ME (Part lll, Reveal)

I do not want to tell you my real name
I don't want to tell you my real name because i do not like the feeling of being shaken
I do not like the feeling of my brain banging against the walls of my head
it is not natural to feel like falling off a ten story building
organs escaping out of my mouth
but i fall all day long
begging to hear poetry
that will fasten my feet to the ground
like hearts fastened to strings
but i can not depict the times its safe
I do not like the feeling of my name slipping out of my mouth
because it makes me feel
my laboring breaths
stuffing my heart in a locket
eating me whole
I do not like standing from a height
where my name is the breeze
because I can not say my name
without it feeling drunk, red and raw
but that doesn't stop me
from saying it anyways...

I do not like how it traps me in my chest.

but I can not tell you my real name
because this one is already engraved into your heart
I can see you
trying to read it from the other side
in a state of mind
what will someday be mine

but i don't like my name because
and it kills me to think
that slam poetry comes as easy to some as mumbling does to me

And sometimes I think that the people laughing near me are laughing at me
and sometimes my name does to.

I wish I wasn't so hard on myself.

but 5 minutes ago i was writing this poem as fast as i could
because i thought my time was running out.
and well it is.
because this is it.

this is me.

My heart said I couldn't write anything sad, so I wrote this.

i went to bed screaming the words i heard on the radio last night

about how my chest only feels

like a shattered cage for all those pills 

and how the shaky hands, white sneakers, and florescent lights

don't change the fact that your sister is dying in the room next door,

or the boy you love doesn't love you back. 

or how for 3 years my sister and i watched my mom 

break her teeth on vodka bottles

ignoring that the fact that 

each one allowed her to replace the love 

she could of sworn she felt with him

i remember wanting to scream

scream at the people i should of never let touch me

people who's names are now engraved
on my tree stump

i remember I slammed the door so hard the whole house shook

and maybe it was a little too hard because that was the day you left

and decided that the cold outside 
was better than a family. 

i remember trying find the right furniture for the spaces you once filled

and i remember to not letting any words touch me

because the poison of the lingering "i love yous"

dripped out like the last few drops of water

but like stepping on a minefield in your own home,

i cant explain why

why the doctors always have to be right 

especially about things like cancer

or why people lose themselves over a dirty house or room

or why money cant buy time 
but it can buy the car that let you leave

and since i was barely 17

it was hard enough learning that the war inside my body had a name. 

but even harder to try to be tough and soft at the same time

because my flesh never knew what it wanted to be.

maybe i envied how others flesh has purpose, 

like hugging the bones to cover up the cracks

but these poems

these poems are the cracks. 

they are what my grin looks like as it

wipes away every goodbye that meant a little less than it was suppose to

because who would i be without my ability to feel?

who would i be? 

id be that person who is always

hoping for the day they will wake up to the smell of pancakes and their father downstairs wearing the "i love daddy" apron they made him for Christmas that year. 

he was the closest thing to a father i had

and none of this life was never built to last anyway. 

Playgrounds (unmourned)

How To Look Both Ways Before You Cross The Street

First,
you slow down.

Your skin slices open revealing those last "I love you's" and

suddenly all the emotions of sneaking out after 3 A.M. come dripping out of your skin.


Second,

You flip a switch.

For a moment the switch inside turns off emotions you have felt for so long that now you feel nothing at all.


Third,

You look at how far the other side of the street is,

and vomit mouths of memories onto the sidewalk, just to watch them play out like a VCR on rewind.

Forth,

You take a step into the street but then step on his T-shirt on your bedroom floor and suddenly your insides spill out all over again.

Fifth,

You realize
that maybe this step, or the next,
you'll fall in love all over again.
with a boy who has never gotten into a first fight with his parents.

Sixth,

Would the outcome be any different if you got hit by one of these cars?

Seventh,

Love was just a word until he said it,
but this is just a street.

Eighth,

This is just a street,
but people down the road
ask if you will ever "find the one" and your left saying, yeah, i already found him, except he just didn't feel the same lol.

Ninth,

More steps.

Tenth,

More steps...