Memories of the mundane

Memories of the mundane, life passed by in moments that tick, each one forgettable
Lay within me your soliloquy shrouded in hushed tones,
Speak eloquently of the times you thought no one would reach for,
Ideas that hook you at 3am, with your lulled breaths against the laden silence
Locking you inside your own head
Whisper the the things you find odd
Social conventions enevloped in contradiction
I collect your life in my mind, and draw constellations to connect your dots,
I'll tell you of the ways I fall in love with words
Inevitably dripping into my eyes, each hushed tone
Bringing me closer to the stars.

To you, I am sorry.

I have immortalized your name in my mind
Scratched it into a list of people who were only there
Temporarily,
Painted you as this fictional person
As if I never memorized the map of your eyes,
completely
Abandoned the memory of the way you pried into mine
 I have forgotten
That you were there,
Strung along in the pursuit of self
Destruction
You were sweet
Even if a little broken

Stages of being drunk

For the first hour I am elated,
Fumbling and bouncing from one activity to the next
Until the realizations begin to set it, revalations coaxed by the poison in my throat
You are the hate that cracks parched lips
That no amount of fluid could drown
it is not your fault.
My mind is a game of puzzles and locks
No one can ever quite tell what I am thinking
Sometimes, I can't even tell
I cannot speak through the vines of regret wrapped around my vocal cords
I wonder why I cannot be someone you would want
The more I think, the more I realize,
I don't even want myself

Quiet

My life is a series of survival techniques,
Strung along on friendly smiles.
I have found that
         If you hold a countenance that
Bleeds demure,
     You avoid
       Misunderstanding
When you are engulfed in the background
And pick yourself out
When spoken to,
        You can be sure no one
Mistakes you for a target,
When you speak,
Be sure to keep it scribbled on the wall
Poignant and sweet
      Keep your eyes neutral
And don't let a fire burn so intense that it cremates
The teeth you keep clenched
Let it smolder, and keep it in the back of your
     Throat
Afterall,
It will only be heard by you.

Nightmares

Greeted by the darkness,

I am bare,

Left the comfort of a mock death,

It is silent, and almost maddening 

The blank interface of a cold room

I am here

Abandoned amongst muddled pillows

And tangled sheets 

Throbbing breath in rhythm with

A quickened beat,

I am tormented,

Trapped in an unconcious hallucination 

You were there,

  Sullen amonst the oaks, 

with the realization that sunrise

would never come,

With each rise and fall of your chest

 the woods began to rot

The branches began to curl in towards one another

I stood, throwing water on the trees as they decay

As if drowning them could stop 

Our inevitable end

The joke

In my head,

Everything is a laugh
The way the world slips off
In a frenzy,
I am not concrete
 I float between the lines, plucking and
Picking things apart
We are mad,
 Twisters bent on destroying everything in their path
There is no order on chaos
Nor logic in justice
You can only destory me,
By being me
And you already are. 

Hopeless

How do you move on,
When you've spent your whole life
As a hopeless romantic
Finding  yourself only as valuable
As the person who holds your hand,
How do you free yourself from the
Twisted and gnarled branches that ground you
Can you be a whole person,
    When they have slowly ripped you in half,
And left you longing for your other.
I play romance, as if it were my job
Mastering the art of kisses, and
Cleaning, keeping hobbies
Like reading
Something to give me just enough depth
To appeal to people without
Being threatening
.

It is five in the morning,
And I am crawling into bed as the birds are waking
A gentle light begins to form over horizons,
Shining through the blinds
And While I cannot touch it,
My fingertips dance across the sky,
As if to grasp what can never be held
As if to claim the vast illumination as mine.

Validation

It was the way he brought the world to light,
At first.
For a second each cell in her body illuminated with the glow
Of the static fingertips lightly resting on her
hips
She grew restless with
  here and now and
Her feet longed for trails untraveled
as the electricity slowly left her body
and she realized the spark was transient
She began to move, away from the
Thoughts that bind her, insecurities
gift wrapped in rejections of her past.

It was the way he spoke to every girl like he wanted to devour them
and the way he looked dead at her
With eyes that promised to make her feel
Wanted
In the worst ways
The fluttering she felt was not butterflies in her stomach, but a flock of birds angrily flapping their wings, ready to rip free from inside her
it was the first kiss that brought her gasping from
Water she didn't know she was Submerged in
When she walked away from this one for the last time, she swore
This was the nightmare in her dreamland
And she was finally free

It was the way he had always been there, behind every voice in her head, telling her to leave.
he spoke of her words the way you make love for the first time
Slowly, and as if each syllable was divine and unique
it was the way he sat next to her above all other possible seating choices, and said that being close to her was his favorite place to be
it was when he grew distant,
Confused with what he wanted
It was no longer her.

He has been here for as long as she can remember,
Where life before had been only half a shadow,
The clarity was almost painful
everything she had wanted before rolled itself into
This person, with fumbling hands
and enough awkward conversations to
drown himself
the solidarity in his words, wrapped her securely, stability is something you crave when you have spent so long
 moving.
The problem with this is
When you remain sedentary
Your heart wanders
And while you're too afraid to leave
    You are never truly there
And he knows.

He is the poem she cannot write, half smiles and confusing undertones
A medley of colors she never knew could be seen. She returned her feet to
Woodland paths, and began to travel farther
The idea of what could be and what is intertwined
vines against an unstable wall

She is the character in her own story,
     One she only defines by the number of times her heart has been broken,
Her worth has been placed in how many names she can hold in her palm
She is a writer, melancholy words drip from her fingertips but still
She is only as pretty as you tell her,
     she is on parade, a contest of self worth.
She is an academic, late nights she stares at words that she devours and rationalizes
But the way that others view her
Is the way she views herself
Still,
She feels the only validation she has are
Words from those who mean well.
All those who have loved her before, medled together
She wanted to be more
Her words trickled down her chin, sighs against an unforgiving wind
but she will never break the chain,
It is better to be hanged than to
Freefall.

Marionette (a)

Tugged and turned,
    Led around on tight strings,
You twitch your hand and my arm leaps fourth,
Grasping at something I did not know I wanted
You let my head drop, and all the thoughts in the back of my mind roll forward
My feet dance with your amusment
and stop on your command
   I hover, somehwere above myself, aware I have no control
I watch you pilot me, commanding every limb
I waltz and unfamilar pattern
Always aiming to please.

Familiar faces

I have returned to words
The way you return to a lovers hand,
        The moments where you tip-toe and whisper
Scribbling sweet nothing lines
On blank page corners,
      It took oceans for me to find you again
And seas to find myself
          I have barreled in, like haphazard waves
Against tired shorelines
Clumsily searching for scrap paper
    As if the words are conditional,
And as long as I embrace them
 Each fleeting syllable leaks
From my restless fingertips
I can pretend this is not a poem for you,
The one who returns words
to my desert mouth
As if my return to poems have nothing to do
With the way you speak to me,
My words are absent of the ways you look to me
Hopeful, and soothing,
  You stain my paper parchment,
Yellowing the corners with a soft glow
Familiar and broken down
To comfortable to leave.

Marionette Alice

They coerce,

The destructive whispers in the wind.

       They take my hand an guide me, to ideals I have not felt

They force me down the rabbit hole, 

        They share pretty tales of a wonderland I cannot be a part of 

        I am a marionette Alice,

Picked and plucked, guided by 

Ill intentioned hands

"You are no wanderer, dear." 

"Simply a girl, who fell down the well" 

Wonderland Waltz

On an overcast morning shrouded
  in fine mist, dew kissing everything the light forgets,  I wander.
I wander through forests
eyes closed,
willing my feet to remember how to move
          It is quiet
 the chill freezes voices before they speak
        Lonlieness drops, melded with serenity
I do not mind
The sound of my steps, I stand
Willing myself to feel the beat in my chest
My song sings of silence,
 I am not lost.
I continue deep into an unknown forest with only broken branches to guide me
   The more dense the trees become, the louder my heart beats skipping to the sound of my
Footsteps.
     There is no map to where I travel
Only my own desire to meld with the grove
 I wander across a river, weeping willows gently kissing just enough of the water to ripple,
I surround myself in the hanging limbs
And relax my own, leaning against the trunk
I allow my eyes to close
  Behind sullen lids, I see petals fall gentle into the stream I see myself floating on them, small and serene
        I see where I am running to, I watch the rise and fall of their chest,
And briefly I can remember their eyes, prying into my own
 For a moment time seems to slow,
    My breathing becomes shallow and laden,
In my head we dance a waltz,
 Each step more hectic than the last.
 We whirl together in wonderland
    Tripping over our feet.