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(what happens to the ocean after?)

Posted by Unknown Wednesday, March 26, 2014 2 comments

Those Left Behind

Posted by Unknown Tuesday, March 18, 2014 2 comments

How many

have I killed?

-------------------------

Death is relative

and I've killed

hundreds.

When I glance

back at all

the bodies

I've left

behind in my

wake of devestation

I cry

Because all

these corpses

belong to me

And though I may

forget

names

I will never forget

The faces

Of those I murdered

and the only words

I murmur:

"You are dead to me"

Another Story About You

Posted by Unknown Wednesday, March 12, 2014 6 comments

The times that I have refrained from saying your name are starting to wear me down. The number of nights I've sat awake with the fireflies in my hands and pondered where we went wrong are too many.

When I stopped carrying you and starting noticing that my bare feet were eroding in the mud they sank into and the fireflies left with your name on their wings I realized that I barely knew it anymore. I don't know if you know mine or if you are still as lonely as you were when we sat together in biology making fun of the kids who came to class high. Do you remember when we made crude jokes and fun of everyone who wasn't us to hide beneath our stinging hearts?

We were bad for each other. I loved you but that love poisoned my heart and my eyes stayed in your pockets with nothing to see but the widening black that existed there. I know I left you. I know I hurt you.

But the truth is that your hands hurt me. Your hands crushed my eyes in your pockets until I cried for relief and told you that you were right. Your hands wrung my neck until I said I loved you and your damn hands broke my ankles and left me crippled and far more alone than I had ever been before.

And you cried when I said I couldn't stay.

You left me because we both know you always hated feeling weak.

I cried when you said you couldn't stay.

You left me because we both know I was always the weak one.

how i wonder what you are

Posted by Unknown Thursday, March 6, 2014 5 comments

The past few days have felt like I gave up on climbing that mountain over there called My Life. Like I made so much progress but eventually my feet became so numb that I couldn't move, so I laid down and watched the stars above me tell their stories. They told me mesmerizing tales of love and death and life and crayons and what it is to Be Human. . . . .. .

. . . . . . . .

. . . . . . .. . . . .

I saw their beauty and reached up to touch them but they are stars and you can't actually touch them because they are too far away. Even if they weren't, they would burn me to death because no matter how lovely a star is you'll never be able to hold it in your hands and ask it all the questions you had about it when you were young. . . . . . . . .

. . .. . . . . . . . .

But that never stopped us from telling stories about them. It never stopped us from connecting them together with the strings of our imagination and turning them into pictures. . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

Let me tell you a story. And for once, it isn't going to be a story about You. . . .

. . . . . . . . .

It isn't going to be a story about me, either. . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .

Let me tell you a story of the stars. . . . .

. . . . .

-- . . . . . .

. . . . . .

For the whole of The Great Infinity the stars have acted as guardians against the vacuum of darkness that envelopes such a great portion of this universe. They are ancient beings that have protected us and inspired us since the beginning of this young earth. . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . .

We made up our own stories about them and imagined we understood their purpose but I'm not sure that we ever truly have. There are endless words and songs and thoughts and dreams humans have connected with the stars, and often our hearts are closer to them then they are that cavity in our chests. . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

We find patterns in them and name them so their existence may comfort us and awe us when we lay on the hoods of cars late in the night pondering our own existence. We look to them in times of need and allow their light to guide us through the terrain of our own world. We follow them, although they never move. . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . .

We listen to them, although they never say anything.

. . . . .

. . . . . . ..

. . . ..

.. . . . .

We look to them for the future, although the light we see is eons older than we can comprehend. . . . . . . . . .. .

. . . .

. . . . . .

Our children dream of them and sing of them and somewhere in their hearts, those children never stop. They can always be found in the corners of parks and on the hoods of cars and perched in trees, their eyes alight with stars. . . . . .

. . . . .. . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

. . .

. . . . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . .

. . .

And we will never know how they entrance us so.

So we continue to dream and think and sing and imagine from the time we're born

. . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
until . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . we
. , . . . . . . . .
. die. . . .

And join them.

Red Suns and Lollygaggers

Posted by Unknown Sunday, March 2, 2014 2 comments

The strangers here exist for nothing

Do they recognize that what they see

Are only allusions of thought?

I feel their souls falling

These are the ones who forgot to look up

Who only see what they left behind in hues of red

The sun in this foreign sky is red

All those who observe it say nothing

Its burning light forgot what it should fill up

Our eyes forgot what we should see

As we offer an aubade to the falling

Isn't that a lovely thought?

I'm no longer certain what we thought

But I remember an abundance of red

Somehow we stopped ourselves from falling

Yet now it seems to have meant nothing

I know that you as well as I see

What we've given up

I spent so much time tonight looking up

With just you and my thought

It was the first time I could honestly see

Why the rising sun is red

Why we were content saying nothing

How fathomless were the depths in which I was falling

Since then I don't think I've stopped falling

But you were the one who said, "Try looking up"

And where before I saw nothing

I have filled with the color of thought

And the sun is rising and it is red

Please tell me that is what you see

I suppose one day the two of us will see

Where the stars were falling

We'll remember that dark sky as if it were red

And how you looked up

And how both of us had thought

So much--and yet vocalized nothing

The twilight of morning let us see almost nothing

So we lay falling into the abyss of our intertwined thought

I hoped that night we would watch the red sun come up

pinch me. wake me up.

Posted by Unknown Thursday, February 27, 2014 5 comments

It's 12:02AM and I ran away from home tonight.

I ran across the stars and back to the moon where I watched the sun rise on the other side of the earth and it didn't make my eyes burn. I laid at the edge of galaxies and pondered what it means to be alive. I watched the universe fall and spin in chaotic beauty and became aware that I'd never been aware of it before.

It's 12:05AM and I just got home from a very long rehearsal and I should be doing homework or sleeping but instead I'm learning what it means to be alive. I'm trying to distinguish the difference between existing and living but it's a grey that flares into colors and doesn't make sense in my head.

It's 12:10AM and I'm thinking of your soul. How alive you are and how alive you make me feel, even if it is only second-hand. Even if it is only permanently temporary. I'm trying to learn from you and feel like you do because even if it's dark, at least there is color in it.

It's 12:14AM and I'm running running running
running
running
r
u
n
n
i
n
g
to you.

It's 12:42AM and I don't think I'm any closer to knowing how to be alive than I was before, but I know that this is the most concrete thing I've felt in a while. Being alive hurts like hell a lot of the time, but it's worth it for that light, full feeling you get in your heart sometimes. It's caring more about people than your grades sometimes. It's caring not about the time of day, only about finding the right words to express yourself with sometimes.

I know that it can't be defined because there are a lot of 'sometimes' and almost never an 'all the time' because living has always been inconstant.