evermore

Shhh, I can hear your heart
beat
my head on your chest I can feel your pulse
race
and I do. but I don't.. and I'm not sure
...you feel it

e
v
e
r
y
thing
about
you
is beautiful

my vocabulary...
fails me
no description suits my purpose:
to create your image

hush now...
I wanna hear your heart
*beat*

Newsflash

Boogie is published in this issue of Teen Ink. Rock on.

http://teenink.com/Community/article.php?link=Past/2007/September/21618.xml

Wooden Planks Are My Floorboards

; careful,

there's a big world out there
it waits for you so it can scare
a test it brings to your door
to prove you can walk this floor

; CAREful,

a sigh in the back room
as forced you to your doom
face the fear as you explore
ancient words of forgotten lore

; careful,

walking in the dark wasn't a thrill
until the last man came with a pill
heightening senses, destroyed prudence
leaving you alone along the wall to reminisce

; careFUL,

this door leads to death
labled life full of health
down the hall is the saddle
and the stairwell you travel

; CareFull,

the kitchen is closed
alchemists twiddle their toes
with pots and pans
full of destructive plans

; careful,

evaporation comes quickly
so gather ye victory
prepare for the ejection
by producing protection

; CAREFUL!

watch the seas collide
your health you imbibe
keep the secrets to yourself
for i cannot keep them on my shelf

; Caution.

wear sunscreen and utilize listerine
do not hit and run from the scene
hold the flame away from face
always season to taste


~Not like the old days. its a little darker now, its a little colder too.

Love,
Digress.

Plans and Extemporaneousness

Cletis the Orphan
looks into the
eyes of those who pass
right on by
without looking into
his longing eyes

Cletis the Orphan
speaks with no
modern language techniques
in fact, he never uses any form
of interjections

Cletis the Orphan
is a mangy mess of
a ragamuffin; dirt on his face
no bathing occurs in his life
;he is as skinny
as he is houseless

Cletis the Orphan
is 8 years old with
no parents; for they
died in a terrible flash
flood-
he's hungry, never knows
where his next meal will
come from

Cletis the Orphan
is in love
with putt][putt golf
he saves change up until
he can go to a course to
putt][putt][putt the night
away

Cletis the Orphan
will become the next
Tiger Wood of professional
putt][putt golf
if the stars keep
staying in lines
;if the chains stay
linked to the future

~Barbed wire dreams. a cut in my side, and i can't sleep with your pride.

Love,
Digress.

Over The Rail

Cold rails with dirt in between, nothing but darkness up ahead.
Staring into the silence, I can’t help but think that with life I am so upwardly fed.
Looking for answers in the leagues that lie before me –
I can’t find any, at least none that are within my reach.
What do I do? Where do I go? I need some answers. I feel so alone.
There are no answers to be seen ahead of me,
but what about to my left?
As I turn my head to the left,
I see a small light in the distance.
Is this my answer? My flicker of hope?
Every few seconds the small light becomes less small –
almost as if it is inching its way towards me.
Bigger and bigger, my flicker of light is no longer a flicker –
but a blinding light that’s moving ever closer.
I panic – look to my right.
What answers lie that way?
All I see is the never ending darkness that I stared into before.
I look down to see the rails that should be rusted by my tears –
they lead me to the right –
away from the light.
Is this my answer? Or just a glimmer of anticipation?
Where do the rails lead me though?
I look again to my left only to realize the light is growing.
My heart starts to pound.
To the right I can run –
the rails will lead me somewhere that I can forget everything.
Along these rails I can run away for miles.
Run! Run!! Run!!!
I keep telling myself to run away – run from everything.
Go to the right and I can run away from all that’s going on.
I start to run – but I stop a few paces out.
Will running away really solve anything?
I turn back.
Blinded by the light – now a spotlight on me –
I stand there in fear.
Maybe if I don’t move it’ll all be okay – I won’t hurt anymore.
Once more, tears begin rapidly falling down my face –
my thoughts getting lost in the black branches being created.
I cannot move – I am stuck there – frozen – not knowing which way to go.
Which answer is the right one?
The one to the right or the one to the left?
Or is it the one that lies ahead?
Take one step to the right and run away from it all,
or take one to the left and not have to worry about it anymore?
Then there’s that third step I can take –
the one over the rail into the never ending darkness
where finding answers I before failed.
Only seconds to think and even less to act –
there is only one answer –
because help within the two others I would lack.
I close my eyes,
hoping not to once again fail,
stepping into the darkness –
I stepped over the rail…

This Place

Get me out of this hell hole
I ready to explode,
This place is a joke.
I have no life of reason.

I cant h o l d myself

t
o
g
e
t
h
e
r

Someone save me from myself.
This life never seemed so long.
Each day brings nothing.
Rescue me from hell,
From the place they call "so close"
From the scary monster that hides
underthebed.
These thoughs run through my head
OVERANDOVERANDOVERANDOVERAND
OVERANDOVERANDOVERANDOVERAND
AND
AND
AND
AND
Tell me everything going to trun out alright.
Tell me that im dreaming,
Wake me up from this nightmare.
Please come find me.
Please come back here.
Come get me from this hell hole,
The place
This place
This room that
That I am
That I am supposed
Supposed to
Call
Home

Veiled By Black Lace

What is this thing called life?
Supposedly a miracle at the start?
The miracle of life - on it's own - a beating heart.
What kind of miracle is that?
It's no miracle at all, as a matter of fact.
It's a life ruiner, a dream stopper too,
a goodbye to the future, a hello to the colors of pink or blue.
One night is all it takes, to change the course of life forever,
a night of fun, not meant to be a life wrecker.
Margaritas in and out of my hand like a bouncing ball,
I had enough - that was my final call.
Sweet words were said in persuasion,
I was stubling all over - he knew my situation.
Still pursuing - linking hands - a kiss on the cheek,
I couldn't fight anymore - I was just too weak.
When morning came, he kissed me goodbye -
promising a call, and then dinner and a movie -
he gazed into my eyes and smiled.
There was no call, or a dinner and a movie,
only a broken promise in the air forever lingering.
Weeks passed - weeks of me crying.
Crying - wondering why he wasn't trying.
He left me high and dry - to fend for myself -
the pain flowing through me - rich in wealth.
To find out that I was just "the girl" of the week,
and that he had a new "me" every week,
it tore my heart out -
he said that he was different -
and I believed him - having no doubt.
But here I am writing down my story as usual,
not sure what to make of what's going on.
Jagged black branches forming across my face,
although the tears are falling faster than normal,
forming a black veil of lace.
This veil covers a face; my face.
A face that shows nothing but confusion and hurt -
watching life pass her by,
as she doesn't know what to do with it,
and doesn't want anything to do with hers.

a bit extensive but it's real

And love is that simple sweet rhythm that only the lucky ones feel. It's the pounding heart, the rush of blood to your ears because...do I look the part? It's the migration of thoughts to emotions to a faith you can touch. It's never wanting to look away, only wishing we knew how to say...all the beats and pulses and jumping we feel, the butterflies in the tummy feeling that used to be bad. And I...what does it mean to be sad? Because you forget anything that doesn't remind you of their smell, a touch of skin(s), "good-night"s that end with "good morning beautiful"s. Love feels like walking by a lilac bush with a summer breeze holding your hand, and if you could ride a shooting star or remember your first tw0-wheeler bike or drink strawberry milk every day...that's what love is like. It's like losing your breath, not knowing quite why. It's loyalty and devotion and an undying desire to smile at the thought...of...a single person. It's incredible that another, one other, human being can make me, us, feel so many...feelings I never knew we had. It's giggling at ice cream dripping down a chin making polka dots on his ever-so-plain bright white t-shirt. It's forgetting to care what your hair looks like for popcorn, movies, and sweats nights. It's never-minding that I look silly in his hat, only caring that he thinks I'm cute. Love is how I become taller, stronger, wiser and quiet(er?) (because who needs lips to tell what eyes can show?) It's making cookies and brownie batter wars, super-soaker sneak-attacks and laying on (real) grasslaughing until it hurts. It's not wanting to fall asleep because you don't need to escape like dreamers do. And love is raspberry chocolate left on my tongue, velveteen lips and brand-new painted toe nails. Love is your quirky idiosyncrasies out in the open; it's black ties and flip-flops and guitar solo love melodies. Love is trust. Love is penetrating stares. Love is beauty unprecedented. And love is...and love is...everything you never thought you'd find (but you want to, you have to) and being scared but excited but unsure but giddy all at once because...LOVE is.

Dead.

i don't know if anybody's out there to hear me
but i do know that everybody in the world is a zombie
walking around, seeking cranial nutrition aimlessly
the guy who seems to sleep on the other bed is a discrepancy
he looks human but his face is full of zombie traits
blank and lacking thought when he acts awake
little does he know that late-late at night, i don't sleep, i wait
he'll arise in his dream state with eyes searching for life to take
knowing that i've been there waiting, remaining awake
preparing for the moment that my life he will take
but i won't go out that quick i won't let his presence stick
i'll stay awake until the morning arrives
once it does i'll sleep through class knowing the zombies won't try
to walk into my room and suck my brain out through my eye
and the morning star awakes and i become a new being
revolving around the thoughts and actions of sleeping
i snore and at dusk i'll rise
waiting again for the zombies to try

~Overwhelming fear of zombies. overwhelming co-dependancy.

Love,
Digress' panel of insecurity and hysteria.

Wake Up

You are...my chiped nails.

You are...my unpainted toes
for every season.

You are...my crucked crown toe ring,
on my left foot.

You are...my spakler
on the fourth of july.

You are...the hop
in my step.

You are...my bitter sweet
alarm.

Don't be the last one
to wake
me
up.

Ride

I am...your unfinished ride
ready to be rebuilt.

I am...its first paint job
since easter.

I am...grand opening.

I am...the highlight in the newspaper
your interview.

I am...

I won't be its first
breakdown.