fighting eyes and drowning hearts.

They told me I was too young. "You should never have had to go through that," they'd say. But their words felt empty. Echoing through the nothing of my pathetic existence. It happened. And the eternal scar burns into my soul every damn day that I breathe and my heart beats.

You're okay.

You're okay.

You're okay.

Look in my eyes and you'll know I'm not. My eyes scream in tired desperation. A crippled prayer of a once beautiful insomniac. I long for the touch I can feel. And the hearts I can touch without breaking.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

And I don't want to think of your wrists. Or my wrists. Or the kite strings underneath. I just want to cut free. I want to flyyy. Feel the breath in my lungs and the sun on my skin.

But most of all, I'm afraid of my reflection; my skin that my soul so desperately clings to. Because the pain of the skin that isn't really mine is crushing the life out of me. It's like I'm drowning. I'm drowning. I'm...drowning. But I can see everyone around me. Staring. Breathing.

You watched me fall apart, but you didn't see me struggle. So undress me with your words and kiss my bones with your lies. Because I'm trapped inside my own mind. And out of all the people who could of ripped me to shreds...it had to be you.

The scars are a story. And behind this smile is everything you'll never understand. 

i remember hating nostalgia.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember The Road to Elderado at Aunt Suzy's house. I remember watching it over and over and everyone hated it because I would sing a long at the top of my lungs. I don't really sing out loud anymore.

I remember Uncle Mike. What he looked like, what he did to me. I remember thinking I made it up, like I was just having a bad dream. But I read the letter a few months ago, and it made it real again. I don't like dreaming anymore. And I want to forget.

I remember the therapist. There was a little sandbox with marbles. We would talk a lot, I don't remember what I said. But she was nice. She had a New Zealand accent.

I remember Hungry Eyes. I hated that song, but mom would blast it in the car and sing and laugh because she knew it drove me crazy. Mom doesn't leave the house anymore.

I remember grandma's old house. The green paint, the wood floors. The bed that seemed gigantic, but I was just little. I remember being there when my little sister was born, and when my cat died. My cousin hated me that day.

I remember the night mom went to the hospital. It was late. I remember the lights flashing and not knowing what was happening. I was so tired. And we slept at the neighbors house.

I remember the water fights we had in the house. I never won.

I remember second grade.

I remember playing card games and making jokes with my dad. We were always so funny and sarcastic with each other. We don't really talk anymore.

I remember when me and Zack hid suitcases in my closet and would occasionally sneak food and clothes into them. We were going to run away. But mom and dad found the suitcases.

I remember eigth grade. It was one of the best years of my life. I was in trouble a lot that year, but I was glad I had some friends.

I remember meeting one of my very best friends in ninth grade. She talked to me one day and I thought she was weird. And she sat by me in computer class. She's still weird, but that's why we're best friends. She's one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

I remember when I met you and how I used to hate you, or tried to hate you. But that was four years ago and here I am still in love with you, only it's not a secret anymore. I still wish I could hate you sometimes.

I remember every memory with you. The ones that hurt. The ones that make me smile to myself. The ones I wish I could forget.

I remember August 27. It was raining.

I remember when the only time I swore was in my head, when I was the only one that could hear me.

I remember cleaning and dancing in the kitchen; singing so loud I thought Alaska would hear me.

I remember how even when I didn't know how, I used to write about you.

I remember when I used to talk to God.

I remember the first time I cut myself. On purpose.

I remember. 

But sometimes I just wish I could forget.

i'm still human.

I no longer feel real.

I'm living in an unfamiliar world full of lies.

Surrounded by beautiful creatures with glued on smiles

And fear in their eyes.

But despite everything I'm still human.

So trace my lies with your fingertips

And tell me you'll always love me...

Because this world never could.

Just take me out of this place I'm in.

This skin is not mine.

But underneath it all, I'm alive.

I'm human.

I am me.

just five easy steps.

from the reliability of someone i don't know.

Having your first kiss:

1)Try to pick a trustworthy partner.

Smooching someone you trust can ease a lot of the anxiety of your first kiss. If you knew you were giving someone his/her first kiss you'd try to be patient and understanding, so expect the same of your partner.

2)Prepare your mouth.

Use chapstick or lipgloss to smooth over chapped lips, and brush your teeth and tongue well. If your mouth feels a little stale, use breath mints, spray or gum to freshen up.

3)Don't rush.

You only get one first kiss! Unless you're both so overwhelmed with desire that you have to kiss right now or the world will end, draw it out.

4)Let the other person take the lead (optional).

If you're nervous about not knowing the right techniques, let your partner initiate what happens during the kiss. Imitate what he/she does until you're comfortable trying your own moves.

5)Take a few calculated risks.

I'm sorry about this. I'm tired. This probably won't be here tomorrow.

Whatever,
Mort Rainey.

we own the sky.

he ran to tomorrow

and kissed her scars

telling her that she'd be okay.

because she was broken and bruised

and she had trouble sleeping.

but he loved her and her beautiful sun.

the tears of tomorrow were cold and gentle

and he slept with her til the moon went away.

but she woke up alone

to the sound of the sun

breathing and bleeding to the beat of the stars.

lost in the fire.

it seems that everyone sparked a passion inside of you;
capturing the attention of the world.
everyone else is ordinary.

untitled.

I'm So High.

I looked at the stars and I saw God. And I talked to God (it's been a long time). He told me that I was gonna be okay. That the moon wouldn't last forever, and the sun was coming. And He smiled at me, and knew that I was close. Close to feeling alive, and happy, and free. And I slept on the clouds that night. Got lost in the happy parts of my mind; and I coughed at first (they were a little bit dusty). But I woke up to the sound of you with a smile in my soul and a happy tear in my eye. You whispered to me, "Hey beautiful, where have you been?" And I fell apart in your arms and said, "I was talking to God about some things. But I'm okay now."

Even If You Don't Want Me...

I want you to know that I'm not thinking about you.

I'm not thinking about you.

But damnit... 

You're always in my head, where you're not supposed to be.

And I don't think about you like crayons think about melting.

Or like fingers think about painting.

Yes, I'm aware of your crooked mouth and how you smile at my flaws.

And I'm breaking under the sun that loved you and not me.

Because I don't think about you, or your fingertips.

I don't think about you.

Like birds think about flying.

Or how I think about dying.

You're the only one that every really knew the contents of my soul.

Elaborate. Delicate.

My mind and thoughts so broken,

you were the only one that could touch them.

(please be gentle)

But I'm not thinking about you,

Or the muscles that run up your spine like smoke.

Because I'm having a hard time breathing.

And the thing is, I'd like my lungs to stay how they are.

Thank you.

You can look away now.

There's nothing to see.

Because I'm thinking about you.

Thinking about you

Like whispers think about secrets.

And secrets think about keeping.

And I'm thinking about keeping...you.

Like time thinks about stopping.

And mountains think about moving.

And I'm wishing that I could move mountains just so you'd

notice me.

But we all want what we can't have.

I'm breathing you know...

Barely. But I have a pulse.

And it's drumming to the sound of you.

And I'm thinking about you.

Like hands think about holding.

And souls think about soaring.

Like hearts think about beating. 

And bleeding. 

And. 

b r e a k i n g.

And 

how 

I'm 

breaking.

For you.

ideas burnt faster than built.

Anonymous blank pages are staring me in the face.

And there's a block with "writer" stamped on the edges that's sitting on my brain.

I wish the ideas would just come in words that I could make sense of.

Because my world is a sea and sky made of words and words and more words

Fighting for a way to get out and be heard.

And it's like someone is holding a match to my mind and setting fire to the ideas written on the walls.

But one day, those pages will be filled with your name

And the words will move mountains, and skies will fall.

I'm taking the damn memories with me...I don't care what you say.

The day you found my heart

You picked it up and dusted it off

You put it me back together...

And I let myself love you, you know.

Despite all of the desperate screams that echoed inside myself.

From my aching soul and strangled lungs

I still loved love you.

1. the day perfection was raining down on us and you pulled me close and kissed me over and over

2. how you'd fall asleep next to me on the couch, and you'd wake up and look and me and smile and I would laugh a little as you would drift back to sleep. and I would hope you were dreaming of me.

3. bellybuttons.

4. the way you run your fingers through my hair.

5. how you are probably the only human that can tickle me (I still don't know how you do did it).

6. our matching scars (and how yours is just a little bigger than mine).

7. when you kissed me. again.

8. when you drove to my house without telling me and sat across the street in your car for what felt like hours...

9. how you took a picture of us, and I let you.

10. you.

The screams broke out the other day

When you didn't love me anymore.

And somebody heard and called to say,

"You're broken. You need help."

But I let it ring into the depths of space

And let the dust bury the screams.

But I'm taking the damn memories with me...

I don't care what you say.

{maybe if i fall asleep i won't breathe right}

maybe there is no me.

and no you.

and no us.

but there is space camp.

and i am space camp.

and you are space camp.

and yes love; we could be space camp.

they threw bricks, and bricks.

and more bricks.

and those bricks hit me so hard.

and i woke up

coughing up all my dreams;

the ones coated in blood and disappointment and hysteria.

the ones that don't have any pictures.

i tried to paint them

but they didn't seem real enough.

and my tears smeared and made the ink bleed and wrinkled the paper;

and it was kind of beautiful.

and my bones told me to shut up and stop thinking so much

and then i started to live.

breathing wasn't so bad anymore.

"just follow me," you'd say.

(in. out. in. out.)

and things got easier.

or maybe i just stopped caring so much.

and i was happy you know...

the smile wasn't glued and my heart was red. (a good kind of red)

the ink from our pen moved mountains and the universe expanded 

ever. so. slightly.

we painted photographs of the future and erased the definition of "beautiful" and "perfect".

we traveled through time and space 

and left little pieces of us where we went so everyone would see.

we are the art that people talk about and take pictures of. 

the tourists just passing through our story.

"it's okay i don't mind, i've got you." you told me as 

they mechanically walked back and forth and back and forth and back and forth... 

and we fell in love over and over and over again.

"i'm going to space camp," i said to you last night.

and you laughed a little as you kissed me.

"we're already there" you whispered.

and i smiled because i knew.

the death of my beautiful bones.

My bones told me I was different.

They said, "stop. just stop trying to be like everyone else. it's never going to happen."

It was like when I told perfection to go die, because it's not real.

But my bones told me they were beautiful.

And that while I had been searching for God,
He saw my bones and smiled.

The day I was sexually abused (and by days I really mean two years), my five-year-old bones cried and said that things would never be the same.

They said the scar he left hurt them, and it wasn't ever going to go away.

And God looked at his bones, and my bones.

He made it rain in my soul and got my bones all wet, and I fell in love.

With the silence of beauty and the beauty of silence.

And God let me live.

My bones, the ones deep inside my soul...they told me to love you. and love you. and never stop loving you.

But my bones are shaking in the cold love you gave me.

And the coffee and blood...they don't help.

My bones told me how much it hurt when you carved in your name.

My bones said to paint the sky red.

Red with the pain that you sold me, and it wasn't cheap either.

They told me I'd always be alone, and I guess I was okay with that.
It was easier you know...

But my bones still loved you.

The sound of your secrets and how your fingertips wiped the tears from my heart.

They said being in the dark was supposed to scare me, but all I did was close my eyes and breathe in the moon.

They told me my heart would be okay.

But my bones still bled your name in my dreams.

They told me that sunsets at midnight were real, and so was my heartbeat.

But my bones still bled your name while I slept.

"Keep dreaming, and breathing, and loving", they'd sing.

And my bones,they tried to make death real.

Tried to break and burn and bleed so I'd know what it felt like...

But they told me that I could never make dying beautiful.

nobody knows.

  

and i suppose that's okay.