My Poetry!

Restlessness

Laying and waiting impatiently

for something to pull you under, for the darkness.

In order to get through the day full of restlessness,

You have to accept peace of mind and let sleep over shadow

Your worries and become your area of comfort.

 

But the contentment of being wrapped up in your blankets

Isn’t enough when the clock strikes one

and the restlessness comes back.

You add another blanket as a wave of chills wash over

Only to realize it’s too hot for an extra blanket.

Tossing the blanket off and turning to the side.

Everything from the day replays,

That awkward moment you said thank you instead of you’re welcome,

When you open a door and someone is already standing in the way,

And the struggle to pay attention in class as your mind wonders.

The thought of the homework you could be catching up on instead

of laying here doing nothing makes you feel like you’ve accomplished nothing.

Dreams you wish for fill you head and random thoughts

of the potential future float around aimlessly.

Everything that shouldn’t be running through your head

haunts you as you try to squeeze your eyes close.

What else does one think of beside homework,

plans for tomorrow, and the that one test that still hasn’t been graded?

What about the lunch plans for tomorrow

or are they going to be cancel at the last minute again?

These forces keep you awake.

until finally you find peace in the darkness,

Only to hear –beep beep- the alarm clock

Bringing you out of the darkness and into a new day.

A new day that will bring the same sleepless night.

 

Sketchbook

White crisp pages, no wrinkles or tears

At least not yet anyways.

Your touch can be firm and murderous

Yet genital as if I was a baby not yet aware of the world

Soon I am overwhelmed,

Color and leftover shreds of new beginnings

fill up every crevice,

But what really gets me is the way I transform.

Your hand glides across my surface making the connection between us never-ending.

After shapes form and come together I understand that I now possess an eye

But the eye holds more within the blank stare and you’re not satisfied. I’m torn.

I feel as though I am broken­­—

Shattered as if I was a bottle made of glass,

So fragile nothing can touch me without me falling apart.

But I pull it together, I start over,

erased are old broken lines that seem too abstract to be a building or a tree.

That one movie scene from that cartoon you love is slowing being pieced together.

Instead of turning me over, a piece of me is place inside a folder.

Times such as this, makes it feel as though a piece of my body

and soul is ripped apart and tossed to the side,

But I begin to realize—

Realize that even though I’m ripped and broken,

A new page appears ready to uphold a version of you,

the version only I can see.

To the world you’re just an empty soul with a heart that’s so dark,

that it’s almost too cold and hard as stone.

But I know.

I know that deep down

is a heart too fragile and scared to open up and I’m the only one who can understand.

I just want to understand what you see,

What you feel,

What you think,

And create a world with only us in it.

 

Life

Like a leaf

We start off green, vibrant, and hopeful.

The veins running through represent

a memory, branching out and creeping toward the top,

coming together to help keep us alive.

Surrounding ourselves with family and friends,

only to drift apart from them

to become the person, we were meant to be.

With the seasons passing, our time slowly decreases.

 

Changing color from a vibrant green,

it becomes orange so deep it drags you into an abyss

or a red so dark it looks as if its bleeding and calling for help.

Holding on to everything and trying to make it last.

Descending into a depressed state it slowly releases its hold—

falling to the ground with little life left.

 

The leaf goes and decays

with the life pulled out of every crevice

it sinks deeper into the ground to help the surrounding plants grow.

We grow and slowly become old and wise

sinking deeper into the person we want or need,

Yet we pull it together in the end to be someone they may need.

 

Avoiding Homework.

The calendar says it’s November, yet I can’t grasp

the feeling that this year was supposed to be more exciting.

I’m not sure if I’m willing to do something as extreme as a random road trip.

My fear of the unknown keeps me from driving,

let alone going somewhere I’ve never been.

That doesn’t I don’t want to travel.

I want to go and try food from different places.

I wonder if those brownies are still in the kitchen.

Maybe I was meant to learn something new.

I always wanted to learn how to be more social,

but that’s scary considering my shy and quiet personality.

Talking in class gives me an anxiety attack.

What if people notice when I mispronounce simple words,

because my accent. I never noticed until my friends pointed it out.

I turn twenty-one this year, and I still don’t understand

how I made it this far in life. Why can’t I remember more

of my childhood? Where did it all go?

Now, I’m in college. I guess mom was right about holding

on to the memories we make in high school.

But all I remember is getting chased by the cops,

Because my friend talked me into throwing toilet paper on our teacher’s house.

We drove into the woods, but the cop saw us and let us off with a warning.

Some friends they were, I freaked out and they laughed at me.

I only talk to one person from high school, maybe I should message her.

She might be asleep or working late.

I need a job. I’ll look for job openings later.

I think I’ll go see if those brownies are still in the kitchen.

 

Isolated

It seems like I’m always showing little emotion

If I was to change, I don’t think it would be a match.

As I sit here I realized I remain broken.

 

I wished I wasn’t drowning in this ocean.

My anxiety is so strong it will only attach

to small range of emotion.

 

One day every feeling will come out in an explosion

The hole would be too big to be mended by a patch.

I’m just too broken,

 

nothing can pierce through my heart frozen,

yet the smallest scratch

makes me realize I can feel a little emotion.

 

Although there are days I have a notion,

and I suddenly I latch

onto this feeling of being broken.

 

I can’t help but feel as though I was chosen,

to make feel a little detach

from understanding why they show little emotion.

And I realize that maybe I am not broken.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s