Thursday, September 29, 2011

 time has passed, 
and i still feel unwell.
you hold my very heart in your hands.
time can not keep passing. 
i can not keeping waiting.
i need the truest truth.
the real you. 
the real me.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

I wish memories were tangible things. 
I would set so many on fire.
Watch them burn.
Turn to ash.
Never look back.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

And this is my reality.
My insecurities are now owning me.
Boulders on my feet,
cracking the nails,
breaking my toes,
looking for everything of mine to keep.
I need to find strength in something
instead of the nothing
that I surround myself with.
These are choices I have made.
But I'm not listening to these voices.

don't we all want to write our poems about the rain?
or our daily pains
and how it's not the same
as yours is to how mine is,
as mine is to how theirs is.
it's different, we say.
the rain speaks louder to me, we say.
but i say i don't think that's quite fair.
judging how we hear the voices in the air.
comparing and composing
destroying and bulldozing
we are what is tearing us apart.
artists are losing their hearts.
i say
why can't we all be inspired together,
why can't we dance in the rain forever.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

It rained today. It's still raining. I have a headache and I want to eat something bad for me, but I won't. I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could be with you. Or maybe I wish I could disappear for a while.

I feel as if I don't know where I sit with anyone anymore. I don't know anyone's thoughts towards me, whether they are positive or negative, though I am always paranoid that they are negative. It isn't healthy, and it needs to stop, but it's so hard to fight it. Being pessimistic when it comes to relationships/friendships has always been something I have struggled with and it seems to stem directly from my extreme insecurities in everything I do and say. My confidence level is below zero most days and it's getting harder to deal with and causing more and more issues in my personal life than anybody should have to deal with.

I've always thought to myself that I have a golden intuition, and I still believe that I do. I had more confidence then. If someone was mad at me, if someone felt a certain way towards me, I always knew, because I could always tell. I picked up on every small detail in their body language and their words and I could judge exactly what was on their mind without them even having to say anything. This used to work for me. I think it's changed forms over these past couple of months as my insecurities have worsened into something that isn't intuition anymore, but simply paranoia. I am losing my ability in realizing whether the thoughts in my head are truly my intuition talking to me or my insecurities.
what am i really fighting for anymore?
is it me?
consistently so constantly only me?
or these chains that bind me?
though i do suppose that is a part of me.
my insecurities are like boulders on my feet.
what am i really fighting for anymore?
is it you?
with your pride you fly so high.
can you see us all from where you are sitting?
i will polish your pedestal you rest your feet on.
i will use the sleeve of my cardigan,
and my very breathe to fog the surface.
wipe away your grimace.
if only i could.
can you see me from where you are sitting?
here i am, i have got my heart in my hands.
blood is collecting in my palms
like the sweaty hands of a performer backstage.
we are alike, you see, in our insecurity, the performer and i.
failure seems unavoidable.
we wear confidence only as a mask,
never as our own flesh.
it doesn't flow in our veins the way it does through yours.
the anxiety overwhelms the mind
while positive thinking is simply left behind.
you laugh at me,
you say i am being dramatic.
tears stain my cheek and you're still laughing.
i am screaming things i don't mean
and you're still laughing.
what am i really fighting for anymore if you're not fighting too?
the implication has been made,
right on time, though i almost hoped you would forget.
it's me i am fighting so it seems.
alone with blood on my hands and fucked up dreams.