All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
I threw stones at the sky,
and all the stars fell.
Tied up, empty, desolate earth girl
who has tasted Heaven and Hell.
Yet, I harbor no hard feelings-
I grew strong in the flame,
In tip-top shape with lips
that burned and crackled like coals
and words that spit like sparks.
I nurtured the wildfire in my throat,
let it fill my chest cavities and inhaled deeply.
I grew young in the light,
tick-tock drip-drop thoughts that invigorate me but
I didn't grow tall like the other girls,
I grew into myself.
I planted a garden in my body,
lined my lungs with flowerbeds and
watered them with Lousianna sweet tea
and long day dark memory vodka,
burning the nights away.
I shook strong and victorious above
New York City,
a bottle in hand and a masterpiece in my eyes.
I streaked the skyline of our world,
and licked up lost lovers who
just wanted to find their way home.
I smeared yellow taxi cabs into
the street and warped skyscrapers
with one touch of my icicle fingertips.
I grasped the injustice and the agony of our world,
and planted it deep in the soles of my feet;
my rage will be my undoing,
fire and ice fighting in my chest.
I have developed a cough,
hacking and dry like the desert inside of me
that battles the tundra in the pit of my stomach.
I am girl, reinvented:
like a gentle dettachment to m childhood,
an easy disregard for youth,
lost in the nostalgia for her hand.
I want her fingertips on my desert-dry diseased lips
one last time,
one last hit of heaven before I go home,
to broken bottle barbed wire beds and hallways
dripping with unsaid words.
I have tattoed tales inside my lips,
and locked soliloquoies under my tounge,
waiting to be discovered;
but no one is looking
for a broken home, a haunted house, a shack rattled from
an earthquake and left decrepit in shambles,
enduring the aftershocks in some
eternal scuff mark.
Each time I shift,
I feel the dirt between my ribs loosen.
It compacts when I right myself,
and I choke on the realization
I am being buried alive.
I am just holding on for tonight,
in sleepy Pittsburgh twilight with
nowhere to hide.
I wake up with more stale poem broken promise empty eyed words
and less sanity.
But I pour paint on my face to make myself pretty,
practice keeping my voice normal and breathing in deeply,
rehearse blinking like I can tell the difference between light and dark
and walk out into my world,
my acres of twilight stretched taut over a city.