12 aka Gray Daze

Blue wraps slowly round my throat

Cutting air, in leaves I float.

Blinding me those selfish screams.

Yes, it sees itself in creams.

Daisies, Daisies,

raining down

Through the walls,

around, around.

Light and dark,

Dark and blue,

Did I really choose this view?

Blue floods everything,

Blue on blue,

Piles forming thick as lead,

Dropping heavy on my head,

my bead,

my fed,

on all the red,

my dead,

my dead,

my dead,

my dead.

And yet-

I lay.

Unmoved.

I think I felt a breeze roll in...

What's this film slick across my skin?

Blue, blue,

daisy blue.

Dead skin coats books I once knew.

Friends when no one liked the view.

Staring blankly on my form,

Clara never causes harm.

Clara keeps me safe and warm.

Glassy views she showed a girl

Teaching her to love to twirl,

To whirl,

To whirl,

Against her might.

No, you never changed my sight,

No, you never saw the plight,

the kite,

the bite,

the words alight,

the fight,

the fight,

the fight,

the fight,

And yet-

I lay.

Unmoved.

11

Liquid bronze

Slowly fills my belly,

Pulsing, quietly

Lit from within.

The easy warmth

Climbs my spine,

Permeating my being;

Inducing a calm joy

To last the day.

10

The Truth within

Held, to keep sacred

Won't leave my mind.

The calming peace

that follows

Floods me with

quite joy.

I will save

these moments

As a reminder

of all that's

Beautiful

and

Right

In the World.

9

Today

Is a day,

Is a day.

DRUMS.

Accept.

Accept.

Accept.

Accept.

Except-

I don't know why.

Where do I go?

I go.

I go.

8

Glitter sharply cuts my sight,

Lost amongst those moves...

Why would he even want to sing

Words he stole from my teenage self?

This is a sad sad state,

To watch the peacocks strut,

Cringing at their electric screeches.

They burn my ears.

No matter what that trio says

We all know who it truly is.

Their lies a facet of negotiations

Held behind fake wooden doors

Which we weren't supposed to see.

7

In a rush of sequins and sass

I'm learning to let go;

While they rub my under arms raw,

Leaving scars of their impressiveness,

Scratching off my pride.

It's not too late to accept this.

Finding my anger and anguish and anxiousness

Melting away, I cringe.

The well known giddiness takes it's place.

I am not ready to feel again,

But it seems the choice's been stolen from me.

It's not too late to accept this.

Breathing, out and in,

Out and in, I relax.

Letting waves of joy wash over and through me.

They flood Celeste till she flares and blinds

Those drunken ones who fell of their spires.

It's not too late to accept this.

These wild hypotheticals run around with

The pitter-patter of tiny feet,

Dancing under a silver moon

Placed ahead for you and I;

I can't fight this tide.

6

You remind me of me,

The me I used to be,

Back before the fall.

Before I lost the stillness inside.

Before I lost my sight...

or maybe after.

There's too much to tell.

You complain about the space

But it's funny,

Because even when I have lines

I barely ever stay in them.

You say that's me:

"Freedom, even with boundaries"

Though I prefer to see it as

Freedom, in spite of boundaries.

Since I never stay inside.

You know,

I wanted to write this about a

Red truck.

One I saw crashing down new

That made me think of something

He once said

About his misguided fantasies.

Instead you distracted me.

...for a little while.

Reality hits.

Listen to me:

Enjoy the space.

Realize there's beauty within freedom

And cruelty in those lines.

Don't let these truths restrain you.

5

Appeasing the masses,

Healing myself.

Why did it go this far?

I don't know my meanings.

I don't know my lies.

Where did all the agony go?

Why did all this dark red appear?

Where is my laughter, my smiles,

my anguish, my sighs,

and the silky-smooth feel of you

against me?

My lies- my lies betrayed me.

I counted on their mirrors

but instead found

they lied right back.

But now I've come full circle,

I'm standing in truth,

make of me what you may.

I'll stay here for a day,

or year,

or maybe finally it's real.

4 from 4/4

4

1

Madness is Beautiful.

Destruction is Beautiful.

Everything is Beautiful

...in its own time.

I allure through the epitome of each.

2

I have not seen him

in quite some time.

He sleeps above me

whistling through the past

to hit me square in the back.

With his turpentine dagger

he draws a reconciliation

without consent.

3

See it shine.

Shine down on me.

Blinding burdens

missing for so long.

She caresses my bruising body

comforting and pricking

all at once.

4

Your screeches resonate hours after silence

curdling my soul in disgust.

Everything about you repulses me.

How can you ask me to love

a thing equivalent to the

centipede crawling up the walls

skittering away at any sign of disturbance.

Pitiful and pathetic,

wounded and annoyed,

I don't care if your mother never loved you.

I don't care that you crave approval of your peers.

I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

I am not the one.

1, 2, 3 on 3!!!

1

Grey Goose running down the sides of Whitford,

or maybe it was grove.

I can't see past this morning's whitewash.

The joke lost on my friends and

I'm left to stare in wonder.

Grey Goose running down her eyelids,

glass encasing precious wares.

She leads me always leaning starboard

while cracking pavement waves,

I sail.

2

Ringing in resistance to your overpowering silence.

Screeches blaring in the background,

worshipers gather in their frenzied rituals.

In reality he's only a boy

sitting quietly on his own

wishing to be anywhere but here

under this lying banner

claiming a name for him not his own.

I stare, drawn into the fray of faceless men.

How many walk by me today?

Flattery lost on the deaf,

but she sang my thoughts

as I cheered and danced

loving the sound of my anger.

I wish I could remember his name.

It was trampled under the feet

of all the others

who smiled and swooned

at a few well-placed words.

This is my job for a reason.

Still, this day wasn't bad

even with the quick bit of poison.

I passed the point of living

and made it out alive.

I guess that's all I can ask for

on a day like this

with a sky like that.

3

In my aged despair of the loss of something that never existed

I use the mockery of myself to fulfill the gap.

My life - more serious than most

for such a short span - a tragedy I can only combat

through humor - even at the cost of my reputation.

I have no thought for myself.

You concern confuses.

You see, I act the bird but love to burrow -

nothing pleases me more than the solace of solitude

or getting lost in a world of my own creation

peopled by strangers who barely know me

it's easy to pretend.

Reality - a word with no meaning - at least at this

point in time.

I realize now these words seem morbid and cliché

but I can't think of anything better to describe my life thus far.

I am one giant cliché and I've faced death enough

to allow for my morbid mentality.

He's not so pretty when seen in another's eyes.

This poem ended long ago

and yet I continue to spew forth meaningless symbols

in an attempt to express myself or something greater

but I can't find the code to decipher what it is.

Now I must go,

forced into a part I never wished to play

to entice an audience I care nothing for.