A Rhyme Out of the Psychotic

Hannibal the cannibal is fascinating.
Maybe because she's procrastinating.
She knows how love hurts.
You, she doesn't want to desert.
She closed her eyes and breathed.
With exhaust, she's been bequeathed.
The pain, you can see in her eyes,
But she always has on a disguise.
You had it once but you lost,
Somewhere in the very last frost.
Everything wasn't turned around.
Now, absolutely nothing sound.
This poem is getting tiring.
Maybe it's because she's desiring
The right words to tell you,
That "forever" was with who?


J.

Untitled II

And I couldn't stand to look into his dark, deep eyes so I hid but it was all a game to him and so unbearably cute but I really couldn't stand it. And he was so playful and I adore him and miss that part of my life (which is probably why I reminisce so much I suppose). Embarrassed? No, not at all. Impressing? I'm trying as hard as I can to hide that I'm trying.  I get to be the me I wanna be with him and I can be a kid (like he told me I could be) and stress free. Like biting and running around like we're the only ones on the ground and jumping up and down as if at any moment a star could be ours. But I could have a grown conversation and I feel like I'm wrapped in happiness in his world. Only to soon find out I'd be quickly unwrapped from any kind of happiness and left out in the cold...

J.

An Unexpecting Victim

An unexpecting victim
of the powerful stream of love.
I drank from it.
I can't tell if it's potion or poison.
Maybe one day I'll know.
More of the water exuding through the pores of my skin.
Basking in the sunshine of happiness.
Bathing in the love.
Until the leaves start changing colors.
And the stream freezes over.
An unexpecting victim
in a dark alley of twists and wrong turns.

The winds of feelings and change.

Flowing through my hair.

The line from that song..

"your hair looks so good over my shoulder"

playing slowly in my head.

Pictures of my hair over your shoulder dancing through my mind.

Like the leaves dancing around the stream.

An unexpecting victim

of these goosebumps I'm getting.

I can't tell if it's the cold from the frozen stream seeping through the soles of my shoes

or the thought of you, in all of your wonder and amazement.
Everything I wish I could see in my reflection when I look into the stream,

I see when I look at you.

I feel you when you look at me.

Something I've been missing.

An unexpecting victim

of happiness brought by thee.
And you let the stream sweep you off your feet;
not expecting to be a victim
until you hit the rocks.
And then everything hits you.
But you're mind is like the gizzard of a bird.
Filled with rocks. Trying to digest everything.
But humans don't have that.
So it doesn't work.
Try hydrogen peroxide; your parents lied to you.
IT STINGS.

J.

Momentary Mute Messages

The "OMG! What on earth is he talking about!?" in a terrified kind of way. With the "Eek! I have no idea (but I'm secretly [yet completely obviously] glad I'm not you)." conversation in about ten tremendously loud heartbeats with solely our eyes across wet rags and soap suds. Or the "I LOVE YOU! Say something." and the unreadable (so maybe it's just wishful thinking), "You know. And you know the deal." blank stare. Followed by the fishtale headspin the human brain is painfully capable of because that deal was never agreed upon. All within the split seconds of my slightly delayed (yet still fairly quick) reflexes that make my neck snap around the moment the chance arrives after meeting your beautifully cold eyes. And the "Can't you see I'd just like you to leave now?" glare which is entirely a one-sided conversation for it's obviously not reciprocated. Or let's go for the looking down because you're trying to hold back tears but desperately trying to send an ESP message with "-.-. .- -. / -.-- --- ..- / .--. .-.. . .- ... . / .--- ..- ... - / .... --- .-.. -.. / -- ." which reads just like that because they never get the message. Maybe it's the "I really adore you and I know my eyes can't smile but if they could they would be grinning. I like this." while your mind is racing like a Nascar driver at Daytona. And all you can see back is "You're cute. *twinkle*twinkle*" which is nice but.. Well, but. Mostly it's the messages behind your own eyelids that are so unclearly clear. I know that doesn't make sense and if you think that it does, you're wrong because it doesn't. It's not supposed to make sense. The loudest silent messages are the ones we always never want to hear. And the ones we laugh about crying about. Along with the ones we smile at while our heart is shattering into a gazillion small huge pieces. Those messages.


J.

Rotting

Tree branches scraping across windows; making wretched noises that sound like scared, hurt puppies. Perhaps occurring in the same place where squirrels are in possible danger of taking the same descent downward that I would be obligated to take if ever I were engulfed in beautifully painful flames. But that's only a hopefully unlikely 'if'. In addition to a fallen dead cat that he claimed was a dog (but I know better. Plus I went (in sorrow) and checked the repulsive site, but shh). It's poor dead body broken and wet; it's rotting process being sped up by maggots (like you) and flies. Lying defaced, denied and disregarded like the trash from Whataburger lying next to it, sharing the same rock. That, plus the torture I endure almost every night I manage to brokenly crawl to the door of the place I once loved. Now when I get in it's like I'm, no, I AM trapped in a(n)  horror movie inescapable life. Called my own. But someone manages to lock the door on my every attempt to escape and only when I can (literally) no longer go without oxygen do they unlock the door and allow me to gasp in the hot Texas air that feels just about as choking as his hands did around my neck one time. Only he kissed me and apologized; this hateful air is so much less apologetic. Along with you. In my dreams. And seemingly out of them (I don't dare say in real life). I hate that my memories are being contaminated like the pollution that makes us stay inside for recess contaminates the air. Or like the water will be once the cat's rotting corpse eventually slips into the pool at the bottom of the currently silent waterfall. Silent. So unlike my tears that seem to be taking the place of that waterfall; running along my contaminated cheeks that will hopefully become clean with help from the dark purple and pink pills. Or perhaps I'm just as hopeless as my scratched window (maybe even like the squirrel that may fall off); trapped in that land of horrors; or rotting away with only maggots to be close to along side that white and orange striped back on a rock at the bottom of a waterfall.


J.

Sugar Plum Princess

As you lay your head, crooked against rough, green pleather, the sun's rays seem to lay their hands around your cheek and caress it like the too rough hands had done so gently. 'And visions of sugar plums danced in your head' but it's not that time of year though you wish you could be the sugar plum princess through every season. But then the light appears too bright in the stereo-typical interrogation or worse yet when you've lost all your marbles. But the light doesn't help you find them, it just reminds you that people are convinced you've indeed lost them; but you actually know where they are, they're just hidden from the spot-light somewhere else and you won't tell anyone, shhh.

J.

Words on the Door

I don't dare raise a hand to that foggy door because I know exactly what I'll write and even if I resist writing it, I know exactly what I'll think (which I think too much already) and want to write it. But I can't because I wanna say it but I can't. And I want, I want, I want,  but this is so much more; this is I need and I hate that but I'm terrible and it's true. The door knows it all and when I leave it, it feels so sorry for me that its arms of steam wrap me up and hold me; if only for a moment until the mist clears from my eyes and from the room. And they promise me they'll make the words on the door disappear soon. And maybe if they were just a little more buff and could speak just a little louder they would promise me that they would make all my pains go away; like the words on the door. Just like the words on the door...

J.

Unimaginative

And it's like I've got to hold onto something for dear life even though things are changing so much. But she's really not that pretty with her hair pulled back and I realized the month marker in the hospital (and would have been okay with the unintelligent lady with the mesmerizing accent telling me something devastating) but I didn't cry in that moment because on the moon there's no gravity to pull down my tears. But my world will keep spinning no matter how I decorate. Maybe I should start to replay a different quote and even though I lay on my hand so abnormally, I'd really like to strangle the barks in mid night air. Because I wish for time in between and the drum I hear is not the beat I feel and the circle I see is not the loop I'm in. But don't let someone else decide your emotions because even though I tried to help I don't know what I'm doing because the lady with the voice of a child and the nice white coat hasn't helped. The cat that she spoke of was her only companion but who could tell you it's this and that? With the hands and the eyes all a part of the body attached to the brain with the mind and that feeling all the way through. Who knows what I'm saying? It's dyslexia of the nervous system stemmed from the chemical makeup in the brain that isn't quite right. Or so I told her as I tried explaining the problem through a neutral third party that I know had some effect from multiple sources who witnessed the aftermath. But when does it end? He wonders as I try to reassure him but at the same time, I'm stripping it all away. Not knowing what he really wants but knowing that I'd like to know for myself the answer to the question to which I led him falsely astray...

J.

One sentence in my world

And the fireflies lit up the field in between the trees and all around us as I took the turns speeding without the brakes and wishful thinking (that was soon crushed by one too close and the sight of an empty court) still in my head as I ignored my responsibilities towards you and only played a song that wasn't painful (which made me skip way too many) and depending on what was next as the sweat dripped down my face and refusing to tie my hair back because I welcomed the wind (no matter how polluted) to come and tangle my hair.

J.

Our Caslte Out The Window

And everything seems wrong and bad and painful. You've learned to stand when standing isn't easy. But the memory of learning that makes you miss everything and tears threaten to come again and maybe you're just finished with it; finished with standing when it's not easy. Through the droopy eyelids and the fogged up pupils, avoiding the perception of the thing that makes your eyes the saddest of all, you look out to your castle and it's standing. So go there. And let there be no gravity there; no gravity of any kind. There will be no options; no standing or falling. Just floating. Maybe you're floating in tears here but go to your castle and float in happiness...

J.


Photo credit: David Plunkett

Your kind

There's something I need to tell you
for it's been playing on my mind.
You're yet another clue
to the problem with your kind.
The ones who come and fill me and then simply depart.
After promising me forever
all I get is another void inside my heart
that fills up with never...

J.

'I wanna set the world on fire...'

What do you do when you set your world on fire?
I'd love to bask in the warmth.
I'd love to get lost in the slight blue hidden in the orange and yellow.
But I'm burning.
Lord, I'm burning badly.
And the tears measure largely in volume.
But this time, this time, they can't put the fire out.
This time I get to burn.
And dear Lord, I'm burning badly.
There's no escaping this burning world.
I don't get to go to another world.
But 'this isn't the end of the world.'
It can't be.
This can't be the worst day because you don't know what tomorrow will bring.
I promise that anything worse won't be the fault of my stupidity.
Lord, I'm burning badly.
The world is on fire.
At least it is in my eyes.
I wonder if you can see the reflection.
Is it multiplied and magnified by the tears?
But they won't extinguish the fire.
Not this time.
Not this world.
I wanted to set the world on fire.
Now it's burning way too brightly.
And dear Lord, I'm burning badly...

J.

Your Highness

The blows are hard and low

but now it's time to put on a show.

Flaunt your best smile

and prove that no one can walk a mile

in your heels; you're as high as the sky

just try to look in my eyes.

I bet you can't,

so you simply shan't.

Damn you're hard to resist

but I definitely do insist,

because you're no good for me

but I'll be as strong as I can be.

And I promise I'll never ever stop

because darlin' I'm shooting to the very top.

And no one will bring me down.

Not even if I myself have given you the crown...

J.

OKay

I'm okay.

Let me be clear.

I'm okay without you.

Listen closely my dear.

I'm okay without anyone.

I'm going to share.

I'm okay without anything.

Even if you don't care.

I'm okay no matter what.

I've survived through way too much

to even consider letting this touch

my heart.

I'll certainly depart.

This could all go.

Everything could fall so

hard, and drastically;

and guess where I'll be.

Right inside me.

(And I'll be okay)

Once, we shared love

so strong, it had to have been from above.

And now it's all gone.

But I sure got strong.

I can be so angry and hurt

I can feel like dirt

but you won't have the privilege of doing that to me.

I'd rather smile less on my own terms,

than smile so much more with the germs

of you. You're poison.

Not just to me.

They just don't see.

One day they will

and hopefully you'll squeal;

out of frustration and sorrow.

But for now and tomorrow,

I'm okay...

J.

Parallax

Why do people do things that they know would embarass them when they THINK no one is looking? you might as well just do whatever it is without trying to hide it. There's always somone looking. Haven't you ever seen someone do something unaware of your gaze?
But then there are other times...
times when you're looking at someone, and they're looking at you; but you aren't really sure they're actually looking at you. you know, like when someone waves at you (or so you think) and while you're listing all the people that person could possibly be, they walk right past you and give the person behind you a big hug. or vice versa, when they're waving at you and you aren't positive they're actually waving at you so you ignore them.
Or better yet, there are those other times...
when someone is actually looking at you this time, maybe you're talking to them or in the same room as them and you're looking at them looking at you.
We all secretly love catching people looking at us. At least when it's not in a creepy or bad way.
those times...
when people are looking at you, do you ever wonder what ther see? or do you think they're too busy judging you? or maybe wondering the same thing. If you asked them to tell you what they see, would they be honest? would they simply tell you what they think you want to hear? would they say what you anticipated, or would they take you by surprise? do they even see you at all? not the color of your hair or eyes, or what you're wearing. Not how tall or short, or skinny or fat you are. Not how straight your teeth are, or even if you're smiling. But YOU. what, through their eyes, do they see in you? what do they see in your eyes?
It's all in the eyes.
Those damn eyes...

J

Untitled

And the tears stream only out the corner of one eye because I lay on my side clenching my midsection. The green and white striped pillow hard beneath my head slowly soaks and even after my hair is done sticking to my face and the pillow is finally dry because my tear ducts are worn out, the salt residue is still there enough to awaken the suppressed reasons the tears were flowing in the first place. And after crying until nearly hacking up my insides and going through an entire box of kleenex (the 'BONUS' box, mind you), I fall asleep. I never figured out whether it was from complete exhaustion of my body or mind. Or maybe, some higher power finally had enough mercy on me to grant my wish of painless, blackened oblivion I call sleep. Only to wake up three hours later to attend a session at school on a Saturday. For ONCE, I didn't mind listening to bad teachers (make an attempt at) teaching a subject I'm very weak in. Allowing my mind to desperately try and grasp the information I need, like sea anemone desperately flailing in the ocean currents trying to get any little particles to stick. Keeping myself from torturing my poor little brain with harsh thoughts. But when I finally find the solace of my room, I proceed to step on the bloody kleenex of the night before. And I know it was blood and I know it was real because 'real blood turns brown when it dries.' And that just breaks my heart because I now have hard evidence that I'm (literally) dying inside...




J.

undirectional navigation

Wouldn't it be interesting if you navigated a plane using clouds as your directional?  Your road map, if you will. Follow them, be with them, swallowed by their presence. Whichever way they seem to point or lead, that's the direction in which you go. When there are no more clouds, it's time to come down from the sky. You'll never know where you'll end up. The place will never be overcast and dreary, that much you do know. But you'll begin to invite the clouds to join you; they've become your friend, you're companion. They give you a sense of familiarity, security. They're so friendly and inviting when you're among them. They seem to welcome you in their billowing, undistinguished arms. You, flying; never knowing how high up you are. Them, surrounding you, taking you completely in. You, no longer even knowing which way is up. The clouds, they're navigating you now. And you, you are finally carefree..


J.

Meaningless Meanings

It's hard to fall asleep when your heart is beating so loudly you know it's going to explode but you can't tell which will happen first, your head or your chest. I'm breathing like I'm one hundred and eighty-seven pounds at five foot two and honestly, I feel like that quite often. It's sad that I would even be sleeping at seven pm. And I didn't dream this time purely out of exhaustion of body and mind. But I arose in a sudden manner from the mere vibration of my mobile device (the wretched thing), out of breath and fairly discombobulated as if I was escaping sheer terror. I haven't decided what's worse yet; having a terrifying nightmare and knowing it, seeing it vividly, experiencing it, remembering it.. Or having one and not being fully aware of it but feeling the terror through your bones anyway. The answer may seem easy. But sometimes, you just have an odd number of long nails and you just have to learn to get used to them and put them to use or go ahead and bite them down like you have done your entire life. The cause of that are those glances and stares you get that make you want to jump out of your skin. In anger. In despair. In desperation to escape. And in trying to flee, you're caught up in the memories. And the ones that make you smile are the ones that make you want to cry and you are sad and mad and glad and your head is spinning and your heart is beating. So much so that you can't fall asleep. It's like playing a song that you can't help but sing to while trying desperately to relay a message of life or death to someone and neither thing is working. YOU JUST CAN'T SLEEP WITH YOUR HEART BEATING SO LOUD. So then I have a scare when it slows to a stop (because you know it does that sometimes) and certain things are the cause sometimes and other times I feel like maybe my many prayers have been answered but I don't know what I really believe. But then the world turns out okay because you find joyful similarities and so what if they're common? Mix them with the others unknowing and enlighten them with your personal delights and your world is grand. But then you over do and don't know WHAT to do. And you're lost but you're found. AND YOUR HEAD IS JUST SPINNING 'ROUND AND 'ROUND.

J.