not written a word tonight, just copied the voices and their words. Or are the voices just my way, that voice they tell me I have but I cannot see?

But this touch, this breath, the bleeding of the words onto the page.
It has begun.
Please.
Please, don't let it ever stop.

Riding A Trainwreck To Hell

I love her. I love her laugh and hate to see her tears. I love her allusions to obscure mathematical phenomenon and the way she finds puzzle games erotic. I love the way we slip into lust from the maddening depression we derive from the real world.

I know, above all else, that being with her will leave me broken and bleeding on the rocky shores of life. This cannot end well. But I will never leave, because I will make life into a love story, even if it kills me.

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Now playing: System Of A Down - Lost in Hollywood
via FoxyTunes

Don't Forget to Shine

I did this wrong. All wrong. I lied. About the beautiful people. I said they were cheerleaders and drama queens, jocks and class presidents. I lied to your face and for that I'm sorry.

The beautiful people are real. They are the poets who never write, the musician who can't afford a square meal, those honest-to-god souls who are bigger than the skin they wear and the blood in their veins. You probably can't see it, but I can. They sparkle. I found one and I fell in love. Short, passionate, I wanted to see us burn up together. Of course it couldn't end well, nothing ever does. But I wanted to wring my heart out and squeeze every last drop of sunshine from her smile before I broke under the pain of being so close.

She wouldn't let me. She is staying with her boyfriend, who she loves very much. She knows he will dump her, this year most likely. But she cannot end it herself, she has to suffer through his abuses. I suffered through hers willingly, trying to break her out of her torture and set her gently into my arms.

But none of this really matters. What matters is that I never kissed her. She said that if we kissed, she could never see me again and her relationship with her boyfriend would end, violently. I thought the most virtuous thing I could do was break her. Make the sacrifice of never seeing her again and destroy all that she held dear so that she could live free and well. I couldn't do it, though. I kissed her on the forehead and told her "I will never leave. Not until you forget how to sparkle."

You see, apparently I sparkle too. I'm not happy like she is, exuding magic into those around her. I don't love everything that breathes. But I sparkle too. So, apparently I am a beautiful person. And the worst thing you can do, to anyone, is take away their ability to sparkle. The world likes them better that way, and it happens eventually.

This is why I don't love Juliet like I used too. A boy took her, held her, and broke her heart. When he did, she lost what made her special. She succeeds now. Plays sports, gets good grades, and will probably be a great success. But she doesn't love everything anymore. She is jaded and real, not an angel with a mortal smile.

So, if you are a poet or a dream. Don't ever forget and don't ever take it away. Always love and protect those beautiful people. Even if it kills you.

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Go Outside

I thought my feet were on the ground. Then I swept her up in my arms and suddenly everything was just a blur. I see three stars and I find them all so beautiful, it is a crime to choose. And yet, it is a greater crime not to. I feel no guilt for my actions, as my wrists don't bleed in payment to the voices in my head that whisper my crimes. I hope that I am judged by a merciful God, for I did not mean to sin.

I did not mean to sin. I just wanted some fireworks.

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Now playing: Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Damn Regret
via FoxyTunes

A Poetic Thought

Juliet gave me what I asked for. A promise to see this unrequited love through. I've got all that I wanted, now I just need to face everything else.

"So now I can write in my suicide note that hers were the first and last lips that ever kissed mine. I guess that's all anyone can ask."

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Now playing: Rise Against - Voices Off Camera
via FoxyTunes

Kerouac

I've been reading a lot of weird writing lately, mainly Down In Me and Reclaiming Imogen. I really like it, it's manageable in brevity and thought-provoking in the way it disturbs me. I might take up writing like this. I worry that someone will find it and the works will ruin my future career, but then this comes to mind. This thought process is the same thing that prevents me from linking my blog on facebook. I have over 100 "friends" but I still hesitate to show more than a few (those who are reading this) who I really am. I know they won't accept me. This knowledge is odd in that I enjoy playing in their world but need to live in mine.

So really, time will tell what I will do. Oh, and I should really get around to reading Kerouac, he sounds like a pretty cool guy.

Oh, and Juliet thought I killed myself. How quaint. Some days I wish I had. Hopefully the new medication will help with that. But really, I think the world is more beautiful when looking at it from the perspective of "after I die, she gets to live and..."

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Now playing: AFI - This Celluloid Dream
via FoxyTunes

Another Poet

So, I know another poet, and he said I could share some of his work here. This piece really spoke to me, and the phenomenon of falling in love on the train, which I'll talk about another day. So, without further ado, I present "Sincerity" by Prester John.

Sincerity

To the dearest, precious woman
The dandelion of the garden
She who breaks the ice
Just so she can go fishing
For compliments.

To the lovely
No, beautiful
No, pretty
No, cute girl

I thank you
For everything
You never gave me.

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Now playing: Good Charlotte - Misery
via FoxyTunes

The Most Beautiful Poems, You Will Never Read

It's 7:33 and I'm falling asleep even though I woke up at 4
And all I can think of is
Polish castles,
True love,
and how sorry I am for everything I ever I ever did to you.
Sorry,
Will you marry me,
So when I die you can use my money
To sing and make it big on the indie scene?


I'd rather kiss a girl than have a thousand bucks,
I'd rather taste good chocolate than eat well for a month,
I'd rather smoke than breathe for a week,
I'd rather say what I mean than watch what I speak,
I'd rather love you tomorrow than be married to another,
I'd rather die terrified than live forever.

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Now playing: Death Cab For Cutie - Someday You Will Be Loved
via FoxyTunes