the result of the complication.

plucking on heart strings
losing the same things
all because you said yes
to what
a green dress?
a lucky guess?
don't mind me
just remind me
that to love
we must lose
and to gain
we must trust
because what is pain
but a failure again?
so we repaint our nails
say that we're pretty
and come Saturday
we'll run this city

exams.

deep thoughts?
mmmm...
no...
wrong answer.
you are now kicked out of blogland.
no thoughts?
nothing?
angst?
joy?
song lyrics?
no...
F = MA
WTSINTHETA - f = SOMETHING
FRICTION
...
failure.
haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

blunt...

i'm sick of myself.
and school.
and apparently this is all i am.
thanks, friend.
not.
you're an ass.

god.

i asked
you gave
i let
you loved
you look
i see
you listen
i speak
refinding the love
together

so beautiful.

i've heard
before
all the things
you say
but when
they come from
your lips
they mean
the world to me

stellaluna.

"I'm mad at my protectors, I suppose. The ones that never do. Because I can never just fall back and know that they will catch me... I'm always the one apologizing, or messing up. Always the strong one, burying things way deep down and embracing the shallow things, which are so much easier to digest. I always listen, and sometimes I just want to scream the words and 'hate' and 'afraid' right into the midst of my past and see what my fathers will do. Because I don't trust. I can admit that, which makes it seem false.

Today I wondered if human existence was always worth the pain. Good things: shared memories, stomach-straining laughs, passion shared of two that love, and feelings of accomplishment and contentment.

Are these worth the immense pain of unworth? Self doubt? Relational pain?

I want to say yes.

But tonight it almost feels like a no.

Not in a suicidal way.

In a heavy, hopeless, once-again-you-are-not-good-enough way. Yeah. That hurts.

I feel like a bat with wings of wet paper.

Flying is hopeless.

Or maybe this is just tonight."

another little collection of poems [sun].

rotation.
if i could rotate myself around the sun.
if i could ask the world to move a little strangely to where you are.
if i could gravitate the stars to make a map to where you are.
if we could be two islands in the same sea, i would swim to your shore.
we're both under the same sky,
why not meet there,
way up high?
there was hope behind your eyes...
and some fear
in disguise.
if i could rotate myself around the sun.

my catcher.
somewhere, lost in your translation,
my true meaning transcends.
beyond your labels and own insecurities,
i fly to a brighter tomorrow,
where the sun is my baseball
and hope my own bat.
sick of boxes, crates, and barrels,
i reward myself with true appraisal
of the ones who love behind the smile.
eyes go small when teeth are too white--
so i squint at the sky,
waiting for light.

my catcher [2].
for loving the light,
i became sick of it's reflection.
part of it,
anyway.
those who see the dark
that colors my eyes
and fills in the dots
on my skin
didn't like it either.
so i folded it all
and put it in a drawer.
i guess i'm saving it
for a rainy day.


*i'm not particularly proud of these... but it was interesting how three days in a row, i wrote about light in my journal. hmmm.