[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

Telling Childhood Goodnight.They were the fearless whispers through the starless night.
They were the pounding feet through the cobbled streets,
Screaming out for everything.
They were the fleeting memories of a time long gone by,
Blown away in the wind to a far away sky,
Where the air is cold and the stars never shine.

Memories leave their traces behind,
The scars on my legs from a day long gone by.
I was climbing a rock,
That would forever leave me with a flaw.

They were the youthful cries, screaming out.
They were the glowing eyes, on a fearless march,
Racing down the cobbled streets, blazing out for all to see.
The beacon of light that is now dying out,
I never wanted it to go away.
Everything is changing at a speed I can’t match,
I am drifting further every day.

It makes me want to cry that the best and worst days of my life,
Are being pushed away with every day that passes by.
I want to hold on
But each day I lose more ground.
Soon they will be gone without even a sound.

Th

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)

Silent and GoneAlong the blue streams of those who were simplistically glassed, I drag my wooden, empty coffin; it contains only my past.

For the many decades I've lengthened have expanded pain's time; across shallow mountains and beatings I prepare my final climb.

Through harsh mists and soft grasses the journey trembles on; days on end without my voices; alas, I realize they are gone.

Near all abandonment's shelter I rest without ease; my halved demon appears before me; she speaks hellishly in the breeze.

Forgiveness and hallucination she crisply burns in my eyes; I must awaken and continue, 'tis my time to remain wise.

To a judging stream near the g

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

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)

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

Rose in her hand...I saw a girl she was there for days
sitting at the pavement
Not talking or looking around at anyone
She had a dark red rose in her hands
She was holding it so hard that the thorns
were digging into her skin..

I asked her "Are you alright?" She looked up, then back down at the rose, breathed in to say "Yes, I'm quite alright thank you." She was shaking, her hands were cut dripping with blood from the thorns. I told her "Don't clench it so hard, its fragile and your bleeding" She looked down further and shakily said "..Maybe.. Maybe I want to bleed" I got shocked at this and backed off I didn't want to make anything worse..
A few days went by..
The girl wasn't around,
I knew whereabouts she lived
So I went to see if she was okay
I saw a rose on the grass outside
her house.. Below a window..
A half open window, with the curtains
Drawn only about two inches

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.

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)

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.

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 ~EllieGarcia

FearWhere is the wisdom
we love to tell
Where are the gates
to our own hell

Who is love
and who is fate
in this world
made of hate

Where are the eyes;
deep and smiling
where is the heart;
afraid of dying

Road SongTake me on your car
let's drive
away
too far

Pick me from the
dusty road
with my dreams
on the load

Take me by your side
let's drive
thru the night

Take me far from home
but
I don't want to go

Wait for me tonight
wait until I get alright
so we can drive away
nothing keeps us
here to stay

When you get tired
of driving on the streets
I'll get on the
drivers seat
and you'll sleep at the back
of our red cadillac

Take me far from here
I'm whispering to your ear
without any fear

Take me away from home
but I don't want to go
unless you won't follow
the roads I know

Take me on your car
and let's drive too far
until w

Creating FreedomThe most free people
acting their own way
are the most
appreciated ones.

Because
deviation of the norms
is the meaning
of 'being'

The Man out of the Sunnobody knew where he came
from or where he wanted
to go; searching for more

Up on the hills you
could meet him
when you were a lucky one
and he would tell you
the stories of
legends

On a sunny day you
could see him
laying under a orange tree
waiting like a hunter for
something to happen
that changes the world

nobody knew where he went
or what he was searching for;
disappearing into the sun

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Sitting on the table

by ~EllieGarcia, Oct 18, 2012, 9:22:20 AM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

You kill the silence
that entered the room
to sit between us
with your words
falling out of
your lips

When I fill the air
with empty sentences
again
to get quiet soon

I see your lips move
and try so hard
to hear the silent wind
of the message of your soul
set free

As I recognize your words
I just can't believe
that someone ever
could have said this
to someone like me

You brought to life
what others just
hide
under their tongue,
locked in their minds.

Sitting on the tableby ~EllieGarcia

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

©2012-2013 ~EllieGarcia

today was really good

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Mood: Love

!LazySpiderpig Oct 19, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

wonderful

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~EllieGarcia Oct 20, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Haha, great you like!

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