Family Death

It seems the delirious minds try to assert themselves the most

Like the way dying car engines work herder to stay alive

Inevitably they die just like her feeble mind will

Right now I can't say if I would be sad about that 

Or if my innards would turn 

In the same manner as my head

Away from the scene

Pushing broken wheels only works for so long

As the spokes pierce the ground 

Leaving a trail of spite

And the splinters await innocent feet to prick

But my children will not know her 

They will not know her bleak existence

Nor will I

Not after another day of giving up

All a child wants is to be craved

In the same manner plants demand light

Unfortunately a dismal existence has been mine

Void of emotional support

Lacking in the very acknowledgment of my presence 

And the only cravings in my parents bedroom

Is wealth and weight loss

Scales become useless to eyes trained for trimming

And crying voices from the kitchen 

Take a back seat to the hands creating new belt holes

There is a family somewhere dying to become known

And there is a family somewhere having dinner 

Feasting on laughter 

There is a family somewhere surviving on each other's smiles

That family is simply not here 

Nor will it ever be    

The Real Me

I apologize for the wait

Thank you to those who have been so patient

Thank you to all those who left beautiful comments

Beautiful posts

But mostly beautiful impressions on my heart

 

 

Here is my reveal

Thank you for watching

Paralyzed vocal cord sleep 

On the floor of my jar full of problems 

I have always found that handwritten sentiments contain less of the volatile juxtaposition between you and I

Then your slurred rants always did 

 

My neurons plea for a break

Chained, by their throats 

To a treadmill on high speed 

They either fall and choke to death

In a pathetic lump of blood and road rash

 

Or they hop

 

In an overreactive display of the pain they must endure

It's hard to watch your own brain die

And even harder to watch YOU 

 

They say you can tell a lot about a person 

By looking into their eyes 

So I scrutinized every damn pair of dark, sullen, glazed over eyes as I could find

Hoping to find reason

 

I learned people have barbed-wire bracelets 

Tightly wrapped around their tongues

I learned people live with parents who would rather converse with lawyers and prostitutes 

Than their own spouse 

 

I learned people have dying siblings

 

But don't worry

Because with each match, we burned stronger

 

And for the people who have broken the one-way mirrors that are our pathetic pupils

WELCOME

 

Welcome to the real us 

Untainted by our parents wallets or any number of photography filters 

Welcome to the real me 

A boy with a soul  of helium 

But chain down by the echoes of six grade, top-dog, long hair haters

 

Welcome to the real me 

A forced fighter 

Because MY momma 

She has been beat up real bad 

By this dismal existence we call "life"

There is so little actually alive here

So I promised her that I would finish her final rounds for her

That I would take every hit for her

Before the gloves claimed her instead 

 

Welcome to the real me 

A tree stump throne in the hills

Built to soak up tears of teenagers

And hear EVERY rant about boyfriends, and the social injustice of adolescent mistreatment 

 

Welcome to the real me 

A mop-headed paper shredder 

With a lifetime warrantee 

A reserved child stuck in denial

A one man, first aid equipped, Red Cross ambulance 

 

 

Welcome to the real me 

An energetic harpsichord called "paranoia"

Called ugly 

Called lazy 

Called crazy 

Called "too much"

Some, some even call me a hipster but damn it, don't you dare call me that, don't you even think it 

Mixed tapes and outerwear are no indicator of identity 

 

 

A select few

Have even ventured to call me Alice

Alice S. Blackwell

 

 

But you

You can call me 1:00 AM

You can call me taxi cab driver

'Cause that's all I am to you 

You can call me friend or foe

 

 

You can call me the journal page you ripped out titled "disgust"

You can call me the desk we sawed in half so we could both have work space

 

 

You can call me Isaac 

Isaac McKay Stirland 

Live For A Living

A beautiful collection of inspired works from the soul

"It's learning how to live for a living, that's the tricky stitch"

Fame

Throw me into the pile of dreams unfulfilling

Let me rest among each other experience that simply wasn't superior enough

Do not worry about the civilization building

Do not worry about your imminent downfall

And most of all don't worry about the bruises left on my eyes from the times I saw you stolen away 

Kick me into the snow and bury my every feature 

Frantically smother my lips in mud

Because the last thing you want to hear is the truth

But you would be better to stop your ears with pencils

You're too much of a coward for pens anyways

Roll me into the valley of suppression

Throw pebbles of angst at my skull

And watch the life drip down my spine

The one you ripped out, and I taped to my chest

You took the literal road of "I have your back"

But a cynical mind can conjure the most elaborate of alibis 

My poor frame had to be the conduit of your cruelty 

Slide me under the door and double check the bolts

No matter how many chairs and lies you press against the wood 

I'll still emerge the prominent one

Even though hate burns strong

Forgiveness burns hotter and I forged a key from all the knives you stuck in my back

I'll see you in ten

Zip me up and lock me away

But don't mind checking for holes in the body bag

Who am I kidding the last thing you doubled checked was the box next to your name

In the superlative "most likely to succeed"

You should have put on your reading glasses

Because your ignorance placed your marks the the box for "most dull"

And irony has never been more accurate 

Pick me out of your memory 

And throw every morsel in the river bank

Never swim there again because the water is deeper than you could perceive 

Lastly tighten your shoes

Because this 

This is dangerous

And if your not careful

It will claim the both of us 

Iron Bars, Stolen Candy Bars, And Lies

Does he fail to see the rebellion enshroud him?

I barley recognize the dark figure once my brother

The school has had enough

So has home

An exiled soul searching for solace but finds none 

Only small amounts of pleasure among late night fights 

And 2 AM trips to the back seat

Quiet halls accompany screaming minds

We're all afraid to ask about the calls

But I think we are afraid more of what they will say

It's better to know his heart is still beating, than to know how many times it has stopped 

Dreams flash red and blue 

Not because of fireworks or patriotic parades

Because blue is the color of the cold skin 

And red the color of boldly knuckles

Lips

And puddled streets 

The two together remind me of when he was driven away

It's 2 AM and the local park is lit up with 

Phone screens, I wish I could say

Or perhaps incense

But I know it's the light of a smokier substance

Tonight we made lizards from old beads in the back closet

Each weave an excruciating effort for your shaky hands

I can tell yours from mine

Not by colour

But by the stress cracks each bead carries 

I can't bear to know what causes the tremors

It's better to just call it a night 

And hope a little sleep will reinvigorate a walking corpse 

Your head is full of half empty glasses of patience 

I wish we could fix the kitchen sink

Those glasses need to be filled soon

Before you get stir crazy and kill another opportunity

Or peer

To the boy who can't find acceptance 

To the kid who never gets heard

I hear you 

And I can't sleep 

I Do Hear You Fight

I can tell its been a rough week 

My socks told me through their gaping holes

And my toes are raw from 

Curling

Curling 

Curling

Every time I hear them fight through the bookshelf

I never touch those novels 

Surely they are infested with every word of malice that passed through them

Each book a conduit of crude language

Each page stained with words most would regret saying

But regret is not welcomed in my sad home

Apoligies are non existent

The temperature is never right in my house 

But my thermostat works fine

Somehow it's my moms fault it's always "broken"

Perhaps if you opened your damn eyes you could see that you are wearing three jackets

Dinner isn't cooked which means the ear plugs are coming out of their box

A note on the fridge lets my "parents" know I've gone on a walk

When really, I lay down in my bed

Frantically searching my brain for every recipe I could ever remember

Remembering is hard when you purge it every night

And Bulimia is a common practice in my home

Perhaps that's the cause of the wretched smell

It's either new socks or bare feet

Too many broken 

Glasses 

Hearts 

Promises

Line the floor 

Every step would cut my tender feet

And as I get the courage to walk through it all

Walk to freedom 

I realize I am already on my way to the store

To buy more of the stupid socks 

 

An Incredibly Biased But Accurate Autobiography

I am the kid who always appears angry in the halls

It's because I am thinking

About him and her and me and probably you too 

I'm just asleep behind the glassy eyes

Wrinkled forehead

And slanted eyebrows 

So please please wake me up 

I still raise my hands when I go over speedbump's because it lets me know I'm still trying

And love, in times like these all you can do is try 

I have the hardest time dealing with myself 

All I want to do is take care of every student at Lone Peak

Because everyone deserves to have their eyes wrinkle from a smile 

Everyone deserves to feel the sun in their chest

But I am too scared to try and talk to the "cool kids"

And it's hard because I know some of them need it 

And I have never made it to student council so somehow I feel ineligible to talk to strangers 

I'm the kid who lays in bed with my phone flashlight on because I am scared of what's in my closet 

And I am also hoping the bottom of the top bunk will tell me how to solve it all 

But nothing has come yet

I'm the kid who wears too many layers 

And I am sorry if that bothers you 

But there is something about having my coat collar zipped all the way up 

Something in the way it holds me 

And I actually feel safe 

Safe from the yelling

The hate

The eyes 

And especially the emotion 

Plus it covers my acne 

It makes me feel like a sore thumb in alpine 

"land of the perfect"

I don't make eye contact because it scares the hell out of me

I hate to swear but that's the only way I can explain it 

Girls scare me

So badly

They are like ISIS 

I don't really know what they are about

But I know they are powerful 

I always try to hug and kiss my siblings

They sadly push me away every time cause that's "gross" and "we're too old to kiss on the cheek"

But to me, cheeks are the most loving

Cause they catch all the tears of sadness

I am a failure at expressing my emotions any other way than tickling your ear and grabbing your fingers 

Sorry 

I'm sorry I bug you 

I won't tell you the real reason I wear rings 

Firstly because I don't want to

Secondly because you don't care

Thirdly I have trust issues that stemmed from childhood betrayal 

And fourthly because it's simply too personal 

I am hypochondriatic which is a problem

Because my eyes keep hurting and that means I probably have a growth on the back of them 

Which in turn means I can't read your posts 

And a trip to the hospital is useless because it's too late to save me 

And this paper cut

Could be an open vessel for Ebola which my dad may have 

He travels 200 days of the year for business

So maybe he cheats on my mom

And perhaps this stomach ache of mine is actually acid erosion

And there is no way that is rain tapping on my window 

It's definitely a burglar 

So even though I'm 17 and it's 2:00 AM

Dad your coming to my room 

Maybe I'm overthinking things 

Probably not 

I read poetry in class as often as I can but before I go you'll see me check my pulse

It's at about 190

And there are football players in my class

And I have never had so many eyes on me 

Which is what everyone seems to want

I ably want to bloodshot ones

Cause those are the ones who actually care

And don't judge me 

I wish I could have been as great as the top five writers 

But that's one of my greatest problems 

I'll never measure up

It seems I write my best poetry in my sleep/dreams

But my mind isn't s pen and pad

Like theirs is 

Which leads me to describe the kid I am who has absolutely no self confidence 

I only post first drafts because I feel like anything else is not raw enough

Not real enough 

I'm painfully shy and people think I am mean

Which makes me sad

I'm a lost writer 

I'm an emotional wreck

I'm an older brother 

And proud of that

I'm feeding plants and dogs so one day I'll be ready for kids

But not any time soon

They would have days of hunger at least twice a week 

I'm quirky and i want the whole world to know

Because I am proud to be me 

And if any of you were patient enough to read this whole thing I congratulate you

You'll need to exercise that virtue a bit longer 

And to those who skipped down from the top

I hope one day you'll write and read with the same vigor you eat and breathe with 

Because when you get there 

You'll understand why my posts are so long

-Alice S.