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Deeply, without condition, without limitation, without reservation, without regret— that is how I love you. My soul is complete because of you. The missing pieces found; the shattered surface healed. Your fingertips touch mine, ghostly wisps of smoke brushing against the mirror and all you are to me and all you were to me and all you will always be to me permeates the glass and seeps into my reflection. I carry the echoes of your voices with me in my silence
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I’m tired. My eyes don’t want to stay open. I hold my head in my hands and let them close. And I drift away into the memories of my life. I float through the moments, hear the laughter, feel the tears, smell the dinners cooking in the kitchen, taste the orange popsicles on my tongue. …and I jerk myself awake, But I’m so tired. My eyes are so heavy and my arms feel like a pillow as I rest my head on th
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Tell me how to smile When so many tears have fallen from my eyes that I fear I must surely drown the world Tell me how to laugh When all I feel is an overpowering urge to bury myself in your shoulder and cry Tell me how to deny When all I know how to do is give, even when the giving is destined to take, to leave someone empty Tell me how to love When every time I love someone is hurt, someone cries, someone ends up leaving Tell me how to breathe
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I looked out the window tonight and watched the sun slowly setting. And as the darkness devoured the sunset I started to think: What is the point of believing when all your beliefs are destined to be proven wrong? What is the point of trusting when trust must always yield to betrayal? What is the point of loving when even the deepest love can only lead to pain? I looked out the window tonight and as I felt the darkness slipping into m
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I know who you are, you who are my friends. You are shapes with substance, your outlines clearly defined. You reach out to me with strong arms and gentle fingers, and you hold me in your light. But I only see the darkness because I look in the mirror and don’t see anyone there. No one that I know. This person who sees through my eyes Is not the person who looks back. This person who thinks in my head doesn’t belong in my body.
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I’m standing on a ledge looking down, trying to see the bottom that isn’t there maybe there is no bottom maybe I would fall forever maybe that is hell to fall for eternity expecting an end that never comes or maybe that is heaven and I think maybe the ledge is just the edge of a grave and I am already dead I’m trapped in a tunnel but there is no light to see because it doesn’t have an end it doesn’t even have a beg
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Have you ever stood at the edge of a cliff and looked out? Not down at what lies below, but out, at the horizon? And you know that beyond the horizon that you see is another horizon; beyond that, another and another and another. An infinity of horizons, an eternity of horizons. All the possibilities existing just beyond what you can see. All existing simultaneously from different perspectives. It’s difficult to write because I cannot focus my thoughts.
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the winter’s sky at midnight is a terrible thing black as the ink that spills from my pen abysmal in its depths like a black hole a whirlpool of darkness sucking from me all that is light the winter stars have a cold and lifeless beauty cutting like diamonds through the black never illuminating, never giving relief only pointing out the darkness teasing me with what I cannot have both reveal how small and insignificant one single drop of ink must be
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Depression… Sometimes feelings go deeper than just a general unease. Sometimes they slide down to the pit of your soul and you can’t seem to get them to climb back up. These poems reflect those moments in my life. Some reflect moments that I thought would be the last of my life.
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Suspicion is like a flesh-eating bacteria. Ebola of the mind. It eats away at trust and leaves gaping holes of doubt, wounds festering and gangrenous-- food for the maggots that devour acceptance and belief and vomit skepticism. Is there no antibiotic? Is there no treatment, no cure? Can words of innocence never be enjoyed again? Have you robbed me of this, of simple enjoyment without question? Have you robbed me of this forever?
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I’m sorry, baby fingers wiping the blood from my lip lips kissing me very gently I didn’t mean to do that You know I wouldn’t want to hurt you I’m very sorry, baby turquoise eyes concerned, contrite, convincing It’s nothing I know you didn’t mean it smiling into those eyes it wasn’t much. just a little cut it was nothin g Yeah, I’m ok it was nothing. I’m sorry, baby fingers running through my hair
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Lying here upon this bed that I have made, I close my eyes against the darkness-- a darkness that is never complete, never dark enough for me to slip into the shadows of my other life within my head. And I listen to the prickly silence, a silence as incomplete as the darkness. Walls too thin to absorb the sounds of lives on hold, of lives in intermission. Restless sounds of bodies turning in discomfort, fighting the sleep that seduces them, fighting the sleep tha
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Lone streetlight flickering outside a window as the rain falls steadily Sound of lonely footsteps walking unhurried toward a nameless end Collar turned up against the rain, hat pulled down against the light Lightning flashes reflecting upon the wet pavement…stopping his steps Desires, dark, hard-edged and raw flicker with the light’s rhythm Entwining with his fantasies, driving them hard into the night Hand in pocket, fingers twitching as they seek the cool s
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shut the door, don’t let them out the thoughts that won’t stop thinking the feelings that won’t stop feeling don’t let them run free while I am not they already run through my head and race through my heart rushing through my veins on an endless track where the finish line is just another starting line they mock me as they rush by like demonic drivers jeering at the cheering fans and I sit in the stands helpless to move forced to watch them as they flaunt their freedom
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Angst is defined as “an acute but unspecific feeling of anxiety; usually reserved for philosophical anxiety about the world or about personal freedom” The poems here reflect feelings of unease, discontent and anxiety—some of the less comfortable things crawling around in my head.
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We’d shared a room since our freshman year. For nearly four full years I’d watched him walk around half naked, sometimes wearing only a towel, sometimes wearing even less than that, which translated to nothing at all. The other guys we had shared rooms with over the years had come and gone in similar states, but I can’t say that I really noticed them. Chris was different though. We’d grown up together. We’d been best friends since I could remember, but I’d started “noticing” him during ou
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“Can I go, Dad? It’s only for a week. Please?” I looked up from the papers I’d been reading. “What? Go where? What are you talking about?” “Lee, Jared’s been telling you for the past ten minutes. Jimmy’s going to a camp with a group from the church Ed and Jane belong to. It’s down by Binghamton. And before you start, it’s not a religious thing. It’s just camping. He really wants to go, Lee.” I stared at Ellen, trying to switch gears. Why did they always have to do th
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Memories can be beautiful and painful. What they say is often true, “You can’t go back again.”
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It was only a few feet more. Five, maybe six. Maybe less. All I had to do was hit the gas pedal instead of the brake. Well, there was the matter of the concrete barrier… But it wasn’t very high and it looked like it had been moved more than once—perhaps by people with similar thoughts. I closed my eyes and let my foot off the brake—and let the car roll forward, just to see what it would feel like. And maybe, just maybe, the concrete barrier would fail and the car—and I with it—would go plunging
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You never know what you’re going to find when you’re running away. Justin and Aaron found each other.
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There was nothing quite like a September morning. Early September, after summer, really, but before fall became official. The still-warm days and the newly cool nights ensured the mist that clung to the lake. And there was nothing quite like watching the sunrise through that mist. He walked down to the edge of the lake and pushed the small aluminum boat into the water. It was cold to the touch and for a moment he thought of going back inside and getting some gloves. But instead he just climbe
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A quiet moment on a lake—their lake—his and Michael’s.
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The silence of the graveyard was both oppressive and soothing. How could it be both things at the same time? He really didn’t know. But part of him just wanted to shout, to break the silence—and part of him just wanted to close his eyes and embrace it, to let it surround him and hold him close and safe. He laughed. He really shouldn’t drink this much. Fucked with his head, made his thoughts go all over the place. And the silence was no longer a problem anyway. He rolled his eyes as
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Liam spends a night in a graveyard that he will always remember. But was it real? Or just a dream?
