It seems the darkest when it's the brightest outside since the harsh rays make you curl your eyes in tight.

But it's still bright outside, no matter how many pairs of sunglasses you wear or how hard you press your fingers to your shut eyelids.

It's still bright

Your Driveway is an Interesting Place, I'll Give You That

When I look at grasshoppers, I think of how your ideas jump from here to there and, occasionally, back again.

When I look at herons, I think of how still you stand while you wait for me to make my point.

When I look at honeysuckles, I think of how, sometimes, when you mean to be sweet, you don't necessarily end up as such.

When I look at bees, wonder how they make that decision to kill themselves.

Thank Goodness This Is Senior Year

I asked you multiple times
And you responded with smiles
But not the kind of smiles people like to see
It's the kind that says
"You seem nice
And you seem like you're tough
But I don't want to hurt your feelings
So I'll leave my words up to your imagination
And try to be cute while you think"

And for years, I sighed while you've smiled
And I've let your lack of words be their own thoughts
Because I'd hate to read you wrong
Which is what I always do anyways.

And because I've always been on the other end of the line
Even when you haven't
And because I've always been a warm hand
Even when I've been freezing
I'm allowed to say this now

You're too late.
That wink and baby face is not enough anymore
And I'm willing to make you mad to get my point across
You messed this up
Not me
Because my eyes were always open
And you're only now just peeking
And squinting in the sunlight may be better for your eyes
But I need someone who is willing to burn for me
And that's not you
Because I've been burned and shattered and bloodied and grungy for you
But you won't even take your hands out of your pockets for me

It is so strange-
Being brought back from the dead,
Especially when they say that's impossible.
Scientists know nothing about love.

If I woke up in the morning and was blind, I'd be so grateful that I'd never have to look at this again

21 Years and It's Not Any Easier

I don't need to be a butterfly
But I'd like to be something worth aspiring to.
Either way, what I'm saying is
I don't want to be here
I don't want to be with you
And I don't want your number in my phone.

I also don't want theses marks on my back
Or on my thighs
Or on my forearms.

There's this girl who looks at birds and says
"I could turn them into a sweet pair of earrings"
And I want to be the kind of person who looks at beauty and says
"I deserve that"

I don't even know why I held on to you for so long

"I'm the best friend anyone could have asked for!"
You yelled at me through liquor lips and I nodded and said
"Yes, yes I know!"
And even though my eyes weren't as woozy as yours
I still felt my heart on my finger tips.
Only a minute passed
And then I was forcing your hand to my chest screaming
"This is where you are even if I'm not in yours!"
You seemed to like the answer so you smiled
And nodded
And said "Baby, we should go hang out with everyone else"
Only a minute passed
And there was Bacardi flowing from your tear ducts
With your accusatory hands waving in our faces
"I've never been able to trust anyone except you people!
You are all beautiful people!"
Not even a minute passed
With my head bobbing along to your heartbeat
And your toes curled cold around the back of my knees
And your voice falling low around the curls of my hair
"I don't trust you. I wish I could, and I want to, but I don't"
Seven hours pass
And you're on the other end of line
Calling my face awake from the puddle of salt water and drool
And desperation that has formed on the back seat of my car
So I didn't have to sleep in my lie filled bed.
"Morning pretty lady, ready to hit up brunch for some tots?"
And before I dispel whatever love I had left from my gut
Onto the forgiving asphalt beneath my (for some reason) bare feet
I can only think about
How I need to drink more on these occasions

I thought about a lot at one time and I got confused a little

When I grab the limbs of the trees these days, all the leaves suddenly drop. It's too early for fall to claim it's victims, so I resign my worries to the diagnosis of me. And that's alright. I'll just try and avoid holding hands from now on. I'm used to suffering in this sense.

---

When my mother drinks,
She asks me questions about purpose and reason.
Why was she raped?
Why do I remember it so well?
How do I feel about my father?
And I'm not sure what to answer
So I tell her that it all happened
And we are all here.
And I guess that's really the only truth
Because how I feel and the reason behind things
Can change from one day to the next.
So I tell her
As our tears meet
(Her's willingly, and mine so goddamed confused)
That things are.
And for me,
That's enough,
But for the Bacardi,
It's not
And I don't want to talk about this in the morning

---

I can't talk to people about things I don't know about.
Because that would be a waste of both of our time.
And I'm already short on friendship, so I wouldn't want to go upsetting anybody.
So I ponder a lot.
Which catches the few friends I have off guard.
"She's not one to ponder, because pondering leaves no room for smiles
And that girl there is all smiles"
So I try to smile while I ponder
So that no one gets the wrong idea,
Thinking that maybe I've got something on my mind that I'd like to share.
Because I don't want to share questions that I don't know the answer to,
Like if I was raped or not.

---

I place my fingertips to my eyelids and count to three.
Because three's that magic number
That gives you time.
One is for "Ok, you're making a commitment"
Two is for "This is not the time to throw up"
And Three is for "When you open your eyes, no one will be holding your hand"
And your job is to still be alive when you get to that spot after Three
That's not exactly Four.
But when I get to the blankness after all that solidity,
I get to the uncomfortable state of not being sure
If I'm alive.
Or, put more correctly,
Wondering if not being alive would be better than this.
And that's why we don't count to Four.
Because that's the number where you ask yourself
If you'd rather be dead.
And we don't ask ourselves that question
Because sometimes the answer is yes.

---

When I say "I know"
I don't mean that I know how you feel
I just mean that I know how you told me you feel.
And I'm sorry to say that
I think that's all I can handle.

It's just a thought

I'm not your sun, but I could be a star or two
And I'm not your ocean, but I could be a river for you

I may not be your dinner, but I could be a snack
And I may not be your suitcase, but I could be your backpack

I'm not your three piece suit, but I could be your tie
And I'm not your hideout, but I could be your alibi

I may not be your garden, but I could be a flower
And I may not be a thunderstorm, but I could be a shower

I'm not your new episode, but I could be a commercial
And I may not be it now, but I could be your girl

With a willingness to grow
I threw myself to the wind
But when I opened the door
I followed myself back in

It's like feeling ill
And knowing that puking will make you feel better
Except you don't know where best to do it
But you do know the process won't be pleasant.

So you sit there feeling ill,
For a day, or a lifetime,
Constantly thinking about maybe puking.

Again? Really?

The
Click
Click
Click
Of my right elbow

And the
Rip
Rip
Rip
Of my left shoulder

And the
Thump
Thump
Of my excitement

Will almost
Always
Always
End in a

Thud.

And it's sort of a bummer that I can't share my extra heartbeats with the now silent lump of flesh that I failed to whisper to life.

Yea, sort of a bummer.

He Drinks Cider and Brandy

I carry your photo in my wallet
Just so as not to mix you up
With someone you should have been.

Federal forms ask for your information
And for the answers to questions
You wouldn't even understand.

And that's OK.

I've stopped responding to inquires
And concerned looks from "adults"
With tears and sobs and heartache.

From now on, I'll just shrug my shoulders,
Ignore dates on the calender,
And say, "My dad's not dead, he's just an ass"

She Drinks Rum and Cokes

I've got the sun and the sea in my closet,
But I still can't shut my eyes at night,
Or relax the curvature of my spine
For fear of the opening door.

Maybe we were born this way:
Worry eyed and twitchy fingered.
As natural as this may be,
I've never seen a girl cry in the wild.

I'm Sorry, Roommate/Friend.

I had already handed my ticket to the man by the ramp,
Shuffled the hallway until I found my room,
And stored my bags and heartfelt trinkets below deck.
But I still found myself standing on the dock,
Staring at the ship as the other passengers yelled,
"Hurry up and come on board! We'll be leaving soon!".
I said, "I know. Just take care of my things and make sure someone gets them.
If you wish to find me if or when you return,
I'll be sitting in my same puddle,
Counting the flies that touch my water's surface."

They Said This Life Would Catch Up To Me

It's not as if I don't have other options,
It's just that I don't like to be yelled at,
Though I'm not really sure who would do the yelling.
All uncertainties aside,
I know that my back hurts
And it's hard to take deep breaths.

Geology Rocks!

When we hold hands,
The Earth trembles.
As romantic as that sounds,
It’s just the shift in the tectonic plates
That we tend to notice when we come together
Because we become more aware
Of our association with this planet.
And that heat we feel
When our bodies get to moving in the same direction
Is simply our recognition of the magma
Flowing beneath our “love”-soaked toes.
And that’s not actually
“love”
You’re feeling throughout your body-
That creepy crawly sensation
Is actually your nervous system
Remembering that water once covered this land
And we were all once dust and specks and nothing.
But that doesn’t mean that what we have isn’t worthwhile
These natural occurrences may not be from our own creation
But they’re still ours.

So I’m not going to tell you that I love you
Because those words aren’t what you want them to be
And I’m not the type to lie just to make you feel better.

I feel natural for you, baby
I feel gravity for you

Bozo Number 1

Hello gray being,
Laced with orange and black,
And webbed toes that make you shake your butt
In a way that Ricky Martin would be proud of.
Your head and neck are echoes of evolution
With those eyes so uninviting
And your neck so curved-
Ideal for both water and air,
But simply awkward here on land.
You cock your head
Not so much confused, as off guard.
Just to make sure I understand our hierarchy,
You engage your otherworldly structure-
Your neck stretches
Like a child reaching for the cookies
And your wings widen
Like the opening of an exhibitionist’s coat
And you stand on your toes
Like a teacher erasing words from a chalk board
Because you’re not tall enough to tell me
Exactly how you feel.
But I’ve been there too.
I’ve arched my neck
In attempt to stare down the sun
And I’ve thrown my arms open
While explaining that I am hugging the world
And I’ve hopped up and down just hoping
For a chance to hit my head on a cloud.
I just never did it
With such a pretentious look on my face.

The Doc Says I'm Crazy

When I dance to your music, my ankle hurts a little.
When you hold my hand, there’s a pain in my wrist.
When I bend to lay my head, my back cramps like crumpled paper
When I listen to you speak, my left ear buzzes a bit
When I go to laugh at your jokes, my lung feels as if it’s caught on a nail
When I try to cuddle on the couch, my knees swell beneath the surface
And when I stand on my toes to kiss you hello, I blackout for a second.
But baby, none of that matters, ‘cause for you
I’ll boogie all night long on a broken ankle
I’ll crack all of my fingers so that they can fit with yours
I’ll dismantle every vertebrae to put my head near your heart
I’ll put fly traps by my ears so I can listen to your monologues
I’ll laugh so hard that each one of my ribs break
I’ll bend my knees backwards just to keep in your direction
And I’ll live with my toes in the sky and my head on the ground if, somehow, it made it easier to kiss you.

It wasn’t your roommate’s fault, I was the one who dropped your photo album. I was just so shocked to see how happy you used to be.

I'm just giving you a head's up

When you’re dead-
Not like I’m planning or anything-
I’ll keep myself from crying
By telling myself that
Your decomposing body
Will one day help birth new grass

God, and that plaid on plaid you wear is making me want to vomit

When you speak
I only hear jackhammers
Tools that break down my grip on reality
And my sympathy for the world
Won’t you just hush for a second
And leave my headache alone

A Blasphemous Claim Destroys Everything (Class Exercise 4)

Actually, it’s after hours around these parts and
Boy, your beat box booms too loud.
Couldn’t you keep it quiet?
Do you desire decay of order?
Do you enjoy the idea of everyone eventually
Falling far from forming lines?
Go on and get your good laughs in:
Hinder us from holding honesty
In our hearts and in our eyes.
Go on and jest and joke about our justice,
Keep calling names and causing commotion,
Let your language call out lies.
Maybe making memories will magically wake you up
Not only to your nonsense notions of the norm,
Or to your obnoxious observations of others,
But possibly to the potential of becoming a productive person.

We'll call it a "Love Ruckus"

When the sunlight slips back through the blinds and makes patterns on the floor
When we can open our doors again without fear of Mother Nature
When things come up from the ground instead of down from the sky
That’s when we’ll attack
We'll set out with our glitter gluey fingers and our marker marked up arms
And we’ll tie-dye the hearts of the people who say they don’t like to smile.

Assignment 2

This doesn’t seem to be working right,
This thing I call my body.
Bits and pieces
That are supposed to follow orders
Are acting as if
They’ve suddenly fallen illiterate.
My hands twitch guiltily.
My lungs shut their doors.
My heart illegally downloads the latest techno remix
And tries to choreograph a dance to keep with the beat.
But maybe it’s the general who should be taking the blame-
A mind that can’t seem to focus on the literal
The exact
The real
And instead fills it’s time watching movies by dead directors
With soundtracks in upside down languages
Either way
No one is performing up to par
Maybe I should hand them their two weeks notice.

Assignment: Terza Rima

I find myself standing in front of your white wall;
The one that you pay no attention to.
The same one that makes me feel so small,

So insignificant and empty and askew
In my own body, in my own mind-
Like I’m falling with nothing to cling to.

But it’s stare doesn’t seem to make you feel blind.
It doesn’t seem to make you nauseous
Or claustrophobic or trapped or confined.

So maybe I’m the one who should be cautious.
Maybe I’m the one who’s nuts and crazy-
Maybe it’s me with a guilty conscious.

I'm So Tired These Days

You are exceptionally graceful. Your love and understanding guide your feet through an elegant dance that will someday lead you home. Your eyes are more open than even the sun's. To compare you to anything less than pure organic flexibility is to insult nature itself. You are one of the few who will make it until the end, and when you get there, you will shine unlike any of those before you.

I called you up once, but I never heard your excitement

Your couch is permanently dented
From where we left our innocence.
Your table, permanently scarred
From where we changed our names.
Your door is permanently jammed
From when we became confused.
Your mirror, permanently shattered
From when we decided we hated ourselves.
And your hands are permanently unsteady
From your desperate attempt to hold on.
And your eyes, permanently glazed
From your new found lack of interest.
And though your house is busted,
And though your body is unresponsive,
I still lay myself on that couch,
And leave my bottles on that table,
And try to find myself between the pieces
Of that shattered looking glass.
And maybe you’ll come and sit with me
And maybe you won’t.