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Maybe you don’t know

Maybe you don’t know that he strives every single day of his life to impress you Maybe he doesn’t want to go to collage Maybe he doesn’t think he's good enough Maybe he's afraid to leave And he doesn’t want to tell you Maybe he's too scared And maybe he smokes that weed because he is depressed And it’s the only glimpse of happiness that he has Maybe its his only thing keeping him sane Maybe he doesn’t do it because he's a bad kid And as for me… Maybe I don’t watch T.V. because I'm lazy Maybe I watch it because I'm afraid of silence Maybe when its too quiet, all that is left are my thoughts And maybe I start to think way too much And maybe I feel like I should no longer be alive Maybe the sound is my only distraction In the wide span of it all Maybe its keeping me alive Maybe Just maybe Maybe you don’t know

Dan

He smells like summer Memories of laughter and fun drift through my mind as he walks by I can remember spending day after day with someone new but he would always be there From swimming and bike riding in the morning To sm'ore roasting at night We were so free and young Carless of the past or the future We were kids It was so beautiful But now he's gone and so is summer

Not knowing if you're going to finish the test at the same time as everybody else. Being afraid to be called on and read something out loud. Afraid that your siblings might rely on you when they cant spell something. And no one even knows. No one knows that it is a challenge for me to count to 20. And no one knows that I spend hours at end reading a chapter in a book. And when I mix up counts and left and right in dance practice. No one realizes I'm stupid. I cant do it. My dyslexia holds me back. And I try so hard for it not to but I always does in the end. And when I loose my job for constantly getting the change wrong on the register. I hope they know I'm not stealing and that I'm just stupid.

Stepping on Leaves

As I walk down the narrow side walk, I make a constant effort to leap onto every leaf in my path. Hearing the ever so delicate crunch under my navy, flat bottom sneakers. Sending the sound upward and into the cracks and crevices of my bones where nothing else goes. Vibrating into the veins of my forehead sending the shivers back down to my toes. Like the ones you get when you listen to Amy Winehouse wale into the microphone or when you touch the gentle palm of a new born baby. Loving the every feel of this autumn gold.

...And though it was blurry enough to not be able to make out even the simple shapes She stared at it the entire ride home Making observations on the way the water ran down the glass And how the glow from the light smudged into the dark This was her version of crying She has trained herself to cry in silence Scared of what others might think or say Scared that she might end up having to actually tell someone what was wrong Or that she would become any more alone than she already was She didn’t want any more pain She has had enough

I can see the end It’s a small light peaking through the whole in out ozone layer of darkness It’s the bullet that shot straight through her heart at 80mph It’s the baby that was killed the other day cause some stupid bitch didn’t feel like buying a condom Its the hurricane that is responsible for thousands of deaths Its these dumb ass pipms with their drugs over there on the corner Its not knowing which way to go when we can only go forward It’s the closes minded people that don’t understand the open minded ones Its our fault We are killing ourselves

You are my bittersweet tear You are my giggle in silence You are my "I wish I was with you now" You are my "boy toy" so to speak Oh but don’t get me wrong, its not like that I'm desperately in love Two years is a long time to be desperate for one single person And it kills me inside that you are not my….. You are not mine

At this moment I was not there I mean I was there… But I wasn’t there I would slip in and out of reality not remembering what had happened five minutes before It killed so many of my brain cells that I can actually tell the difference I remember... Smoking it on top of a recycling bin that had bee flipped over in the garage And when I stood up Everything became unreal Sounds were quieter I couldn’t feel my lips moving but words were coming out And I didn’t register in my mind what I was saying or doing I just ended up in the car While my brother went off to get his money in the house I felt as though I had been sitting in that car for hours So I went to go get him and he told me it had been minutes There are really no words to describe how it was I was not smoking your average weed It was a trip

I was in the winter of my life- and the men I met along the road were my only summer. At night I fell sleep with vision of myself dancing and laughing and crying with them. Three year down the line of being on an endless world tour and memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times. I was a singer, not very popular one, who once has dreams of becoming a beautiful poet- but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again- sparkling and broken. But I really didn’t mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is. When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I had been living- they asked me why. But there’s no use in talking to people who have a home, they have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lied you head. I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me that I had a chameleon soul. No moral compass pointing me due north, no fixed personality. Just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide as wavering as the ocean. And if I said that I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying- because I was born to be the other woman. I belonged to no one- who belonged to everyone, who had nothing- who wanted everything with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about- and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzlez and dizzied me. Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people- and finally I did- on the open road. We have nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore- except to make our lives into a work of art.