Such great heights.

Everything looks perfect from far away.

-The Postal Service.




So maybe I’ve dreamed of you too far, too long. So maybe I’ve pictured you coming in different forms. Yes, I have seen you come to me; yes, I have seen your anatomy. I have been intoxicated by your voice and drunk off your smell. I have changed your eye color. Your hair always seems to never change. Of course, what could I make it, after all? We’ve gone to different places and said different things. Our convictions and prerogatives are always the same. And I know that that’s what is linking us together. That’s our bond. That’s our connection. This is my dream.

An angry blade.

Slipping away but grasping the edge
Tightening around it
So strong, weakening
A drop past the edge of the line
Suddenly running
Let's run
I scream at you
At me, at me I want to yell
Nothing working
Running farther
Want to be faster
Weights in my legs
Cannot carry me further
Stop
And I stop.

Best unsaid.

Your eyes observe
Last you till November
Seeing through every cloth
Every thick layer of makeup
The rain drops
And you can see it
See water when the ground is dry
See the heavy, heavy circles
You speak
You speak out loud
But you've never talked
And you never talk
And I don't see you changing your ways
But you whisper
You focus in on the color
And I wonder how you still see the background
No one's looking but us
Those Goosebumps on your skin
They are raised with texture
And you do not shiver
I'll come and wait with you for November
Standing wet in the rain.

We walk.

I walk. I walk around school and sometimes feel as if I walk around town, but I never do. I never walk around town. It is never so.

And then I think. I think that I betray my mind. I frown because I tell myself that I want to do this and that and everything and be me and someone else. I want to be them. Here and there. Over yonder.

I wonder why no one says the word "yonder" anymore. I see that yonder is wonder with a y. I laugh, but not quite.

Because I'm walking around school. It seems like it is taking me two minutes or two hours or forever to get to my best friend waiting for me at our shared locker. I can see her. I see her in her unique outfit, her hair perfectly in place, her face just as beautiful as ever. I see her sparkle.

I wonder why it takes so long to walk from the D quad to the B quad. My feet swish and my mind wishes and I pretend I am somewhere and nowhere I have been.

I am at school though. My socks are heavy with dampness from the puddles seeping into and through my black boots. It smells of wet dirt and saturated hair and hairspray that has unwoven itself from my hair as the wetness mingles with it. It smells of rain. The hairspray smell is strong to my nose, and I hold back a smile. This is a sweet aroma to my senses.

I am wet and I shiver. I am unhappy because of the frost and the cold and the chill. But this is just where I want to be.

Hard sun.

Imagine.

Imagine all the people living for today.

-John Lennon


You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

-John Lennon





I looked down below me. The air looked thin and the water deep. What was I doing here? Committing a sin, or righting all these wrongs? I heard voices calling at me. But they were all too far away.

My shoes were sitting next to me on the ground. I looked at them and noticed just how tattered and worn they were. They looked old and dirty and abused. I wanted to name them and call them by that name. I wanted to make it personal. Since, after all, this was personal. This was very personal.

My stomach turned, and I felt sick. I sat down for a minute, backing away from the ruthless corner of earth; the ground that threatened to tear me apart. I heard myself whimper and whine, but I did not feel it. I did not feel my body and my senses. I did not feel the rumble. I did not feel the scream.

I inched closer to the edge. Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

My feet dangled over the ground, and rocks and pebbles scattered away from me, plummeting to a sky of water with depths only known to bodiless souls.

I frowned, but I smiled. I laughed, but I cried. I screamed. But none of it sounded. I was quiet. I was still. I was dead.

I was soon to be peaceful. Peaceful again. Peaceful at last.

For some reason, as I was standing, I was remarkably aware of the dirt and how it felt beneath my feet. I concluded that it was no more cutting off than connecting. I would be one with the earth now. I would be part of nature. I would be where I belonged.

I've always loved the water. The beautiful shades faded in and out and in and out and in and in and in. I watched in silence. The world was silent now. And I listened. I listened.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you.

"I will always love you." I smiled.

"My heart is yours. Forever."

Let me sign.

I was damned by the light coming
All over as she
Spoke with a voice that
Disrupted the sky
She said, "Walk on over, yeah, to this bit of shade
I will wrap you in my arms."
And she said, "Let me sign."



"Why are you doing this?" they ask me.

"What?"

"Why?" they repeat. "Why are you doing this? Over and over and over."

I shake my head. I cannot answer. I cannot answer because I cannot conclude why I feel this way. I look at them with eyes too educated and too understanding. I look at them with sad eyes, sad because they do not see the hurt in them. I try to show them. They will not see.

None of them know. None of them will know. I sit in my room all night, every night. I sit and cry. I listen to the music I do not listen to during the day. I hear the things I do not hear when I know every face can see my own.

What if I did? I ask myself. What if I listened to the music during the day? And what if I heard and said and felt the things I feel when people can see? What would happen then, huh? What would happen then?

What would happen then?

That is what I am afraid of. That is what keeps me up nights. That is what distracts me in classrooms as I sit and listen but to not hear the things teachers tell me, the things that really should be what I know now, instead of the black square I see.

I look at them and wonder how they're real. I wonder and wonder and I ask myself and I ponder. In fact, I think about these things more than anyone would guess. It is a sickness. It is a disease. And I am a victim.

I am scared. I am frightened. I am terrified. I am horrified. I am so scared of this world, and my mind.

I do not like me. I do not like who they tell me to be. I do not like who I tell myself to be. I do not like it. I like them. I want to be them. I want to know them. I want to see them. I want to see myself in them.

The worst part is that I cannot escape. I cannot fight against it. The feeling is a vibe. The vibe is strong. The vibe is a power. The power controls. It controls me, and I do not know how to get away. I am frightened and scared and very confused.

I am losing myself.

Angel from Montgomery.

Tears slip down
Soft lips
Icicles melting further away
Further away
I'm counting
On my fingertips, and you
You
You watch me with wide eyes
As I sing my song
And I cry
I cry
I cry because it hurts me
Like no pain has reached me
I fall and I surrender
Because I cannot stand to see her
That face
Oh, it bothers me so
Icicles melt
They melt further away
Turn into fire
Turn into pain
I count on my fingertips
As my mind slips
As my tears drip
As I hold my breath
And I feel.