It's true.

I'd never ever kill myself,
but that doesn't mean I don't wish I was dead.

Ugly Lump

Your heart is an ugly lump
Full of veins and ventricles
That pound and pump.
You can't stand the sight of love
It's soiled and it's awful
Make you feel undone.
Still you chase girls
Fall for boys
Making passion and noise.
Not knowing what you'll feel
Hoping if it's something
It's something unreal.
In turn, your chest gets kicked
Apparently, after all
your skin ain't thick.
So naive is your ugly lump
Always looking up
To a brighter sun.
Never watches it step
To see where it's going
Hopes this is the right direction,
The direction it's flowing.
Hold on, because
Here
We
Go.
Falling into young romances
Taking leaps and taking chances.
Take my hand.
Take my hand.
Take my hand.
Understand.
I hope this isn't real, again.

Pain pills

Every day, I get up and I tell myself, flat out, no beating around the bush, "today is the day, we turn everything around for us." But, we never do. By the end of the day we are doing the same thing we always do. Writing furiously about how we can't do anything right or make anyone happy then crying ourselves to sleep asking "why?"

Today is almost over and I can already feel the tears inside me starting to rise. Rise to the surface, the whites of my eyes, waiting to collect in the lashes and then roll down my hot, flushed cheeks. I can already feel them. It feels good, but it feels disgusting at the same time. To know I am so young and already so messed up. I'm sure I sound like every other teenage girl, with drama she won't share and heartbreak that is probably meaningless but, it doesn't feel that way. Everyone's pain is equal and no ones pain is more important than another's. In the end, all pain is not substantial. In the end, all pain is resolved. With a hug, a kiss, a death, a life.

The question still remains inside me though. Will tomorrow be the day when I finally turn everything around? Or will I lie in bed tomorrow feeling farther from my goal. I have things I aspire to reach, hands I wish to hold, love I wish to decree, poems and stories and screenplays and books I need to write. All things in life I need to finish. Perhaps the first step is to remove of myself any goals at all, be clean of things that, subconsciously, I strive to meet and complete.

I'm crying now. And my day is not even done. Oh god, I'm a mess. Oh lord, I'm a train wreck. Will someone, anyone help me turn this around?

Please someone lie to me, that this is all going to turn out before I know it.

Relief

I am sitting in a room, trapped in darkness.
Engulfed in a never ending night and I have no idea what is going on.

There is a smell about this room I don't much care for.
It is not a bad smell, it's not disgusting or intolerable.
But it a scent I cannot place my finger on and my natural fear
of the unknown is causing impatience that almost makes me gag.

The room is drafty. I feel a cool breeze rush over my skin once in a while
almost as if there was someone opening a door that leads to the outside
but, I am sure there is not because there is never a change of lighting
the same way a room get's brighter when you come inside from the street.
There are no noises that indicate other people around me or a door itself being
opened.

I feel as if I am on fire. My skin is burning and my cheeks feel hot
as if I am embarassed. My lips are chapped and sore and my eyes begin to water
the way they would if there was smoke being blown into them.

There is a noise that comes about every few seconds.
A drip of water hitting cement. Like a leaking sink in the middle of a street.
I wonder if I am in a sewer. But I don't hear cars above me roar over the pavement and
I hear no running water or scurrying rats.

I shut my eyes and squeeze my face so tightly
it feels almost as if I have aged exceedingly.

When I open them, the room is white.
I look down and I can see my hands, my feet, my legs, the chair upon which I am seated.
I sigh a breath of relief. Pure, exasperated relief.

I am dead.


(eric says hello)

The loudest words are not on pages.

What say I
Spell out your pride
That flow from your tongue
An ancient sea
Part thy lips
Two ships
Two sailing ships of red
That lead a myriad of words
Into a flow of conversation.

What say you
Speak only truth
Speak to me only words
That hold their holy ground
Say nothing if not aloud
And be no one if no one speaks their mind
Dit moi la vérité
As the french do say
It not need be so beautifully phrased
Need not phase me
But still please me
With your honesty for I now do expect nothing less and so much more.

Take two lovers set in place
And add one band of diamond love
And see her smile, white as doves
But irony beseech you
For you are the dove who carries message forth
Messages of marriage and eternity
And things of a nature perceived as peaceful.

Tell me, how is it that words
Are a basis of a conversation
Are a basis of a memory and still forgotten
before our actions even cease?

We can imagine our first kiss
Better than the bible's verses
Hymns and curses.

We forget our parent's lectures
Quicker than when we were hit
Punched and kicked.

But still we see those words as being
Of something who's value outlasts
Who's wisdom is said to never pass
When still the saying goes
That actions speak what words cannot.

So tell me
Will these words not last?
I hope not
For words mean nothing
So long as hearts still beat
And love still pounds
And rockets don't stay on the ground. the ground.

Dear jeans

Between your holes are met goals
Through your wear my soul is bared
I am scared.
For soon
I must lose you
Dispose of your memories "
Treasure me"
You whisper
And I wish I could.
You have faded shades from blue to grey
And where once explorer was what you read
Is now a hole, since exploration's dead
Tight becomes the fit
But still I shall not quit
For you
You remain my favourite pair
My sweet blue jeans
With tender care
-Liv

A forgotten smile

It's midweek and I'm passing through a familiar hallway
but instead of busy, instead of crowded and noisy, it's empty
and quiet.

I'm not sure why but it even smells different when it's lonely
and vacant. I like that smell better, I'm sure everyone does.

It's even more yellow than usual. The dull fluorescent lighting
makes my skin crawl. There are papers and notes loosely floating
down the tiles. When you walk, even the softest steps, they seem louder.
They seem important and meaningful.

I walk fast from the bathroom back to the science class. I am wearing a black
winter coat and a red hat. I have glasses on and bag slung over my shoulder.
My hair is softly curled. I feel rushed for no reason. My body feels cold even though
I am roasting under my layers of clothes.

I am walking up the stairs and I see you with someone walking in my direction from down
the hallway. It's a long hallway. I am crossing the floor and our paths cross.

You smile at me. It will become the most important smile of my life.

You catch me off guard and I smile back. I wanna say "hi" but my tongue
fumbles the words and swallows them back into the abyss of my sad and lonely mind.

I become ecstatic and wonder a million things about you. We have never spoken before.

I dreamed about that first smile last night.
It was a memory I forgot I had.
It made me feel so safe to remember it.

God damn it, I really miss you.