I like sitting beneath trees after a rainstorm. 

the droplets catch on leaves, 

you know, 

and everytime the wind blows, 

you hear the steady pit-patter of raindrops slipping off a leaf,

and finally soaking into the ground. 

it feels like it's still raining, 

you know, 

and if you lay in the middle of a forest, 

and if you close your eyes, 

it feels like the storm never stopped.  

Something I wrote.

pencil graphite scribbles made of static fill my ears

i weave my fingers through the colors and in my head

the words are made of magic,

bright and vivid and enough to keep me alive

when the physical world doesn’t matter and i can dissolve myself of the here

and step into a rainbow colored jungle            this

is where i belong

orange flavored rainstorms soaked into my skin

clouds made of sugar that you can touch

words that find you 

an endless night full of glimmering lights

the whole place is bathed in songs you can see                 this

is where i come to when reality is too much to handle

and the static turns to scribbles on the covers of my notebooks 

& i can do no more than lie in the grass and hold onto it like it has saved me

i stare up at the stars made of stories & my eyes flutter closed like the last page of a book.

Summertime

Spishing, splashing, lots of laughing
In the waters warm.

Running, jumping, kick the ball!
You might stumble, trip or fall
But it won't matter in the sun,
Where you'll still have lots of fun.

The birds, so loud!
The crickets, quite proud
To join the bug's orchestra.

The firefies with their light,
Will brighten up the darkening night
The stars will twinkle, a lovley sight,
In the Summertime.  

I am the moon

I am the sun

I shine

Glow

Sparkle

I radiate

With warmth

I am cold

Beautiful

I am golden hope

I am silver mystery

I rise

Sure as stone

Sure as fire

We pass each other

I never smile

I always smile

An endless cycle

Of love

And hate

Opposites

Love

Hate

We reflect each other

I am the sun

I am the moon

Time freezes ---

Cold fingers slip down,

Thirsting for blood;

Haunted by dim blue ghosts

You're supposed to have forgotten.

Time resumes ---

Hot air mixing with your cold sweat,

Repelling you, encircling you

You should really realise by now:

You're trapped.

You've donned your mask,

Your facade,

Your face-paint;

But what happens when they fall?

When the paint runs in salty cheek-rivers? 

You fall.

Fall hard, realising "you are nothing"

The voices inside mix with those outside

All telling you the same thing in whispered tones.

"You can just disappear. You are nothing." 

Different kind of "poem" today. I'm (clearly) not feeling so great at the moment... >_<

~

The light hit my eyelids.

But I was trapped behind them, battling to regain the dark that had been ripped from them three hours ago by the phantom girls. In the haze they scoffed my disapproval and swept out on the night. One was below me, though she was not one of them.

The half-light contorts reality; suddenly I was turning over in half-mists, half-truths, half-histories. Doors would appear and vanish again unremembered; significance was a function of minuscule time, and simultaneously an illusion. There was no real substance to anything, and only the subconscious desire to resist kept me in that torturous state.

Half asleep and half awake, I couldn’t tell which. I heard the fan lightly whirring in my ears and felt the invasive, gloating light chipping away at my resolve. I was certainly conscious, but on another plane I couldn’t possibly be awake. The world was still twisting indefinitely and my eyes couldn’t find the stamina to open. Even under the thickest blankets I ached with cold and exhaustion. 

Finally, I let the light in; I had no choice. I might’ve gratefully collapsed again, but for the fact that I couldn’t. I shouldn’t have worn my watch to bed. I didn’t even have school. I’m now cold and curled up on the couch, can barely cope and keep on composing this.

Everything hurts.