Magpie 225

Mine Is—
Me
I just want to lay lie
to the world.
A beautiful world reaching nothing,
Roses in my hand and bare skin to air.
Don't let the impressionist touch me,
too strong will the curves be to surrender.
Feet don't forget where they've been,
but I do,
and my mind wanders free of all the strife
when I lay lie
to the world.
Winds can't won't
creep up if fans lay somber beside
me.
Then,
with wind no longer the problem,
who am I?
Am I not the water splashing to the surface?
Are legs not the pillars that hold me up,
strong?
Is blood not the sash that stains my waist,
or was it?
Faces don't forget where I'm from,
but I do.

Summer Solstice Part 2

You know it's weird, right?
That the only contact I'll ever have
with you much
is over text.
And my last self will cry because
I've forgotten your voice.
And hello this self will fear
that you're just messaging
just because
and I'm your last option,
And I don't want to waste my time on that,
The Lord knows it.
So maybe you are real,
because even though telling you my world
makes the troubles even more real,
And that realness bites my face, and
slaps the tears beyond my insides,
The telling makes you as much more real
And that is one of the greatest improvements a body could get—
Is for a human to feel more in reach
To another,
And for a human to feel more real.
I need the existing humans in my life
They please me to no end
I will always love you for "kind of just because you simply exist".

Summer Solstice Part 1

The Wall And The Arm
"Let's catch up,"
said the wall to the arm.
After all this time,
wow, you've grown.
There is so much more of you
that I could possibly love.
Our elbows will hold each other in the dark room
push against and sway
and I will avoid your eyes
when you sing the songs of yesteryears
those songs of our parents
the songs where "baby" and "lovin" are
so much deeper rooted into the movement.
Each song.
And your laugh is terrifying
because it sounds forced
and like you're trying to get me to laugh
or get my attention,
but after listening to your mother's laugh,
I know it's probably because I don't actually know you all that well.
But I remember you had this white car that I loved
and I moved awkwardly when we kissed by it in the parking lot,
but you still kissed me,
still.
And you would kiss me again.
And I have a boyfriend now,
but I let my farthest corner touch your elbow and—
Lovely and—
Quiet and—
Remember me and—
I am finally here again, and
with you of all places.

June 22, 2014. 1:07 am.

Magpie 224

Untitled
Am I supposed to know you?
Ye, twin of mine.
With the same playbill of ages in less-than-distance's reach
on both ends
both your side and my side,
we have seen the same shows, have we not?
And our hair comes from the same birth,
and the same shapes,
and the same curls, do they not?
Then, how does the mirror have the power to take the identical identity away?
Why,
when I watch your back,
and you turn your head from mine
for so long,
does the difference between
you and I
shut the sameness away into a box.
We can look in the same direction without seeing the same things,
you know.
And in my brain,
all I see is your back
a retreating, hateful back.
And in your brain,
all you see is nothing
of me.
You never see me until my screams echo the distance between two worlds.
How am I supposed to know you?
Ye, twin of mine,
when our arguments over the same shows
clash against each other,
not like cymbals,
but like fingertips
hitting precisely where bone and skin meet skin and bone,
hitting precisely where the contact causes tingles through the hand,
hitting precisely where it is uncomfortable but not altogether a pain that scars?
And who is on whose side, anyways?
Which hand are you? Which hand am I?
Am I the one who watches your back each day or are you the one behind mine?

June 17, 2014. 3:21 pm.

§§§§§§§§§§§§§§

This one is about me and my brother (we are actually twins ^_^). I didn't end up using the title of the piece of art, myself, but I'm sure there's a way you could make it relate. :)
We just had an argument over the mail... -_-
All I wanted was a "yes" or "no" about whether or not he was going to get the mail but he just had to ask me a question in response....and guess what it was.... "Can you get it?"
Not even a "no, can you get it?", just a CAN YOU GET IT
For my family, our mailbox is on the left hand side and the driver usually gets it. I was in the passenger seat... He was closer. I mean, yeah, I have something coming in the mail eventually, but i am NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS MAIL AROUND HERE.

So this is pretty much supposed to be about how we are twins but we completely DON'T see eye-to-eye in a lot of situations. I got really mad at him this time. I was yelling in his face by the end of it....which I'm not proud of and will need to apologize to him later. I just don't understand why he wouldn't just give me a "yes" or "no", even after he simply explained himself. All he had to do was give me a solid answer and not the "mu" thing (which pretty much is a neutral answer to a yes/no question and means "the answer is wrong" because it's a yes/no question and there are other answers to it).

Both of us said things that we were absolutely positive the other one should be able to understand. I don't know if it's because I interact with more people during the day and he with less that we're so different in how we want to explain things... but I decided to use this prompt as a way to explore how much we are alike despite our major differences and how it is nearly impossible to tell which one is right and which one is wrong, despite my best and most emotionally fueled desires and beliefs that I was the one who was in the right and he was the one who was absolutely in the wrong. It's a scary and frustrating thing to thing about, but I think that's probably okay. One of those healthy things even though they make your stomach churn and get all up into knots.

Magpie Tales

"Not To Be Reproduced", 1937, Rene Magritte

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Love,Peace,ChickenGrease,Rock On ♥

So I Totally Forgot About The Poem I Had Planned On Sharing This Morning....

Here it is.. It starts out simply for my friends, moves to my entire grade, then to everybody in my high school, and then to the entire school (I go to a K-12 school).:


Walls Don't Have To Know
I have to hold on to you
because you are real
and good
and just as tired as I am.
And when rafters are rusting,
and paint is scraping itself off the walls,
and my body feels like it's falling apart,
 a single you can be the little things
that piece me back to laughter
and through that, life.
But
there are so many of you,
so when my family goes through this wretched
divorce phenomenon
something inside me looks around
and sees a hundred walls standing at the ready,
balanced upon two hundred pairs of legs upon pairs of feet.
Five hundred walls
reach further
in case I can't hold myself up against the bubbling air.
Five hundred walls in case I can't keep moving, because
they'll keep moving.
Eventually, then, I'll have to move.
A hundred walls will push me away from the floor.
Imagine what this thousand would do.

These Are Just The Words That Try To Sound Good Together

We are so different
You and I
You know you can touch the world
All I see is I can't touch the sky.
I think if I wanted to, I would break my emergency glass every day.
I don't think you would do it.
You know you're surrounded by people who reel from your mistakes and that knowledge is pressed against yourself so deeply it brings tears to your eyes at the slightest shadow.
Meanwhile, I am afraid simply because my body does not want to be who I what I am what am I and my brainspeed spikes at random intervals like a racing heart back down again as quickly as it spun out of control the first time and I am too afraid to become still.




~!!!~
Love, Peace, Chicken Grease, Rock on:
There's a thing we remember about thoughts. Fleeting. Wild. Remember Me and Think of Me For More Than My Thoughts. 

Magpie 223

❥

Magpie Tales (223)

*note: this may have been the first time I came up with the poem without looking at the picture immediately before or while writing it.... I was supposed to be trying to sleep and the thoughts just hit me and I made myself write it down instead of letting them be lost in my brain.

because then they'd be gone from the concrete world forever.

This is exactly how it was written out on my iPhone.. 11:21 pm June 13, 2014 and exactly how it is laid out, by whatever chance, in my "Notes" app (fixed just a couple typos).

 ∞∞∞∞∞

Tonight

I really don't want to fall asleep

Hugging my pillow

Nothing is good for that kind of thing

That kind of hugging thing

It's like a broken record the tape

slung out the voices eternally set to

a shriek

It dulled my head

And I think

I know I pushed it

Kept pushing it

Saying it was beautiful music

And now I am here

After each push the tap lasts for a 

little longer

The recording still holds its face

together for a couple more months

And what if this is the final tear

And I've finally ripped the present

Torn the music apart

It's gone

-June 13, 2014. 11: 21 pm.

❤♥ ❥(>‿◠)✌ ☮🍗🎉

Magpie 222

Thank you Magpie Tales/Tess

Time Capsule
Candy
it’s just candy
it’s simple really, when it’s in between your teeth
Forget the metaphor
We just want to feel better, you and I,
you and I, addiction, you and I, addiction
Don’t worry just because the little pieces inside the pill look nothing like the skin on your face.
Your teeth aren’t perfect and your lip gloss looks silly,
sometimes,
but you shouldn’t even be worrying
because
We just want to feel better, you and I,
you and I, addiction, you and I, addiction.
This is a time capsule and it will take you to the best parts where I was too
and it will feel better.
Blood will not ooze out of your wounds, but green shiny dust will
and you will be a fairy and I will be a monster but it will get better.
Don’t let it be a metaphor
because if you do the death won’t die
and you will continue in an emptiness that I never saw fit
and you will be normal and old and gray and won’t live the life I,
you and I, addiction,
imagined.
and you will still be with your pink lipgloss and your white teeth
and blood will drip from your wounds
and you will, in fact, die.