I struggle to breathe throught this air of apprehension
Restless
I speak in voices
Untitled
Child of God, lift your head high
No One Else
I try words to scare my fear away
Nightmare
Nothing kept me from falling.
Nights like these
On nights like these
What Our Parents Must Think
We don't know these people anymore;
We could only stand at a distance
he looked so old and frail
and I wondered if he was truly alive
suddenly the ghost smiled
How could he have known
I used to think
How shocked they'd be
The slight man stands and speaks
Selfish, petty little thing.
this is my first dance
Music courtesy of The Very Best Midi.
Self Image
what's to become of me?
a work of fiction
based on circumstances
that haven't even come to pass,
and only God knows when.
as I try to hold on
to what I am
and not what you want me to be.
you thought intimidation was convenient
and resorted to hate tactics
that were self-inflicted,
and I realize
I'm looking in the mirror again.
Loud to me,
but no one can understand my words.
They say I'm destined for greatness,
contradicting
everything else they've told me.
They see what they want to.
All I ask is to be loud on paper
and to take the road less traveled;
even if the world is ready to end
I want to live until then.
The King and all his angels draw nigh
Child of God, wipe your tears dry
The King is coming to see you fly.
It takes a little more to wipe away my tears
And what of my life, of all that time?
It's not mine to waste.
How long can I persevere
Through the failures that haunt me,
And this dense fog I've lost myself in?
What's left to say? I'm to blame,
And no one else but me,
But still I try to face this on my own
It takes a lot more to save me (from myself)
How long before I've learned?
What's left to say? I'm at fault,
And so very blind,
And no one else but me.
Love had been banished long ago.
I owed them an apology for coming.
The Dark Times dwelled among us.
They left me to the wolves.
I had no voice;
I had forgotten how to sing.
I walked on a beach;
I realized there were only MY footprints
I stared up into nothing.
you don't need music
just the rain
pattering the rooftop
trickling into your mind
you can lay back
and be mesmerized
the drops beating out
their ceaseless rhythm
that lulls you into semi-consciousness
nights like these
were made for poets
and not for umbrellas.
they're foreign to us
they hang out at malls
they sit, like zombies, staring
at televisions, computer monitors
What do they see?
they won't listen when we tell them
they'll never get anywhere like that
they don't even seem to care
just complain to their friends
about how we'll never get anywhere
that we never listen to them
and how can we see what they're about,
when we're too caught up
staring at television screens
and computer monitors
and complaining to our friends
about our children.
Heart Surgery 12/27/99
peering through the glass.
It seemed like miles stood
between us and my father.
trying to make us believe
he was fine.
I'd cried myself to sleep
hoping he wouldn't die
in this electronic disinfected Ohio
while we were at home
in Michigan
half an hour
half a world
away.
Untitled 1/4/99
angels followed me everywhere,
but I hope I was wrong.
by the things they'd see.
11th Grade English 5/15/99
while the audience sits and blinks.
Most of them haven't a clue;
I'm glad I do.
Mirror 7/13/99
Wretch!
You still won'tlearn.
Each time you fall,
You promise things will change,
But you continue to live in squalor,
Bedding down with a beast
Who could not hate you more;
Refusing one
Who could not love you less,
Despite your darkened garments.
Homecoming 9-26-99
(perhaps my last dance).
i wonder
is this supposed to be fun?
this horde of bored teenagers
weaving, bobbing
in a darkened cafeteria
pretending, for one night,
that we can all get along
and i don't dance
(no one asked).
is this what being social means?
it isn't me
wearing all this false finery
and I don't think it could ever be.
To the home page, Batman!