Note Before Reading
With Covid preventing live music, I've only gotten to play my EP once. And with school, I haven't had the chance to be in the studio much. But, I've still been writing. Most of these poems are things I couldn't fit into songs. Maybe I'll use pieces of them in lyrics, I don't know. But, it's something to give you guys between albums and with all the Covid craziness. I'll be posting one poem a week and, if I don't die of embarrassment before it's over, maybe I'll write some more. It's free-verse style so nothing fancy, but I hope it resonates with you.
CEILING
We live in a world of grays.
I’ve come to accept that the only beauty people see is in light and shadows. So, I bump up the contrast, hoping to be appreciated for that form of aesthetic. The kind that is already existent and predictable, but for some reason the most memorable.
I alone live in world of blues and stars.
Of colors people can’t see and I don’t know how to explain. If I could just open the ceiling of my head and let people fall in, would they want to stay? But the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t invite people inside my mind. My only hope is they see the welcome signs in my windows on display.
I paint the inside of my mind in galaxies and waves.
In forgotten sketches and embarrassing thoughts spilled onto pages stacked so high that I can’t even climb to re-read. My clumsy, stream-of-conscious words strung together in a frenzy of emotion necessary to stumble into some form of sanity.
I hang up these words, these paintings, in my windows, waiting for someone to look in and see me. But people walk past because they don’t see the colors I do; And to them my paintings in light blue look like pale gray and white smudges not due attention. My black and white words with inky typewriter blotches are too small for anyone from a distance to care.
I gave up sitting by the window, watching passersby walk past my signs and my masterpieces with pieces of my soul that are never seen for what they are. Now, I leave them in the window and return to the center of my home, staring at the watery sky that makes my ceiling. I fall into it, breathing in the stardust and floating without a need to stand.
I wish people would come into my house sometime. But they keep walking past my signs because they don’t understand.
I’ve come to accept that the only beauty people see is in light and shadows. So, I bump up the contrast, hoping to be appreciated for that form of aesthetic. The kind that is already existent and predictable, but for some reason the most memorable.
I alone live in world of blues and stars.
Of colors people can’t see and I don’t know how to explain. If I could just open the ceiling of my head and let people fall in, would they want to stay? But the door is locked from the outside, so I can’t invite people inside my mind. My only hope is they see the welcome signs in my windows on display.
I paint the inside of my mind in galaxies and waves.
In forgotten sketches and embarrassing thoughts spilled onto pages stacked so high that I can’t even climb to re-read. My clumsy, stream-of-conscious words strung together in a frenzy of emotion necessary to stumble into some form of sanity.
I hang up these words, these paintings, in my windows, waiting for someone to look in and see me. But people walk past because they don’t see the colors I do; And to them my paintings in light blue look like pale gray and white smudges not due attention. My black and white words with inky typewriter blotches are too small for anyone from a distance to care.
I gave up sitting by the window, watching passersby walk past my signs and my masterpieces with pieces of my soul that are never seen for what they are. Now, I leave them in the window and return to the center of my home, staring at the watery sky that makes my ceiling. I fall into it, breathing in the stardust and floating without a need to stand.
I wish people would come into my house sometime. But they keep walking past my signs because they don’t understand.
WORLD OF STRANGERS
Let me drive away from here.
Straight into a world of strangers.
Where I can be free to finally be myself,
Not having to meet peoples’ expectations.
People always want us to stay the same,
To never change. But the only consistent
Thing about myself is that I’m always changing.
I collect fragments of photographs and speeches. Of stories and magazines and I absorb them into me. I get bored of the old editions of myself and want to rewrite things.
One lifetime isn’t enough to be everything I want to be.
Straight into a world of strangers.
Where I can be free to finally be myself,
Not having to meet peoples’ expectations.
People always want us to stay the same,
To never change. But the only consistent
Thing about myself is that I’m always changing.
I collect fragments of photographs and speeches. Of stories and magazines and I absorb them into me. I get bored of the old editions of myself and want to rewrite things.
One lifetime isn’t enough to be everything I want to be.
LET THINGS HAPPEN
I don’t know why but I just let things happen to me. Maybe it’s the rules of survival still burned into my skin. Rules from when I was a kid that remind me:
Stay silent.
Don’t question.
Just stand still and take it.
But I’ve swallowed more words than I’ve spoken and some days I wonder if that’s how it should’ve been.
I’ve experimented with fighting back, with speaking up and standing strong on broken bones. I’ve tried apologies and humble gazes fallen toward the floor hoping to be unseen and unknown.
Neither end up making me feel happy or proud.
Someone always gets hurt. It doesn’t matter if they hurt me first. I refuse to treat them how they treat me. But I don’t know how to stop them from continuing to be who they’ll always be.
Do I walk away?
Do I stand and take it?
Do I fight back then feel guilty because I’m no better than them?
Most of the time when I don’t know what to do, I go back to my default – which is to accept things as they are. To let things happen and adapt. But will my inaction be the death of the things that matter to me?
I say I can swallow more of people’s hate but how long will I have this immunity? How long before my fists rise and I ruin things?
Does it take losing yourself to keep the things you love or can we find a way to still maintain our integrity?
Stay silent.
Don’t question.
Just stand still and take it.
But I’ve swallowed more words than I’ve spoken and some days I wonder if that’s how it should’ve been.
I’ve experimented with fighting back, with speaking up and standing strong on broken bones. I’ve tried apologies and humble gazes fallen toward the floor hoping to be unseen and unknown.
Neither end up making me feel happy or proud.
Someone always gets hurt. It doesn’t matter if they hurt me first. I refuse to treat them how they treat me. But I don’t know how to stop them from continuing to be who they’ll always be.
Do I walk away?
Do I stand and take it?
Do I fight back then feel guilty because I’m no better than them?
Most of the time when I don’t know what to do, I go back to my default – which is to accept things as they are. To let things happen and adapt. But will my inaction be the death of the things that matter to me?
I say I can swallow more of people’s hate but how long will I have this immunity? How long before my fists rise and I ruin things?
Does it take losing yourself to keep the things you love or can we find a way to still maintain our integrity?
BLUE EYELINER
Today I’m wearing blue eyeliner.
It’s an idea I’ve played around with for almost a year.
I’ve saved it to Pinterest Boards and taken screen shots of magazines where it’s worn by models.
I’ve had it in my Amazon cart for months but can’t get up the courage to buy it.
For something so stupid as a different color on my eyelid, you’d think I wouldn’t overthink this much.
But my mind tugs on my sleeve, saying other people might believe
It’s too loud or avant-garde and I should just hold off.
A week ago, I decided on a whim to buy it. I could always try it on and if it’s too much, hide it. I brush it on one eye when I’m alone in my room – the door locked in case someone came in unannounced.
It’s just what I thought it would be and I smile in surprise. I quickly wipe it off and put it away for a while. After getting up the courage to try, now the courage to wear it outside will take some more time.
I hate that it took me a week to wear it to a bookstore. A store full of strangers and not friends because that would be easier.
I hate that I approach every new thing I love like blue eyeliner. Dream about it for a while, get up the courage and keep it a secret once I actually try it. I’ll love it and get excited, but am so afraid of people thinking I’m strange or stupid, so I hide it.
What’s wrong with a thin line of blue on my eyes? Why is something so stupidly small so terrifying for me to show other people?
Imagine how I deal with the bigger things. Like drawings and songs and shirts and feelings. Why are my doubts about what I love always so crippling?
Maybe it’s because of responses I’ve gotten in the past that still stick with me. But the idea of that makes me angry – that I would let some mean words from my childhood inhibit me in such a way that I can’t even change the color of my eyeliner without being afraid.
People say I’m not scared of anything. I’ve jumped out of a plane, been shot up in the sky with only a harness to contain me. But all the small things are suffocating. It’s why I want to get lost in a world of people I don’t know. That way I can finally be me without always questioning how I’ll be seen.
But maybe I just need to learn to change my initial instincts. Maybe I could find a way to breath surrounded by people who know me. Or maybe one day I’ll try, then get the same responses they used to give me. And I’ll retreat once again and go away to my world of strangers where it’s safe and I’m free.
At least this week I tried something. I mustered up the courage for one of those terrifying little things. And I like how it felt.
I hope someone else doesn’t change that.
Maybe if I could learn how to fight back, I wouldn’t let them. But I accept things too quickly and adapt. And I’m left without the colorful things I love for sake of other peoples’ impressions.
It’s an idea I’ve played around with for almost a year.
I’ve saved it to Pinterest Boards and taken screen shots of magazines where it’s worn by models.
I’ve had it in my Amazon cart for months but can’t get up the courage to buy it.
For something so stupid as a different color on my eyelid, you’d think I wouldn’t overthink this much.
But my mind tugs on my sleeve, saying other people might believe
It’s too loud or avant-garde and I should just hold off.
A week ago, I decided on a whim to buy it. I could always try it on and if it’s too much, hide it. I brush it on one eye when I’m alone in my room – the door locked in case someone came in unannounced.
It’s just what I thought it would be and I smile in surprise. I quickly wipe it off and put it away for a while. After getting up the courage to try, now the courage to wear it outside will take some more time.
I hate that it took me a week to wear it to a bookstore. A store full of strangers and not friends because that would be easier.
I hate that I approach every new thing I love like blue eyeliner. Dream about it for a while, get up the courage and keep it a secret once I actually try it. I’ll love it and get excited, but am so afraid of people thinking I’m strange or stupid, so I hide it.
What’s wrong with a thin line of blue on my eyes? Why is something so stupidly small so terrifying for me to show other people?
Imagine how I deal with the bigger things. Like drawings and songs and shirts and feelings. Why are my doubts about what I love always so crippling?
Maybe it’s because of responses I’ve gotten in the past that still stick with me. But the idea of that makes me angry – that I would let some mean words from my childhood inhibit me in such a way that I can’t even change the color of my eyeliner without being afraid.
People say I’m not scared of anything. I’ve jumped out of a plane, been shot up in the sky with only a harness to contain me. But all the small things are suffocating. It’s why I want to get lost in a world of people I don’t know. That way I can finally be me without always questioning how I’ll be seen.
But maybe I just need to learn to change my initial instincts. Maybe I could find a way to breath surrounded by people who know me. Or maybe one day I’ll try, then get the same responses they used to give me. And I’ll retreat once again and go away to my world of strangers where it’s safe and I’m free.
At least this week I tried something. I mustered up the courage for one of those terrifying little things. And I like how it felt.
I hope someone else doesn’t change that.
Maybe if I could learn how to fight back, I wouldn’t let them. But I accept things too quickly and adapt. And I’m left without the colorful things I love for sake of other peoples’ impressions.