Category: 12th

The true rose

My deadly rose, you give a confusing sight.
How I hate the way you bite, poke, sway,
Pierce through my mind day and night,
You try too hard to go out and play.

You start to shrivel in November.
You are more evil, spiky, and intense.
Red frost nips the robins of December,
And thinking of wintertime makes you wince.

I dislike you for so many reasons.
I hate your powerful leaves, spine, and spikes.
Thinking of your shrivel spine in certain seasons
My hate for you goes til it strikes.

Now we must part til next spring,
Remember my dense words tho they may sting.

Finifugal

it always begins joyful,
never wanting it to end
end?
something about it makes the earth shake
its so contented what is forming,
this beautiful story,
never wanting it to conclude
conclude?
something about it shreds my heart
It’s happening right now
I don’t want it to finish
Finish?
something about this makes me sink deep down into the ground,
i hope the finale never comes.

Wrong Love

Here we feel ten feet tall
Living out the fantasies we saw
You say it’s alright
Please change the topic
But the reality makes me sick
This has to be anything but love
But I love the way you give it to me
“I love my girl till the end”
But forget what I said when I’m in your bed
That silky smooth brown skin
Your body movement
We know I shouldn’t adore
But I won’t feel a thing when I blackout on the floor

We know it’s wrong
We can’t keep this up for long
The late night calls
Secret hidden texts
Our trips to the malls
But baby you’re my idol
And I wanna see my hero
How much do I love her today?
From one to ten, it’s zero

You said this was one night
And now I’m your memory
“We’ll do what you want”
I love the things you say it to me
Wake up, I have sugar on the table
Act like you don’t know me when we pass by
Now baby I got to leave
But I’ll have your address under my sleeve

We know it’s wrong
We can’t keep this up for long
The late night calls
Secret hidden texts
Our trips to the malls
But baby you’re my idol
And I wanna see my hero
How much do I love her tonight?
You know it’s zero

Enchanted Forest

Enter its depths, but there’s always more to breach.
Never enough, never-ending, every sound and sight-
Ceasing to know if there’s a way out, but why would you want it?
Heaven is nothing if it’s not amongst a place like this,
Acres of flora taken swiftly from dreams,
Not a single patch of grass rooted in reality.
This is nothing like reality,
Endowed upon you-
Don’t blink, lest it disappears.

For when the breeze swirls through the mist,
Omnipotent in it’s thick haze,
Realizing a way free is impossible.
Even further it invites you,
So do not resist!
The trees can stay for eternity in your mind.

Red tears on a summer evening

Red tears on a summer evening
fall without a place to land
fluttering as though they might sprout wings
sprout something loveable and beautiful
but the dry air is not kind to the water of life.

Red tears on a summer evening
should really happen in the night
when there is no witness to watch you cry
other than the distant moon that aches for you too.
The sun cannot ache for you
discomforted as it drips beneath the horizon
wishing it would be over already.

Red tears on a summer evening
are not synonymous with blood
but you wish they were
so your turmoil could show itself
as something other people understand.
There are many questions about a gash on your cheek
and scars on your skin
but they are quiet for splinters in your heart
and cracks in your love.

Red tears on a summer evening
dry up too quickly
but leave your eyes puffy and worn
even when you rush to the bathroom to wash your face.
You cannot rinse grief from the mind
only freeze it in harsh chills
and let it slowly melt
dripping throughout the next day.

Red tears on a summer evening
do not want to leave you
nobody wants to leave you
but they do anyway.

Don’t Say Goodbye

We sit right next to each other, the same position as when we first met,
Me on the right, them on the left just like in that science class in 7th grade.
Or in your room, the bed with the blue blanket, and the small desk
your dog that almost grew to like me.
Or my old room, the desk against the windows,
the afternoon sun shining onto my wall from the crack in my curtain.
The two of us together again, in the starbucks, in the tech theater class we did nothing in.

Despite your tip I still haven’t started exercising.
I instead stare at the wall, and think of you in a dark room you’ve never seen.
My desk, and bed are now in a different room, different layout, different feel.
I sometimes look over at you, and for a second I’ll be excited to see you
a remnant of my optimism wanting to cling to you.

I’ve come to realize that we weren’t attracted to each other
a realization I’m sure came to you first. You were always better at understanding social cues.
Funny how we acted like we had anything figured out in 8th grade.
A mix of middle school hubris, and the curiosity of what intimacy is like.
our bodies becoming a screen to imagine another, taking roles we barely understood.
The only thing we gained was bragging rights, and the things we lost I’m only now learning.

Sitting next to each other again, a familiar stranger.

Driving Home

Your eyes glowed bright on the stage
Softly smiling, you sang among the shining,
dancing lights.
Your lilting voice, rhythmic and carefree
reached out to me,
bled the words whispered to me
as I peered from behind the finely spun cocoon
of wool.

Driving home,
the lights along the street wobbled
as I slipped and bounced in the car seat,
each groove and divot pulsating through me.
The shadowed sky was bruised and
the streets were quiet—slick with rain—muted,
illuminated only by the streams of faded yellow light
winding across the sunken grass blades, which trembled under each droplet swallowed.
A small river had collected along the side of the road
where a billboard, exhausted from the dry sun and whipping rain,
advertised a zebra losing its famous black stripes.

My eyes soon fell closed
to the tune of the car humming
and was awakened only to the doors opening softly
and shutting shyly.
I could hear Orion now,
for whom I’d searched for, carefully folded, then pocketed away
for future use after being found hidden behind the back-yard gate.

It was time to walk,
and careful to step around the snails
leaving their slick trails in the darkness,
I shuffled drowsily to the door.

Relic

I felt you trembling in my hand,
carefully and fearfully watching it grow
smaller behind us,
until the daunting castle of steel became
nothing more than a mirage: a delicate
construction of steel and glass studded with
miniature relics…

Your tentative eyes had peeked over at me,
worried of harsh critique.
I was bemused of you, the photo’s subject:
a weary face framed in gray,
lines carved from trampled years long gone,
whose pensive thoughts whirled away,
released as the flash of the camera left the face
exposed in harsh artificial light.

I reached out, transfixed by your
weathered, rough cheeks,
but was alarmed at the smoothness of the
photograph that met my fingertips.

In your eyes I could see the fear,
fear of being
swallowed
by the echoing obsoleteness of
the museum.

How could I let you go?

I ran.

I felt you trembling in my hand
carefully and fearfully watching it grow
smaller behind us,
until the daunting castle of steel became
nothing more than light reflecting off a box
of miniature treasures…

Today, the photograph is softly withered from
being folded
Tucked into a pocket
Unfolded
Looked at
Folded again and tucked away

But I still touch the photo lightly, attempting
not to grasp you too tightly,
for fear of crushing the sweet musings of
years caught within the lines of your face.

School Bus

Outside my window, the most unusual creature,
Its yellow body galloping, roaring through the streets,
Beating the asphalt, and eating kids.
Once into its mouth, they ventured,
Smiling, frowning, poking out their lips.
But I see no expression now:
Robots, they walk one by one.
I looked into their eyes
Which reflected their parents worried, uncertain smiles.

Where have the yellow creatures been?
Climbing the mountains? Swimming in the seas?
Traversing deserts, looking for black gushing lakes?

Maybe I never saw the creature—
Its brilliant, yellow fur blinding—
The hairy star, the hairy sun
On the street below the clouds to light the darkness and murkiness
Of the day?

What if the creature breathes no longer?
Eats no longer?

Did I see it out the window?
Maybe it was never there.
No. I have not seen it.
It was never there.