εὐφορία

enduring easily,
strapped onto the back of a flying whale,
spouting sprinkles and koolaid from its head,
purple stripes run down its back,
its fins are kites instead.

relax in these folds of sky,
tie-dyed and shimmering like dew.
laughing rays that stab at your skin,
it's wonderful to let love in.

grab a glowstick and run
to the technicolor horizon,
there we can rave with Jesus,
he'll pick up his robe,
and shine like the sun,
we'll dance forever,
eternity has begun.

i just laughed out loud


My apologies for this scattered poem, it's a fail, but that's alright, the point is that I wrote something.
shout outs to Gabby Sanders and Emily Caroline Anderson (for posting the ideas 'tie-dye sky' and 'technicolor rave Jesus' on facebook-- which inspired this strange poem)

merely a stuffed animal

Cotton fills the air
fills my soul
it's useless garb,
it's garbage.

dress myself in cotton
and stuff it down my throat,
we shall become lifeless
if that is what we want
if that is all we see,
if we don't shut our mouths
and throw up violently;
the poison-cotton inside our skin.

this is where new life begins.

Cotton fills the air
fills my lungs,
shall I stop breathing?
or shall I seek oxygen?

The answer seems simple,
but in all truth,

this cotton tastes like candy,
and my soothsayer soul
tells me I'll be better off
without veins; heart; mind;

but hold me now--
speak to me
so I can remember
that I have been
breathed
into;

Help me see what you see,
oh God. help me believe.

close-up

tread lightly, do not speak loudly.
behind the closed door, murders ring out,
laughter; and the light flickers,
dances--
now quiet.

i can hear his voice through the phone
held to your face,
the same things he tells to me,
he doesn't want to lose control.

I understand.

we are secluded and
recluse, hidden in the shadows of a building so weak.
we are broken and
burning, hidden in the refuge of wings, so strong.

home is where the heart is;
lie awake in the deep of night and
hear it pump--

strange, how loud blood becomes.

love will fill the air thick-- like peanut butter.

wisps
of hair
fly across my
face; ready to be
free.

tiny notes

I asked the owner of the mittins to email me and tell me where they bought them-- turns out they are from China, and they got their mittins back. I am severely dissapointed, beacuse I wanted them.

hail falling everywhere, yet no resting place,
eyes looking everywhere, yet see's not a face,
wind blowing everywhere, yet without a sound,
onslaught, onslaught, we all fall down.

hooray for halfass poetry, badly written songs and sleep.

sunshine, cupcakes & mittins

this is a beautiful day.

a friend made some cupcakes, and gave some to me.
n.n

i realized i'm not quite a failure in English.

i talked to the soon-to-be CCC president,
and nearly convinced him to buid a treehouse on CCC property.
i saw two grown men dancing in the theatre room...
i wore lace socks.

on top of all this, i found mittins.
they are hand knit, and they even have spaces to hold someones hand while you are wearing them...
i gave them to lost and found,

the security man told me to come back in sixty days (july 2nd) and he would give them to me if no one had taken them yet.

i put it in my phone calender,

i will come back for those beautiful middens.

monster

I’ve got a plank in my face; it’s bruising the spaces around my eyes.
I’ve got my fists clenched tight; I started to lose sight of the brilliant blue sky.

I’ve got a problem—I can’t lift my face on my own anymore,
I’ve gotten to be broken, my hands are tied, only Jesus can restore. 

i still feel like a monster, small grabbing claws and black eye sockets. i am saved, but i need this alter-ego stripped from me. quick.