June

The last days of school always have an air about them. Nobody works or cares but in the back of their minds their stressed about exams or the fact that they don't care. Your conscience insists that you should be concerned but the sun insists that you shouldn't. It's loud and quiet at the same time and the halls are dark but it's bright. Everyone's tired and are waking up with confidence and playfulness all at once. It's a transition and a strange time, anything can happen. Things that have layed dormant for 10 months are forced to get up and act. Time is ticking by and kids are crossing off the days in their own way. Summer is a time of separation and with it creeping closer people make decisions, either speak your mind or miss me. You need to miss me, maybe it'll be good for you. Next year is your last chance before I'm gone forever, I start my life while your still here to think about me. For others it'll be too late, their doing their lasts this week. It's goodbye for so many friends, last hugs and frivolous promises. Next year won't be the same without them. It hasn't really sunk in yet but it will that first day back and I have nobody squealing, hugging me, welcoming me back and making me feel loved. I'll never have that again, it was easy with them, I didn't have to try...they talked to me and I didn't have to try, nothing was awkward. The lasts days of school aren't really school, it's what school should be. It's a place where anything can happen. It's a learning environment and not the shit you read in books that changes with every century but the real life.

Dream

What if I just ran up and kissed you? What would you do? Would you even flinch? What would happen after? Anything?

You Make Me Crazy

I'm writing this not only because I want to but I have to. It's the will of my hand and cry of my heart. This disregarded half piece of blank paper needs to be written on. It's paper and paper has to be filled, with thought, emotion, confessions, I need you Dreams I want you. It was just sitting here, in my book, blank. It can't be blank. Fill it up! As long as there are thoughts in your head there should never be a blank piece of paper. I'm writing at 11:30 because it was screaming at me. An alarm or the weight in the back of my head. Fill me up! This is what you do to me. You make me CRAZY! I want you. because of you I must write. I HAVE to or I'll explode. I want you and only you. I can't jump I'm too chicken, call me a coward if you must at least it'll be a word in my direction. I want to see you in those rugby shorts running in the sun without a shirt. I want to be near your arrogant confidence. I want to see every expression on your freckled face especially your intensely sexy face. The one you look at me with when I turn up in a different place and I surprise you, but it's much more than surprise. The one you use when you think I'm not looking. I want your arms. I want your big plump lips. I want your hand in mine. I need your arms around me. I need your presence, I need to see you. Come on! Leave me alone, it's late. Let me sleep. Oh let me sleep. But I can imagine me running my finger tips along your chest and your firm hands holding my arms. Hands are the greatest thing in the world. I'd run them through your hair. You'd run them down my back. You haunt my dreams as the tyrant, the angel and my sin all in one night. Over and Over. My heart keeps racing, I never sleep. This is what you do to me. You make me write at midnight, you make me sweat at daybreak and you make me weak in the sunlight.

Be a Man

Maybe he doesn't look at me. Is it all a mistake? Am I going insane? Yes. Is my life so boring I've made up a love that doesn't exist? Am I making something out of nothing? Every cell of logic in my body says there's nothing here or there. But every cell of dreamer tells me it's all there, he keeps looking. Too bad the dreamer side is twice the size of logic. So I'm stuck here on the rollercoaster because it just keeps going, not stopping to let me off. I could jump and break every bone in my body, lay there until someone picks me up gingerly. Or I could wait until it runs out of gas. If I jump I can heal, eventually, and it'll be over. I'll be in control. If I stay I'll die on the circle of little hills going round and round, up and down. There is another alternative but I doubt it'll ever happen. He's not a big enough person. Come on, be a man. Hit the breaks and let me off. Whether you let me walk away or we go on more rides, I'll have my life back. I'll be free. Stop being selfish you ass. Be a man.

Gone Forever

Gone forever
What is that?
Forever doesn't register,
My brain is too small.
Not coming back?
Ever
In the rest of your lonely life
Not once will you,
ever
Gone forever
Or never had it in the first place?

Stressed

Tempting, very temping.
I could run and keep running. Through rain, snow, scorching heat I'll keep running. Maybe my sneakers will wear out and I'll be running in bare feet. Maybe I'll step on a piece of glass and keep slamming it down on the pavement, pushing it further into the leathery flesh of my soul. It might leave a bloody footprint, a red trail. Maybe I'll eventually bleed out, lose too much blood, slowly lose my colour, lose my breath. That's when I'll stop.
I could stay in bed, my warm, soft bed. Maybe I'll lock the door and let nobody in or out. I'll stay in the dark, in my bed. Maybe I won't eat anything and slowly watch m face become hollow, my cheek bones protrude from under my dark purple eyes. Maybe I'll lay there until I lose all muscle mass and not be able to get up, even if I wanted to. It's too late. I'll keep breathing shallow and slowly...slower. That's when I'll stop.
I could go swimming, in the ocean. Maybe I'll try and get to Britain, keep kicking. Maybe I'll get tired and slow down but I'll keep wading. Maybe I'll hit a storm and the angry waves will grow higher around me, dunking me under before I can catch a breath. Maybe the bitch will swallow me up and even if the she calms, maybe I'll be so drained of strength I'll slowly sink to the bottom. Breathing water and forgotten. That's when I'll stop.
I could keep writing. Ignore it all. The eyes, the people, the work, the hospital, the marks, the alarm. Maybe I'll keep writing and get it all out, screaming. Maybe the paper will be gray and smudged. Maybe my hand will cramp and my arm will burn. Maybe I'll finally cry. Maybe I'll kill the Nazi, the Hitler. Maybe after seeing she'll drink the poison. Maybe I'll stab my jugular with a sharp pencil and the lead will run through my viens. Maybe my blood will spew from my neck until there's nothing left. Maybe it'll fill my lungs and over flow into my mouth. Maybe it'll taste salty. That's when I'll stop.
Tempting, very tempting.