They Call Me Everything

I'm 11:59 due dates that you could never quite make

I'm the dream that you can't remember but wish you could

I'm the 5th wheeler, heart stealer that never had a "real" boyfriend

I'm the yellow traffic light that everyone curses out

I'm the song that you liked at first but now I'm on the radio and it's not cool anymore

I'm that dollar theater seat that squeaks but it's cheap so people still use me

I'm the swear word that's not "too bad" so it's okay to say in school poetry slams

I'm the loose change in your car that you keep around for convenience 

I'm a back scratch that didn't last quite long enough

I am every kiss that went wonderfully wrong

I'm the last sentence that doesn't seem to do justice 

Writing is like smoking

All this black ink has slowly filled my chest

Every word making my charred lungs darker

But the smoke soothed my stuttering lips

And every phrase numbs the pain

It's easy to pretend like it doesn't hurt when I fall asleep

But these poems are suffocating

The very thing I live for is killing me inside

That doesn't mean I'll stop though

I'll just write another poem

So the pain can fade for a while

Yes Nelson, there is something else

This is it.
This is what it's all led up to
Hating my acne covered existence in 7th grade
Eating lunch alone in the bathroom in 8th
9th grade first kisses
Sophomore year and still labeling people as Timberline or Mountain Ridge
11th grade diet pills and depression pills and is there a pill to take it all back?
12th grade
Senior year
It's the end of the line
It's
"What are your plans after high school?"
"What college are you going to?"
"When are you submitting your papers?"
This is real talk isn't it? So let's be real
I for one don't know what the hell I'm doing
and I broke a guy's heart because I was too afraid to admit it
But we're gone this year
We're leaving the hallways behind
and our mistakes in the lockers we never used
Good riddance to ACT prep and dress codes
Good luck to the high school sweethearts
So long to the commons cliques
Kudos to the virgins
If there's anything else to be said
This is it

Faded Reminisce

I vaguely remember him

His warm breath and radio eyes

I remember the way he buttoned up his shirt 

Counting each button up to his chin 

Where he would brush his hand across his jawline

And turn to me with a smile

I remember the nights his hands found me like clockwork

He always left too soon

But I tattooed his smell on my chest 

So he wouldn't feel so far away

I remember when love became past tense

And ever since I rarely remember anything at all

Blackout

Music Box- Slam Poetry

In honor of slam poetry this week

Even nerds can slam

FINALLY posted my reveal

Brought to you by Jenna Hall and Nat Gray @pandaexpress