unnatural

unatural
erily warm, like haunted yellow paint
cracked, and faded on a wall.
The pictures seem so perfect
so graceful and beautiful
so tidy, unblemished
so honest and open
yet,
our air, like those walls
is dirty, embrassed,
akward and bruised
polluted with lies
and fogged with tension.

The Void

I remember that night
it was my mom's birthday
we talked for hours
What do you want to be when you grow up?
No idea. You?
Me neither. What do you want to do?
Travel. See Itally, Austrailia, London,
Norway.
I want to see The Void.
Where's that?
The place between the conscious and the subconscious.
Why do you want to go there?
Because I'm tired of here.
I understand that feeling. Well, I don't understand it. But I know it.
I want to let everything fall away.
Don't we all.
I wish I could. Just wake up in a new world. Where I can start over
Bring me back a T-Shirt.
I'm serious.
I know.

I remember the next morning, too.
I poured out my cereal.
Turned on the news,
There you were.
The last time I saw you, I was all in black.
My heart seemed to beat slower,
as my dark hazel eyes met your cold, pale eyelids.
I hope you've found your Void
and it's all you wished it to be.
But we'll never know,
will we?

poem #8

On the outside
looking in
don't know where we left off
or where to begin

trying to grow up
yearning to fit in
searching for the meaning,
or maybe, just the end

fake smiles surrounding
as if the walls are closing in
ever present feeling of drowning
in this haunted world of sin.

The Mask

Please,
just loo, and see
that the person you are judgeing
is not me.
The me you seek
lives behind a mask
of lies and hollow truths
and only shows its face
when I sit on my bed,
in my oversized shirt
and bleed from my fingers
my heartbreaks and hurts.