eighty six

I'm finding it hard

To stay silent these days 

When there's so much to say

But I can't seem to tell you any of it

Because I have all this good and bad news

It burns a hole in my chest like money in my pocket

And it eats away at my intestines, an incurable parasite,

I have all these things that I'm wanting to tell

And the only one I'm wanting to tell is you

---

If something were to happen to me

I like to hope you'd be the one to remember me

Exactly like I was, 

No stupidity or sluttiness or recklessness,

Just me.

Yes, the depressed, hopeless romantic who came over uninvited,

But also the honest, lonely writer who liked the little things

And cold weather.

If something were to happen to you

I know for a fact that I would remember you

Exactly as you were,

My person, my sister, my second home,

That is,

If a home can have eyes that sparkle like a good dream

eighty five

I am coughing up words like a virus, Mom

I visited a doctor and took off work, Mom

There is a bag of cough drops and fog outside, Mom

I don't know what to do with my head these days, Mom

Since repetition is therapy, I'll say it again, Mom

I'm wanting you back in a chorus of 4/4 time and useless rhyming syllables, Mom

These days Jennifer is cut to the crap mom

She's gotten to where she knows me like the back of her hand mom

Aunt Wendi is breakfast table wisdom mom

Mrs. Grey and Mrs. Snyder are safe place moms

Nana is the name on my tongue when I'm sick mom

But none of them replace you perfectly, Mom

I want you to be a part of my life again, Mom

I want to talk to you and let you give me advice, Mom

Help me pick out a prom dress and even tell me what to wear, Mom

Nothing feels the same around Christmas without a mom

eighty four

I am doubtful
I will ever be able to write like I used to.
My guitar gathers dust in the corner of my bedroom
Because I cannot come to terms with my voice,
And I stare out into the fog
Trying to simply explain it
But everything makes my eyes
Collapse in on themselves
In liquid road rage and salt,
I am in in control of it
I am not in charge of it

eighty three

"I will be with you in the nighttime when it's through
I'll go anywhere with you"

Passenger

eighty two

It happened in a phone conversation.

"Dad, can I go to prom?"

"I don't see why not," he said, and that was it. I bought my ticket, and now Em and I look at dresses online and talk about how kick-butt we'll be.

I guess it's not that big of a deal, an ordinary high school rite-of-passage that mostly everyone won't miss out on. I guess there will be crappy music and crappy food. But I just like dressing up and going places.

And I guess I thought that my mom would be helping me dress-shop. We would have a budget and Dillard's would be the first stop, but we wouldn't buy anything there, because it's too mainstream. It might have taken a while with her being ultra-opinionated, but in the end we would find that perfect dress. It would be like love, how everyone says you just know when you've found the one.

But now I go over to Em's couch and gawk over chiffon, or shop in stores with Emalie dragging me away to remind me of the Sonic I bribed her with.

All of a sudden it's not as exciting as I imagined.

eighty one

I don't think I'm going to be afraid anymore
I don't think I'm going to hate living anymore

I know it's easier said than done
But people say that a lot

eighty

I don't think you know
How much you mean
To me

seventy nine

When you find what you're searching for,
Please don't forget.
Please don't forget
The way my hand felt in yours
And the way your chlorine smell
Got all over my sweatshirt,

You know,
Someday I think it will all be worth it,
But my heart still bleeds a little when I scratch at it

seventy eight

Hold your breath for a moment--
Then you'll see how I feel
Bracing myself for the inevitable,
Toiling under soiled sky
Breeding an unfixable daydream

seventy seven

The sameness kills me

The way you are stagnant

In your suffering

Maybe if you died

You would be at peace

Even though I wouldn't.

I learned today

That Charlie had to grow up fast--

And they shamed him into silence

So that's why

He doesn't say much

But he is so kind

And I know that Jenny

Hasn't had it easy

Especially when her mom died

Yet she sees the best in people

Somehow

Maybe,

If you left

I'd have reason to be sad

Instead of lingering in your hospital

Aimlessly

Maybe

I could learn to be kind

And see the best in people.

I've been told it's okay

To give you permission,

So even though you don't understand,

Maybe God will take this poem as a prayer.

It's okay. Don't be afraid to hurt me. You can go home.

seventy six

I don't know why I'm here. I could blame it on the traffic, or the fact that I'm lost, or on sheer rebellion, but at some point during the drive I must have subconsiously decided to come here. There's way too much mocha in this fappuchino I'm drinking, but I'm also missing her way too much, so it balances out. I guess the hospital validates my sadness.

The man in the parking garage elevator addressed me. "How are you doing today?" He asked.

"Alright," I replied, and I think I was staring at the numbers counting down the floors.

"You look sad," he said, "the hospital's a sad place."

It was at this point I teared up. "Yeah, I know my way around here way too well."

Now I am alone in Truett café listening to doctors chatter behind me. I don't understand how they do it-- work here. The stench of death and sanitizer is overwhelming and all I can think about is the months I spent here and how I miss my nana's hugs and how I hope God doesn't let her suffer much longer.

Mrs. Carla talks about quality of life, and assures me it's okay to feel this way. It helps a little.

I wish that I could get out of this place. I wish that I too could die. But then again I want to go home, I want to do my schoolwork, and I want to go to bed. The only disruption is the way her footsteps sound on the hardwood and how I can't understand her words.

Remind me why I'm here again? Right- I'm lost. And there's decent wifi.

I'm scared I won't get home in time to cover this up; I'm scared someonr will notice me again. I'm scared that this agony will never end.

I'm know I won't get her back again. Turns out the worst fears aren't even fears at all.

Portrait

Emalie: "ASS-ASS-IN'S CREED"

Me: "BUTT-BUTT-IN'S CREED"

seventy five

And every day
Begins the same
You're watching things
You don't understand,
You're saying things
We can't understand,
I'm not sure if you're passing
Faster or slower,
I'm not sure why our country
Is falling deeper and deeper,
I can't wrap my head around
The things that I'm seeing
And this life that I'm leading
I'm just surviving right now
Fighting for air right now
And every day
Begins the same
Another feeling,
Another change
Another inadequacy,
Another face
Another person I can't replace

Another sickeness I can't fix
Another love I can't reach
And I'm learning all the lessons they couldn't teach me
But it doesn't feel as good as I thought it would be

seventy four

I'm not sure anymore
Whether I'm okay
Or I've just gotten used to the way
Drowning feels.
The agony of her suffering
Never fails to make me sad,
I haven't prayed in a while,
Because I don't know how to pray for her.
I don't know if it will change much.
It's not lack of faith,
I only wonder if His plan is different than mine.
I miss her even more as Christmas comes around, a Christmas that will be more painful than the last.
It's getting easier for me to focus on the blessings,
But nothing changes the fact that she is dying,
Some days faster than others,
And no amount of blessings can shift my focus
When I have to see her daily struggling to stay alive.

When will it come?
Will I be with her or away?
Will Ben have to see?
Will it tear my dad apart?
Will Nana be by my side?

If I stop asking questions, I stop preparing myself.
I don't trust myself to be okay anymore,
I don't trust myself to be strong anymore.

Courtesy of my Brother

"I triple dog dare you to name your child Obadiah."

"Yaknow what my favorite game is? Call of DOOTY."

Me: "me too! I like Call of Dooty: Advanced Laxatives."

Insults with Ben 2.0

Me: *brings dad home a frappuchino*

Ben: "dangit baylie, he's trying to LOSE weight, not gain it!"

Insults with emalie (the part of the show where emalie comes out and insults people)

"If you weren't my sister I would noooooot be your friend" *giggles*

seventy three

"And I thought you loved the clouds
So tell me of a place that you just wanna go"

Raury

seventy two

When she said "love you too"
I thought about how
Her cares were followed with
A chorus of "not right now's"

seventy one

If my footsteps had been heartbeats,
They would have fizzled out by the end of the sidewalk
Like the way your words fade away when you realize no one is listening.
I'm not sure what your heartbeat would have sounded like that night
But I have a feeling it felt like the hesitant wind through the trees
That couldn't quite ignore the falling leaves,
I can't help but imagine your breath sounding like coming back to life
But not wanting to be there,
And I can't help but recognize the way I've adopted a similar practice
Of coming fast and leaving early as if it will make a difference,
And on the sidewalk my breath came like a pain pill to the addict,
Because withdrawals are nice when you need to feel something,
Even though it's the last thing you want.
Can you tell me it's going to be okay?
I won't even believe myself these days.

seventy

This morning is shouting your name like a headline
And it's almost easy to mourn
As long as I don't dream of better days.
But both hurt just the same.
If I am feeling guilty for having a little bit of hope,
(Not saying I'll admit it)
Maybe that's why it's hard to get up on days like this
When it's apparent I'm a failure
And I haven't spent time on my facade.
I wish I could say I'm sorry for all the feigned confidence,
I really can't help it sometimes, it's more of an obligation to society than anything.
Plus there's the lie that I'm weaker when I fall apart.
However, since we're doomed to beat around the bush,
(Because after all, talking is the unforgivable sin)
I guess I'll have to leave my apologies and my coded messages to poetry on a blog I doubt you read.
I don't have much to say.
But silence is better than stupid decisions,
And that's one lesson I've failed to learn.

(I can't help but wonder
What goes through your head sometimes.
But at the end of the day,
It's got to be the same sort of shit as mine.)