Perception

Stand in front of the mirror.
Do you see yourself?
Or do you see your slightly too-thick curves?
Do you see the purple scars on your thighs
And the way your torso spills over your natural figure?
Look at your face.
Stare into those watery blue eyes
And tell yourself
What a shame it is that you look this way.
Say that you caused it.
That you'd be better
If your skin was darker,
Softer,
Clearer,
Even.
If only you had beefy muscles
Bursting from your glistening
Arms
That move
As you move.
This is your fault.
If only you hadn't gorged yourself
Until you couldn't feel feelings
Anymore.
If only Ben hadn't
Choked you until the pain went away
And Jerry hadn't slapped the logic out of you first.
You disgust me.
I can't look at you.

I can't see you through the curves
You think are ugly.
Through your insecurities.
Through your pain.
Through your past.

Don't let your body control
Who you are.
Let your light shine
Through your body.
Let it burst out of your skin
Instead of your muscles.
Let it blind outsiders until they only
See you.

Because you are
The best thing they could have.

Waiting

I've always been taught to wait.
"Have patience."
"Your time will come."
"Don't worry about it now."
"Just wait."

I'm sick of waiting.
I sit here and expect
Everything to fall into place
On its own.

I sit here,
Waiting for someone to find me.
To know that I'm waiting
For them.

What if we all were to
Sit and wait?
Production would cease,
And we would have nothing.

We would be nothing.

I must stop waiting.
I must seek what I'm
Waiting for.
Perhaps someone is waiting for me.

I Am No More

Sitting. Soaking. Sinking.

Countless memories, like lights

Flashing.

Dreams are no longer.

Serpents slither through my brain,

Erasing all light

Killing the glow of yesterday.

Today it is gloomy,

and I am no more.

Where I Am

I stare at the lights

Outside my window.

I sit here,

In this clean,

Dark,

Comfortable room,

Utterly alone.

The sweet scent of potpourri

And faded memories

Are my only company.

This silence is new,

And relieving.

I feel for once,

As the lights

Go down,

And people begin

To subside to their beds,

I can have a moment

To myself.

I can't tell if

This place is

Anything but a memory,

But it feels close.

Although I am not where

I feel I am,

I have this

One moment to 

Go home.

This moment is

Purely mine.

Yet as I start to

Sink,

My moment is

Taken away.

It has been stolen by 

The voice I know

By day-

The pin that always is

Pricking at my side,

Awakening me from

Moments like this.

My chest grows tight as I

Lose my focus.

As the usual sounds
Reminding me of

Where I am

Start to surround me,

I close my eyes,

And take in the

Darkness.

I think about

The moment that was

All mine,

And pray it will come back.

Knowing I have failed,

I drift off to sleep,

Dreading the moment I must

Wake up.

I must remember

Where I am.

Ignorant Perfection

As a school girl

I often heard your little

Patters through the halls

And how you kissed that boy

Through the walls.

I saw you stand and 

Stare at me with your

Perfect eyes,

Throwing glances of

Hope,

And fury,

And demise.

Oh how you were,

So ignorant, so wary-

As I grew up,

You chose to stick it out

And drown until you were buried.

Your burial ground was a fine

Marriage.

But I care not,

As I am the one

Less perfect.

The one forgot.

Filter

When I think of all the things I've done,

I stop and wonder

Why I've failed.

How could you get lost

In a hole so deep?

Sinking and crumbling

To the bottom of the earth.

Sand slipping down

Down-

Down.

Into nothing.

I am a crevice atop the sea floor.

A filter,

Stuck atop the sea floor.

Waiting for someone to

Call for me.

Welcome Home

Dark silhouettes surround me
As I crouch down into nothing.
The wind hits my face and I
Call out.
Hoping for someone.

It was cold,
And I was small.
I could see the moon through the
Branches that concealed me.
And for a moment,
It was silent.

I hadn’t the faintest idea where they were.
The neighborhood kids were my friends,
And we were running from something.
Something I can’t remember.

I sat, sinking down into the doughy moss.
As my bare feet became damp,
I could hear night creatures
Wailing and singing, preparing for their nightly
Feast.

It was a gathering among beings.
Secret. Sacred, without human disruption.
They howled and they screamed,
Dancing and dining beneath a glowing moon.

I linger under silhouettes,
Looking up through,
To the vast sky
filled with light.

Under silhouettes,
I listen to the celebration around me.
Feeling the summer warm breeze on my face
I close my eyes,
And the moon whispers.
Welcome home.

Something To Call Yours

Find something.

Find one thing

You can love.

Something you can have

For yourself.

Something you can practice.

Something you can learn.

Find something you will breathe.

Breathe that one thing you call yours

And never let it go.

Find something to sing about-

To write about.

Find something you think

About day in and day out.

Find a part of you

You might have lost.

Something in your dreams-

Something in your heart.

Find something that

Will make you live

Again.

Something that will

Make you say

“Damn, I could improve.”

Find something that

Will give you a passion

Greater than yourself.

You will take this one thing that

You call yours and

Never let it go.

You will break if you lose it.

You will cry if you abuse it.

Find something-

Anything that will make you grow.

That will cause you to release

The part of you that was hidden.

Find something that will

Find you.

That will make you live.

Find something that will make you happy.

One thing that you will crave.

You will bleed this one thing

You call yours.

Find something to live by.

Something to love by.

For loving is only possible

With this one thing you

Call yours.

Find something that tears out your insides and builds you again.

Something that will make your

Heart pound faster.

That will tell you to keep going.

Find something that will grow and mold into your body.

That will sink into your soul.

Find something that will whip you

Until you bleed.

Until you succeed.

Find something that will love you.

That you will always have

To call yours.

Find something to call special.

Something that will make you ache

If you go just a second without it.

Find something that will wrap around

Your veins and squeeze you

Until you fly.

Find something you will resonate with.

Something you will cherish.

Something that will call out your name and

Tell you to follow.

Find something to call yours.

Losing

I felt myself lost in a haze.

I felt myself sink.
I felt my body waste away.
I felt I couldn’t think.

I needed something to hold on to.
To drag myself back.
I needed to get a hold
Of what I truly lacked.

I refused to gain,

I refused to listen.

I let in pain,

I let it absorb.

I felt that I was lost.
Never to control again.
I felt my body waste away.
In this, there was no sin.

Losing was my love.
Losing was my obsession.
No matter what my loss,
I never learned my lesson.

I lost,
And lost.
Never to look back.
I lost what I wanted.
What I wanted to lack.

No matter what my loss,
I always felt a pain.
I felt I needed to lose more.
Until I loved again.

For Yeni

 

This is a playlist of songs for one of my best friends. The lyrics aren't necessarily related to her; a song on this playlist is either something that brought us together, a lyrical representation of her, a song that may host an inside joke, or a song that just reminds me of her.

Blue

I sink into a deep blue,

Left unconscious.

Swaying in a

Pulsing current,

Lifted,

Pulled.

A lightness

Sends me through the

Air, and into the

Sun.

I close my eyes, and let myself

Melt.

My body slips through my grip,

And I am

Alone.

I am at rest.

“Do I believe,

The sky above,

Is

Caribbean Blue.”

Mean

She looked at me with her set of pretty blues, smothered in smudged eye liner.

They were encouraging.

Trustworthy eyes.

Asking me to sit with her.

As I walked over, I heard her whisper to the monster next to her,

“Ew, Kerri’s coming.”

Walking through the crowded and stuffy hallway,

I hear vulgar insults slice through people.

I walk behind her, unable to break the wall she’s formed.

Accidentally I step on the back of her clumsy shoe,

And trip her.

Angry, she shouts, “Fat cow!”

I laugh.

Inside, I am broken.

Every day, on the repugnant, fowl bus,

She tells me to call my mother.

I call, reluctantly, and ask for her to come over.

When my mother says, “Not today,”

She pushes for me to ask again.

And again.

Until she got what she wanted.

I knew she didn’t like going home.

That house was no place for welcome.

She was scared.

To say anything.

Unable to control their outbursts.

She wanted something to control.

Me.

In reality I knew she wanted what I had.

An assuredly safe home.

A sense of self confidence.

Although I didn’t show that.

I didn’t know I had it,

Until I met her.

She acted like a goddess,

Worthy of worship.

Emphasizing that she was “skinny,”

Obviously showing her superiority.

I didn’t fight back.

I let her crush me until I believed I was inferior.

She forced me to lose myself.

I noticed stares in the hallway.

She had them fooled.

“Lesbian,” they would say.

I hated what they thought of me.

I hated that one person,

One rumor,

Could make people actually

Hate me.

What I cared so much about

Was why they were so bitter.

Discriminatory

Against something so

Natural.

Emerging from the everlasting cycle of

Acidity,

I escaped the

Abuse.

I escaped the person

I called my

Best friend.

She is not a bad person.

She was lost,

Pulling me with her

Into the abyss.

I was her launching pad,

allowing her to get out.

Allowing her to reach

Another ledge.

Until I let her go.

We were never meant to be

Friends.

Just people,

Passing through others,

Like petals in a strong

Wind.

Teaching each other of

Ourselves.

Born Under Smoke

She took in the smoky air, trapped under a house made of madness.

Her work was nothing to them.

She feasted with herself, choking the pain.

A mother, mousy, yet jagged.

A father who heard things. Sick, and no answers.

With her soft, rosy complexion she was like a doll.

Inside, she felt she was a scar.

Ugly, and burdened.

She was the piece that cured others.

She held everything together.

I see her.

Perfection, resulting from practice.

Practice and

Failures.

She still washes.

She still serves.

She still nurtures.

She is not a scar.

She never was.

She still is the piece that holds everything together.

She holds me together.

My mother is beautiful. Joyous.

She is thankful.

She has built a life of balance.

Fairness.

I watch her, inhaling the pure air around her.

A sigh of relief.

Babushka

You wrapped me in

what you called your

babushka,

and offered me its warmth.

A helpless child

nestled in a plush cove.

Its spongy lining

was so new

and inviting.

I closed my eyes

as you held me,

and listened to your

comforting scent

sing me to sleep.

I now wrap myself in

your old coat.

Like a child,

I nestle into it, and allow your

presence to resonate.

Sliding my arms along its

smooth patchwork

I feel its cold

and exposed lining.

I hug myself

like a cat

letting your

comforting scent

sing me to sleep.

A Dive To Serenity

    I walked down the worn and historic steps. Peering through the green, I saw the dock down below, just as we had left it. Reaching the bottom, I stepped out onto the dock, and settled into the sun. The air was calm. I gripped with each hand the two metal poles at the end of the dock. I held on, draping myself out over the water, admiring its clarity. I looked down at the anchor permanently lodged into the lake floor, and thought of the grandfather I never got the chance to meet. I dipped my foot into the water and felt the creamy quality of the lake. I backed up, looked across the cove, and prepared myself to run. I started off. Quick steps, faster, faster, and eventually, I was gliding in the air, awaiting a cool entrance. Floating down I lifted my arms above my head to feel millions of bubbles rise to the surface. I opened my eyes to find beams of light coming from the dark bottom, surrounded by a serene green. I emerged from the water and sat on the ancient playground ladder, letting my body adjust.

    I looked up the set of fifty six steps I had counted as a youth, thinking we had the largest staircase on the lake, to find my dad with a drink in hand, carefully making his way down. He hung his sunglasses on one of the poles, took one last drink, and dove straight in. I turned away, scrunching up my face to avoid his splash. The trees were still, and the lake silent. A boat passing by caused numerous waves to head toward the dock. I jumped into them, racing with time, speedily getting out, only to dive back in again. I repeated this pattern until all the waves had ceased.

    As I wrung the water from my hair, the air turned cold, and it was time to go up. We grabbed our towels hanging on the broken railing and ascended into reality.

The Girl With Almond Eyes

    Two magnificent eyes watch me, listening as I pour my feelings into her hands. They are kind, lovely eyes. Their true beauty is hidden under slicked-on black, unneeded. They are not brown. They are deep, and bright. They hold an essence of green, showing that spark in her I’ve known forever. Her two almond eyes can see me, see into me, and respond with empathy. I’ve grown up with these eyes. I’ve seen them through intuitions, bliss, and sorrow. They carry wisdom. They carry youth. They possess a certain serenity, and thrive with a certain spunk. They are lovely. She holds these eyes with class, and offers their warmth to others. She, with her magnificent eyes, is my best friend.