a poem i wrote. (untitled at the moment)

(Based on a David Wojnarowicz poem...)


I am a silent storm filling up the sky. I'm a thunderstorm, loud and boisterous, raining everything from my soul. I feel like a tree, maybe a fallen tree. I am a fallen tree, lying on the forest floor. I am crying these immaculate tears. I am growing frustrated, I am growing exhausted. I am sobbing for you, in this blaring silence. I am walking aimlessly around this forest looking for your soul. I am desolate. I am screaming and sobbing, trying to feel you somewhere around me. I am sobbing. I am sobbing, my soul hurts. I am disinegrating. i am disinegrating into the wind, the absence of your soul is haunting my soul.

Justin Thomas Van Buskirk-

hello.
you're lame. and a dork.
but that's okay, i love you anyways.
laugh-laugh.
-chandelle

some of chapter one of my attempted novel (it's a maybe thing)

matrix reloaded final for ms k's class



i wake up. he's laying next to me. i'm laying on his arm... i sit up, and look at him. my sheets all tangled and twisted, covering him. his chest and stomach, he's not scrawny, but he's skinny. his skin is the color of tanned wheat grass in the fields with the sun beaming down. he's smooth an soft, like silk. he has a light layer of hair on his stomach, around his navel, and on the hard plate stone i the middle of his chest. but it's soft, not scratchy like sandpaper. his hip bones are prominent, jutting out of his skin, a type of beauty that makes you want to run you finger softly over it, to see if it's real, but you don't want to touch too hard in fear that it could break. the way his skin stretches and lays over his sharp hips.
i turn away, i don't want see anymore, he's too beautiful.
his neck, perfect like marble in all its angles. or his arms, and the way he has that one vein, from wrist to elbow, that makes me tremble.
i will not look at his face. i can't handle it.
i turn myself around reach to the floor and pick his shirt up. a twisted sister band t-shirt. i pull it over my head. it smells just like him. a mixture of laundry soap and some type of guy's body spray, and sweat. not the gross b.o. sweat, but a guy smell.

i look around my bedroom.the posters on my wall are pretty much all local musicians. mostly acoustic, i usually can't stand that loud stuff. on the wall that my bed sits up against is a poster. a gorgeous angel, very sad, with long black wings. so pretty, i love it. my friend jake drew it, and painted it for me. he had a lot of time on his hands, at the hospital where he was at, for trying to kill himself a couple monthes ago when his step-dad died, the only person he had. i continue to look around my room. i look up at the calander. december 1988. only one more month to go, and its 1989, possibilities for new beginings, this year i have hope. i glance back at him laying in my bed... hope. julian.

i didn't want to end up like my mother. doing drugs for sex. sex for drugs. sex as an escape. escaping from the drugs she has sex to get. escaping from the sex she has to get drugs. i'm not like her, though. i don't do drugs, i refuse. after growing up and seeing my mother, never around to make me a peanut butter sandwich, always in her room, the aroma of whatever drug she just did whatever guy to get. by ten years old i had known that if mom wasn't out and around not to go looking for her. i knew not to go into her room. i can specifically remember a time when i was about ten or eleven, walking into my mother's room because she had a phone call, and seeing her barely competent, nearly passed out. that was the last time i've opened the door her to room.

it's the guy part i have a problem with. and i've found one i actually like, not one that will grab me and pull me down the hall, and i go along with because i don't have to think about everything that i'm normally thinking about that i don't want to think about.

julian wasn't like that. he knew about the guys i'd been with and the past i have with not doing relationships, because i end up sleeping around. he said he wanted a relationship with me anyway. he didn't even want to do this, because he was afraid i'd walk away. he said he knew i could be strong and that i wouldn't. question was, did i? i told tyler yesterday that i didn't want to see him anymore. it wasn't like we had a relationship anways. i was just playing my mother's role. he shrugged and said "oh well it was a sex thing anyways." and walked away. i didn't care, i gave up caring along time ago.

julian found me in school, in the library, writing in my notebook make of a journal. my school- the breakfast club, no joke. but there are more different groups and cliques, and a hell of a lot more drugs. so i'm sitting there writing a letter to the father i never met,(knocked my mother up at 15 and bailed. she ran away and had me, ding-ding. the one thing she did for me. it was just an excuse to leave home and hang out with the trashy people she still hangs out with today, she's still the same 16 year old she was when i was born, only she'll end up with AIDS by the time she dies, and as new as it is, they won't be able to help her). i don't hate my father for ditching her, i hate him for ditching me. but he was a sixteen year old kid at the time, so i guess i understand. how many guys did i know that've dropped out because they got a chick pregnant? all i know about my dad was that he loved the beatles and seen them in their last concert together before they broke up. that's all my mother ever told me about my father. so i'm writing a letter to him about the beatles, and julian, (who i had seen at parties and stuff), sat down and said, "hmmm. the beatles. not a fan, really, that was like 20 years ago. i'm more of a twisted sister kind of guy. dee snider baby!!" and then he did this rediculous air guitar thing. of course he didn't know why i was writing to some immaculate being, about some old band at all. but he would.

that was three months ago, and now he's asleep in my bed, i did the only thing i know how to do. i've never really cared about any of the guys i've been with. this time was different. there was something there, something amazing.

a karma poem...

The group of us, we stand around
solem, with out sound, there are
tears in our eyes, anger smoking from us
the air is thick with pain,
it makes an oblivious by stander,
walking thru, double over in hurt,
they feel our agony, the pain we
are drowning in.

and you are walking around, watching
us, this circus of sorrow, a smile
on your face, the word "lies"
written on your lips.
I've never felt so much hatered for
someone before, it scares me.
it burns at my core.
you're watching your destruction,
caused by your being
infuriated by jealousy
do you really want to ruin all
their lives,
just to feel like yours is worth
something?

you are a sick monster
you've hurt him, my love, my life
he is wide open, all the
ripped and torn pages hidden inside
him, are you fluttering around for
everyone to read?

and now your lies have
laughed in our faces,
accusing him of harming you,

your lies.
you know he's not a monster.
YOU ARE!

your jealousy is what hurt you.

the rage, it burns inside me to
hurt you,
to rip all your lies out,
tell them the truth so
they'll be angry for holding
you up so long,
and then shove them back inside
of you,
sew you shut so that you
can never escape yourself.

but I refuse to let myself bring
you pain.
I'm better than you,
I am not a monster
not a monster
not
a
monster.

one day a wave will come
and this will all come back
to you, I hope you drown.
I want you to feel more than,
his pain, my pain, our pain
her pain, his pain, their pain
his pain, her pain, their pain
her pain, her pain, her pain, their pain
our pain together
I want you to feel
more than all of that together,
a tsunami that can
thrown down buildings

but maybe it doesn't have to happen
all at once.
it could slowly build up

it is building up-
I smiled today, for real
the kiss he gave me today
wasn't scared
a tear on my cheek today,
I laughed too hard.
oh- and
he and I, we're closer than we've
ever been, and stronger

slowly it's coming, the wave will hit.
eventually
I hope it hurts.