gloomy

Each dark hour

beached like the Nautilus

in 20,000 Leagues

on a dangerous island.

It will not go away

never moving

it's cloud hovering

more eclipse than overcast.

Bringing me to weep

and stair at the barometer again.

Going to Church (Like a Mormon Girl Should) with a Migraine

The lights
amber, but far too bright
seem to grow with a crazy hot intensity
as children grow more restless
crying
singing discordantly
squirming
somewhere, an angry buzz
like a wasp from a 1930's sci-fi thriller about Martians
drills into my brain
severing whatever devotion to faith or obedience I had left
through the painful cacophony
of screaming toddlers and general shuffling noises
that bother only those with migraines
or Fibromyalgia
(or both)
is it feedback from a mic? Someone's cell phone?
Why is it resonating above all else and shattering my head like crystal?
The electronic audio poison continues.
Bored and wiggling kiddlets still yell and assault my nerves.

I ready myself to leave,
gathering my scriptures, and lightly cursing children
but mostly cursing me and this body
that cannot abide a spirit who wants to feast.

But then
the speaker says something that I can HEAR
spiritual balm for my soul
and for a few minutes... maybe 3 or 4
I can hold on.
His words are the light at the end of the tunnel...
Or rather, since light right now is as abhorrent as noise
Cool, Rich, Darkness.
Because the Lord knows what we need
even if we only get
just enough to hold out
till the benediction
before racing home to bed and dark and meds and despair.
But maybe, just a little less despair than if we had skipped church completely?

Rx: Boys

a new thing
a new fling
is it true
probably not
but it's a diversion
a distraction
from the medical suck-life
and the fun
makes me a little bit happy
which is more
than 5 doctors
and a pile of pills
have done in weeks.

no compass

the ins and outs
of her heart
are so confusing
to her
it is no wonder
that a boy
in unfamiliar territory
would stop trying
to navigate
for want of a better path.

dream girl

if only you knew me
when i am asleep
i think you'd like me more

i kiss you harder
and softer and longer
and can tell what i'm kissing you for

when i'm asleep
the colors are brighter
but the rules seem a hazier gray

and i'm flirtier and funnier
my personality's sunnier
and it's always a crazier day

the funny thing is
i'm not typically skinnier
i think i'm the same general me

but for whatever reason
(i didn't think i was inhibited?)
i'm the person i wish i could be

i think you'd like me better
if you knew me in my sleep
at least, i know i like me better that way

if you could come with me
into my lucid dream world
i'd be happy to sleep through the day

ugly anxiety

crushing coldness
loudness, boldness

deep dark panic
near satanic

silent screaming
almost dreaming

you aren't crazy
it's not your heart.
it's just a panic attack
tearing you apart

aftershocks

When we are talking
I forget how nervous it all makes me
until after you hang up
and a delayed reaction of tremors hit me
like pounding ocean waves
and my heart screams
"No! Wait! You had it right before!
Go back! Rewind! He makes me smile,
you ass of a brain!"
But my brain doesn't listen.
She just continues to tremble,
over-think, over-analyze, and generally drowned out
the sense my heart was making
when we were still talking on the phone.

Virginia and Curtains

["I miss you, Megs." I wanted to kidnap her from that place. There were so many times I wished I could rescue Megan.]

Virginia and Curtains

Summer
but a coldness swirls inside of me
like water going down a drain.
Each figure in my life pulls a curtain
and exits
onto another platform
to far for me to reach.
My hands are bound in strings, cutting
and burning
as I fight to reach
my friends.
Alone
with hundreds of people pushing by me
anxious to get to there and make sales
but I want to hide in a broom closet
and pretend the curtains don't exist
and I will find myself with my friends
when I open my eyes again.

Grasshoppers on Speed

[Yes, a lot of these are old. Like, written in High school. I will get the new stuff here, too, eventually.]

Grasshoppers on Speed

writing poetry
is therapeutic
because as the emotions
jump around my brain
like grasshoppers on speed
the poetry
melts them
and they can seep through my arms
down to my fingers
and into the key board
and stored on a disk
like a game or term paper
emotions and thoughts
captured in an electronic cage
and I hold the key
and keep it in the bottom of my pocket
so they can't escape
and make me cry again