CRINGE AT THIS

Have you ever concocted excuses and lies with such ease that speaking truthfully is more the challenge?

Have you ever woven webs of false affirmations that you're okay, as your sobriety and self worth slowly slips down the drain on a daily basis?

I've attempted to analyze in myself in every way possible

From paying to have my head cracked and examined for mental instabilities

To opening veins in an attempt to French kiss the grim reaper, like a promise of what's to come

I've sat at barrel's bottom and can tell you

It's comfortable, but wrong

an almost uneasy lack of pain that hurts more

It's hard to feel how far you've sunk when the bottom  is numbing 

I've been numb long enough that 

Timestopper-OLD

My whole life has been dictated by the time I've spent waiting and the things I've waited on

Minute hand slips to hour hand as patience slips to perseverance 

But my dear

You broke my clock

When I first met you the gears ticked a little faster and my hands slid down my sides as I tried to find something to chime in with

I had never seen something timeless before in my life

Like a living anomaly embodied in the whip crack of your humor and the picturesque curve of your smile 

But it wasn't until I began to know you that my clock finally broke as the cogs stopped working in admiration of your presence

For the first time I didn't want to measure my life by the hours I had passed, just the people I passed them with

I had experienced whole lifetimes in the moments I saw your guards drop.

I've never wanted to slip the hands of time and swing from present to future like a pendulum before

warning my grandfathered tendencies of over practiced patience not to mistake challenge with comfort

If a moment with you feels like an eternity

Then I will etch a lifetimes worth of hopes into the few minutes I get with you

And until then

I'll wait for the ticking to stop once more

As you enter the room

Too Loud-OLD

I lived in a state of extreme volume

Constant screaming and competing for loudest tends to make me shout more than most

It's funny

I've been told since birth that I was always a bit too noisy

My voice seemed to echo and reverberate off of every wall like plaster and poster board confessionals recorded each memory my lips transcribed to the universe

no wonder it's so loud in my life when every thought is captured and put on repeat in each 4 walled recollection 

It took me until I was 16 to learn that no one else could hear them

Or me

I was being berated and belittled by battered and broken consciousness 

My own worst enemy lives in every mirror and reflection

I've been shouting at myself since birth so loud that my existence is one long scream into the short night.

A symbolic representation of my flawed existence

My life is loud and chaotic

Like a firecracker exploding on the 4th of July

I was only meant to exist in small doses

I wasn't supposed to let my depression consume me, but I still sat down to dinner with it

Whispered sweet nothings to the abyss and signed the cheque like an autopsy report

My toe tag and body bag like a wrapped present with a bow

I've been deaths gift to humanity since the dawn of time

A broken human being to compare happiness to

When you spend your whole life screaming at the world but begging for silence

It's scary when the voices finally go quiet

Because you realize the only person who's been yelling this whole time, was you. 

When it could have been silence all along 

And the only cost, is some wrapping paper and a bow

Angsty lil shit-OLD

Have you ever stood on the outside of your own life

Like watching a rerun of your least favorite show

It's almost painful

I can see the shattered hopes and false confidence behind the sarcastic smile plastered on my face

Like a malformed mannequin given too much consciousness 

I've been stuck in uncomfortable poses to fit in for the past 19 years

Changing personalities like outfits

I was manufactured to malfunction 

Today I went window shopping and walked past my own life

I only wished I had liked what I'd seen

Instead I saw a mangled man contorted into painful shapes trying to find a way to be comfortable

It was simple. 

Stand tall

Hands at your side

Chin up

Walk straight and alone

Don't let anyone slow your stride or change the direction

It got easy

Lonely but safe

Mirrored Confessions-Old (Half finished)

Have you ever stood in mirrored confessionals and whispered lies to the parts of you that wants to change?

I have

See, I have a tendency to dwell in the shadows of my darkened memory lane

Paying homage and sacrifice to the origins of my personality profile 

I manage to highlight my flaws in incandescent yellow streaks like someone tearing through my misgivings with the editing scrutiny of an overworked Ivy League professor 

But when you offered to help me edit, 

I began to let myself see them as guidelines to improvement

Managed to put positive spins on each aspect of my broken down life

Like selling a totaled car fresh off the lot 

It was never gonna work

No matter how many coats of fresh paint you put on my persona

You can still see the cracks in my frame

I've been playing hide and seek for 19 years just waiting for someone to come looking 

I never asked you to care

I didn't want you to notice when I skip from location to location and reality to fantasy 

Slipping in between the heart beats

My transition from spectator to specter is predetermined to be earlier than expected 

I didn't think you'd notice my attempt to slip into the express lane 

To leave behind these highlighter scars that leak from every cut on my conscience until I bleed flaws into the past present and future

So that I can stand in mirrored confessionals and whisper lies to the part of me that wants to change. 

Mom-OLD

She used to be a daredevil

Not like Evil Knieval

But by the time she graduated 

she'd flown through personal rings of fire

And found she liked the smell of gasoline

It wasn't the danger that she enjoyed

It was the feeling of weightlessness

That momentary tingle in the back of your head when you're standing on the edge of a cliff 

Its the difference between feeling alive

And knowing it

Heights never scared her

Injuries? An accepted side effect

So imagine her surprise when a doctor told her that she would live with prescription problems for the rest of her life

her heart had decided to stop living

Still beating, but broken, I guess the rib cage wasn't enough confinement 

So it locked you away in the house

An agoraphobic artery pumping powerhouse

Trapped in the body of a traveler

I remember the first time you couldn't stand

You tried to get up from a chair in the living room, and your pulse jumped to just under 200.

I remember the first time I came home from school to nana

I knew it was serious when dad couldn't leave your side.

I knew it was serious after each absent diagnosis over the coming months 

I knew

That you just wanted to jump again

Stand on cliff edges and feel that tingle in the back of your head

I was scared.

But I never lost faith

Because you had those rings of fire in your eyes that screamed volumes to your strength

You had scars from car crashes and peace corps that would still tell the stories of your gambles with death

Like a game of gin with the grim reaper,

You got dealt a bad hand.

Told by your doctors that they knew what was wrong finally

Inappropriate

Sinus

Tachycardia

That last word may be one of the first I remember learning how to spell

But you lived it's meaning everyday after

Your heart had thrown in the towel 

Soon, each cliff greeted you with a paralyzing adrenaline response similar to being kidnapped

Each ring of fire seemed a little smaller, and the flames seemed a little hotter

My mom 

Is a daredevil

Not like Evil Knievel

But she has danced with death enough times just on her morning commute to cease fearing him

She may not be able to climb as high as she used to, but she still grips the rungs on the ladder

A defiant message from a part of you that knew your disease wouldn't defeat you

It just changed the game

Prometheus-OLD

Prometheus was a Titan

Who stole fire from gods 

And gave it to humanity

It's said that his fire lives on in each ember and spark 

But for his crimes, his punishment was to lose his liver each day so that it could grow back each night 

I'm sure you're not here for a history lesson

But I've begun to feel like Prometheus 

With each struggle I face, the resemblance gets uncanny

I stole fire 

Despite being told not to

When everyone warned me how hot a flame can be, 

I didn't care

I didn't care about the heat in your presence,

Just the coldness I felt after you left.

So I tried to steal some fire from you

Tried to force an ounce of your warmth into my life so that I could share it with the people around me

Like Prometheus,

My intentions were good, but the execution left a bit to be desired

I wish I had listened when you warned me that infernos can look like candle flames from a distance

"Don't get too close" you cautioned

But I thought that just maybe I could be the one to help bring down your forest fire 

I hoped you would let me build temples to the light you shine, and fire rings to help you contain it

But I should have listened to history whispering caution in my ear

You see the gods didn't trust humanity with fire

And you didn't trust me to help yours or rather

You Didn't want me to

You see, There is pride in wildfire

A beautiful chaos to be admired

....from a distance

But I still stole an ember from your strength in the hope it would heat up a frozen heart

Managed to pass the warmth off as my own and share it with those around me

But I can now sympathize with the punishment in this process.

Because every night I let my heart grow back, and everyday you take it 

Or rather,

I give it to you

Treating it like a sacrifice 

I've been paying tribute to your memory with every part of my being

Promising a change or hope for one more chance to share your fire with the world

But these burns are turning to scar tissue 

The nerve endings died in your presence

I wonder if Prometheus ever felt numb too

I've tried moving on

But each time I manage to light my own candle

You've taken to blowing it out and offering to help fix it

I can't be dependent on your flame anymore

Can't let the smell of smoky memories pull me in

I'm sick of giving you my heart to stop feeling cold

Because the difference between numb and warm is only a few letters, but a lifetime of happiness

I'm not a firefighter,

Or a Titan

Or anyone really

I'm just someone covered in 3rd degree trust issue because I fell in love with one too many fires that didn't reciprocate.

Everyone says that one day I'll find the next one,

The flame that will fit in my home and never leave scorch marks on my memories

But I don't think Prometheus ever touched another fire in his life,

So could you blame me if I did the same?

Because with all this nerve damage,

I'm not sure I could even feel heat anymore

It's my fault

She told me not to get too attached

The only thing an ember can love is the free oxygen around it

I'm not angry

Or bitter

Or even sad.

But I want to warn you about wildfires

They are beautiful

They are strong

They are incredibly powerful

But most importantly, they are to be respected from a distance

No matter how much the flames beckon

Because I may have stolen fire from her,

But she stole my peace of mind,

And I'm still waiting for night time

So that it regrows for tomorrow  

Old poems part two- My dad used to travel

I don't have many fears

I don't like snakes

I hate bees

But the one thing I am truly afraid of is planes

Not for the reason you might think

Because 9/11 didn't change my view

Just confirmed it

I worry he might be the one

He might be next

His plane might be the next one to make that last landing

And I worry that my last conversation might be a fight

His last words from might be I hate you

An poetry can't convey the emotions behind the fear of losing my dad

So afghanistan might be his last home

And India might abduct him permanently

Because I fear a broken home

I fear futures frozen in stone time capsules as medusa gives me a wink

And lucifer licking my soul with worry

This could be it he whispers

So I cringe everytime that plane departs

And jets bring fiery tears of those in danger 

So 1 week is 7 days outside of my comfort zone of travel 

I just want my dad back

Forever

But the world had him first

And he brings home the bacon

But why does the pig have to be on another continent 

And living behind an airport just cements

The feeling of regret

That wells within me when I fight

And he leaves 

Which I know might be the last time I see him

So why can't I stop fighting?

I guess it's because he keeps leaving

So vicious circles rotate

And turbines speed up

As I watch him leave again

2011-Throwback to a collaborative piece

If these walls could talk

They would tell stories that would make your grandparents jealous

They would paint practical Picasso's on the canvases of your conscience

Creating emotion and unending devotion to the walls

But be warned

Because as the walls have learned

Tar leaves a bad taste in your mouth

But I have only lived here for 2 years

And yet in this small time

I have heard stories from the walls

That bring tears to eyes

So I brought pen to paper

Because I want to learn to be the lorax

I wish to speak for the walls

So my poetry will be like a whisper-ma-phone

Lend me your ears and see with your eyes that excuses are irrelevant

And ignorance is pathetic

Because

Even I know

After only 2 years

Chapel hill is changing

So wake up and listen

Listen to the change

Listen to the stories

Of the walls

Before they are silenced

By the bitter taste of tar evolution.

new love poem

i have spent so much time thinking of you,

i am beginning to realize cupid wears diapers because he is so full of shit and lies,

that he may as well be a politician playing off feelings of pity and pain

to pass legislature allowing love to be classified as a political party,

but in this party there is no reason to celebrate when it is clear love condones organ failure, because my heart stopped pumping after it heard loves propaganda promising it to be different promising you to be different.

i wish i could plug my heart beat into stereo system speakers so you could try to hear rhythm in my flatline

it’s time to tell you the truth

i have written you poems to impress you

i have spent hours scrawling lines of metaphor and simile attempting to liken you to everything beautiful

and i have said time and again that you are different than the others

that we would be perfect

but when you start writing from the heart, it often lies

the truth lies in common sense

not the pamphlet written by thomas payne

but the pain written about in every health class pamphlet

chances are

we wont be different

chances are you wont be the woman i spend the rest of my life with

we probably wont have the story book love life lied about in romantic thrillers

nicholas sparks will not write a 350 page book about us ending with a dramatic kiss in the pouring rain surrounded by destruction to show that “love can triumph all”

I HAVE SEEN NIGHTS IN RODANTHE

i have been to the beaches they described and watched as waves ebbed and flowed on to the sand

and i can say mere currents can destroy relationships

but cupid wants you to believe ours could withstand tsunamis to rival sea walls

i wont lie to you anymore

however, i want you to know why i lied before

why it took me until now to explain my words may have misled

it is because i was afraid you would only see the negatives of the truth

wouldnt realize what i was really saying by writing you this poem

wouldnt realize what i am trying to say about us

we likely wont be different

but i am willing to spend my life proving that idea wrong

and that we may end badly

but it would be worth it just to get to know you

that we probably arent destined for a happily ever after together

but i want you to be part of my story at least

it may not be rational to write this for you given the odds we face

but i have always been far from rational and VERY odd

and though we may not be a storybook romance

or have a fiery relationship ignited by nicholas sparks

i want to spend every minute getting as close to that as possible

and i am willing to bet my love, my life, my time, and my heart on the off chance we will be different

but most importantly

i want to believe in love again

and you make me do that

so maybe that says something about being different

and hopefully that goes to show

that though we may not end up together forever

the time we have will never be looked upon with regret

because each line jotted in this notebook

is a promise that i will work my hardest to make us “different” than all the others

if nothing else

we will at least have each other

and the time we spent being perfectly normal for once

but none of this means a thing

when i cant even let you read what i wrote about you in these notebooks

when i cant let you know how i feel about you each time i see you

when i am so afraid

not that we wont be different

but that we wont have a chance to be