day seventy-five: please stop.

please stop.

please just stop

trying to force me into

a silly cardboard box

and trying to make me fit into

the container you want me to look like

please stop.

brain, stop screaming

hormones, bug off

thoughts, stop repeating

eyes, focus please you're making me irritated

please go.

go away for a little while

let me be alone long enough

to really miss you

not you,

the other one,

the one behind you.

the funny thing is

you'll probably read this

and you'll ask me if this is about you

but it's not

because it's really about me

thats the beauty of poetry.

you is me are you,

or at least it could be.

day seventy-four: mental well being.

things to think on

things to pray

things to sing

and things to say

so much whirling

around inside my skull

but there are deadlines to meet

and things to do

so i'll just have to find

something to think on

something to keep me focused

on anything but you.

day seventy-three: love and hate.

i loved

to stand

and conversate

for four

hours straight

and to just be

and to hear

and to just see

the things

you've been becoming

and saying

and doing

and it's not

that i'm letting you

control my happiness

it's that the things

that you had to say

were exactly what

i needed to hear

fall from your lips

oh, the irony

of love and hate.

day seventy-two: bipolar, love.

there's this knot in my throat

and it misses you

there's a kink in my heart

and it hurts for you

there's a place in my mind

that still thinks about you

and sometimes there's a me

that comes out and admits

to wishing things were the way they were.

why would i want that?

i wish it were mind games i was playing

i wish i could be angry at you

but you're just not that kind

and i'm not either

i wasn't "happy"

i wasn't where i needed to be

so where was i, exactly?

and why do i find myself wanting to go back?

day seventy-one: my own me.

my own me

who is that

exactly?

i've never seen

that megan before.

does she live around here?

must be from up north...

or maybe west

maybe she's out there

in the desert sands

being happy herself

and hiding from this

insanely sad world...

or maybe she's not even

from this planet

maybe she's on mars

being happy alone

finding joy in alienation...

where do you think she is?

i think there's a slight chance

that she's just buried

under all this pressure

and worry

and that she's inside me

i know she is

and she's busting out

so watch out

because you might not like

to see her smile

i hear it breaks hearts-

that truly happy smile.

day seventy: i'm alive again.

there's a steady beat

bouncing from the drums

hitting my feet

and wiggling up

to my hips

and my hands

resist the urge

to stand still

instead a sway escapes

a clap sounds

there's something under my foot

that deserves to be stomped on

or maybe my foot just feels like

it needs to express the music on it's own

things like this make me

remember a dream

the dream i had

when i was young

to sing and dance

in front of thousands

to play a violin

like someone before, only better

and with more passion

because music is something to share

so here i am

alive again

swaying to the music

i'm making.

day sixty-nine: you changed.

it breaks my heart

to have to say

somewhere behind

your eyes

you've changed

my words are rushed

i'm sorry

i must explain

somewhere, something

behind your eyes

isn't the same

i'm not asking you not to change

i want you too

i want to, too

but i'm afraid

of the change

that i sense

behind your gaze

because i feel like

it'll break me

and i don't want that.

i want to stand tall,

change

and be me.

day sixty-eight: when i grow up.

there are things

i want to see

people i want

to touch

things i want to be

when i grow up

when i grow up

i'll conquer the world

but don't worry

you will hardly notice

because it's just something

some were born to do

i wont let you take my light

you may not steal my life

and squeeze my passion into some

magical potion of a cocktail

you can't have my secrets either

the deepest ones that are hidden

somewhere deep inside this poet

there are things i want

things i want to be

to do

to see

to touch

to enjoy

to be a part of

to be

and i'm not sure if

with or without you is one.

i'm just praying

i'll figure it out.

day sixty-seven: too...

too close

too too close

close enough to feel

you

too nice

too too nice

too nice to be real to

me

too deep

too too deep

too deep to find a way

in the right direction

too grand

too too grand

too grand of a time to

stay away for too long

too long

too too long

too long since we've been

comfortable in our own skin

too beautiful

too too beautiful

you're just too beautiful

for me.

day sixty-six: doubting heart.

mix the feelings

like a snowy slush

flood them over the dam

churn them up

like an upset stomach

trying to escape

shake me up

my hands are shaking

from the old confusion i've come to know

change the feelings

toward one or the other

and feel the epic guilt

fix the broken

things that are deep

buried beneath the oceans

dive down deep

and dig them

dig up the doubts i keep

take them ashore

and hide them away

don't let me see where they are

for if i notice

where the sand has been disturbed

i'll dig till death for my doubting heart.

day sixty-five:

here i am.

i have potential.

i'm trying to push it

to the very brink.

to expand the potential

to heighten my vertical

to broaden my horizontal

here i am.

trying my hardest

to live this thing to the fullest.

i can do anything

if i just do it.

i'm trying to push myself

to the very brink,

and i think i might have

just

fallen

over

the

. e d g e .

day sixty-four: these are tears.

tears

so many of them

like an meteor shower

on a hot summer night

tears streak across my sky

and leave blazing trails of white,

clean, welcome, whiteness,

like a too hot flame

searing tears of stress

being expelled

sorrowful tears of hurt

being let go

silent tears of hatred

forcing themselves out

so many tears

slowly falling down

thank you, gravity.

day sixty-three: dancing in the dark.

there was a sky

filled with emptiness

and empty of the moon

so the sun filled it up

to the brim

(the emptiness, that is)

with warm honey and love

and there was a sky

filled with sunny love

and empty of the moon

so the sun left

because the sky was not happy

with the sticky sweet honey

and the love that did not mean much

and there was nothing left

but empty

so the moon came

with his smooth light

and livened up the sky

but not with something sticky sweet

with something smooth and cool

something like the feeling

of dancing in the dark.

day sixty-two: a fix.

i'm craving

an escape

i'm craving

moving on

i'm craving

i'm craving

there's an itch

inside

and a twitch

inside

every single time

i see a world map

there's so much

ground to cover

i'm ready to start now

i'm craving

i'm craving

leaving on a plane

just to go

there's this calling

from the waters

from the mountains

from the forests

every direction

from here

they're all begging

to be seen

to be touched

to be written about

there are people

some more ignorant

some less

than the ones i know

but ignorant or not

they're waiting to know my name

and i'd rather start now

than never start at all

and i'm an adult, right?

but i'm still a child...

but i could go, right?

but the crowd goes mild...

there's an itch

a twitch

i'm craving

a fix.

day sixty-one: the loveless life.

so here i am.

in a loveless life.

milling and mingling

laughing and being

alone

so here i am

is there a such thing?

as a loveless life

wouldn't a person just expire

without love?

so here i am

wondering what my life is now

it's not what i thought

its not really what i want

but it's my life none the less.

and everyone will say

that it's up to me

to make the most of it...

which is mostly true

but mostly not

because i'm imprisoned

inside myself.

day sixty: time won't stop.

"time is gonna go by anyways

no matter what you do, or do not do..."

a valid

simple

amazingly plain truth.

it's been said

"time waits for no man"

and "time flies

when you're having fun."

but what happens

when man is just passing time by

and what about when

you're being miserable and praying for a good time?

time still goes on,

things still happen,

and time wasted

is time that will never return

just as time well spent

is nothing but a memory.

time will go by anyways

you might as well fill it

with something meaningful.

day fifty-nine: time.

please,

don't go

wait,

we had plans!

why are you running

so quickly away?

why are you slipping

right through tightly clasped fingers?

because that

is your "job"

always moving

always changing things

forcing people

to make sacrifices...

well, what about

me?

i've sacrificed

but not enough,

i'll admit,

i miss you.

i miss having so much of you.

and so little of you.

so i'll stop wasting you:

i'll make a list

right now

and you'll make all those dreams come true.

thanks, Time, for not waiting on me

but making me run to catch up

to you.

day fifty-eight: finding it hard to breathe.

it's been a year

packed to the brim

with change

and unexpected

losses and gains

and it's been a coster

the rolling kind

that keeps your tummy

in your throat

and makes you want

to go again

because your heart

only pumps that way

when you're riding

all the loops and turns

with feet dangling

flying, literally, by the seat

of your pants

that is my day

my month

my year

and i'm still finding it

hard to breathe

in this thick atmosphere

filled with choices

and decisions

that only i shall make

and i can decided

my foolish fate

and i'll make my bed

and jump on it

i'll have my cake

and give it to the homeless

because it's not normal

to never "grow up"

it's not the "norm"

and now the "norm"

is chaos and change

and i'll join the ranks

i'll hop on the coaster

i'll let the adrenaline burst

through my red red veins

and rock the canoe

just to be with you

and to choose on my own

what i'll do

i'm still finding it

hard to breathe

in this decision filled

reality.

day fifty-seven: how to "live"

it's a strange sensation

to be told you're living life wrong

then one day

it hits you:

you're doing what is natural

what is normal

what you've been made to do

and that the people who've been telling you

how to "live"

never really lived

or maybe they did

and i'm just naive

but of this i am sure

happy is what i am

doing what i've found

that i love to do

being who i discovered i am

and loving those

i have to love

and letting go of those who have left

and it's a strange sensation

to not worry about it anymore

because i'm doing what i was made to do

and when i make my bed

i'll have to lay in it

and i may lay in it with you

but that will be okay,

because i'm doing what i'm supposed to do...

i love you.

day fifty-six: just as evil as i. 9/11

i once wrote a poem

about a terroristic act

one that shook the foundation

of my nation

one that made me question

the nature of humans

and how they can be so evil

and i wrote this poem

years ago

probably a year after the act was committed

so lets say i wrote it when i was ten

that was then

now i know more about people

and i'm understanding the nature of humans more and more

but i don't think i'll ever understand

how you could drive a plane into a building

filled with innocent people

just for sick kicks

even if they are religious convictions

there are some things that are just wrong

and sometimes i pray that God will wipe that race from the earth

then i say, "never mind, God, just save their souls

they are just as evil as i."

day: fifty-five: you aren't what i need...

i refuse to be sad

for more than three days at a time

because three days

is just enough

to go through the motions

of the depression

that sits inside my rib cage

in three days

i manage to

sleep too much

cry too much

frown when i'm alone

drown when i'm alone

by day three i need you

then it's gone

it passes on the third night

i sleep and that animalistic desire

to talk to you

that has become embedded in my brain

it vanishes...

and i am okay

when the sun comes up

there is a hope in my soul again.

and i smile.

because i have it wired into my brain

to look for a companion

sometimes i just want yours

even though i know its not what i need.

day fifty-four: what would happen?

what would happen if

i simply let loose?

if i let go of the hands

i've been told to hold

for my entire life?

what would happen if

i forgot that i remember

all the stinking rules?

what if i decided not to care?

what would happen then?

would the world crumble?

would the spinning stop?

would my world dizzy up and

fall over like a stopping top?

would it matter if i let go?

why am i even holding on?

who taught me this vice grip

that i have on things that are "right"?

who put that there?

not me.

not my problem.

not my hands.

i don't have to hold them.

what would happen

if i just didn't...?

why don't we just see

what would happen

if i did didn't.

day fifty-three: weightless.

and with that

i am seemingly

weightless

in this ocean

of hurt

i am floating

free from the terrors

of the deep, dark, sea,

i am floating

silently

just waiting to find a shore

(on which i'll be washed upon)

or an open door

(on which i'll knock and if no one answers

i will knock down, because thats what hips were made for.)

and if the door does not give

and the shore does not show up

then i'll climb a rope ladder

made from my hair

i'll climb up until i can go no further

there i will build a treehouse

out of invisible boards

that will only hold me

and my pet parakeet

(the pet i don't have...)

because i have faith

in things unseen.

and with that

i am seemingly weightless

waiting for a window of

amazingly potent opportunity.

day fifty-two: things i cant see.

i've noticed

that i can never love myself

exactly where i am in time

in the present

i look at photos and think

"whoa, i was pretty"

or read old poems and think

"man, i've got a gift"

but i never can look at something,

oh, say myself, in the mirror

and say, "whoa, there. you're beautiful."

i can imagine where i'll be

in ten, twenty, fifty years,

i see happiness

and i think

"oh, man i cannot wait to get there."

i see myself so happy that do not care

what my face looks like

or how big around my thighs are

and i think to myself

"in the course of a lifetime what does it matter?"

and i smile to myself

because i cannot wait to be there.

happy.

with me.

why cant i just be that way now?

something's wrong

with the wires in my brain

when i see a mirror

i see a scowl

i don't think happy

i think "what now?"

there's something blocking

the happy synapse in my brain

from firing this second

instead it's striking back to the beauty

and looking forward to happiness.

help?

day fifty-one: plans?

see,

there are these things

they are called plans

and we've never needed them...

so why

am i trying so hard

to plan

when i let my heart

be yours?

because i'm afraid.

i'm terrified

and i've been told that

that is the point of love

to be terrified of the newness

and the oldness and the perfection that will never be there

to be open to heartbreak

and to help one another

i'm afraid that i'll get lost

i'll lose myself in you

and i wont be able to come out

not whole, not safe, not me.

i'm terrified of

ending up like those before me

of jumping this gun

of ending... us... ever.

of being judged.

i'm basically scared

and i'm finding my faith

and my trust

and my reasons to be brave

just wait,

i'll find them soon

i can feel it in my

shaking hands

there's something just there

just out of reach

something that will make me realize

its okay for me to be

happy.

day fifty: just because?

there's a muscle

in my middle

it's called a heart

it's beating

right this second

thump

thump

thump

for you?

no.

for me?

not really.

you want it?

okay.

you want to keep it?

just be careful.

just because it's a muscle

doesn't mean its unbreakable.

just because it seems strong

doesn't mean it is.

just because:

doesn't mean anything.

day forty-nine: God said so.

something

i did

it was the hardest thing

i've ever chosen to do

but it was the right thing

God said so.

but now there's you

and staying away

is the hardest thing i'm doing now

and i don't really want to

honestly, i'd rather not

but it is the right thing to do

for right now

God said so.

day forty-eight: when i was younger

i was better

at many things

when i was younger

like loving

without question

without wondering

without doubting

like coloring

in coloring books

and not fretting

if a color i needed was missing

like accepting people

my family

my friends

without judging

like pretending

and imagining

(i'm still good

but i used to be great

i remember

but i fear it's a lost talent.)

like being blissfully unaware

of horrible truths

that fog my mind

every single day

of my adult life

things that

i was better at not knowing

when i was young

when i was younger i was better

at being ignorant

(or at least pretending to be.)

day forty-seven: us.

what are you two?

people ask

but there are no words

none at all

to describe this.

we are simply two people,

friends,

but sometimes much more,

sometimes much less,

it changes with the days

and there is simply not a name

for this blessed relationship

and who needs a name?

especially when you're as happy

as two pods in a pea.

day forty-six: curves.

i have curves

perfect curves

beautiful curves.

theres a curve here--

that touches this one here--

and theres a bend here--

that rolls into this one--

like the foothills

of a mountain range

my body is full of curves

some more prominent than others

there's this one

that is my particular favorite

because i dream that someday

there will be a person growing inside of it

and its a simple, sloping curve,

that gently touches the nurturing parts

of my body and connects them

they are for one purpose:

someday bringing another life

into the world.

some days i wonder how

that curve will grow

because there might be life behind it

someday

to push the curve

make it steeper

make it rounder

make it fuller

make it perfect

that little life

that not even my abundant curves

will contain.