i had to write this for english class - haven't completely decided if i like it or not? like i feel like it's too vague - not in a poetic leaving-room-for-interpretation sort of way, but in a what-are-you-getting-at-here sort of way. idk. but uh very glad my english teacher let me write in lowercase for this!

feeding the birds 

the faded green bench in the autumn-tinged park sits—

weather-worn wood slats and age-rusted bones

breadcrumbs find their way between the brickwork

pigeons, sparrows, blackbirds,

things with eyes like beetles, wings like spilt gasoline

crimson leaves fall in a rainstorm, a heart pumping blood

vibrant red gives way to nondescript brown,

and bare branches shatter the gray of the sky

the first frost seals the green bench in a glass coffin

and a wet maple leaf leaves an imprint on the concrete

Alternate version of something I posted earlier yesterday that didn't go up.

~~~~~

Pull apart

Try to wash your cologne off my hands

Unruffle your fingerprints in my hair

Avoid your eyesight, pretend nothing happened.

I sometimes wonder if it's just my nature

Or if it's because we're two boys who are "actually girls" 

That things have to be this way. 

I wash my hands in the women's restroom today

Because I don't need the angry glares

Even though I know I'll get them anyway

Because I pass just enough to upset everyone

And just not enough at the same time, which upsets me.

I close my eyes, I can feel them crackle

Music blaring in my ears, music I can't stand

Because it all reminds me of you.

So I breathe in cherry-flavoured smoke,

Red as the blood I bleed every day.

But not today.

Today's the big show

And I think I'll break down before then

But tonight is where you all shine

Whilst I, of course, run the show from the shadows.

I shouldn't be running anything with the mess that I am,

But who cares enough to stop me? (No one)

Not even a “break a leg” or “goodbye”

Just pull apart

And pretend nothing happened.

Because nothing is ever happening.

Inspired by my dear Woodwind.

~~~~~ 

can't you pretend to love me?

at least for the weekend before I have to go,

at least for one moment of my life

please let me feel something other than the crushing weight

of a burning atmosphere, tight 'round my ribs,

the cold twin blades of the scissors at the nape of my neck,

the crackling dust of salt that perpetually rings my weary eyes. 

I know I don't deserve it

but please hold me like you mean it

say the things i always wish you'd said;

call me normal like all the other kids

and not the freak that I am.

it's so strange to get what you ask for sometimes

bittersweet as it is, leaving you wanting even more 

a curse disguised as a blessing.

I know that I'm the one who asked for it but

why do you pretend to love me?

is it bad that i believe it's not pretend? 

isn't it funny I know it's an illusion, but play along anyway 

and wonder what will happen

when the spell breaks? 

spinning and spinning and i

wove a tapestry of my thoughts and burned it

until the singed ends flew like banners through my brain,

declaring war: pillaging and raiding and robbing coherence from the

obfuscated tangle of string

tied together with sheer will but no joy;

weaving a basket destined to being half empty

and i take it apart again and again until my hands are raw and bleeding

unmade into someone i’m scared to be,

can someone fix my fraying ends?

hold me close until the end of time, tie a thread ‘round my finger

and keep the other end/like a balloon.

can someone hold my hand and

at least fly with me?

before i float away

on monday the temperature is supposed 

to plunge. slip down into gray skies and 

the stubborn sort of fog that clings to the 

mountaintops and curls my hair. tomorrow, 

though, will linger like the golden oak leaves.

the last remnants of summer will drift by on

an october breeze and we'll fling the screen 

door open to let it fill the house with the 

sweet scent of change. my mind will grow 

heavy and muffled, nestle back into the 

familiar solemnity that sweeps in with the 

frost. it's time to cover the woodpile. bury

the tomato plants wilting in the yard. darn 

the worn heels of my socks. on monday, 

I'll wake up early to run and watch my 

breath be illuminated orange by the rising

sun. town will be still, tourists fleeing home

to hibernate for the winter, and finally, the

quiet will settle into my skin.  

You smell of apples

And autumn

A rich golden-red tapestry 

Of overlapping leaves,

(Thick and wet, then dry and flaky

As they turn brittle with age and brownedness) 

Warm desserts

And sweet rain at night.

It reminds me of the rays of golden sun at sunset,

With the chill breeze cool on my neck

But my fingers warm in yours.

It reminds me that life might be worth living,

If only to see you again. 

a poem I wrote at 3am last night:

i am a snaek

at night i waek

i read a book

oh i forgot

i cannot read

i am a snaek

blelelele

*insert picture of Blink the ball python looking at a book about snakes* 

Hope

Which I cling to

Even though it always

Seems impossible---

A "happily ever after"

For now, not ever after

I reach for it like

A moth to the moon

Knowing I will end up

Chasing an artificial light

But still, I have

Hope

That perhaps one day,

I will be greeted by

The white glimmer of

The glowing moon

That I will experience

"Happily", if not "ever after"

I still think and I

Hope

Like a moth to the moon

To be happy for at least a moment