Poetry · Writing

hidden quiz; makeup. on.

sometimes, this is difficult

to beg for answers

everthing is truly a test

but this should have been open book

games being played

answers written on your hand

and i can’t even see the scantron;

laid it down

you, the one in the gown

pride of the hometown

strutting, wearin’ that crown

not ready for that showdown

but this is that countdown

wear it on my chest, i’m that proper noun

but i’m the one that looks like a fucking clown.

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Poetry · Writing

the fixer; down wind

problem is

i always want to fix everything

things that don’t need fixing

instead of just caring

loving being more then a piece of tape

problem is

carrying weight that’s not my own

no one asked

carrying backpacks up mountains

nothing but a bottle and a tent

crashing down

broken arm

put tape on it

Poetry · Writing

cake; princess diaries

i see it in your eyes

a hunger for more

every piece has your name on it

if you can see it

you’ll take it

a bloodlust for happiness;

but when your head rest on my chest

the breathe slows to a mild sigh

i see the kid again-

chasing a dream on a t.v screen

trying on string like a queen on the screen

it’s your favorite scene

we watch it on repeat it’s our routine

in the mirror it’s a queen at thirteen.

Poetry · Writing

wall puzzle; trouble ;bottomless dream

building a puzzle

without all the pieces

test my patience

buidling blocks surround my knuckles

science project and your the thesis

a little love and all my dedication;

that’s the kind of love

i’ve been dreaming of-

one bred of dreams

probably why the puzzle is never finished

different pieces every night

never waking up so by all means

maybe not forever just give me another minute

before stripped by daily light

Poetry · Writing

empty verse; live mutiny

i. watch. myself. through. a. window.

i lost my pulse

driving away in a hearse

my reflection is a curse

nothing but a blank verse;

i. wouldn’t. wish. this. feeling. on. anyone.

emptiness bred immunity

only one in my community

before banished via mutiny

leaving me with this opportunity;

let. me. leave. this. hell. i. called. home.

Poetry · Writing

the one piggy that got away

raised with bricks

stacked high with a peep hole

just can barely see out

cold stays in

life stays out-

this was fine

no really i prefered it this way

all the big bads would come

brothers and sisters dissapear

but i was good;

pretended not to hear their screams

pretended not to care

pretended not to be home

that keeps me up at night

they rebuild out there

and i’m still in here waiting

for

something;

if they can’t get in

how can i get out

seems air tight

so how am i still breathing

a dream of butterflys

shattering these bricks like glass

i’ll be gone- so fucking gone

maybe to find those taken

those that never had a chance

or to feel everything that i could only dream of;

i hear the big bads coming again

they can’t stop them

all i have our ears preparing for horror

it’s safe here

it’s safe here