(Claaws has written a depressing poem and would like to share) 

~Daydream~

She's a daydream, they say

With her smile and her eyes,

and rosy cheeks she tells no lies.

That's what they say.

With stary eyes or

jealous thoughts or

insecure glances. 

That's what they say. 

What they don't know, 

is how she walks as if she's

stuck in a dream,

how she thinks it'll all be over soon.

How she touches the walls

around her

as she walks down the halls,

making sure they're real.

How images fill her head,

memories,

that never seem to leave. 

Broken.

That's what they don't know.

She's a daydream, they say.

Just a daydream.

But they'll stare,

and whisper,

and size her up for taking. 

And what they don't know is that

she's afraid to look in the mirror,

of her perfect smile and her sun-kissed hair. . . .

She's a daydream, they say.

Something no one can have.

I've written a lot of poetry lately, and some of it is sort of finished, I guess. Here's a poem.

to s.

you're almost always happy when i see you

smiling and blushing and joking with your friends

running a hand through your brown hair

laughing most times, lighting up your symmetrical face and

you can run fast and skate faster and

always catch your friends but

sometimes i wonder: are you ever lonely?

are there ever times when you don't feel like

smiling, when everyone is either younger or older

than you and you can't even run fast enough

to catch up to yourself?

sometimes when i see you you've fallen

behind your friends and you're not

smiling

so much

This one is in sort of a different style, I guess. I was trying to use that "and then we were starlight" prompt that September gave me a long time ago.

stardust/nova

last night i sat outside on a rock to see the sky grow dark

i watched the heavens and contemplated the sweet smell of

nature and i tugged on my sweatshirt strings

bare legs clinging to the cold stone

and i saw the moon glow bright, and you

you sat on the moon and watched the earth

your face was lit up almost white

and scattered with stars, silver

glittering sequins, sparkling with warm light

you swung your legs and tilted your head back to look up

i leaned back on my hands and kept watching you

and then you looked at the earth again,

and somehow we met eyes

i suddenly felt riveted to you and i think you felt the same

i held out my hand towards you

and across stars you stretched to me

our fingertips brushed each other

and then we were starlight,

a golden girl and a silver boy

Loud

too loud

clanging

everything

cars

streets

citys

homes

I am 

going 

mad

from all

of this 

awful noise 

I feel like I wanted to say something about the style that I've sorta/kinda started writing in, and how I used to write, and how some people can tell while showing, but I can't quite. But I'm just going to post another poem.

untitled

a dream-beat

slow and potent

drippy and firey and sweet

falling through space

and time

humid summer air

warm smiles floating in with

the tide

nothing exists anymore

just him and her

and sleepy-eyed promises before

parting

slowed down the way 

golden tree tears drip 

I've recently been reading a lot of e e cummings, and I really like it, so I decided to try to write in his sort of... unclear, I guess, way. I'm not sure how good I did with it, and I didn't even try for iambs, but still.

an ode to e e cummings

i like the way your words fall (all) over

the page, and make me run up a maze, (the black lines

never contained you, but look! i can

jump them too),

following your tantilizing truths through layers of lines,

chasing my brain's tail (and my friend's, too),

to struggle to make sense of your puzzle-piece untucked

ends, to find they've fallen off, and i must return again to

tobbogan into know once more,

all to find the gemstone in the middle,

the asymmetrical fountain of

unlikely truths i would happily drown in

to endure it all again:

for along the way i feel you (and me) stronger than the raindrops,

and i find the method in your madness to discover

my own beating heart, again and again,