construction site

There is a man with a jackhammer
who thinks he is making improvements to the base of my skull.
It's hard to convince him
that my head is fragile and I like it just the way it is.

There are two men with shovels
trying to dig their way out through my eyes.
They don't believe me
when I tell them that now I can't even see.

Between my eyes there is just one man
who stands hammering a nail through bone.
Begging never works to get him to stop
he is determined to completely reconstruct my face.

And finally the two men with axes
who deforest the brain matter around my ears.
They don't even hear me when I beg
or notice when I shut out the light.
More determined than all the rest,
they refuse refuse to leave.

i am

I am
the sum of my inadequacies.

I am
awkward only when I have to be the person you think I am or should be.

I am
every damien rice, iron and wine, deathcab for cutie, and modest mouse song on my iPod.

I am
only as good as the stories I tell.

I am
the impossibly perfect thing that you can't see in yourself.

I am
not you.

I am
not what you think I am.

I am
me.

before I sleep

Before I sleep my brain goes running
running round round round
in circles through my head.
I can barely follow it,
but I know that it makes sense. Thinking
theories, philosophies, thesis,
biology, poetry, psychology
me and or with for everyone else.

Every night it's the same
and every morning I wake up
and I can't remember what I thought about
that seemed so terribly important
so brilliant
so perfect the night before.

Were these thoughts I had actually mine,
or were they just the amalgamation of everything I absorbed in one day?

I can't help but think,
if I had these thoughts during the day
(or could at least remember them come the next morning)
I might be a little bit more satisfied with my life
thus far.
Or maybe I should try sheep.

Names

Everything began in the Paris of the Prairies
And from there I learned to fly

Growing tall
In the Land of the Rising Sun

While in the Eternal City
I Discovered immortality

Witnessed progress
In the Parted City

After Auld Reekie
Had shown me real beauty

But then I begun to understand true love
When I met the Bride of the Sea.

5'5"

I am only as tall
As the soles of my shoes
Will allow me to be.

My Own Hurricane

Spinning spinning spinning
It's like my head just won't stop moving
And as far as I reach
My feet
Will not touch the ground

Winter-time

Walking down the street
I just can't help but think
that my toes
are
cold.

Christmas of 1997

I've been asked a lot lately what I want for Christmas and every time I'm asked I have no idea what to say because I really don't know what I want for Christmas. It was so much easier when I was little and my family could just get me something simple and easy without having to ask me what I wanted and I would usually love it just because of the surprise factor.
When I was ten my grandpa gave me the book Falling Up by Shel Silverstein and this was probably one of the best gifts I have ever been given. I had every poem in the book read by Boxing day and tried to speak only in rhyme up until New Year's. Now, that book is so well-read that the bindings are held together with string and I still have many of the poems memorized word for word.
I don't know if this gift was perfect because of a lucky guess or because my grandpa just knew what I would like. Either way, it made a certain impression on me that I haven't been able to forget (not that I should!). I've branched out a bit from "God's Wheel" and "Snowball" and "Long-Leg Lou and Short-Leg Sue", but I still always go back to them because it's poems like this that really turned me on to poetry when I was small.
I don't know where I was going with this except to say that I think children now don't experience that, and it's a bit sad.

I'm Ready

Teach me to flyyyyy...

something I can't describe

It was always there
in the fresh sheets and the music's beats
and in the warm breeze and the playful tease
the pink lips and the touch of fingertips,
It was everywhere.

In the orange moon and my ice cream spoon
the tight hug and the tea in your mug
and in the lingering kiss and the sight you can't miss,
It was everywhere.

In the fresh-cut flowers and those single golden hours
the falling snow and that song you know
and the second chance and the perfect last dance,
It was everywhere.

I swear that feeling...
it was there.

marks

I've been marked
with a
bright
orange
magic marker

I wonder if it will
come out.

Sleepy...

Please someone tell me to just stop thinking
about driving my car and hitting a cyclist
and telling my parents that I hit a cyclist
because I failed a class (even though I didn't really fail it, but in my head I did) and couldn't think
about anything other than the fact that I'm an idiot
and that I can't even pretend to be normal and act normal
and what the fuck IS normal
because I thought I was yesterday but today I'm so fucked up
about everything and how I can't even be around people
and why people always forget me
I just want to stop thinking
stop thinking about how I don't even really truly exist at all.

I'm tired.