Tag Archives: young writer’s project

Back – More Or Less A Placeholder

4 Dec

Inspired by a misreading of line one of stanza seven of Undue Anxiety.

When the mountains are all tucked away
Safe in some annal of my memory,
Locked in time’s grasp,
So secure that even I cannot reach them-

That is when I’ll drown in unfamiliarity.

When the trees with their autumn leaves have left me
When my eyes don’t notice the colour green I’ve always loved
When I start to pass life by-

That is when I’ll realise I made a mistake.

If I ever forget entirely,
When the windows are too fogged over…
I’ll clean a patch of glass to find
It was a mirror all along- and

That is when I’ll be too far gone.

This is why my internet turns off at eleven.

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A Look 10/13/09

13 Oct

How did you know that's just what I was waiting for?

A Look 10/3/09

3 Oct

Where are you tonight?

The lyrics are from Heart’s Alone.

A Farewell Of Sorts

3 Oct

Crossposted from YWP.

I’m not leaving. I’m just saying goodbye.

It’s always been true that
I’ve wanted more than I have.
You tell me of successes of my own
And I’ll just think of how much better
Someone else’s are.

I’ll stuff my ears with jumbled notes
Too loud; projected from earbuds
That aren’t quite as white
As they used to be.

I’ll fill my empty stomach
With the words, “Thanks, I’m fine,”
Hoping that someone, somewhere,
Will follow my example.

I’ll cry over the phone.

I’ll whisper your name,
Once upon a time,
When I still thought there was something to be gained
From commiserating with hope and wonder.

I’ll have a style – copy/paste,
Because reading has always been my thing,
And I’ve mastered synthesis.

I’ll always have an air of mystery,
Because some secrets
Are just not meant to be told;
As much as either you or me or both of us
Want them to mean that.

I’ll punch a wall or two,
Over the span of seventeen years.
[Seventeen years. Life is too long.]
My fist will bleed,
And there will be noticeable scars.
Frustratingly,
Every single one of the walls will stay intact,
Because

I’ll be intelligent enough to realize
That breaking other things
Only reflects what’s inside.

I’ll surround myself in
Untouchables, then

I’ll throw myself headfirst
Into someone else’s world of pain and suffering,
Because I’m not entirely sure
What it is that I should be feeling.

I’ll fix people
Because that’s the only thing,
In the interim,
That makes me feel
Like I’m worth something.

I’ll forget a lot of things.
All of them will be or have been important.

I’ll watch the seasons pass,
And I’ll remember how strong I once was.
I’ll admire him,
But only from there;
Recalling that beauty comes in many forms.

I’ll feel fake.
All the time.

I’ll miss you; all of you,
From my deepest hatred
To my strongest affection.

But I will never give up
Trying to find
Whatever’s out there.

And whatever’s out there, likewise,
Will always evade my grasp.

Black Board

28 Nov

Scrawling on a whiteboard hidden in the dark,
my thoughts once again on creation rather than destruction.

I still can’t comprehend why.
Why do I say these things?

Let me explain:

I enjoyed a film that day, surrounded by popcorn, siblings,
and darkness.
However corny I thought it was that the boy in this particular story
(and many others)
was worried that the last his mother would hear of him would be
“I hate you!”,
and however sure I was that goblins were not, in fact, coming to eat me and my family
(despite years of achluophobia’s teachings),
it still meant something to me then, that night,
trapped in my room not by fantastical creatures but by my own mind,
that the last thing I had said to you was,
“You’re not being logical, or fair, or, or, anything!”
Those lines echoed in my mind for hours –
and still do, etching themselves into my mind.
Because really
on a figurative level

(that’s the one that really matters, in case you’d forgotten)

they mean the same thing.

Author’s note: Some writing I did last night, on a white board (a white board that is now black because I wrote all over it, ergo title).