Petit Mort

excuses

and trapdoors

and serenades

and promises,

and luck

and trust

and deep, aching regrets.

that plague you

and haunt you

and extend a friendly hand,

and chew you up

and fail you

and woo you

and kill you...

but slowly

and softly

and with no emotion at all.

which makes you run

and scream

and hide because you know it's going to turn out ok, everything does, everything has to, everything does...

but for the life of you,

you cannot see,

dream,

feel,

or lie to yourself

enough to find a clear answer as to how you're going to claw

out of the hole this time.

and secretly,

you're waiting and wandering.

anticipating the arrival of the one person who will look...

then look again

and somehow see all the running and screaming and hiding

and will reach in a hand.

a real, solid, firm, open hand.

and some run from it,

suspicious and scared of this new thing called hope

and related too closely to love.

but some take the hand,

some really do

and they are thrust out of the hole into the arms of the person who...

who they may love,

who they may need

but they have to stop simply

looking back as they sprint away

and just stop running all together.

they need to accept their fate,

warm and blinding.

cause here's their other half,

the only person who cared enough and dared enough

and looked hard enough

to see that this person was drowning fast in the storm of their memories.

and when they finally escape the endless hole

and the hateful sea

and the crushing fist of despair

and every other cliche that the book could possibly hurl at them,

they wake up warm and safe

and healed

and smiling

under a sky filled with endless possibilities

and hopes

and cares

and embraces

and stars.

so many stars...

Why India? (old)

India where

the streets are hot

and bothered

India where

the sun beats down

without benevolence

India where

the crowds suck you up

and knock you down

India where

you're easily lost

and you're simply forgettable

India where

the avenues blend

into roads

blend into trains

blend into people

India where

everything speeds up

so you can slow down

India where

shoulders don't show

and where silks

draped in intricate ways

mean respect

India where

no one knows my name

India because

who I think I am

is boarding a nonstop

flight to India

as I stand staring.

That's why India.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I want to tell you about my day. I'd really like to not lie. I'd really love to say, "Actually, I didn't do well. I failed that test," and be able to get it off my chest. I want to tell you that I didn't bother to do my homework and that I was living by the seat of my burning pants all day. And that that was the reason why I was mad and upset after school, not because I was simply tired. I would like to tell you that I really need help- for once in my life.

I'd like to tell you about my life. I'd love to not have to sneak around. I want to tell you that my friends are the most important things in my life. I'd like to say, "I'm sorry," and have you finally believe me. I want to tell you that I'm an inch from breakdown.

I'd like to tell you that I'm not trying hard enough. I'd like to say that you guys are so right. I want to tell you that I view the concept of money with pure disgust now. I'd tell you that with all the yelling you do about my school, I don't want to- not at all- but I'm just ready to give up and switch schools. I would want tell you that I'm burned out- I'm spent- I'm done. I'd want to tell you I love you.

But I know you wouldn't hear me.

man whore.

I don't call you this to be rude. I don't say it because I like it. I guess you could call it a joke, a nickname, an epithet. But I don't say it with pride, since i dated you. Three times. I don't apply it to you because of proven fact or reason. Alex Soelter, I call you man whore not because it's true, but because it makes me believe that there was no good reason why you left.

You could've mentioned that you had a date. But hold on, you weren't really dating. And you could've mentioned that she was your girlfriend. But wait, you weren't actually going out. You could've mentioned that she had a boyfriend. Oh, but their relationship was on the rocks. I can't believe you didn't mention that they had gotten biblical. But their relationship was almost over so it was okay for you to kiss her neck. You could've mentioned that you were going to leave me with a horrid empty feeling. But really, it wasn't your fault. And you could've mentioned that I would wind up sickly jealous. But you would never plan that. You could've mentioned that you were looking for the right girl. Of course, though, we were just friends. You could've told me I'd have to lie to you.

We're totally cool though, right?

cold hard stare

life in one expression

never a bad looking moment

no experience necessary

always by someone's side

weakness has faded

into a thing of

our past

you're happier now

i guess

the look on your face

tells me nothing

i can't know you anymore,

i can't guess

i don't know you

anymore

but is that okay?

do i really wish

you hadn't slipped out of my

grasp

out of my life?

maybe i have it all wrong

maybe i should just stop

maybe

you're still you

but i never bothered

to look deep enough

maybe

jut one question though

if you had the chance

to just be

you

who would you choose

to be

someone else

or

my friend?

truth

the only thing worse than hearing the truth

is knowing you were the one that told it.

lyrics

It's cold as a tomb

And its dark in your room

When i sneak to your bed

To pour salt in your wounds.

So call it quits

Or get a grip

Say you wanted a solution,

You just wanted to be missed.

Call me a safe bet,

I'm betting I'm not.

Glad that you can forgive,

Only hoping as time goes,

You can forget.

The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot, Brand New

Sixteen

Sixteen is tears on your

Pillowcase

It is staying up till Midnight

AIM-ing

Then complaining about it

Tomorrow.

It is Arguments

Upon arguments

With your parents

About things impossible to show

Sixteen is an unsatisfying

Stage

It is a song that you don’t know

The words to,

It is pretending you’re

Not looking around,

It is “Decisions, decisions,

Life’s about college,”

Even though you have

Two years to go

Sixteen is being stranded

On an island

No sign of familiarity

Anywhere to be found

It is finally being able to

Look around at

Knott’s Berry Farm

without being too depressed

That the whole world

Besides you

Is in twos

Sixteen is sitting in

A glass fishbowl

Deciding to sink or swim

It is not even remembering

To breathe before you

Drown

In thoughts of him

It is measured in weight, test grades

Even in love

It is wanting to date him

So badly

But though it’s condoned

You still don’t go for it

Afraid of the awkwardness

If your parents know

Sixteen is a deep desire

An urge

To just run straight to

Eighteen Looming ahead of you

But a pull that grounds you

Back in the world

Where that’s not gonna happen

Soon

Sixteen isn’t a Gossip Girl

Episode

It isn’t going to take your side

It doesn’t come with a

Rulebook or rules

So nothing is about

All you know

When you’ve rolled

The dice

And are deciding

Where to go

Sixteen is wanting

Nothing

To do with him

But when you

See him again

You just want him back

It is the beginning of

“I really don’t care,”

And you start to do

What you feel

Sixteen is choosing

The wrong path

Just to prove

That you were right

It is C’s on Bio tests

It’s not about you

It is getting over yourself

And learning to smile

Through the grimace

That has permanently

Settled on your eyebrows

And lips

Sixteen is wondering why

You said no

When you thought you wanted

Yes

It is finally figuring out

How to do your hair

So it doesn’t look hobo

But it doesn’t look overdone

Now I’m not saying

I’m an expert

At the game of life

I fail

But all I know is

When I’m fifty

I’m going to want

Sixteen back.

Reece: Titled (a poem upon my cousin's graduation from high school)

I remember you were

Out blasting

GI Joes in the backyard

Small mounds and ditches

In the soft

Fertilized dirt.

Tiny, plastic “walkie-talkies”

Sprawled across the green lawn

And were thrown to the

Bottom of the pool.

GI Joe:

Every Generation Needs a Hero

A Real American Hero

Written on boxes and

Yelled to the sky

Then the lieutenants were boxed up

And hidden.

And for your birthdays

You received light sabers

And Yoda figurines.

We were treated to viewings

Of The Phantom Menace

On vacation at the summer casa

In Mexico

And in the den of a past house.

“May the force be with you,”

You always told Annalese

And I sitting on the floor

Painting our nails

Not know what it meant or

Even caring

After that it was Lord of the Rings

I’m pretty sure at least

I remember the little figurines

And you painting

And collecting

And playing

And working so hard

To find some more warrior

Gnomes.

There were sleepovers out in the hall

“Ten o’clock isn’t that late,”

And games of Castle and

Guess Who with Madison.

Around this time

We took a trip to Las Vegas

(One of my favorite trips

even in my short history)

You taught me to do a climber’s knot

On the railing in our room

And how to pull my sleeve over my hand

So I never got shocked

By the heavy metal Parrot

Serving as a doorknob

To the Casino.

A limo ride down the strip

Madison dropping her ball of ice cream

And you picking it up,

Dusting the bottom off

And plopping the ice cream back

Onto her cone

Sending Annalese and I into hysterics

when she resumed eating

the Mint Chocolate Chip

Soon you were in your

Undefined stage

That didn’t come

Attached to a movie

Or show.

We would romp around in

The sprawling olive trees

In Grandma and Papap’s

Backyard

Looking generally crazy

In last year’s Batman costume

And the “Crocodile Dundee”

Skirt that belonged to the 80’s.

We went jumping into trees

Then jumping back out

Building forts then

Tearing them down

Premiering shows then running away laughing

Next it was computer games

The Sims and war games

Videos I wasn’t allowed to see.

That’s when you had braces

A full mouth of shiny metal

Leaving me envious every time

We brushed our teeth.

The best part about this phase?

Shipwreck Rapids rides and

Cotton candy covered hands

Walking the paths of Sea World

Begging for more

Candy and to stay

Just fifteen minutes longer.

The next thing I knew

You were well into being a

Teenager

A feat I had never thought possible

Looking at you

As my cousin

And my friend

You liked football and

Tough guys

That ran around a field chasing after

One poor guy

The one who was given the ball.

Then, great fruitcake

You were one of them!

Coming to Christmas lunch

With huge scars

And gashes in your legs

Baba always told you

“Roll out! You should just roll out!”

And to this day

I still don’t understand what he was

Saying.

For a while

I remember a possible surfboard

And you receiving money

To buy a big longboard

Just like the one at your camp.

I’m not sure if you ever

Went to buy the surfboard

But I’m sure you tried.

Remember our Yosemite

Camping trip?

Big Mamma Trucker to

Little Mamma Trucker

“Come in! Come in!

Do you copy?!”

We shouted into the walkie-talkies

Held in our toasty hands

Looking out at the frozen terrain

For right now

And maybe longer

You are a movie artist

Filming then editing

Trying to make things come together

Perfectly, and make a great scene.

And I’m as proud as I was

When you were a tough footballer

And a Jedi

And even a commando (although,

I received more than enough GI Joe

Limbs being blown into my face that I

Probably shouldn’t think that)

And as you leave

Eagerly ready to start the next

Stage of your life

I can only give you one thing

Okay well two things

My luck,

And your phrase back

Reece, May the force be with you.

This is for You

This is for you

Whoever you are

Who stands in the

Doorway to a room

That smells of sweat

And tears

Who doesn’t pick up

The floor

And trips her way over

To the solemn bed

Who listens to the noises

Of the cat at her feet

And annoying

Songbird outside

Who tries to sleep

But gets caught up

In the drama, the "struggle"

The pain

Who wants to think of

Anything else but

All that comes up is

Why? Why? Why?

Who tries to salvage

Scraps of happiness

And shove them deep in their pocket

So they don’t fly away

Who doesn’t want to believe

Who can’t believe

Who hates to believe

That it wasn’t a

Nightmare

It was

Real

This is for you

Whoever you are

Who is

Completely

Utterly

And painfully

Exactly like me

a letter

Dear ,

I’m tired of the grim look

On my face

Just a bait and switch of a game

A cross between

Disgust and pain

Hate and Anger

Love

And

Shame

I’m tired of not feeling right

And I’m tired of excuses

Just a round about game

Of hide and seek

That leaves me lost among the trees

Beginning to realize that

No one is trying to find me

I’m tired of writing letters

It’s all just a narcotic game

This is my heart

But it’s completely deceptive

The power of

“Telling it all”?

Yeah,

That’s dead now.

If it was the truth,

If it was meant to be

I wouldn’t have to

Lie with truths

Not written or spoken

You would just know.

Sincerely,

Structure

I want a poem

With one column

Two voices

Three stanzas

No rhyme

It should have depth

But not search my soul

For the abysmal eons of

Everything

And nothing

That has no impact

No crash

And leaves you falling

Falling

Falling

In love

It should answer more

Than it questions

It should leave me

Satisfied

With an urge to take in more

I want to be wrapped up

And saved

Take me home

Sit me down

Build me a castle

Then piece it apart

Weave stories around my head

That make me feel lost

With no chance of redemption

Kiss me on the cheek

And tell me its ok

All the while explaining

How the world has gone awry

With idiocy

It should be inspiring

But let me inspire it back

Word for word

Change for change

I want it to make my

Mind feel beautiful

When even my face doesn’t agree

Wish me luck

And tuck me in

A phone call late at night

When “It’s me,”

Means love

And makes me forget

About today

And regret tomorrow

Lead me into the

Deep darkness of your mind

So I can prove myself right

Let me crawl on the fence

And hear every footstep in the dark

Show me love is just a joke

It’s not real

It doesn’t exist

Stop looking

Give me an F

And box my face in failure

So I can learn

That running away

Was what shot me down

Let it splash on the

Surface of the future

Where forever isn’t

Quite long enough

Write me a poem

Short and sweet

But make it as sharp

And shining

And convoluted

As my mind.

-for phoebe.

p.s.

je me souviens means "I remember"

So, i created a blog.

I can't really tell you WHY i created a blog.

but i did.

just an fyi,

i write like, epic poems (as in LONG, not as in really good)

and letters (to specific people and also to no one)

and vignettes (no description needed?)

so yes,

enjoy.