Dying in the Daytime
I am lucky to go to a university where, I have the opportunity to get my work publish if in a collective student-run magazine that is inclusive to all written and digital art.
It is completely inspiring and so cool to see my things published! In prep for a new edition coming out this year (in which hopefully some of my pieces get selected again) I thought I would share some of my favorite poems I have written in the past. Enjoy!
Dying in the Day Time
Sometimes
I leap a thousand times
before I feel perfect
and then I jump
just for that moment
where I am suspended in
a never-ending sea of darkness
that swallows me whole and then
my body bends backward and forwards
my hands and my bones are numb just for that moment
and all I taste is black silk.
I no longer take into consideration my
my skin
my veins
my blood
I lose my structure and then I burst.
What Exactly Beauty Is
Cold wind touching naked skin. The smell of a new tub of ice cream when you open the lid. Drinking chilled water on an empty stomach, so that you know its beginning, but aren't quite sure where it ends.Wet grass underneath bare feet. The blackest black you can make. White, if it isn’t too white. Memorizing the night sky, so you can look up during the day and still have an idea of where your favorite star lies. Hot showers. Cold baths. Laughing until it hurts. Words. The smell of a book. Exhaustion. Hearing your bones crack, pop, clink. Stretching your bones in impossible ways. A sudden pause in the music. Paint stains. Having no sense of direction. Moving fast. Letting go. Holding on. Remembering everything and then forgetting it all. Knowing what not to know. Sleep, everlasting. Swimming up against the tide. Being tired. Being hungry. Being everything at once, when in reality you’re nothing at all. Sensing life. A scratchy throat. Dreaming in the morning. Hiding. Chasing the day. Insanity. Waiting. Breathing in and out and in and out. Finding paradise on the ground. Offering your confusion, to an already delusional world. Giving advice. Taking advice. Still wanting to rise after failing today, tomorrow, and probably every day after that. Knowing no limits. Pulling strings. Playing dead. Loving the darkness. Forgetting civility. Taking risks. Believing in yourself, no matter how much the doubt bangs against your head. Energy, a never-ending amount. Stopping. Breaking down and falling apart. Living. Chewing gum. Dirty white shoes. Transparency. Shielding. Shame. Fighting battles alone. Equality. Cold fingers against the scratchy surface of a page. Bent, dogeared, destroyed books. Telling a story that’s not your own. Feeling the blood move through you. Colliding. Rehairing a cello bow. The smell of linseed oil mixed with pastels. Scratching your scalp. Screaming at the top of your lungs or in the silence of your throat. Feeling good about yourself. Feeling connected with others. Planting your ideas into the earth. Staying educated. Learning a new word of the day, every day. Watching films. Hating book to movie adaptations. Oh Wonder. Finding alternatives. Going above above and beyond above and beyond. Being the loudest one in the room. Having 5 different laughs for every situation. Making others happy. Making yourself happy. Running. Twenty One Pilots. Feeling all of your emotions, and knowing that it is okay to feel them. Sneezing three times in a row. Anxiety mixed with passion mixed with fear mixed with craziness mixed with a strong mind that can feel those things all at once. Understanding someone else’s problem. Dozing off. Sitting in a library. Memorizing quotes from Fitzgerald and Camus, and Plath, and Oliver, and Kerouac, and Plato, and Post, and H.D, and Holzer. Jumping from a tall space, and landing on your feet. Clean nails. Under-eye concealer. Pulling an all-nighter due to your binge-watching Dawkins’ Ted Talks. Heavy eyelids. Kettlecorn. Apple cider and hot chocolate, but not necessarily mixed together. Making your own ice cubes. Fighting off insecurities. Being tall. Having no family, and then making one. Rose pink-painted bedroom walls. Being by yourself. Feeling happy without being overwhelmed and guilty. Pecking at a keyboard. Cutting brownies. The Enlightenment. Equilibrium. Crystal violet labs in Chemistry. Finding out the truth in Frankenstein. Finding out the truth about Dr. Seuss. Having role models. Swimming at night. Walking down a hall in shoes with a very loud heel. Disorder. Philosophy. Socrates. Altruism. Sapir. Autonomy. Utilitarianism. Dadaism. Knowing how to slay your dragons. Collecting nice things. Having a Taylor Swift fan page. Having 3 of them. Looking up how to use a washing machine. Marina Abramovic. Seeing sound and hearing color and tasting words. Pancakes. Slenderness. Taking off your mask. Getting accepted. Following and breaking rules. Being 17. Being scared as hell because you're really close to 18. Not knowing your purpose in life just yet. Wearing a smirk. And sometimes, even you.
Mindfulness
Have you ever listened to silence?
It takes discipline.
You have to be very still.
For a few moments, you’ll have to stop existing.
Can you do that?
Do you think you can cease for two minutes?
I promise you that’s all you’ll need.
Stand still. Listen.
If you're doing this right you shouldn't be able to hear much.
Your ears should turn numb.
Your blood will get warm.
Wait, are you, are you concentrating?
Please stop.
Everything, too soon, becomes a hazy glow.
Everything, too soon, starts to get scary.
Questions flood to your mind.
Am i okay? Am i happy? Why am i here? What happens when i die?
What is the other side like? is this real? Is this a dream? Why can't
i sit up? Why can't i wake up? Why-
Oops. Your 2 minutes is up.