What Are You Doing?

Journaling

I leave my journal laying open at night, hoping that the words will fly off the page

And drift out the window into the night air

And dance around the moon

I should start dreaming soon

Too many bugs flying around my world

You wouldn’t want forever

People change

And you’ve never seen my rage

I miss your calming

Smooth

Sing-song voice

You left me no choice

But to trust

And live in the exhilarating moment

And taught me that you don’t have to chase

Or try to erase

Moments

Of happiness and sadness

The magic is already there

Sparking in the air

Getting stuck in your crazy hair

That I miss more than you'd ever know

I'm stuck in negative time

While forgetting how to rhyme

Where are my feelings?

Behind my eyes

Sharp

Hidden under the weathered tarp

One day I will finish writing my story

And I’ll let the words swarm you like a tornado of bees

Or a meteor shower

A universe with all the power

When It Came To Life

When it came to life

They had their tires spinning

But I like to believe I was somehow the one who was winning

When it came to life

They made me feel unwanted in theirs

They are the heirs with the mean stares

I would like to believe

That I’m going to shine brighter

But I’m not the one who owns a lighter

I would like to believe

That I’m the one who is going to get around

But I’m stuck in the background

When it came to life

It seemed like they are naturally smart

I on the other hand, don’t even know where to start

When it came to life

They always managed to get luck and look good

I, on the other hand, look like a girl made of wood

I would like to believe

That someday I will be above all of this

Instead of being traded like baseball cards, I’ll have a person to kiss

I would like to believe

That none of this will matter

And I’ll be on the mound tauntingly saying, swing batter batter swing batter batter

When it came to life

They gave no real shits about my existence

And yet I kept with my foolish persistence

When it came to life

They had their own group

And I wasn't really part of the loop

Hair

I remember when I could run my fingers through my hair

And end up with a concerning amount of hair in my hand

Luckily I have thick hair so it wasn’t noticeable

I didn’t have much control

Over my body and what it was doing

And I felt frustrated over my hair

It turns out that when your body is worried about survival

It will neglect your hair and fingernails

I find it ironic that those two things will appear to grow after you’re dead

Anyways, I remember getting chubby cheeks

From steroids

And I felt ugly for not knowing who I was at 13

Then I grew my hair out really long

Since it seemed like the longer your hair was,

The cooler you were when it came to the strange rules of the popularity of high school girls

I grew my hair and started to feel as if I could hide behind it

As if I could hide my depression behind it and act like it didn’t exist

But I also remember how heavy with water it would get when I showered

So I had the idea of cutting it

Short

And decided to write my own rules for the popularity of misfits

And now my hair is getting longer

In a way I like it and in another I hate it

But what does a girl’s hair mean anyway?

In The Beginning

In the beginning

I was on a road

That was headed toward only good things In the beginning

I did not realize that it was

Only too good to be true All it took

Was one

Night And now I don't 

Even remember what

The beginning was like Just a few hours deceased

And they killed my naive stupidity with them

For thinking about sunshine and rainbows I want to be

So far in the end

That all is forgotten

One Summer Night

One summer night

With my brother

Blowing up balloons and letting them fly

Mom came outside

Time to go inside

Time to take a bath

Time to go to bed

No thanks

She says that I haven’t taken a bath in a few days

She also says I have dirt all over my legs,

Like it’s a bad thing

She asks me if I like being dirty

I respond with a yes

I like the feeling of the cracked dry dirt on my legs

Chipping off with time

I ended up taking a bath

And I felt like I had lost some of myself

I was too clean to be me

I guess, I’ll have to start again tomorrow

Lonesome

The word “I” is pretty lonesome

The word lonesome is not as lonely as I

I am lonely with myself

I lost myself again, I see…

I might have just have been lost at sea

Where will I find me?

Do you ever think about me?

Did you erase me from your memory because it was too painful?

I still miss what you threw away

I took the trash out Tuesday night

And I missed you Wednesday morning

I found a song that reeks of you

I almost went to the dump to look

All I found was a clean brook

I don’t think I knew you, before you turned into a sad crook

In that brook, I tried to baptized myself in the cleanliness and got a little lost

And sometimes I have a hard time putting on my holey socks

And sometimes I forget about the locks

I is lonesome

I need guidance; I can’t learn from trash

I'm better off lonesome

Dead in a Shallow Puddle

The face of it

The eyes fully open as if it was looking for something in me

The short hair sticking straight up, floating in the gentle movement

of the little puddle

But the eyes, cold, ice, blue

I dared to touch the dead person's face

I could see the sky, wind, water in those blue eyes

Wondering what their story might have been

The eyes were still alive, searching

You could tell that the body was withering away

In those eyes there was everything but fire

The bones becoming visible

There was nothing scary in those eyes

Who left them behind like this?

You could tell from their eyes that the person was gentle but they were too

delicate,

Like frosting on a cake

What was the last thing those rich eyes saw?

How many winters?

His eyes give me meaning

Something to live for even though he is dead

But his eyes stay awake

Then it hit me like a sword in the throat, he did it to himself

But his eyes are so big and beautiful

Why did he do that?

Those eyes of ice

His body was ice

His eyes spoke of sweet passions and dreams

He must have been a hard worker

But I fell in live with those eyes of ice

My heart will forever be frozen in time

His eyes alive

If only by miracle he came back to life

My eyes are locked with his

I always fall in love with something I can't have

Why must my eyes do that?

What Will Happen?

What will happen when this bird gets out of the cage

Will it sing and fly

Or just sit there and die?

A face full of tears

Yet none of them want to fall

An infant full of years,

Slamming doors

To close off the past

Of the hidden wars

Might as well recreate my kindergarten picture

Of a small person with the world’s tiniest smile

What a mixture

A probable mistake

A theory

Of sour birthday cake

The same will of wanting a way out

Few know what it’s like to be born into the wrong world

I'm an alien trying to find a realistic route

Hands in little fists

Ready to punch a hole in your inflexible plan for me to follow

So many things wrong with that I could make paper flowing lists

I can see my blonde hair back in my face

That I once cut into uneven bangs

Those pictures you try to erase

Like the pictures of my big toothless grin

When I had a badass black eye

My wild heart you can’t win,

With dance recital dresses

This Rockette will not dance anymore

The reason is just as good as your guesses

I'm not your special girl

I'm not anyone’s except my own

And you thinking otherwise makes me want to hurl

What will happen with this girl

When she is free of the nest

Despite her fears and guilty love, will she fly like the rest?

Fire

Burning, tired anger

What am I doing with this stranger?

The world on fire, is a danger

Let it burn My existence is a shout into the void

I came out irritated and annoyed

Talking and joking just to avoid,

The fact that the world is on fire Live and burn

It’s always my turn

Why can’t I learn?

It’s because I’m trying not to catch a fire Teachers make me fail

Dietitians make me eat lousy kale

I’ll never stop listening to the storm with the hail

In order to mute the crackle of the flame I don’t need saving

But the charred roads need a new paving

But for Sara I’ll try to keep braving

I’m not brave; I’m just immune to the burn I can’t send mail

I think I’m made out of puppy dog tails

Not sugar and spices that you can buy in pails

Red, orange, yellow, blue Where are you mystery one?

The world is now the sun

Living in hell with no where to run

What moment did the world catch fire?

What Sweet Luck

Hair like black lace

A beautiful kind of tangled

I'm happy that I was once her case

Sophisticated

Yet humble

I'm intoxicated

On you

You hate chunky orange juice

I hate being away from you

So for now, you are my muse

You are becoming abstract thought

I find this interesting

My eyes searching but not

Getting caught

I'm high

On you and your missing presence

And yet you feel nearby

I'm reaching

For her extra crazy hope

That she’s superb at teaching

With her bad analogies

Her and her flawed

Perfectness

She was just the right kind of odd,

I'm like a spider with a web and she’s like a bug that’s stuck

She has no idea that she has been caught in my poetry

What sweet luck,

Because I miss you so