Unknown and KnownThe unknownis all that is ever known.But comfort isn't foundin the uncomfort.Strength isn't gainedin the pleasant.Work isn't achievedin rest.Life is messy, butThe unknowncan becomeknown.
Walk the WalkWhen your wordshave proven to bemeaninglessit's the perfect timeto have youractions shine.So save your breathand walk the walk.
All That I KnowHow do you fix somethingthat's beyond repairand when only one personis completely aware?A desire for affectionand a family of connection.These hopes and dreamsare constant themesbut walls of protectionleave me defensive.Feeling unlovedwith lies and deceptionand never being good enoughfueled this life of depression.Now here I sitwith this life I've knownbeing confused, brokenand all alone.How do I move forthwhen this isall that I know.
five things they don't teach you in highschool1.it's okay to fall in love.i mean, they tell you you're never goingto marry your high school sweetheart and i'm not goingto tell you it's a liebecause it's not. you guys will probablybreak up and is gonna hurt like hellbut you'll be okay. remember, you are not the only onewho has felt loneliness like a knife,the only one to know the pain of lungs collapsingbecause they were your air,and you will never be the only one who whispered"i love you" two lives too soon.you wil not be the last one to have tuckedhair behind their ear and leaned in for a kissor the last one to wake up reaching for a hand that's no longer there.but it's okay.2.your favorite book will not always be your favorite.like you, it will change over timeto something unrecognizablethat gives you only a vague nostalgia in the tips of your fingers.flipping through the pages will neverfeel the same again.you will learn to love something new;your next favorite will teach you something about your
Insanity needs companyand now I’m stuck here,pondering,how the walls becamea veiny sight-(could the cause be me calling outyour namein the middle of the night?)and alone I stand here,wondering,how my feet gotnailed upon this floor-(do you hold my ankleslike an anchordoes the shore?)and I know it’s been thirteen yearssince you were here at all,according to the hash marksdrawn in chalkupon the wall,but I can’tlet goof our memories,that hauntme everydayso for now,I’ll let the doc declare: Insanity needs company.
how to maybe fall in love1.you don't. at least,not at first, not for you; you sitin the back of the room and kindof admire the waytheir laugh shakestheir shoulders back and forth,rhythmic mimicry found unrhyming, unrehearsed. it's refreshing, you think.and slowly maybe you realize that hey, theyaren't too bad looking and hey, youkind of like the way their eyesdart away if you catch them looking at you,and hey.you feel your heartbeat for the firsttime in years.2.you think you might like them.kind of. maybe. you really don't know, but youlike to think you do(because if you wish hard enoughsome fairy godmother you knowdoesn't exist might help this existential crisis goingon that consists of holy hell how do i DO this-).but you like to think you know what you're doing.and so you go on adate, then two, then three, and you findyou really like that they hold yoursmile in their eyes and hey, maybeholding hands isn't like being trapped like you thought.you learn everything ane
Brown Eyes Compliments, and AnalogiesBecause I'm sick of people saying there aren't any.Your brown eyes are like the deep intoxication of campaign wine, bubbling with hazing richness and expensive taste.Your brown eyes are like the color of mahogany wood- comforting and home-steady toughness that lets me know you will be the beams of supporting me.Your eyes remind me of Dove chocolate, smooth, creamy, delectable, and melting.The color of brown eyes remind me of mountain terrain and nature, something subtle, but beautiful in every form and season.Brown eyes make me think of Devil's cake, taunting and tempting, curtained by black lashes, the symbol of rich seduction.When brown eyes delve in love, they become the color of a leather book, promising a story of loyalty, long-life, and devotion.Your brown eyes remind me of mysterious secrets, dark to cover the pain of ignorance, opaque to cover to want of another.Brown eyes are like the stable ground, steadier and prepared to embrace you when you fall, into a nurturing a
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
Rhyming in PoemsWhy do you all want to rhymeall the time?You don't need to do it,that's perfectly fine.You think it's so coolAnd it leaves poems gleaming,But it desecrates flowAnd can ruin the meaning.It's so bad to rhythm,It's like a bad dayYou wonder why you're notSleeping it away.You think it's the rootOf your writing's salvation,But we all will hate you,All parts of the nation.You think it sounds niceBut you don't even knowHow ruined the sound isHow badly it 'goes'.So the irony's over,Your poems can mend,I'll stop myself here,Before you meetYour end.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one. When she cries herself to sleep six out of seven nights a week you must say nothing. You must simply take her in your arms and kiss her gaunt, pale cheeks and wait for her to slumber at the sound of your heart.two. On the days where she wishes she were part of the stars, tell her no. Tell her that there are too many lights in the sky and that just one would be forgotten the moment you looked away from it. Tell her that she is perfect the way she is: completely human.three. Don't let her think about the scars that no one but her can see. If she says "I think I'm broken" smile like you know a secret and say, "No, you're mending." But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
afterburnerslisten:pick up the slack andpick up that slack-jawed shadow of yoursdragging on wet pavement under your soles and hurry it along, we ain't got all day hereflex your white-boned fingers andtaut knuckles and pluck the soul fromits coffin in your slick throat the sun has better places to be than in your sky.
You. Got. This.I see these people all over the place –Depressed, anxious, confused, confounded even –And I see them, all uncertain, not knowing what will happen nextI see them trying to be brave or just accepting the fearI see them breaking and then pretending not to be brokenI see them, and I have only three words:First word: YouSecond person pronoun, indicating the person to whom I am speakingIt’s every person, just as it is specific to the one, making no discernment between the twoSecond word: GotA word indicating possession, ownership, belongingAlso a word indicating inevitability;In this case You must own, You must possess, You must belong,And third word: ThisA word indicating that of which we are speaking,In this case all those things you think you are going to fail at,Or that you want to try but don’t think you can succeed in,Or all the things you wish you could have but don’t believe you’ll ever ownIn this case, You must possess all your d
Belt Whip WeltsA little girl at the age of 10all she knows is what shes lived.Belt whips against her back -slit 'n slash the pain welts in.Like raindrops falling downblood hits the groundin a heavenly sound.