[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.

Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.

You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there

You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

UneditedWe cry.
We scream.
We fight for our dream.

We scream.
We cry.
We're just waiting to die.

The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.

The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.

So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?

Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?

Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.

Wouldn't surprise.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"

I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."

You ha

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)

weight of the worldand suddenly--
it was like the world decided that
it didn't want to carry its burden any longer,
so it shifted the weight
into the hollows of my bones
and told me that
it was my problem now.

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Sour Lemon DropsSour lemon drops
for sale
silky white pillow
in the shop window
Chocolate boxes
peanut butter hearts
vanilla crisps
blueberry tarts
But in the limelight
a green jar of
Cavendish and Harvey
hard at first glance
but inside the mouth
yellow sweets,
sugared treats
Lasts for an hour
if given the chance,
Tastes in parity sour,
not unbalanced.
One for your sister,
one for your mum.
One for your teacher,
one for your hon.
Sour lemon drops
dollar for a tin
not generally sought
just pop one in.

Court CaseThe harshest
human
emotions
break like
humid
hunger,
Horror at
an empty
stomach.
Sweat
in guilt
criminal
scum
Soon to be
hung,
so scuttle
teeth
and
beetle gums,
bacteria tongue,
But a
roll
of
writhing,
ripping,
roaring,
through
in a rush
of rats
rattle
on
tap, tap
retching floors,
The heart
hurries
its way
in
innocence.

Chucklevoodoo QueenWelcome here to middle of the day where all sleeps,
not a pip, not a squeak, not a scream.
(At least all that's audible
remains to the public mirthfully invisible.)
Trolls snoozing themselves silly in their recuperacoons
and when their eyes shut it's time to open the zoo.
Ghosts and ghouls and the truth of their magic -
singing their sorrows for a buck per lyric.
And for a nickel they'll scare your friend
with death or maybe just a boo!
Trapped or unbound, voices call out
from the poltergeist dukes with mermaid tattoos
to the cursed wanderers seeking their muse.
Someone seeks to order this,
and introduce the audience.
A fellow friend, a quain

EulogyThe scribe is a friendly being;

to me he says he

merely wants to write.

And he is arrested

to be hung -

in the town square.

He leaves to me his desk,

for they take his pen;

He likes the morning birds

and feeds them his crumbs:

to him they sing from a rope.

Offer Me a Hand, Not a BandageYou prick a finger :
An acquaintance says, "I feel your pain!"
A friend says, "Get over it."

You break your heart :
An acquaintance says, "Get over it!"
A friend says, "I feel your pain."

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by ~fantasticEverything, Jan 4, 2013, 11:41:51 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Subtle traces of sadness
that's what caught my eye
The slant of misery in your slouch
the bite of loss in your goodbyes
Perhaps I stayed because I could relate
holding you tight while we cried
perhaps I stayed from the force of fate
maybe I lived on a surmise
but in our sweaters watching T.V.
I could see you looking at me
when the glass in my eyes shattered
pieces of a lament scattered
organ systems malfunctioning
nervous networks' punctuality
Your hands volcano darkness
your touch a burning softness
the way you talked, I could only gawk
however did you manage to fake it?
Please don't tell me it was for my sake
I don't think I could take another lie
despite the light we've gotten by
through these caves cold and callow
mocking those vain and shallow
knowing deep down we're worse than them
filthy rotten to our core in dreaded suspense
waiting for sanity to break past stability
overcome out control and strict mentalities
and break, break, break
break down dying
on the phone I heard your muffled crying
slipping into shoes to walk through the snow
grabbing an oar to break your arms and row
climbing the mountains with nothing but a needle
traverse high school hallways with only everything to feel
in our similarities we were vastly different
hearts beating with stiff corpse movements
symphony of our relative coffins
under stress - in arms we'd soften
yet each trait we shared showed we couldn't care
for the reflection in the mirror
for the pathetically realistic tears
never would let your hear
just cover up your ears
forever I'll hold you close
pie crust promises, I know
but you're my invented repose
No one knows you like I created you
scream the exact way I do
I question the lessons behind your demise
the day I discarded the sight of a sunrise
did I learn a mere character couldn't soothe
the wounds left by fist quick booze?
When others around drive through town
to socialize and live their lives
I'd sit back with tea cups and lopsided stairways
adjusting the pinpoint direction of your gaze
My fantasy friend
I'll dream of you until my end
you'll be carried with me to my grave
the one who wasn't there to listen to what I had to say
but all the while whispering by my side
only you could be so alive
whatever finale I decide to fabricate
breathless, we shall always communicate
and break, break, break
break down dying

Charactersby ~fantasticEverything

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

How sickly ironic that my character is the only one that is me.

*TristanCody Jan 4, 2013 Student Writer

Very, very good. I love it. It is not really my style, but it was a pleasant read.

~fantasticEverything Jan 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Oh, thanks! I didn't think much of this one since I crafted it so late, so it's good to know someone likes it

*TristanCody Jan 4, 2013 Student Writer

Always a pleasure.

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