Words And Things

A-lonely-tatertot’s poetry side blog!

[a-writing-tater]

it's sunday morning, 12:25 am

i dont remember when the clock turned

sometimes i dont wanna go to bed

in fear of waking up to the same life

and somedays i dont wanna wake up

in fear of living the same way i have

theres a forgiving weight

to the unconsiousness of sleep

it lets you feel dead for a time limit

waiting for the clock to run out

its 12:27 am, ive spent two minutes

thinking about losing myself somewhere

somewhere i dont have to come back from

and isnt that terrifying?

(and isn't that a little releaving?

can you feel your breath come a little easier?

knowing theres an escape?)

[a-writing-tater]

I’m shouting

Writhing like a wounded animal

Do you see me?

Can you hear me?

I’m all alone arent I

No man is an island

Then where’s everyone else?

Maybe the tears are blurring my vision

I’m bruised

I’m battered

I understand why

You want the glittering city

And I’m the pit stop on the way

If I show you my cracks

If I yell and I shout

If I go quiet and scared

Will you stay?

I know I will

You could say you hate me

You could hurt me

Cut me with words so deep

Apologize insincere

I won’t believe you

But I’ll forgive you either way

Because I’m alone

Holding it in

Begging for no one to see

Cause they’ve all got problems

And I can’t possibly put them through mine

I’ll add another mentos to the bottle

[a-writing-tater]

Chemical Induced High

You’ve said you loved me

Like you’ve loved a hundred others

I was naive believeing you

You were a golden city

Something new and gorgeous

You were alluring and convincing

And then you held me and wouldn’t let go

Because your lights were blinding

And I was dumb

So now I’m uncomfortable and confused

And can’t seem to give myself a good reason

For why I’m still responding

Every text you send I’m sittin upright terrified

My father don’t like you

And frankly I don’t either

You’re like a cigarette

And Ima devoted addict

So hey pass the blunt

I need another hit of whatever you are

[a-writing-tater]

I found love

In the way

My brothers girlfriend

She’ll watch every movie with him

Because he loves them

And she loves him

(I can’t find it though,

in the way he refuses

The way he yells

The way he says he can’t

Because he doesn’t care the same way she does)

I find it

In the way

My best friend

Has watched me

A million times

shout something

She doesn’t understand

And yet she laughs anyways

I find it in the way

My father will play

Whatever my moms new obsession is

Because he loves her

Even if they both forget sometimes

I find love in the way

My brother asks

“Are you okay?”

When I go tense

I go quiet

Like a deer in headlights

I find love in the way

My mom lets me ramble

About a hundred different things

The way she barely follows

But asks questions anyways

I find love in the way

(my friend? My brothers girlfriend?

Who are you to Me?)

Gives me her time

Her knowledge

When I’m struggling and confused

I find love in the way

My family eats

From late night sonic

To early morning chick-fil-a

From spaghetti to burgers

The dinner tables full of love

(And anger but that’s okay)

[a-writing-tater]

911

“You know how to call 911 right?”

The first time I heard that

I was ten standing in my kitchen

My dad on the floor trying to fix our dishwasher

I said yes

He made me repeat our address

And with a lopsided grin he went in

I never had to call

I had heard it in passing

My brother broke his arm

And the retired nurse yelled to someone

When I was eleven I wanted to call

But it was missouri

I didn’t know where we were

My mom got the call instead

As my brother cursed with a broken wrist

My dad asked again

Dangling from a ladder

Loosely propped on scaffolding and the wall

Fixing a projector that wasn’t worth his life

It was paired with dont tell your mom

And a picture a took with shaky hands

I never called

He asked again today

And I wanted to cry

Replaying the cross streets in my head

He’s got a friend

And I’m too young to have their lives in my hands

One faulty screw away

One faulty move away

Im supposed to be working

I’ve got slides to pull together

But I’m too scared

[a-writing-tater]

im drowning

There’s water

So much it’s overwhelming

I’m falling apart at the seems

The tides taking me over

I’m thrown under

It starts simple.

Pooling at my feet

Seeping under the door

It fills up slowly-

Reaching my ankles-

My calves-

My thighs-

Before I know it’s at my wrists

Before I know it’s at my neck

It’s seeping into my scars

It’s drowning me

I’ll tune it out

Give me a distraction to run with

Talk to me tell me I’m okay

I’m alright I’m okay

And yet

My throats closing up

And I’m struggling to breathe

The door bursts open

And I wish for sunlight but all that’s there is

More

[a-writing-tater]

Theres an art, to being forgotten.

sometimes it'll happen like this:

when youre grinning,

when youre screaming and shouting

dancing until the end of time

because goddammit youre happy

and it feels like a hug

like a field of pure joy

like the world is lathered in yellows and oranges

and dandalions and roses-

and in excitment you look around,

for someone to hold, to laugh with, to grin with

because all the breath is leaving your lungs

taken by the overwhelming fire around you-

but then theres silence.

and no one cares.

but sometimes its steady

they leave in a line,

trickling away till all thats left is a drought

once the first ones gone the rest follow

like ducklings to a mother-

and its sad to watch them leave

even sadder knowing that youll stay

because you know you were

either to much or too little

and maybe you try to win them over

with little things

brownies, gifts, a desperate cry

your partched in an unforgiving desert;

alone in a dangerous forest;

your falling and screaming and pleading

but its hopeless

theres no one around to hear

its a lonely existence-

being forgotten.

one i know all too well.

ill scream into my void and ill pray that someone will see,

because theres no water left,

and im partched and dying,

all alone, no one left to hear.

humans are social by nature

is that why it feels like a knife to the heart

when you turn to find they're all gone?

[a-writing-tater]

I am

I am copper wires and busted cables

I am lighting boards and LEDs

I am made of 15 hour shows since I was 12

And weird looks because

What is a 14 year old doing running this?

I am made of underestimations

And yet I am made of overestimations

I am made of coffee and sugar and yells of celebrations

I am made of tired eyes and hysterical laughter

I am tech gremlins and broken comms

I am made of music too

Of vocals and guitars and bass and drums

I am of words shouted til your voice is gone

I am of Christmas music and alt

I am a hundred voices singing because of some external force

I am the unity of life

Through sound and dancing

I am the creation of the world through expression

I am of recklessness too

Of impulsivity good and bad

Of cutting my hair at 11:30

Of empty cans and unshed tears

Mile walks and yelling til your voice is hoarse

I am of shatter lightbulbs and base ball bats

I am from backstage and on stage

Of adrenaline and crashes

I am of late nights and early mornings

I am of confusion and joy in the face of disaster

Chaos and Peace

The Light and the Dark

I every contradiction and shard of glass

I am an instopable force and an unmovable object

The rock that stays and the tide that never stops

[a-writing-tater]

A Promise to Home

There’s one place

I’ve never felt more at home in

Before you ask-

No it’s not with my head stuck in a book

That’s only an escape

It can’t be home if it’s not real

And it’s not in the arms of my best friend

Or through the texts of the person I like

Nah it’s been home for a long while

Just me, hair spread like a halo

Layin on my back

Counting the wrinkles in the ceiling

It’s a tad bit ironic

The only way up is up a ladder

One of my worst fears

And everytime I go up

I wonder if this time I’ll fall

It’s a tad bit poetic

Unfinished paint, an exposed ceiling

Like a wound you can see every scar

Every mark

A storage space of forgotten relics; old news

It’s got green lights and messy cables

There’s a door that leads to the roof

The brightest place I’ve ever been

But with the lights off

I can pretend im floating

If I look through the holes in the walls

I can see everything

There’s a spot light too

One day I wanna know how it works

But for now I’ll lay

With my back on the dusty ground

My hair crowning me as the nights ruler

With its purples and blues

And my headphones in

They’ll call me down,

They probably don’t know where I am

I’ve got ten minutes left

9, 8, 7-

The times tickin down

I guess I should get movin

6, 5,4-

I’ll come back old friend

And I’ll escape to you again

3-

It won’t be long til I’m back

2-

I’ll come home at some point

1.

I promise.

[a-writing-tater]

I don’t trust

It’s a fickle thing-

You break it once

It might never be seen again

My brother asks

“Why do you shut us out?”

How do I explain the yelling matches

The hatred the hurt

It was not as hidden as you wish

You wish it would come back-

You ask how I’m feeling what I’m doing

As if I’d tell you the truth?

My childhood was built on lies

Broken glass and careless words

You say vulnerability isn’t a weakness

And yet-

Here I stand

Finding rocks in quicksand

Building a safety net out of broken dream

Vulnerability isn’t a weakness

You say

I watch you

With hallow eyes and bloody hands

I built my safety out of strength

Vulnerability is from stories for children

Who still have hope

My trust-

My feelings

My truth

You may never get

You built me on pain

And expected me to thrive

Yet don’t want to deal with the consequences

[a-writing-tater]

Success

There’s different definitions isnt there?

My pastor speaks of a multimillion dollar company

Of Christian leaders and sob stories

Abstinence and sufferage turned into glory

My camera man;

he sits next to me telling me what camera when

Success is family

His three boys and wife

His picture perfect family with a hundred and one problems

Success is keeping them together

And then the question falls to me:

What is-

Success?

Is it purpose? Is it fulfilling that purpose?

Is it being the best at everything

At one thing?

Is it living? Living like your falling apart because your days are numbered

Showing kindness cause you can

And scraping by when you must-

Success. Success means not giving up

Thriving in a desert of the worlds creation

Success is a legacy-

Success is a reason to be remembered

In every single perspective if you take it apart

Success is planting a seed and watching it flourish

Letting it survive knowing you won’t see it live

[a-writing-tater]

Some days

Some days I wish I was a little bit different

If my voice was deeper

Or maybe I was a little bit taller

What if I was smaller?

Worked a little harder

Got a bit better

I’m in a constant stage of critique

in all the little things

I don’t care about my weight

or how pretty i am

i care about the fact

that my voice sometimes doesnt sound right

or my hunched shoulders are all that really feels home

how big jackets or skirts that flow

are the only way to feel okay

cause i wish i could change myself everyday

like the settings on my phone

a new hight a new look-

dammit i wish i was a little bit different

[a-writing-tater]

Is this me?? Is this all I am?

Sometimes I hate my voice

So much that I can speak

Sometimes I hate my body

The way it curves

The way it’s too smooth or too rough

I hate the dull colors the way my hair is

I cut it- 11:32 at night

Bored out of my mind

too busy looking at the mirror pointing out everything wrong

And words bubble out of me

Into the words on this page and it yells and shouts-

WELCOME TO THE HATRED

THE PARTS I HATE

THE ONES I WISH I COULD REPLACE

MY VOICE CRACKS AND MY HEAR CLENCHES

ITS TOO HIGH ITS TOO SOFT

I AM A RUGGED FIRE

I AM A BROKEN SKY

BUT ALL I SEE IS MUTED YELLOWS AND GREENS AND BLACKS

AM I CAMOUFLAGING MYSELF?

FROM THE WORLD? FROM MY FAMILY- FROM WHO?

But then it breaks with tears and a sadness beyond words as I ask-

am i hiding who i am?

A beat and a realization hits-

Do I know who I am?

There’s a pit in my stomach

And I imagine my soul as a deep blue

As deep as an abyss cause I can’t find a way to be me

It’ll give me joy for a minute and then it’s gone and I’m back to grasping at straws

Am I simply this abyss?

[a-writing-tater]

Maybe Im afraid

Of feelings I don’t understand

Girls and boys and people

New books

Different worlds

Stories I once loved

Scared of normality

Cause being like everyone else

Is goddamn terrifying

I’m done with these conversations

That feel like a loop on end

Things I once loved

Stories I grew up with

I will not be stuck.

Limbo can’t hold me.

Normality cannot be me.

I know the issues

With things I once believed

That my friends still want

Cant you see? I want to say

Are they ignorant? Or just avoiding?

Is there one thats better?

I ignore their conversations

Excitment over aniversarries

I think this ones the 50th and honestly

That feels too long too long

13 years and Im still here

learning and learning stepping out

finding my own worlds and words

I read this 50th cause they wanted me to

Watched this cause everyone else did

Isn't that limbo?

Is this my test? My chance to find myself?

I’ll say

"I am this"

And theyll say

"Well im not”

Do I care what they are? I know what they are!

they're like everyone else!

And i want to cry, i know I know

im different im not normal

im a lot to get used to

a certain cup of tea

IM STILL ME

I Shout I Scream!

I’m still a person

Please cant you see! Im begging for acceptance

I know who I am

ive been told my entire life

but on the inside

Its not me i know this

maybe im afraid

Of losing respect, of losing my family

maybe im afaid

of these feelings

for a girl for two people

that i dont understand as i fit the pieces

Maybe im afraid

of being misunderstood

of losing care

What you think of me youve said

Ive filed away to cry over, to hurt over

I cant explain how im afraid

but im afraid

my test isn't done

its five steps forward and twelve back

But part way through I have realized

I know who I am

Afraid

Different

A Mess

You try to understand

with these labels that are not me

You try to put me in this limbo, this box

Maybe Im afraid of being submissive

You cant change me, and You wont try to understand me

But i know me and im done changing for you

[a-writing-tater]

You’re talkin over me

Oh that’s okay

The problem is

I don’t even know what to say

You’re laughing at an inside joke

That you don’t care to explain

And I’ll smile and nod along

To fit in

To fit into your false normal

How can I help you?

How can I serve you?

Cause in the end

This is a client consumer relationship

And I’m only here to assist

You sacrifice me

Without a second thought

You walk

and talk all over me

Like I’m the dirt on your shoe

So I’ll fuck myself over

When the moon rises

Makin a bad decision

after every wrong step

And when the sun comes

I’ll be how you want me

Care about everyone else but myself

Cautionary tape over every burned bridge

A lukewarm white claw

Might taste like shit

But at least it makes me forget

About every jagged edge

And every broken bit

Of my soul

Cause this is a

Client consumer relationship

And I’m a ticking time bomb

Whenever I’m around you

[a-writing-tater]

I’m so tired

Of the way I know

I’m not who you want me to be

And I’m so tired

Of the way you laugh

cause I know

That I didn’t do that

And I’ve got this smile

That makes it seem

Like I’m alive inside

So you don’t see

The way I’m crackin

Like glass

And the way I’m shatterin

Cause I’m not made outta diamonds

I’ve got this mask

So you don’t see through

And I’ll answer your questions with ease

A small smile

a simple answer

That makes it seem

Like I’m the happiest in the room

Cause that’s all you need to know

While I shatter

Cause I’m so tired

Maybe in another universe

Ill be happier

Cause I’ll have book

That tells me what do

And I’m not fumbling over what to say

My words stumbling

As I trip and drown in your ocean

Maybe

In another life

I won’t be so tired

[a-writing-tater]

There’s a window to my soul through my hands, when I’m holdin a pen I can’t quite explain what’s going to come out. And when it’s finished words about falling or a picture laced with bad ideas I don’t quite wanna explain. Cause my hand moves on it’s own accord I’ve realized typing messages drawin pictures writin words that I would never say out loud. on paper I spill my soul without conscious thought

There’s a window to my soul through my ears. Headphones laid bare playin playlists one with 106 songs another with 24. They sing of nights not to be forgotten and of people who simply wish to leave. They sing of comfort in friends and brokenness in foes.

There’s a window to my soul through my eyes. How dull they can be how bright they can look. Through the stuff I watch people places things, videos late at night and stories through time.

There’s a window to my soul through my mouth, the things I say and the things I almost say. My lips bit raw and my teeth clamped shut full of secrets and confessions.

There’s a window to my soul through my skin. The pictures I draw with a blue ink pen. Then the scars that are there from fighting with myself and bruises from stupid things I do.

There’s a window to my soul in everything I do if you look close enough behind the masks and the facades you’ll finally see; all that is me