You don't feel fast
until they slow you
writers blockI have writers block.
I don't know when it came
Or how, I just know
That it appeared
Judging, telling me
My work was pathetic
Pathetically awful, incapable
Of making someone's bad day
I tried riding of it of it
By telling it to go, and
That I didn't need it
But I was ignored.
I tried using a friend of mine,
Hate, yelling and screaming
And abusing the block.
Silly me, I forget it has
I try to throw it away, hoping
It gets run over,
But I can never catch
The writer's block.
It's safe to say... Nothing worked.
Have I been defeated by this
Devastating force? Do I give
Up, and take up sports instead?
No. That's not me.
So I sit down in front of my
Computer, and I write. I write
Wonderful, pointless nonsense.
The click-click-click of the keys
Makes the block crumble, knowing
It's criticism has no effect.
As the block erodes, it screams out one final
Protest, until it's finally gone.
My computer screen is filled with
Garbage words, imprinted on.
chords all prowl
never held ground
A roar, a scream
a distorted dream
the nightmare song
No right, no wrong,
Music play its
only tune, calling
It's too soon
In the chaotic
air, hanging hope
skin worn down
spine and bone
whatever I loved
I loved alone.
.You gave me wings
They turned to stone
You gave me hope
I'm still alone
I followed orders
Like you told me to
Always more to do
I've got everything;
Glory, money, but
I was still left empty
Tell me: Now what?
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A Penis
Do not assume (if I hold the door for you),
that I am making a statement
about your inabilities
to open the door for yourself.
If you hold it for me,
I'll say 'thankyou'.
Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),
that I am underestimating
your earning capacity
as a woman.
If you invite me out for a meal,
Do not assume (if I defend your rights),
that I am belittling
the attempts that you have made
to defend your rights yourself.
If you defend my rights,
I'll consider you human.
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,
how the walls became
a veiny sight-
(could the cause be me calling out
in the middle of the night?)
and alone I stand here,
how my feet got
nailed upon this floor-
(do you hold my ankles
like an anchor
does the shore?)
and I know it’s been thirteen years
since you were here at all,
according to the hash marks
the wooden wall
but I can’t
of our memories,
so for now,
I’ll let the doc declare:
Insanity needs company.
five things they don't teach you in highschool1.
it's okay to fall in love.
i mean, they tell you you're never going
to marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not going
to tell you it's a lie
because it's not. you guys will probably
break up and is gonna hurt like hell
but you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only one
who has felt loneliness like a knife,
the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsing
because they were your air,
and you will never be the only one who whispered
"i love you" two lives too soon.
you will not be the last one to have tucked
hair behind their ear and leaned in for a kiss
or the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there.
but it's okay.
your favorite book will not always be your favorite.
like you, it will change over time
to something unrecognizable
that gives you only a vague nostalgia in the tips of your fingers.
flipping through the pages will never
feel the same again.
you will learn to love something new;
your next favorite will teach you something about you
storiesi begin and end with stories
where hummingbird hearts play sonatas
against my ribs and i drown in
early morning light and
the girl in me sinks into the sea
like rusting anchors chained to
ships and i sway port and starboard
the lion in me rises like lazarus
from the savannah where dust swirls
and i begin and end with stories
where i swallow the world and all
the rain and girls and lions in it
where i hold it up like atlas,
where i support jupiter with just
an index finger and where i chase
comets and cup them like fireflies
to hang on my bedroom walls
Ghost in the MachineThere were days
her happiness in brightness,
when she would hold
her hands over her eyes
and the cracks of sunlight,
like old paint on drywall,
would shine through
to let her know exactly
who it was that held her.
Who is it?
And at that moment of recognition
...she felt okay.
More than photons
reflecting off of totem shells,
humanity is conch-cradled
in her dusk where light perception
is limited to the moon, where blind
is a swear word and an oath
dependent on a circadian
arcade: she is blind
and going blinder.
she allows herself a curfew
to blow out the lantern
and sing without color
for the first time.
you rely on a perfect balance—
trusting the sunshine to smile
on your bare arms at eight a.m.,
two p.m., half-past six and ticking on,
letting the moon comfort you
as patchwork clouds shawl over
midnight's studded shoulders,
leaving behind aspects of life:
natural, mundane, mechanical,
and self-made doubts.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she