as if
she looks so perfect
under the lights.
beautiful lovely glowing
my skin is writhing aching itching pining
when I reach up to scratch it it peels away
revealing my too many lies
to them
to me
lies saying I can do this.
.
.
oh. you poor thing.
you actually thought you could.
be like her.
shining inwardly beneath that spotlight
look at you cowering
there on the edge
trying hopelessly to fill the space
the lights burning through you
carve out a silhouette in the shape of a girl
empty hollow shadowed.
wanting
wanting to be her
wanting her
she's so pretty
I'm so.
.
.
clawing scratching fading
stripped of my skin under the lights
my deepest raw bleeding organs
spilling out in front of an audience
flakes of skin drifting off to the floor to reveal a miserable someone
pretending she could be powerful
part of something.
as if.
Alive
tissue and tendons,
water and blood,
bones hanging limply in their cushions of muscle,
heart beating numbly in its skeletal cage.
eyes take in light, blindly process
the stream of information we call the world
after all music is nothing more than sound
after all laughter's made of nothing but air
circuits and wires,
a perfect machine,
each part is calculated to keep us surviving
nothing more than electric waves in our brain
just a steady stream of blood through our heart
and somehow, impossibly, it all comes together
and it turns into something new called
life
Green
The storm is gone,
and in its wake,
the earth seems too green to be true-
all verdant trees, their leaves aglow
and dripping with green dew.
It's bright and warm and alive again
with newborn sunlight piercing through
the tired clouds we left behind
I never liked the color green,
but today, I think, might change my mind.
Wait
Wait while I tear this silvered cords of empty enjoyment
Out from their resting place in my brain.
Wait while I rip the stubborn strands that hold my eyes
To their post on the screen
I'd look away,
Look at you,
Look at the world,
And at my life that's sitting
Waiting on my bedside table
But I'm afraid they're buried in too deep now
If I look away, these
Silver cords and
Smiling faces and
Empty jokes and
Dulling colors would
Tear my brain out with them.
So wait, while I rot here.
Won't you wait?
Just a moment?
While I pluck my thoughts out
One by one
There goes anger
Care and love
Joy goes next
Off runs sadness
Look who's left now
Apathy
Numbness.
At least my eyes aren't tied to the screen anymore
No, I think
They're there by choice now
Witching Hour
After midnight, but not quite dawn,
The stars on their strings, puppeteered by the moon.
Two wild things beneath the October sky
Tracing trails of laughter through the silver streets.
They clasped hands and spun till the world was a blur
And shouted in the wind that they'd always be friends
Then they sat in the grass and looked up to the sky
And their lilting voices were magic in the air.
And their laughter was music, and their dreams were concrete,
And in that hour between night and day,
They dreamed to dance among the stars.
And then, the sky fell, or they flew up to meet it
And the stars were in their eyes, and seemed close enough to touch.
There was nothing but them, and the sky, and a song
In that hour between the midnight and dawn.
Strangers
Just a stranger in the far-off mist
Orange lantern-glow in the sigh of the wind.
Two lives intersecting here, crossing paths tonight.
Both peering through the smoke-filled sky
Searching for a life that's glowing in the distance.
Just two strangers in the mist together,
Sharing their lives, if only for a moment.
Becoming friends while the lanterns glow.
Follow.
Check your heart at the door, you won't need it where we're going.
Dark laughter drifts like smoke as the fire paints your mind in black.
You're alone, can't you see that? They don't want your beating heart
Unless it's on a tray that they can study from a distance.
Oh yes, they'll say, in their frigid, apathetic tone,
Disaster's on its way, and there's nothing you can do.
Pretty words oozing from a heart you hold at arm's length
Will only feed the flames that are lapping at your feet.
Oh no, they'll say, but it doesn't sound sincere,
What a shame that the world that chewed and spat you out
Is getting stomped on by the people who cooly meet your eyes
And tell you there'll be nothing left to laugh at or to cry.
And all the while the power's being blindly tossed about,
While screaming matches hurl the blame as if it's burning like the sky.
And ever cool, calculating, the clocks are ticking down.
And the faceless somebody's are counting down with them.
Five.
They'll take all your fear, what courage you're keeping
And throw it in a melting pot with what sense you might be holding onto.
Here, have some stimulus. You like that? Keep going.
That's right, let your thoughts slip away with the rest.
Four.
You're running out of time, they're telling you.
Shouldn't you be doing something? Not sitting rotting above the ground.
They're yelling at you, and your heart's beating faster,
But you can't feel it, someone's guarding it closely.
Three.
What are you counting to, again? It's been a long time since you started.
The clocks should know, they've gone on forever. They're whispering to you to find what you lost.
That's right - that heart, that strange, foreign object, the one they dissected and told you was useless.
Somehow you miss it, though you're not quite sure why. Your mind is begging to go back to sleep.
Two.
It's broken in pieces when you find it again, and it hurts to put it up to your chest.
All that screaming is awfully loud, and it seems to be pointless if you listen to the words.
Maybe it was better when your heart was on a tray, when you couldn't see the flames that were crawling up your legs.
But now you remember why the clocks were ticking, waiting for the day the heart would return.
One.
I'm afraid we've reached the end now, the clocks have all gone silent.
The heart is crying, oozing words that no one wants to hear.
Maybe a solitary heart can pull this mess together.
Certainly it can try before all is dead and lost.
Find the other hearts out there, I believe that you can do it.
Whisper in the frozen air, it's not too late if we just try.
Whisper in the faceless masses that we can live and breathe together.
But who can hear a whisper, really? Among the shouts and ticking clocks.