ii. We're Okay (For Now) 

Jack's his best friend,

even if

Ben doesn't understand him

a lot of the time. 

Jack is smart,

but doesn’t like answering questions in school,

even if he thinks

he has the answer.

“What if I’m wrong?” he whispers,

wide-eyed, one day during math.

The second grade class is crammed,

cross-legged, onto a purple carpet.

“People get mad at you

when you’re wrong.”

That can’t be right,

and Ben tells him so,

because the teachers are always insisting

that mistakes are good

and help you learn.

Jack only frowns and shakes his head.

The subject is not pressed further.

Jack is sweet and shy

and doesn’t talk much but

doodles on everything. His arms

are always covered

in smeared drawings

in Crayola marker, of smiley faces

and bunnies and toast.

Whenever he messes up,

(even if it’s just a little thing),

he freezes,

his eyes tense— Just for a second,

like he’s bracing himself for an impact

that doesn’t come.

Ben notices

but never says anything, because Jack

never says anything when Ben’s brain

starts ticking,

the white noise rises up around his ears

(too loud, too loud), and

he

can’t

breathe.

Jack just taps his fingers

on Ben’s arm

like he’s playing piano.

Tap

tap

tap.

It’s grounding.

It makes him feel more

there,

makes him feel

okay.

They make a nice duo.

He does the speaking,

Jack does the dreaming.

I'm really not sure about this Okay, Okay, Okay series... Maybe it would work better as prose. Advice, please?

——— 

iii. Not Okay (Never Was)

And it goes. 

They grow up

and things change.

Jack stops tapping,

(Ben starts losing himself inside

his head,

breaks down in class because

it's too much, too much—)

Ben discovers that

the only way that

the noises in his head shut up is

if he’s louder than them.  

Jared Winstone skips a grade

and joins their class.

(It wasn't his choice, but

nobody needs to know.) 

Ben walks with a swagger

and talks big

and starts to scowl

and play sports

and chase girls.

He gets friends

(and an ego).

Jack shrinks in on himself,

getting smaller and smaller until

it’s almost as if he

doesn’t

exist

at all. He hunches his shoulders

and looks at the ground

and ignores the world. It wouldn’t care

if he disappeared, anyway.

(So why shouldn’t he?)

Jared knows

all the answers in class.

He commands a sort of...

reluctant admiration

from the others.

They respect him

but they don’t like him.

He stays out of their way

and reads, instead. Things are better

inside books

than outside them.

Ben watches

as his former best friend disappears.

He talks bigger, 

makes weapons out of words,

the only things that

he knows how to use.

He spins lies and people

believe them. He teases the kids

that don’t have anybody

(he has nobody, either)

to defend them. He spits out taunts

as fast as he can so he

doesn’t have time

(he's never had time) 

for regret.

He’s hurting himself too,

doing this.

It’s poison—

he knows, he knows,

it's slowly corrupting him,

destroying him from the inside

out, but

he can’t get enough of the pain.

It’s mean,

it’s bad,

it’s awful,

but he enjoys it,

(in a twisted way).

He hates himself for that,

hates himself more

than he has ever loved anything, ever,

but it doesn’t change a thing.

Everything

is spiraling

out of control 

and it's all his fault.

(It's always his fault.)

(Always, always, always.) 

Welp, here's a thing:

Fires of My Heart

Glowing embers, deep inside

Caves of darkness, shadows hide

Look into my wounds and see

The fighting powers that will be

Ashes spread over my tomb

Fresh from a new fire’s womb

Roses red and coal dust black

Everything in life I’ve lacked

Burning heart of blood and fire

A piece of each that I admire

Burn ‘till nothing’s left within

Spread my ashes to the wind

Burn through life and into death

Cinders in my final breath

More beauty in the sun-bathed rose

Than wilting into soft repose

Forget my smoke, forget my shine

But your heart will still be mine

In the embers of my fire

Mixed will every deep desire

Burning down to dying ash

I will fly and I will crash

My life is nothing but a dream

A flaming game, a fiery gleam

In Love With the Darkness 

Your night black skin,

Speckled by stars like freckles.

Your beautiful eyes,

Hold the world within them.

Your silver hair

So soft and fine,

Filters through my fingers.

Like the silk of a fine dress.

You smile,

And the world--no.

The universe brightens.

Your soft voice,

The whisper between the stars,

Like the wind sighing

Through the trees.

The way you act,

So gentle,

Yet unforgiving and hard.

You walk out of my life,

The way the night leaves at dawn.

We can never be together,

For we are the day,

And the night 

~~~~~
I don't know why I like writing random poetry so much. But it's just fun, I guess.

I wrote this in my mind as my older brother was bringing me home from my job today (I work at a karate studio). I've always loved the color of the sky. Tell me what you think:

I am coming home after four hours at the studio,

and I am tired. But then I look up and see the melting sky-

blue at the top, fading to

creamy white-pink,

puffy soft white clouds far in the background.

(Why do clouds look so soft and fluffy but then are so cold and gray when you fly through them on a plane?)

There is muted lavenders washing over delicate pinks which turn to rose and then gold at the bottom.

The sun is a brilliant golden jewel- glowing, golden, molten lava-burnished gold.

And I wonder how this whole scene would look 300 - no - 600 years ago, when there were no cars,

no telephone wires criscossing and trying to bring order to the glorious color in the sky,

no electricity,

just the sounds of nature and trees and a beautiful sunset.

There is a sunset happening literally every second, if you think about it

There have been trillions of sunsets since the beginning of time, so mine shouldn't really be different. And it's not really. 

But also, if you think about it, out of all the trillion quadrillion sunsets that have ever happened, no single one has EVER been the same.