[x]

Does that make me Different?I wear make up. Does that make me fake?
I cry. Does that make me emo?
I have male friends. Does that make me slutty?
I smile a lot. Does that make me weird?
I laugh loud. Does that make me preppy?
I have anxiety. Does that make me a freak?
I have Bipolar Disorder. Does that make me abnormal?
I respect people. I change for me, and only me. I have a past, but I know I have a future.
Does that make me different?
Maybe.
But at least it makes me
Me.

FrostbiteNumbness
I can’t feel my toes and at first I think
It’s just my toes.
I can cover them up.
I can warm them.

It spreads, like fire,
Like ice.
I glance away for a second, it seems, and my feet are cold
Pat –pat
That’s funny, I didn’t feel that
Maybe I’ll cover them up too
I’ll warm them up.

I’ll take a nap
Maybe a short rest will make it all better, warm them
Up…
What’s that? How long has it been?
My legs… are you still mine..
Why has my breath left me, short?
Has everything but deserted me?

What about you, are you still here?
Are you still with me?
Hello?
And before I can say goodbye, I think my thoughts are leaving me too –

You'll Never Understand...You'll never understand...
But I'm glad you don't.
Because that would mean
You'd have to go through my pain.
And I'd never wish that
For you.

Dear fucked society,Dear fucked up society,
Why do you take our rights?
Our human rights?
To who we love?
To who we are.. To our image?
Tell me.

You force images down our throat;
Images of airbrushed, false looking
people. You want people to look
more skinny and cause anorexia,
More along the hidden line that
you dig under the ground like
a dead forgotten body yet always there

You show us that its not right to be gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual or transgendered..
And then wonder why the suicide rate is
so fucking high. You cause the nightmares
and terrors of our family not accepting us
our

Sleeping Beautyshe’s in love with a character who
never existed but in the labyrinth of her head:
a patchwork composition of beautiful, lengthy words
she’d heard in her catatonic state; coma living
day in and day out, reliant on the salvation
of a man made of foreign wishing
and imperfection and necessity – an ignorance
of the less than ideal perception of self she’d
come to fear, absention stained romantic to the point
where daydreams were a standard for survival

(real living is for the purposeful of heart,
he loves her in her sleep)

UneditedWe cry.
We scream.
We fight for our dream.

We scream.
We cry.
We're just waiting to die.

The same emotions
with a different drive.
Sometimes dead, sometimes alive.

The same in one way,
different in another
brother and sister, sister and brother.

So close in feeling,
so different in the end.
Falling apart, or finally on the mend?

Which am I?
Will I ever know?
Fighting to stay or ready to go?

Maybe I'm both,
in some impossible way.
Emotions oddly mixed everyday.

Wouldn't surprise.
I'm such a freak.
Excuse me, I laugh, I should call it "unique"

I don't fight fair...Cut, bruised, scraped, forgotten. These things I have all been at least once in my life. But it
hasn't made me stronger, just more determined in my fight to live another day.
I know the ways of my attackers, studied their movements, learned their tricks and gleamed
their true motives. I have seen their weaknesses, their faults, theirs flaws and I have kept
them close to me, ready for use when the next time we meet.
They are cautious of me, they have weary from my adaptive ways, knowing that I can fall only
so many times. They are scared for I have the key to their defeat; not by sane ways, but by
the ways they fear to tread.
One look, one stare, one gesture and they will run in fear for the truth is upon them: "I won't
live restrained anymore."
"I have seen your errors an played on them like strings on a violin. Moved you to place were I
make the rules. Put you on display for all to see what you have done, and what will be done."

You ha

Happily AloneHonesty,
She does not have,
Personalities,
She has many of them.

A million shields,
a million personalities,
She's always changing,
to fit every person around her.

If one were to ask why,
she would answer with,
I will never reveal my weaknesses,
because she's evil.

She hates everyone,
stupider than her is barely tolerable,
smarter than her is too scary,
She hates it all.

She leaves the world behind,
To one she has dreamt of,
No color,
nobody else.

Then,
she will smile,
why,
because she is truly happy alone.

She is not evil,
She does not hate you,
She is not dishonest,
She simply wants to be alone.

lifelinesI fear the sound of sparrows
and the density of leaves
against dew-muffled blades
of grass,

and I'm drowning
in the sky.

My skin has learned how
to peel itself off
without causing a commotion
in my marrows or
even show the slightest hint
of pain,
and my heart has learned how
to hush the stars in their wake
and keep it all a secret.

There's a sea in my mouth
and I can't swim.

There are lifelines
cast like these and it will
all end with the same tragedy.

the carbon footprint of an arsonistyour crystal promise
rings drip off your glacial
fingers into global

nothings. the geodesic
dome you used to live in
is a hell you keep

clean-shaven and concentric,
spiraling away from you,
wrapping your unborn

children up in paper goblets.
for minimum wage, any geryon
would cling to the terza rima

inkblots on your
collarbones, his spongy molars
diving into your right

angles, his familiar laughs
killing your skin with
shivering cuddles and you

shudder, being self-diagnosed
at center of the universe,
your hair a nest of radio

waves, the one cosmic
principle drumming on the ancient
heart of mystery.

but amateur porn always
made you cry

We are the King and Queen of Broken DreamsStanding still in a mine field, staring at all we have left.
We were so young, we didn’t stop to think.
Now we’re in a car crash, teetering on the brink.
If you were to leave me now, I don’t know what I’d do.

It was a whirl wind romance,
A light when all was black, a spark of something when all was bleak.
You swept me off my feet and made me feel brand new.
I thought we could live forever and I’m certain you did to.

We built a house without foundations
And now we’re falling down,
Everything’s crumbling around us, time slipping through out fingertips.
People used to walk past us but they were to drunk to see,
That our lives are coming apart around us, there is no light as far as we can see.

There was no fire to start with,
Just two broken things, the world had left behind.
The casualties of other people’s dreams of power, money and control,
Spat out onto the curb to rot away and die.
We never stood a chance or so

of seafoam thronesFrom Atlas’ hands she wept to me,
atop Africas and South Atlantics;

this is one situation unaffected by
ember eyes and windy lashes
(it has no anatomy).

You are sparrows stranded
in tiny crevices and cliffside love,
though you rebuke flight
in the fear of chipping feathers.

So what do you do?

You reach for my soul,
coveting flight with shaking
dainty arms…

and perhaps I’ll let you:
With flytrap lips and
glass shaped hips…
you are unfit for anything but
sight.

(But beauty isn’t everything)

The WaitingBones hang from trees
Hollow windchimes rattling
In the sullen breeze

Dark clouds make noonday dusk
Rusted buttons on threadbare coats
Sorrow drips like rain

(From the fingertips of this dead-rose day)

Hoofprints kill the grass
Where the dark horse steps
The rider unsmiling

The tired and ill amble about
Cattle awaiting the shoulder tap
To sleep, but not to dream

(To become whatever the second birth dictates)

Ashes on the SandWe put you in
a crystal box
small enough for me
to hold in my
hands
(and that thought gives me
chill bumps)
The tide was high
where we took you
and I remember thinking
how pointless it was
(you were just going to wash
up on the shore)
Everyone was quiet
and some people cried
and as you were tossed
out to sea like so
many grains of sand
I thought how much
I missed you
(Now I think how much
I hate you
for leaving)

A Charmed LifeDoll-faced men and sinkholes, ancient tombstones
Leaves piled ankle-deep, falling down
Old wells, old graves, old friends lost
Pirate adventures in Neverland
Don't go into that barn

Ponchoboy and Rangergirl rise from the ashes
From the cold river, from afar
Remember before they were born, how they
Held hands and jumped into the world
Don't go into that school

Ladybugs, pennies, notes from the dead sun eclipse
Scrape the inside of your skull for clues
All the old dreams are still there, petrified
You are a rock of ages gibbering
Don't go into that factory

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More from ~GeminiPsyche

SoggyHe never saw it coming. Like good things in life claim to, it came to the boy waiting, waiting for the school bus to come, waiting for his mom and new sister to come home, waiting to graduate, waiting to grow up—waiting. It would be said about him that he was the boy who could wait forever as long as he knew what he was waiting for. But he never saw it coming.
His bowl sat on the steps, the grains inside growing soggier by the minute. He hated soggy cereal. Around the bowl, spots of milk were soaking into the hardwood panels.
The school bus had been early that morning. It was parked, not in its usual spot across the road from his house, but a ways down the road. Its flashing lights were overpowered and ignored by the ear-splitting siren calls. Neighbors milled about, moving their lips instead of their feet—or their eyes. They never stopped staring. With each passing moment, the crowd grew.
A broken man sat on the curb across the road from the school bus with his face in his

What is it...?Is it "empty" if you were never filled with anything
before you became
filled with nothing?
Is it still "alone" if you were never
a part of something
that existed
in the absence of
the only person
who ever showed up?
Is it still "life"
if you don't feel
alive,
and continually
die on the inside?

Rent me a room in your left ventricle...What good is a heart if one does not
Utilize its chambers
And vaults
And valves
And hallways,
To hold stories,
To hide secrets,
To invite friends in
When they have nowhere else to go ...?

What good is the human brain
If one does not
Exercise its muscle
By solving problems,
By fixing hearts that have become to full
With secrets,
Or have been empty for too long?

What good is the human body
If one does not
Stretch its arms around another,
Help another up when they have fallen,
Sit with those who cannot yet stand?

What good am I
If I don't
Take your pain away
When it becomes too much for you to handle?
If I don't
Help you to see the reflection
That shows the real you?

What good are we,
Any of us,
And what good is a brain
And a heart
If nothing is meant to be shared?

Untitled.I feel like I’m becoming more “me” than I used to be—
Before, I was afraid of “me”,
So I would just say
“I don’t know who I am” –
Or maybe I really didn’t know…
And this is my journey to self-discovery?
Maybe I’m just putting together pieces of people
I know I like…
Whatever it is that I’m doing…

I think I like who it’s allowing me to become.

BulletproofI’d like to think that I am
Bulletproof.
But the truth is,
I’m simply a glass
Half shattered
For different reasons altogether.

The Season Before The SnowBillowing
through the curtains, the wind tried to whisper to her. Secrets she
needed to hear, secrets that scared her. She turned her head away, and
the whispers feel on deaf ears. Vengeance - the chilling fingers
grasped her skin, to the bone she shivered. Fear creeping in through
every pore, stealing her bravado, steeling her blood.
She turned back to see the spirits mocking her false courage, enticing her with
the secrets she longed to fear. Amber spells at their fingertips and
shriveled curses at their command - theirs was the season of curses,
the season of death.
Before this, before tonight she was someone else.
Never had the thought crossed her mind that this season could be
anything but pain. But everything changed the night she saw him. In the
cluster of fall spirits - everything changed the moment she began to
listen. She had never given any thought to the season before the
snow...

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Submitted: December 17, 2012
Submitted with: Sta.sh Writer

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[x]

Admit It

by ~GeminiPsyche, Dec 17, 2012, 9:54:21 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

I’ve seen us

Together.

Not “together” like two people

walking down the street

at the same time;

“together” like

two people

sharing the same breath

after sharing a kiss.

I’ve imagined what a future

would be like

if it were you and I.

We’re the types

that could keep the fire

going long after

the coals had been

burned up and become ash.

I could pick your brain

for ages, dates, and historical facts…

I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.

You don’t have to,

It would be nice you did, though…

Haven’t you ever thought the same,

even for a second?

Admit Itby ~GeminiPsyche

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

Have you, even for a moment?

This ... this is proof that those awkward friends-not-quite-friends moments still occur in my daily life. Woohoo...

~YogaTeacher Mar 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This is very good piece, resonates with me right now... my friend, who I've often thought this about, just told me he was gay, but he also said if he weren't we'd be together. This is such a common, bittersweet scene... you have the emotions well.

~GeminiPsyche Apr 21, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you so much. I'm sorry it too me this long to see your comment.

Also, a hug for you.

~VanitasRocks Dec 23, 2012 Student Writer

Definitely your best and certainly one of the most moving pieces you've written! Awesome!

~JamrocKid Dec 18, 2012 Professional General Artist

I can second that

. This is really good...

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