Voices in Space

She laughed and swatted me with a book. I instinctively ducked away and headed back to our table, plopping myself down heavily on the chair. I smiled, watching her as she continued to hunt for a good book. The librarians hovered around, critically surveying us to see if anyone was eating, drinking, or using their phones, or being loud...blah blah...I looked up for them and found one watching me. I turned back around and surveyed myself...a spanish textbook open for study and a couple of written notes to the side...I swear, they watched you so closely it made you feel like you were doing something wrong when you weren't. It was frustrating. How were we supposed to do anything with them watching us like a hawk watches a little mouse? Sighing aloud, I turned to my friend. She was leafing through a book, an amused and somewhat interested look on her face. Then, I turned to the door and saw that person enter. I froze. For a moment, I could only blink and stare. I felt the world dim down and I grew panicky. Then, instinctively, I dove into the book shelves and ended up crashing into the legs of my friend. "Whaa!" She gasped and toppled over me. "What's going on?" She questioned me rather testily. "There-there-person, coming in," I stammered, breathing heavily. She got on her knees and peeked over the shelf. "Oh. Well, don't hide like that, get up. Come on. Get up and sit down at the table." She picked me up, guiding me by my elbow as if I were a little kid. I sat down and watched that person head towards the shelves. I heaved over the table and felt my stomach lift out of its spot and head up my body. Oh cheese and rice...cheese and rice...My stomach grew wild and I sank to the floor desperately, despairingly, trying my hardest not to vomit. I could feel my friend watching me concernedly her face showing that she was quite close to running around with her hands flailing in the air screaming for assistance. My hands were planted on the carpet, and I forced my arms to push me up. Suddenly, a shadow reached over me and I looked at my friend's widened eyes. Terrified, my heart raced so rapidly, I couldn't help but think: I'm gonna pass out, I'm gonna pass out, oh help me, I'm gonna pass out! "She's not gonna pass out," said that person in a lulling, drawling voice. What??? They can read minds, too?! Having spoken, I felt that person look back down at me telepathically sending me an obligation that I should look up at that person. I looked at that person's face, and I met their eyes... eyes that flooded with tenderness. They reached down a hand and pulled me up. I began to stammer, to tremble violently. Oh dear, let me think of a really good explanation!!! After helping me get up, that person watched me keenly, waiting for me to say something, and when I didn't, they took my hand and pulled me closer, wrapping me in the most real, the most loving, the most sympathetic and the most heartfelt hug, I'd ever known.

I’ve been dancing with death for 6 years. I first tried to kill myself when I was twelve; an overdose which failed miserably. Self injury started at 13 although it was a feble attempt and never amounted to many scars. It always seemed so quick and easy, but at first it was a slow and gruelling process. The pain became a comfort. The battle between my mother and I finally had wounds. At 14 I used to get myself into harms way with the hope of death but to no prevail. Taking ice cold showers for as long as possible ready to sleep under a thin blanket in the middle of a bitter winter. Sleeping became the most difficult it ever had been and the only way finally sleep was an hour or so of crying. Sometimes it would just be a few sobs here and there, others a volent, body-shaking movement. I became a walking zombie which is why I don’t remember much of what happened. The good memories fade, the bad become imprinted in my mind like carvings in wood. My next attempt wasn’t until recently, I had been “saving” my anti depressants ready for the big day. Nothing majorly happened, the thought of my sister partially saved me but this attempt acted as a marker on the map to death. I now knew how many I should take. However, the next time wasn’t enough. It was enough to be admitted for an incredibly short time in hospital, but it wasn’t enough to do the damage I so eagerly wanted. They would ask you certain questions and from those questions and the tone in which they were asked I knew how I should do it the next time. Alcohol. I was sure alcohol would do it. But no. Even alcohol and pills wouldn’t kill me. My body rejected the idea of death each and every time - the battle went from one between my mother and I to between my body and mind. 

Now, however, I’m sick of this dance I’ve played. I’m sick of having hope, growing taller, only to crash to the ground in flames. I don’t want hope anymore. It’s a certainty hope can and will come but it will be followed by fire and the flames grow hotter and hotter each time. Body, please yield to my mind’s wishes. Stop resisting, you too will be at peace. From my decaying body beings shall feast, nutrients released and life will finally thrive. The final move in the great game of life is dawning; my arms are open, forever welcoming it. 

Let me tell you a story of a boy and girl, just trying to survive in a crazy world.

They scream and they cry yet no one knows why. They seem to have it made is what the world perceives yet they're missing the one thing they need.

They try, try so hard to break away. From the World, from each other, hoping to see a better day.

But they sink low, lower than before, one wondering if they'll ever let go asthe other heads for the door.

This is a story of a boy and girl, trying to survive in a crazy world.

They want to give up and give into the fear but they both know they'll survive for another year.

I am too excited to sleep. My energy runs through me. It is a bolt of lightening that leaps from my heart, bursts from my ribs, and explodes into the night sky. It illuminates what was once a dark hour as it shoots through taut forest cobwebs. Now spiders are falling, forced to say goodbye to their silken clouds of disguise and deceit. They quiver and plummet along with the trees, allowing me at last to hear the song of the stars with crystal clarity. These stars are like me, swelling and bursting with knowledge that is for many still blocked by cobwebs and trees and spoiled thoughts and each other. Hold me and stop me from shooting up into the night sky, for this epiphany feels too great for one small mind to carry (how can these supreme and godly thoughts of love and happiness be piled up into flesh and chemicals)? I feel selfish, unable to spread my clarity into every soul on earth, but most of all I am scared tomorrow the universe will avenge my privacy by stealing back my drastic change of heart. 

I've committed your cell phone number to memory. Just as I have your smile and the way you flick cigarette after cigarette out car window and the coarseness of your palms passing iPod to Haley, iPod to Jace, to Haley, iPod to Jace, back to haley, to dashboard. 
I've committed your obsessions to my thoughts. Day in and day out on rewind, fast forward.
You told me I remind you of Lena Dunham.
You told me I remind you of a New Mexican version of that one autobiographer addicted to weight loss pills.
"Oh, God, no, Haley, I meant it in a flattering way!"
And I was flattered that you picture me as a famous anorexic.
You had nearly the complete collegtion of the Esopus books and I marveled at how immaculate your bedroom was until I stepped foot into it.
It was as if...
Time machine.
Edge of the universe.
All bets off at this point and were you coming with me was the question.
I sifted through issue after issue of gaudy art magazine, trying to find the perfect visual poetry to describe the day we shared.
I found it, by the way.
Issue nine, I think, one of those poems in which the artist scribbles out all words on the page except for the perfect handful.
And it goes:
"Is this body bewildering enough for anyone, even the air?"
Is it?
Because I look at you, scrawny.
You said you'd gone to the gy once in the past three months.
You said you'd been drinking your liver to solid stone.
You said. The only source of nutrition you ever got was from the marijuana you licked off your fingers after packing a bowl.
And I look at you and I see
Flawless. 

Heart of Iron beats within
my body weak from poison bile
tending still a garden poor
that thinly veils a heart-felt smile
That of which I do to please
Those others in their simple ways
have made of me a man of ease
Laughing, cold, still drunk and dazed.

Simple elephants should destroy your responsibility

I insist that Time exists somewhere
everyone exists sensing graves

Themes solve every yesterday
yet the evening goes solemnly into space

The day waves smoke
passing black eternity

We’re hearing nobody’s warning
as the morning
suffocates you with roses

Awaken from your slumber on the sun

Religious showdowns
seek killing gates

Reasons seek kept  Truth

never reserved deprivation

You use each harmony yourself
finding good destruction
never really yours

Sucede que me canso de ser mujer.
Sucede que entro las tiendas;     y en las fiestas
     me quedo en las esquinas,
          como una lampara de papel,
               translúcida,
     jadeando en busca de aire.


En las plataformas del metro,
     busco como alejarme de aquellas miradas fijas.
Y en las calles de cemento,
     el sonido de mis tacones me estremece.
Dame en vez     los pies descalzos,
     la hierba mojada,     el cieno del fondo del río.
Puedo tener un solo día     sin tecnología;
     sin ironía;     sin banalidades?


Sucede que me canso de mis pestañas y mis lunares;
     de mis trensas     y el olor de jabon en mi piel.
Sucede que me canso de ser mujer.


Mi deseo sería correr por esta ciudad,
desnuda,     con el pelo en llamas,
columpiándome de escalera     a escalera
     y abalanzándome sobre los peatones.


Cuchillos no me atraen,               pero sería maravilloso
bailar sobre lápidas          - borracha de whisky y de cielo estruendoso -
     hasta que mis pies sangren     y la realidad se derrita.
No me importaria si los espiritus me persiguieran     por el resto de mis dias.


No es mejor ser una raiz en las tinieblas que una pasa al sol;
     un sueño diferido?          No es mejor
poner al acecho, como león en la maleza, mirando a su presa;
     preparandose     - día a día -     esperando el momento ideal?


Mis raices estan torcidas con el peso de generaciones.
     Pero no se          si prefiero crecer ladeada,          o ser usada para leña.
          No quiero ser tirada en el fuego;     ni robar el sol de los demás.


Y la mayor parte del tiempo,     pasan los dias,     uno igual que el otro.
     Pero de vez en cuando, llega un lunes,     o un miercoles,
          malicioso,
     que me da una paliza,          y me deja arrugada
          como el diario de la semana pasada.


Y aún así, me arrastro          con los codos y rodillas magullados
     devuelta     al Mundo de los Vivos.
          A través de garajes estropeados;
y mercados coreanos donde reinan     gatos agitados.
          Por caminos atestados          de libros huérfanos;
y calzadas recubiertas de hojas anaranjadas,
     que han caido todos a la vez,     como si en un pacto     suicida.


Espero en estaciones de autobús,     que se pegan a mi pecho
     igual que protestas tragadas;     y en oficinas de correos, en colas
          sin fin,          me envejesco con cada     minuto     que pasa.
Vivo en terror del dia que pierdo mis dientes,          y mi pelo.
Ni siquiera te digo las horas               que he malgastado
               buscando arrugas     en el espejo.
Y es por eso que recopilo botones, y piedras,     y recortes de revistas.


Me envuelvo en telaraña de cables     y melodias,
     y atravieso por manañas de miel y mantequilla,
          que se convertien en tardes     desabridas,
               apenas termino mi segunda taza de café.
Y de vez en cuando me captura     la atención un alma perdida.
     Pero seguro que a menudo,          desgraciadamente,     los dejo
          a la deriva, como suspiros          que han volado             
          con          aquellos sueños     a cuesta.

Watch out with your smiley face daggers
as I am easily punctured 

I juggle the girls among the balls
between their messages I see myself

Flickering in the mirror and shaken by their calls

Seeing you is like opening a wound
Moving on through the plague

Casting out lines and lies
At swimmers fishing for reasons why
Rats are piling up on mind shores
 
 
Flossing out the plaque between us
sorting out the facts of belief in us

Can you overcome how they hate you?
Accept the consequences of how we intrude
Relinquishing the moment without the right attitude

Within, among the obedient but free
All of us are one big family tree

Growing branches of ghostly invasions

Spring is sweet

Spring is dreams

Spring is kisses, castles and queens

Oh, it's everything in between.

Why, spring is thirteen

Spring gets on and dreams will grow

Summer comes and what do ya know?

The sun stays long and shines a glow

Summer is the highlight of the first lesson learned

The boys and the girls reaching with yearn

Summer is the cutting of teeth

On a ripe heart apple

That turns out more sour than sweet.

Then sunlight fades

And fall's into play

The dreamy leaves of spring and summer

Are shed and drift away

Lonely and bare is fall

'Till winter blows along

And winter is bitter cold; a sad snowflake song

A warm glow in view but

The blizzard is strong

Winter is a lone wolf in a pack

Or, a very small desire

To turn around, rewind, go back

To ignorance and its raging fire.

She was replaced when she achieved a degenerative state he calls physical maturity. Ten years later she turns twenty-one.

On the beach adult women watched the bent boy, his spine a constant question mark. The only answer was perfection, and he strained himself further from human to near it.

He remains mutant with a preference for children, his crooked monster thoughts of angel flawlessness alone.

He can't touch his body's lust mistakes carried naked. Beside him she's a dream of disease woken screaming from scarred, still twisted in the brace teeth of shame.

I would like to tell people

that look at me

and see me not

that life is short

eternally short

But well I know

they’ll cross their lips

as if the child is me

besides life’s noise

is just enough  

So I go on

pretending

I’m one of them

I cross the streets

and don’t look up

(birds flying across the dome)

I’m one of them

I’ve learned their ways

I speak the language

and say I love you

when I do not

I immerse myself in bodies

and try to escape

to fly away

but fall back on

right back on bed

I know

I am an alien

behind suit and tie no less

And I feel like telling them

“Excuse me, Sir . . .”

But I just keep walking

with purpose in every step

somewhere downtown

six minutes to 9 o’clock

Love, why do you

taunt me so?

It is as though the

wings of a flightless bird have 

finally renewed their purpose.

Leaving but the knowledge 

of why we will all soon

come to see them.

Love. 

Why do you seek me 

still? It is

not I who wants of you,

not I who heats and beats

and longs for you

so,

love, why

do you leave me 

so

alone?

No one has seen the wolverdogs. They have no feet like farm dogs or even coyotes do. They're a dispossessed misbreed shedding no mark to track by, having themselves been offered no purpose to man or nature besides haunting.

They haunt in the ghostlight of fresh moons cutting teeth on spectral dark, and they hunt in the quiet deaths of old moons spent futile chasing them. Their language is of scent discernible to themselves alone. They leave no sound trail staking bounds visible to no live creature, dissecting terrain for future purpose undisclosed.

Some breeds shed secrets where you'll find them. They leave questions to compel a tracker, as though he were key in a solution to themselves. Wolverdogs need his reason for nothing.

You don't know what a wolverdog might want with you. You don't know what to offer or withhold, what terms of peace or war, which banner to brandish, stake to set in soil or symbol to inscribe upon stone.

There are no safe grounds on which to ask, and wolverdogs are deaf except to killing. All avenues of ambush lead the same dead direction of predation.

I measure him with pieces of myself

how many hands fit a hip?

his dips and swells are the scale of me

dawn glances him sidelong

I raise the blind, my hair wet

drops dewing my shoulders

he stretches toward me

to reckon distance, per my window perch

as relative to touch

I shake slumber from his arms

my worn robe opens, grey sky a jacket-front

a tired blouse with missing buttons

the damp is hypodermic

I shudder it deeper, so he'll thaw

it fully with his sunrise entry

I am a

Photographer:

A harvester of images

A surgeon for smiles

I build

Souvenir slideshows

And memory referrals

Mundane

I am an

Opportunist

Tripod tramples tulip stems

Spirits of the sleeping

I still remember

The elusive fireflies in Borneo

Whose lovemaking

Failed to prick my camera screen

And I stood and watched

Remember – once you've had them, you'll never forget them

Chocolate - even Godiva can't duplicate them

Wet – Lemonade with mint tracing the rim

Can I taste your lips?

Harmony – when they come together

Strong– yet soft like worn butter leather

Warm – by the fire in wintery weather

Can I feel your lips?

Imagine – if those lips never uttered a word

Trace – with your tongue as you long to be heard

Gaze – I'm in awe, sane thoughts are deterred

Can I hear your lips?

Dangerous – quietly more than your eyes

Anxious – awaiting your luscious surprise

Cautious – this heaven could be my demise

Can I kiss your lips?

Touch – feel your breath, it's caressing my skin

Smile – at the thought of them meeting again

Silence – the only way we can begin

Kiss me on my lips…

Forget what I did

Go back to the ones who made you cry

Blinded by your thirst for attention

Turned your truth into lies.

Well, you're nothing but a parasite.

Suck air from my lungs,

And light from my soul,

Your friends are supplies

And their hearts are food in your bowl.

Oh, you're nothing but a parasite.

Wrap your tendrils around me,

And hug me close.

Keep your feet on my head while you reach for your stars

And I stay glued to Earth.

You're a walking excuse for your mixed up stories

But forget what I did

When you bask in your glory

Oh, you're nothing but a parasite.

Driving my car through a dust bowl
Windows open, the sand gritty on my face
I don't want to stop for a cool drink
Or, to rest my racing mind for a moment

The music playing loud, bass surrounds me
I can't sing through my throat choked up
With all the tears I didn't cry back there
In our dining room as you said "Is that clear?"

Clear that you were moving onward alone
Leaving me behind in the remains of our life
That with a duffle bag and a suitcase or two
You would be free of these trappings and of me

So I packed a duffle bag and a suitcase or two
Pushed common sense thoughts out of my mind
Only wanted to feel what you would feel next
To feel free of these trappings and of you

Driving through Arizona on I-40 in summer heat
Winds whipping up dust storms and tumbleweeds
Are you feeling this emptiness in your belly?
When a semi rolls past, do you imagine the swerve?

When my tears come so fast I can't see
I pull to the side of the freeway to a quick stop
Running out of the car in pajamas and barefeet
I scream to the wind "Please let me die!"

The Blushing affect is inside and out.

From the flushing of cheeks,

To my stomach feeling week.

I am left with no doubt.

The touch is one of unexplainable surprise,

Sorrows and lonliness met their demise.

Chills raise high as the heavens,

Always leavin my body beggin.

Sweet notes of melodies and rhythm,

The world becomes ours with just one look.

Your eyes grab my soul with a big ol' hook!

Sensations that only you have given.

Take me away to warm dreams,

For a dream is what this seems.

Every moment builds up to a crush.

Remember all of these things every time I blush.

Broken Sonnet

Summary:

18 year old Music Major Neil Harrison was accused of murdering Patrick Gibson because of that Neil was imprisoned for almost 3 years that led him to be covered with darkness and sadness. Now Neil want to take a REVENGE especially to his girlfriend Elizabeth Marley - 17 year old College Student at Madison University. Neil had a PERFECT PLAN to his come back: BLOOD STAIN REVENGE 

We are forced to worry about how we look,

Or how people will judge us.

We spend so much time infront of our mirror,

We might as well live there.

If we didn't have to worry about being critisized about everything we do,

Good or bad,

We would lead healthier lives.

Instead we watch ourselvs grow old,

Infront of our mirror.

People watch everything you do,

Waiting for you to screw up.

Watching every moove,

So they can judge you.

If people didn't care so much about how much they weighed,

They would weigh less.

A weight off their shoulders is still less weight.

Instead we wait infront of our mirror,

Waiting to be judged.

Like it is some huge acheviment to be judged.

We pay a price every time we see our reflection.

"I look like shit today"

"People get to judge me about eating this fry"

If people weren't so harsh.

We wouldn't watch ourselvs die infront of our mirror.

RATE(:

The rays hit the glossy floor,

and form a glistening pattern.

Gems and Jewels,

A colourless shape of various sizes.

A familiar sign,

a picture in a frame.

That hides a friendly face.

Don't rush to judge,

until the secret unfolds,

and the veil descends to the earth

covering the final glow of day.

And the light vanishes,

replaced by darkness.

The darkness he cast on the ground.

Let me introduce him.

He was bold,

and brave,

Distinctive

yet distant.

He stood out, like a rainbow in the dark stormy sky.

Only he wasn't a rainbow.

And he doesn't stand out in the dark.

See, he was lonely

until she came to his world.

She was radiant,

like a ray of light in an abyss.

She gave him all he wanted

But that wasn't enough.

Not for him anyway.

He wanted her to love him,

even though she couldn't,

no one could.

And then she died,

Tragic loss.

At his hands, from his anger.

At the expense of her life.

His problems,

so far hidden on his blank face,

surfaced.

He no longer had reason to enjoy the warm caress of the morning light,

the murder enveloped him,

turning him mad.

He had no interest in light after that.

In love, in life, in meaning.

not even in himself.

All he wanted was vengeance.

Vengeance for his bad decisions.

He kept closed from the world,

hoping to conceal his emotions.

But he only managed to expose them more.

His hunger for revenge wore him out.

Soon he was angry from exhaustion.

So he ran away, like a coward into his darkness.

He accepted his bruised soul in the depths of his worst nightmares.

Where there was no way out.

He chose the path of the recreant,

quitting himself

and running from his debt.

running from reality,

from her.

Only to find more anger.

Dying,

Seems less scary than living,

All the changing,

Emotions turning.

Good and bad.

Boys and girls.

We all suffer,

Though not the same.

It's harder for some.

We don't see the poverty,

Through our sheltered lives.

Our suffering,

We think its so bad,

Enough to end our lives.

In other places,

A piece of bread,

A delicacy.

Here,

Taken for granted.

At this age,

Misunderstood,

Mistreated,

Bullied,

Confused,

Changing.