Weirdness

This has been the worst Spring Break in a long time. The weather sucks; it's cold, dreary, and just makes me want to sleep. To top it all off, guys are weird. I am working on a poem, but so far, it's shit. Everything is just…meh.

C4ward March Blogathon Day 2

The Ontology of It

Before he told me I'd be a world famous novelist,
a New York Times best selling author of poetry 
and things, and I wonder. 
Does success come at the end, does it
only come at the end or like learning to let go 
of these repetitive thoughts, is it a process. 
I tell him, you're already successful
just becoming more successful, and I wonder. 
Is that what it is. That what it is is.

Then in the middle it was hard. 
The middle is when I feel the least of it.
The anticipation, which they say is highest before,
turns to doubt and despair and my hair 
ends up in knots because I'm in the middle 
and it's hard and in a loss for words, 
I think I've got nothing.

Now, when I'm done,
looking at the past future in the present
judgement sets in, snuggling up 
against self-criticism and this is not what I envisioned
this is not, and it stays stuck
there for a while and I think at the beginning
I wanted happiness, no stress, 
to work to write to make it. 
Will I know when I make it when I've made it
or will I know I've made it when I'm making it 
or will I know I'm making it when I've made it.
Or will someone just tell me when I've made it
and then I'll just know for sure. 

©AAC 2014

C4ward March Blogathon Day 1

You Asked Me Why So I Write To You

When I was thirteen

they called me Ice Queen

and I didn't say a word. 

Sometimes I can't say how I feel.

It's not that I don't want to

it's not that I don't. 

Sometimes I can't

bring myself to speak,

to spill my soul over you,

so I write. I write

when you want me, 

with honesty and emotion, 

to tell you what I want, need, know, think.
It's like a dream

where I can't scream--

one hand around my throat

the other over my mouth, 

and I struggle to whisper a sound. 

I write for you to try 

to understand me

I write for you to try 

to know me. 

I write when I can't express to you
what I want when you stare at me 

for the longest time and the words 

get stuck at the back of my throat. 

I feel best through written words,

words I string together, 

a candy necklace.

I'm partly broken, a little sour,
sometimes sweet and I know myself 

enough to know I can, I will speak 

to you through poetry.

I'll write for you and it'll be enough. 

It has to be enough. 

©AC 2014