Make it/Fake it.

I AM not myself.
I am NOT myself.
But them who am I?
Scribbler of dreams?
Dance with the trees?
Maybe I'm just one big lie.
The clock turns red
I watch that instead.
And let my thoughts drift to the sky
Stare at your face with nothing to say
This time I'm sure I'm a lie.
Hair that I hate.
Paint I can't shake.
I'm tired of living this lie.
I Am not myself.
I am NOT myself.
Alone in my room...

Watch me cry.

I Ramble.

I've been doing this ridiculous thing
Where I try to rhyme everything I write
And I'll probably inadvertantly do it again
As I write with this purple pen.

And there it goes
The dubious trust
The ink doesn't splatter
The pages don't combust

I have a fixation
With framing words about words
Trying desperately to be a poet
Someone honest... to be heard.

But mostly I sit and slowly type away.
Wishing I could phrase
All the clever things I want to say.

And at the end of another ryhme
My hands starts to cramp
Something benign.

Sometimes In February

Hands that smell like glue
Jeans that linger with the smell of iron steam
Chipped nail polish and some scratchy ink.
I might be too tired to think.

There's a girl in the country
Who just sits and stares away
There's a boy in the city
Who catches bugs on walks in the day
There's children in the living room
Watching the colors turn to shapes
On a blank screen.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could be happy.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could just sing.
Wouldn't it be nice to get some sleep.

In a room without a view
The walls are yellow and holding true
The businesses, they run us
Up and down, inside out, through and through
The most free is when we leave and
Attack to get the things we feel we need.
But in the end we sit alone.
I don't want to think anymore.

There's a girl in the country
Who just sits and stares away
There's a boy in the city
Who catches bugs on walks in the day
There's children in the living room
Watching the colors turn to shapes
On a blank screen.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could be happy.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could just sing.
Wouldn't it be nice to get some sleep.

We've been distracted once or twice
Forgotten about life
Cried our tears
Dried our eyes
Said goodbye

But say hello to them for me
Wish the colors from the screen
Let the knots work themselves out
Lay down and scream.

I won't think
any
more.

Ears

The earth is moving
But I’m standing still
Light voices
Whisper in my ear
But I can’t hear

No I can’t hear.

I’m not myself
The acids in my throat
Shaking hands
I’m short of breath

Please just talk to me
You can say anything
And I won’t laugh
I won’t cry
I’ll just listen and smile for replies.

It’s like finding a needle
Waiting for the life to grow through the cracks
A part of me died that day
Will it ever come back?

Tear stained shirts and paper and pillows
The salt is chapping my skin
The tears, they always win.
There wasn’t even a battle to fight
Just a simple goodnight

Please just talk to me
You can say anything
And I won’t laugh
I won’t cry
I’ll just listen and smile for replies

I can’t say that I’ll ever be okay
But if you had to leave me
I’d rather it was this way.
A heart left to sleep
An infinity of peace.

So through the pain
I’ll keep singing
And I’ll keep breathing
I’ll keep waiting
Til the day that I won’t need to say
Please just talk to me again.

Demi/Hutch

A blank page
A room full of empty space
They talk but all I can only hear your voice
The music plays but I sing your favorite songs
I keep hearing the phone
And picking it up, waiting for it to be you.

I hear their sorrys
I feel their wounds
I can taste the death
But I can’t get to you.

I close my eyes
And fight the fear
The knots are in my stomach
This is all too real
My legs are weak
My strength is thin
I just want one more chance to see you again.

I hear their sorrys
I feel their wounds
I can taste the death
But I can’t get to you

A Screeching halt
I lay awake and cry
They giggle in the bathroom
I sink in the back house
Help me breathe again

I hear their sorrys
I feel their wounds
I can taste the death
I want you to linger
But I can’t get to you.

The Last Time

I’ve got an inbox filled with do’s and don’ts
Mailed postmarked with hearts
I’ve got stencils of relationships
Directions that tell me where to stop and start

But I lay awake in the dark
And think about what I really want to spark…

And I swear it’s the last time
That I wake up at bedtime
And I swear it’s the last time
That I cry in the daylight
But all these questions beg those answers
The one’s I try to hide- so no.
You can’t have it this or that way
I’m not answering, apologizing or thinking
I don’t feel very receptive today.

I’ve got texts with your name on the head
Through the content all I’m reading is “you’ll let me down.”
And it’s stinging so I start to sweat out all my frowns.

And I close my eyes to sleep it off
But my mind stays fully awake

And I scream it’s the last time
That I wake up at bedtime
And I scream it’s the last time
That I cry in the daylight
And all these questions beg those answers,
The one’s I try to hide- so no.
You can’t have it this or that way
And no I’m not answering, apologizing or thinking.
No, I don’t feel very receptive today.

So this is the part where I’ll call you up crying
Oh baby, please.
And this is the part where we act like I’m dying
Because we both need you to rescue me…
But I’m lying awake in the dark
The dial tone rings in my heart
But I close my eyes to sleep it off and I say

I swear, it’s the last time because I’m not feeling very receptive…today.

She.

She wakes in the morning but mostly at night and stares at the sky while the moon shines it’s reflection in her eyes. She’s young and maybe even pretty and with her whole life ahead of her or maybe it’s already behind her. She stretches out her body, which she is never happy with and she cracks her neck and back as she drags her legs to the side and just sits.

She sits for more than while staring at the spaces between. She sits and thinks and wonders and sits and thinks and plunders. She cracks her knuckles and soon she’ll get up. Runs a hand through her unwashed hair and wonders what her life would be like if she were a slut.

Maybe she’d be happier. Maybe she’d be dead. Maybe she would wake up with someone she’d like to see in her bed. She looks down at the carpet with lint and dust everywhere, she’ll heave and sigh and wish she was made up of only air.

She vacuums once a year and yesterday was the day, and still it made no difference she couldn’t whisk her fears away. They’re they are beneath her feet staring in the silence. She won’t look down but won’t look up and looking straight is her only compliance.

She tip toes around, flips the handle to the door stands outside for a few minutes and lets the wind wrap around her soul. She can’t quite feel the cold but she’s never quite that warm and when she wants to cry she just turns into foam.

Finally she’ll leave the space that haunts her everyday, the remnants of herself that she finds always cake the pain. She’ll wander to another place and make her way inside, rummage through the refrigerator but in the end, she’ll walk on by.

She’ll twist and turn and shimmy around this new place that she found until she blinks and recognizes all the familiarity around. She walks down the hall and makes a left into the forbidden room, she spies a scale and stands on it and lets her life weigh in the gloom.

The Girl in the mirror.

There is a girl who stares at the mirror for days and days and days. She looks in the mirror to find shadows of who she used to be and to see figments of what she hopes to be. She climbs the mountains in the mind everyday. She looks at the mirror, but mostly, she sees nothing, nothing at all. She changes her hair to fit her moods, but it never really makes a difference. She dresses her face up in palettes and hues to see if she can become something different. She writes at her desk in the dead of night and she cuts the fabric of her clothes so that they fit right. She yells at her dog for biting too much and she whistles in the morning, in hopes of feeling accomplished. But still, she always wanders back to that same old mirror. The one in the bathroom, at the subway station, at the store, in the glass, they’re all the same anyway. And she stares. And stares. And stares, wondering if one day, she’ll ever find, exactly what she’s looking for.

Sound

The fish sting my ears, but I bite down.
They're just too pretty to take down.
The heater's on but this room's still freezing
The cat prowls like a sphinx
The dog, she barely breathes.

It's quiet, but so noisy.

This morning I woke up early
Or maybe I never slept at all
I watched the sun rise and share the sky with the moon
And I watched your eyes wide as you came into my room.
But nothing feels the same
It's all just one big lucid game
Like playing taboo, in the water.

But for now, I'm not so sorry
I'll sink back into my pillows
Thinking of so many windows
The ones that showed your reflection's truth.
And I'll blink back the sadness
Blink back the happiness
Anxious on the verge of no reply.

The echoes fill the silence
My mind fills up with violence
Is it really all just in my head?
The birds speak in tongues and riddles
to constitute the loveliness of sound
I look up, but I can never hear it
It's always so quiet but noisy in this town.

Silly Symphonies

The burning in my stomach never stops
It’s a constant reminder of all the things that are eating me away.
Organ by organ, the parasites invade me
Until I’m in shambles.
Shriveled up, locked inside a deathly cocoon
The outside, a mask of who I used to be...
But Im not that person anymore.
The façade who plays along, the voice that sang those songs.
I am not the dew in your mornings
Or the tug that pulls the strings of your heart.
I am new and distorted
A crime of the century
A tell tale broken heart
Trapped in the confines of this car crash symphony.

This Desk

This desk is filled to the brim
Numbers and letters, they fly in the wind.

But I’ve got some laundry to cover up those holes
And they’ve got some makeup to cover up those moles.

Empty bottles of plastic and glass
Just like mirrors they fall and they crash.

But I found some glue and some scissors
So maybe I’ll write you a note
And I found some paint and some glitter
So maybe I’ll draw myself a boat.

But I’ve got some socks that hide the toothpaste
But the brush is wearing thin
And I’ve got some hearts sitting in ice trays
That melt when they’re dropped in
And I’ve got some ribbons in the corner
So maybe when I get bored
I’ll tear myself to pieces
And use the ribbons to sew new cords.

To Think

Remember the times you felt my heart
Remember the songs you used to sing
The climbs. The slips, the falls.
Losing faith, everything.

Remember the times we felt alive
Painting numbers on the canvas inside
Riding shotgun in the biggest car at night

Remember the fire.

I used to dream about the days that youd come back
I used to think about the thoughts and not the facts
I used to cry just to hold your hand.

But now I blink.
Watch me shrink.

I wake up to a pounding heart
I feel your breath behind my ear.
I want to hold you, just to touch you.
But when I turn, you’ll disappear.

Sticks and Stones

This fight is never won
The circle is never done
The infinity we create it never ceases to amaze.
I’ll grab the remote to control the volume
Of your hollering and screeches down the hall
I’ll walk slow and I’ll walk softly
Invisibly attached to the wall.

I never know what comes next.
If I should digress or accept.
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But your words always haunt me.

I’ll sleep all through my mornings
And I’ll lie all day in my room.
Hiding away in my cocoon
I try to dress up pretty
Just to make you smile or wink at me
But I’ll just mix up my words
And you’ll throw daggers in turns.

I’ll stand quiet, wont make a sound
Try to skate all around
The problem is here
But my feet are always too dirty
My socks never clean enough to wear
My clothes don’t fit right
And my hair’s up too tight
So I guess I’ll just lay down and lose the fight.

I’ll read your accusations through your frowns
And wait to see you when you were free.
But I never what comes next
If I should digress or accept
Sticks and stones may break my bones
But your words will always haunt me.

I’ll wince once for the blow
And cry all alone
As I lie down and let you just take over.

In a Letter

Scratching out words that I write in reference to you.
There’s nothing lost or forgotten
The only thing left is a perfect view.
The California sky invites all the dreamers to fly into the night
But I’ll stay grounded and in the dirt
And watch as my dreams, they slowly turn
The nightmares all around
It came back without a sound
So I write it out for you.
Because I can’t talk, my throats so dry
And I can’t cry or open my eyes anymore.
I’m so tired and I’ve done this all before.
My makeup’s running out
And the pictures they fall down, all around.
I can’t tell if its real or if it’s fake.
Did the lines blur or have they stayed.
Is she or isn’t she, the questions never stop.
My eyes can only focus on the clock
So my hands will start to cramp and my body will start to unglue
But the story isn’t finished
I’ve got so much more to say to you.
So I sit and write through it.
The nonsense and the hurt that I gave to you.
I can’t say that I’m sorry
But if I ever was then here’s my apology
In a letter to a lover.
A letter, the only thing that’s true.

This is

a simple blog filled strings of words with punctuation at the ends,from my journal to your screen, with love and hate and everything in between.










Love, Justine.