care.

i wonder about the care that you place like legos

do you care about me? more than others

maybe i care too much, i filled my portion

something tells me i care too little, less than politics

take care, till another life

one day i will send you.

nothing went wrong, tonight

nothing went right, tonight

i probably misled you

but my messages are the hurtful ones

sorry, i forgot

why don't i take that blame?

since you are not old enough to recognize you're immaturity

i hate to say i hate you

i hate to say i wish never need anybody

but you turn me off to the idea of trust

instead of cuddles and scarves,

i will fill this cup with tears,

so the salt will dry your mouth

bitter

stuck in your wolfish teeth

your ugly, ugly teeth

pointed like a fork,

digging into ugly cake

other

stay by my side

keep confusion outside of this room

as we laugh at things uncomfortable

and talk about people we wish we knew

so we knew they were better

and ties would not become so knotted

closed

give me a task,

too dumb for children

a goal too small for someone my age

because that is how far my arms can reach

Someday my pain, someday my pain

Will mark you

Harness your blame, harness your blame

And walk through

slipping out through the back door.

field

daylight

wind

music

hair

no

one

will

know

time slot.

ask me if i am.

i'm not.

pin deeper than the puddle.

upon reaching this level of acceptance with the unknown, i laugh with the rush of the wind in the dying leaves

my story is a simple one, for i care not to tell

numbers mean nothing in the morning, swirling around 7, written on her all-knowing finger

that bike lying in the grass, quintessential symbol of our affluence

i ask myself why i cannot be like the others, as i wait for a pin to fall and shatter my calm reflection

and all these strings wander and twist, knot, loosen, fray, and fall into a heap as i laugh at the mess and attach it to my stringy hair

pearls in my ears, smile on my face, nothing in my eyes, and hands around love, i sit

waiting

for the pin to drop, the leaves to die, the curls to twist, the strings to unravel

i could never make bracelets, maybe that is why i hate camp

.

been carted away 2.

http://www.archive.org/details/BeenCartedAway

a feeling of soul that only comes from walking alone and being

awake

shoulders turned for a feeling of

control, better than you

in the end,

we are lone feet wandering the circular paths

finding the places where our

footsteps have been

hearts inclined only when our rooms feel empty

or roles unfulfilled as curtain call ends

and we are stuck between backstage and the

pit

waiting for a cue, most likely not coming

or maybe we missed it when our feet

stumbled

cuts on my hands, disabling touch

sensitive ties,

caught in a bunch

leaving it all

not letting go

for when life moves,

it's never this

slow.

been carted away.

a feeling of soul that only comes from walking alone and being

awake

shoulders turned for a feeling of

control, better than you

in the end,

we are lone feet wandering the circular paths

finding the places where our

footsteps have been

hearts inclined only when our rooms feel empty

or roles unfulfilled as curtain call ends

and we are stuck between backstage and the

pit

waiting for a cue, most likely not coming

or maybe we missed it when our feet

stumbled

cuts on my hands, disabling touch

sensitive ties,

caught in a bunch

leaving it all

not letting go

for when life moves,

it's never this

slow.