Tribute to Left Eye ღ

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Left Eye was my musical inspiration. I didn’t try to copy her style, but her tough as nails, “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” style made me rethink my inspirations for my music, writing, and poetry.

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Styrofoam

rubbing together,

squeak to squawk to squeal,

it rends its bloody talons

down the chalkboard

then turns to me,

looming, eyes glittering yellow.

this static monster

made up of blacks and whites and greys,

claws raking down my skin

seeping into my ears, head, mind,

bleeding me blue.

my mind is splitting

lodging in my throat,

my heart,

the edges of my eyes.

then it stops.

they put the styrofoam away

and the beast is sealed away in its cave again.

Brown Neck Bottled Malt

​My brother tells me

“Don’t think about it too much.”

Yet I can only

Think about it again

And again

And again.

Think about how the words won’t flow,

Spill over the glass of my mouth

Onto the page,

Soaking in my heart along the way.

When I can feel my thoughts as my words,

As they flow down my agate skin onto my pen,

Some go unnoticed

In the desolate maelstrom of my mind,

Dismissed

Forgotten and lost to the empty void.

Yet it is this same void that inspires me,

Regurgitating the words I used to say aloud,

The words that slid down my glass neck,

Bitter as those that spoke them.

You stand proud with

Your unbreakable barrier,

Not sealed but

Empty.

And me, a

Bottled up brown neck

So full yet I can only barely

Stretch open my throat to give you these words.

I’m sorry

That you don’t understand me.

Don’t understand the pain I’m in,

The pressure that builds up from never speaking;

Glass cracking

But never breaking

Because I won’t let it.

Won’t let out the torrent of words

Even once.

Letting out a drop will open the rest

And I don’t know

If I’m strong enough to pull it back in.

So I’ll sit,

A bottled up brown neck

Sealed tight at the lips

Tapping on the lid

To keep out the bubbles

That threaten to break me.

No More Girls

Dress on
Hair down
Good girl off.
Ready to shrug off hearts
Hand them to you by a string.
I’m finally growing
A young cub
Now a budding lioness
Ready to hunt.
No love-lorn looks
No more pining
Pouting
Waiting.
I don’t need your fake love,
Your fleeting affections,
Your pitying gazes.
I’ll go it alone
Proud,
Strong,
Confident.
I don’t need a man
To make me be a woman.

“Death Signed” Brief Explanation

So, yeah…

Death Signed” is about something I’m working through right now. I don’t want to tell any of my friends about it until it’s resolved, but it’s hard to keep this much upset inside.

Make sure to tell your friends/kids: find a person who thinks like you. Find a person who would never threaten you. Find a person who would never threaten with or joke about death. Suicide is serious. Death is serious. If the person you call a friend can’t respect what you call serious, get out and get away. They’re not a true friend and it’s not worth it to struggle, cry, lie, and cover up to please them. Being alone is never bad. It won’t last long. Trust me. But it’s better to be you and alone than to fake yourself and be surrounded by people. Always.

Soldier

Stoic
Tears running down my face
As I march past.
Forcing away emotions.
Alive,
Never living.
Ready to take the bullet
So that someone else can smile.
Biting my tongue,
Biting the bullet,
Biting the dust.
Fighting for others,
Never going to war
To keep what I want.
Giving in
To the sound of the bomb
Soaring above me
To me
At me.
I’m not a very good soldier.