My Favorite ListMy Favorite List
hang out at driscoll more
skate around holding hands without seth holding onto the wall-
go to homecoming dance together-
meet maggies mom-
dress up like super heroes and walk around together-
watch mythbusters on my bed-
go to the movies together-
go to a park and hang out-
share a sweatshirt-
dance with her-
maggie straightens seths hair-
play halo together-
go to the beach together-
surprise first kiss for madeline-
disney movie night-
harry potter marathon-
take alot of pictures-
make a big collage with the pictures-
watch nightmare before christmas together-
dragon ball z, end of story-
build a fort and hide in it-
eat ice cream in the winter-
maggie feels my muscles-
Hang out more-
::skate without holding wall,have madeline fall on seth or next to him
hang out alone-
go into bathroom at driscoll and pretend were doing things XD-
have a sleep over-
walk in the rain hold
Why am i so happy today of all days?
Normally if death was offered up i would welcome it
But today, a freezing cold,snowy day,
I feel so good, elevated, patient, kinder
Why today? The same as any other day
Have you ever seen the matrix?
Maybe thats the truth. what if life is just a product of our imaginations?
That means thought itself would be an impossible thing. an endless infinite cycle of impossibility's. what if there really isnt anything? this thing were in is just here?
a single entity controls it all? all our friends,loved ones, random people, what if theyre all fake? does that mean we inflict pain upon ourselves when we get hurt?
is this all jsut existential non sense? who will ever know?
it doesn't matter
to you or me or him or her or them
or the flowers dying
beneath my window
i'll dream or not,
just rest within the darkness
behind my eyelids
let the spiders crawl across my skin
and cast their webs in the caves
of my collarbones
pool water into my lungs
and build a pond for koi fish
that slither through my throat like serpents
when i try to talk
in my sleep
but mummer only incoherent wisps of dandelion
that evaporate in the rain
thrashing outside the door
leave me like a ship washed up onshore;
graves within my soul
and souls within my veins
ghosts pumping through my heart
put a rose in my hands and let the thorns prick my thumb
i'll bleed until my skin is violet
and the bags beneath my eyes are gray
the walls will hug me years from now
when this room has fallen in
and all my books have flown away
to nest in sparrow beds
they'll save themselves
and the batteries in the clock
read this when you're so angry you shakelittle drops of oil make rainbows on wet concrete
and i don’t know how beautiful you find that,
but sometimes you gotta learn that
the littlest things are the prettiest,
like the shape of your fingernails and the crinkles
you get at the corner of your eyes when you laugh and
when you grow old and i know i said “grow old”
like it’s a temporary thing, but that’s because it is.
you can think it’s forever but it’s really
a split second because you don’t matter, not when
the universe is still growing and speeding through a nothingness
we can’t even fathom, not when color doesn’t exist in space
but nebulas still explode in shades of gold and green,
not when there are stars who die
before their light ever touches our faces. you don’t matter,
not to anyone but the people who have fallen in love
with the way you walk and the way you breathe
and the way you keep doing both.
i don’t care that the universe is spinning and grow
This is not a poem (the world is broken)This is not a poem because this
is for the hollow-eyed teens
stubbed out and stamped on
by society like the cigarettes
they hold in pale fingers as they
try to laugh the pain away but
never entirely succeed.
This is not a poem because this
Is the silent cry of the rapist’s victim
As they look into the mirror and a
Thousand ugly words and screams
And pleadings echo back from the
Dark alleyway and all they think is
This is not a poem because this
Is for the boy told he cannot cry, because
It’s a weakness to ‘act like a girl’
And this is for the short-haired
Girl told it’s not her place
To ‘act like a boy,’ because
Even though it’s 2015 we
Haven’t moved past destructive
Gender roles yet.
And this is not a poem because
There isn’t a pretty way to talk
About children in abusive homes,
Partners attacked by their
Beloved other half and this is for
For the families going through divorce,
For the families missing a p
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choose to die.
If depression was an option...
I’d choose to say goodbye.
a list of things colleges don't want to know1. i have a cactus named atticus that i bought
on the day i thought i was going to die,
and i never forget to water it, not
even when i forget how it feels
to breathe without my lungs rebelling
against my brain.
2. sometimes talking feels like walking on gravel
in a Georgian summer heat.
i try to keep talking anyway,
and hope that eventually
my voice will lose its softness and grow calluses.
3. once, a man whistled at me
outside of a grocery store from
the safety of his car.
four years later, i still haven’t stopped looking
over my shoulder.
4. i drive too fast and i take turns too sharply
and i never put enough sugar
in my tea and i could probably survive
on watermelon alone. i’m left handed
and once taught myself to write only in capital
letters to piss off my seventh grade english teacher.
5. i have never felt closer to my father
than when we stayed
outside till two a.m. in november and watched
a meteor shower.
6. there are some things
i don’t think i’ll ever
an open letter to my twelve year old selfone day you will cut all your hair off,
and hang up a map of the world in your
room and you will look at it on days
you think your life is going nowhere.
i hate to tell you this, but this isn’t
your worst year. it also isn’t your
one day you will cut all your hair off
and realize that some poems need to be read
out loud, to an audience, so you’ll take a hammer
and some nails and build yourself one
out of a girl whose veins look fragile but
whose bones are strong, a boy who isn’t as tall as
he thinks he is, but whose lifelines are the deepest
you’ve ever seen, and a girl whose eyes remind you of the
east coast shore.
one day you will cut all your hair off,
and learn that you can like pink
just as much as you like blue
and the world will not fall apart
along its fault lines. there are other flags
you can wave with pride that
one day you will cut all your hair off
and figure out how to forgive yourself,
figure out how to sta
Why does such a commonplace thing bother so many people?
Why do we mourn those who died instead of celebrating them?
Why does death upset everyone but me?
One person of trillions is almost completely worthless in society,
So why let death bother you, does it really make you feel better?
I dont understand.