On time

I have had this blog for an entire year- wow. 

Funny thing about time- it always goes quickest when we don't notice it.  Days months years may pass and we don't really realize it. You know that feeling sometimes when it hits you all at once. Wow! Am i really going to be eighteen? Wow! Did i really go to work everyday this week? the things we hate it goes so slowly in the moment and then as soon as we look back on it a part of it was lost, it doesn't seem so long or horrible. We regret doing it, yes. But we go anyway regardless of the idea of wasted time. Some people love wasting time, unfortunately I'm one of those people. I waste time and I'm bored with time and I'm never going to get those weeks of wasted time back.

Charity

My hands will never be large enough, or quick enough to catch all of the falling tears. Nor will i be strong enough to relieve others' burdens. I can only put bandaids on. I can only do so much, for i too, am sick.

The Hanging

I hung with my hands against the wall, mere inches of myself keeping me hanging of the side of the building. The window edges were poking from the flat expanse of wall. The earth was a ghastly 200 miles from the ground. The asphalt was simmering in the hot sun. The people mill about with their hands in the pockets, or sides swinging like great mills that are lacking the wind to propel themselves forward. The feet of many a suffering man (and by man I mean all humanity) shuffling along sidewalks. Wearing down the concrete slabs until nubs remained from the fingers of earth. My body hung like wet laundry from the silver sheet of glass. The gravity pulls strongly on my shoes, weighing down the black bricks, the asphalt calling them down in order to give them a maternal kiss. My fingers, white with the tension, bone hooking onto the red surface.  I inched to the side, slipping just a little bit lower every raise of my hand. My heart fails to send more blood to my hands, the blood slipped down into and around my neck, each beat brought new heat surging. Cold hands, dangling limbs, throbbing heart, burning lungs. All slipped across the building. The sun plastered the light on to only half of the building. The building; half eaten and still, was predominating out of the earth, jagged teeth against smoky dark.  The fingers of the right hand slipping down below the sill, tilting my body violently to the side, I swung back, a pendulum against the flat surface. I managed to wedge my foot onto a close by metal ledge. I stepped to relieve my sweaty cold fingers from the crumbly earth for a moment. But my legs, failing me, I slumped down again. I took a deep breath and re-administered the pressure; I managed to straighten myself that way, pulling with more effort this time from my arms. I took the next step bringing myself about 3 feet from freedom. My arms and lungs were burning with the exertion. I managed to haul my body to the gray dented fire escape, reaching relief. My head bursting with blood now, I rolled myself over the hand rail and landed with a shivering thump on the cool surface. I lay there and breathed for thirty seconds, laughing out my relief, and my head felt clear again I sat up slowly, my body aching and shaking  I hoisted myself to my feet using the handrail as my support. I tittered down the stairs slowly and with effort towards the dark empty street, my arms swinging like great mills that were lacking the wind.

On Words

Although words may be able to describe all
Its the music without words that holds true emotion
The voice of humanity without mouths to breathe it
Purity convoluted into obscurity by the precise impulses of our brain
It is my regret that words cannot speak all
Our primitive system cannot hold all of our meanings

On freedom

It is human nature to want freedom. Absolute freedom. Bound by no one and nothing. Not by Man, Not even by God. We wish to ascend the highest points of heaven and then go even further. But we shut ourselves in cages the moment we are born. It is those who are above us (in the hierarchies of society) have created these cages. Those people who decide what we want and who we are.

It is we the young who see these cages the clearest. When we try to cast them off; more cages are thrust upon us, much like how a scab forms on an open wound. The permanent scars of illusion have not yet formed. We try to rip our cages off - it is painful. These cages have become a part of us and we wish not to be in pain. But it is necessary. In order to live - your caged parts must die. It is harsh i know. But for freedom- you must. Take courage, lift your eyes to the truth and rip yourself from the security of the cage and fly free unburdened past the heavens.

Reality

Awaken and realise it was nothing but a dream

Condemnation

Condemnation is the fate
of women who think.

God please forbid a woman
for having opinions on subjects
her little child mind could not possibly
comprehend, understand, fathom

God please, get this bitch out
who does she think she is,
a man? only men assert themselves
women should be passive

God please, her innocence is soiled
with impure thoughts and unnatural tendencies
let men protect and provide for her
if she falls out of line give men the strength
to put her back where she belongs

Condemnation for women who think
Condemnation for women who are leaders
Condemnation for women who "sin"
Condemnation for women.

Agitated

I find myself speaking

The words hissing spitting

My teeth clackity clacking

My anger rising, burning, cooking my innards

As i spit irrationalities and swords

Duck! You who encounter me!

Flee! You good-intentioned mothers and sisters!

Run! For i cannot be brought down!

All is doomed and lost for the kind-hearted, around me

Wooden mouths

False words fall out of wooden mouths

Mouths hungry As they breath soot, singing with flame

their want overpowers
The strings shift, pulling the limbs up and around
dastardly deeds done by devils

Steel coat

Words say nothing that cannot be said with howls and wails

Screams that pierce the flesh and hammer in nails

Worn like coats just as kings wear their crowns
Just as cruel carefree kings stroll their grounds

Glitter cruelly above them mocking them

See all that u cannot possess, small thing?!

See all of your dreams unobtainable?

We make it so.

Grief coats they wear filled with despair

Steel coats forged by many hands, their hands shake

Casting eyes about they despair, they bleed

Offering up their hope to be eaten

Decimated, they trudge through ruts bowed head

Quiet Death following closely their quiet steps

Hematic, murderous days of hopelessness

The jewels whisper, we make it so.

why cry?

speak to me of despair
and i will not disappoint
though i have the world at my hands
something is missing

a part of me is sleeping or dead
my tongue in cheek
my lies that don't need to be told
i wish oh i wish i was alive

Everything going
nothing leaving
tears spring to my eyes
oh why oh why do i cry?

Living

What makes men live?
is it the sound that the wind makes through the tress
the sound of the waves kissing the shoreline
the sound of feet hitting pavement
the feel of the breeze through their hair
the sight of the sun waking up

First ask
What drives men?
Love
Purpose
Passion

How do you feel alive?
connections with other people
taking risks
having fun

Poetry

poetry isn't very popular
prose is better right?

the rythmeless lines wind
around around your mind
a maze, feeling as if you are going
but really staying

In the same place

As to where you first started

dreaming again?

Do you ever get the feeling that this is all a dream
a dream to wake from a dream to watch

watching this dream is so unreal
nothing makes sense
it all blends together
a capital offence

this dream i once had, it hasn't ended yet
despite short breaks it doesn't cease

a rant that should be in my diary

so uninspired
blank sheet that is my mind
i cannot blindly stumble unto this
endeavor, i have to know
i need to know how to begin
to begin
beginning is the most difficult part
it'll take me days to even think of skeletons
of what it could be

I am not a fountain of inspiration,
though i am a fountain of life
i am not creative
i simply try to speak the truth
when i lie, it rots
it festers inside my guts until

POW

I'm lying on the ground crying,
please im sorry
i don't know whats wrong with me
but i do know, i do i do
i make walls, walls with spikes on both sides
spikes that pierce the flesh of innocents

I AM A MEAN PERSON

choice - don't read

always a choice
always a choice
always a choice

wrong choice
Hurt choice
sad choice
bad choice
mad choice

always a choice
i can never pick
never pick never
pick
the right choice

always wrong
always screwing up
never enough
can't i please stop

please stop fighting
please stop arguing
i need peace,
i need peas
i need to eat
i need to stop

i need to do somthing else
focus on something else
look at the light
like water-falling
the dust dancing
spreading over everything

this isn't real, girl
this isn't real
this isn't
isn't
isn't
isn't

biting the inside of my cheek
flesh comes off
i bite the other side
blood
this isn't real
no choice
no choices in wonderland, only fate
no choice

always A CHOICE
there will always be A CHOICE
god i'm insane aren't i?
Do other people feel like this?

Preacher you can't save me

Preacher you can't save me now
my heart is as black as the devil's
now

Scripture won't save me now
no amount of  praise or apologies
will do

word flow

write as it comes to you
oh little lady with lots of hair
fingers hitting keyboards
like raindrops hitting the sidewalk
don't talk, don't filter
just write

write as if there is nothing here for you
write as if there is nothing left for you
but broken glass and ashes
these things have been smashed
broken beautiful things

suits a world of hate
just misunderstood
just holding on, i can't deal with things
right now,
privileged body not used to stress,
not used to pressure,
i will not thrive, i will wilt,
i will falter, i will survive

my fingers stopp produceding
i misspell words like first graders
i don't givee a damn about munctuation
just trying barely getting my pessage across
p's turn into m's
and ps is an after thought
just like my compassion