Unlike those-
I know the vocabulary of success
and so have never worked;
(do you think it's unfair to say?)
don't defend my unchallenged world

Here I AM (so happy)
circumstances have changed for the better
but i am not for the better
i am for the pain

I am for every tear drop of silence
in this cold cold corner
I am for every sharp intake of wounded breath
across these lungs
I am for every knuckle clasped to my lips;
for justice.

This is so much
better
(than before)
but (I feel) I feel the same

& I know i will not decide
(to use this happy power)
unless the world stops turning & i perish:
impersonality is not worth fighting for

Contrition--
every selfish heartbeat
and every happy ending.

make them care

Guilt. I love it.
Cynicism. I crave it.
Make me feel worthless.
Make me want to learn.

Make me cry aloud for the sheer wonder
that I still can
I can shed tears--

make me because for a few minutes,
I will still feel human.

And I will still feel the unknown
hope that something can change
that by sensing the core of our
injustice, our wrongness, our disease
I will know that something can
be right.

_______________________________
Note to higher education:
even in honors classes, they (we) don't start our papers until the night before (if you're lucky.) WE freely admit that WE didn't read the pages assigned (there were too many, the language was too dense, too much other work to do, project runway was on). And we don't care: it's become the game of how little we can get away with doing. (I'll win). WE sit silent when the prof asks a question. All we care about is lunch, and music, who-said-what-about-your-outfit and WTF did Britney do to her hair??? and where the next soul-containing shot is going to come from--Monday, as I walk across the quad I hear the essential question: We drinking tonight? (No. It really doesn't get boring. Still waiting--and glad it doesn't).

Until now.
This is what college is supposed to be.

And it's pathetic that it takes 3 honors classes and junior year before I encounter two days of this one class. That one simple question not let slide is all it takes to make me believe I'm truly thinking --- that my brain, my heart, my mind isn't lying dormant.

But once through those doors, like he says, we won't look back. "Anyone think about what we were reading? Anyone? No...good. You didn't break the code."

does a tree missing a limb
feel like a man without a leg
and fight the phantom pains
as his body refuses to accept the loss?

Emotionally Unavailable

Damn you for making me care.
(I pretend this is for the best)
Did I push you away? (No.)
Anyone else, certainly, yes.

It's like that girly song said
However cheesy, or typical:
"Can't get you out of my head."
Damn me for being irrational

I'm suspicious of anyone who's "too nice"
and this is why
I never believed someone could trick me twice
and this is why

Left alone I take it to the extreme
It seemed we were lovers --
But really I created this dream;
It seemed like --
I loved you (for a day)

If you call me again? I'm sure you will soon--
If you answered me, I'd have nothing to say
If you made the slightest mention that you might
possibly,
quietly,
desperately,
LOVE ME BACK
(Then would I push you away? Certainly yes.)

we never get the chance to do anything with our lives

Bewitched by Birthdays

i always think the weeks before my birthday will be the best of my life
filled with new possibilities and responsibilities
but instead i feel useless, tired, unsure, at a loss

(We never get the chance to do anything with our lives) Already we're trapped, traded, boxed in
already stereotyped and acculturated, transculturated, educated,

It's always like this

What do I do? What Have I done? So where are the proof of my useful struggle my use of oxygen on this planet how, how, how, can i dispel that calling calling voice saying
Something is wrong. Something is not right.
not yet 21 and already feeling the anticipation of a middle life crisis

(I'd like that wouldn't I, it's bitter chill would quench my thirst for emotional pain)
Maybe I'll buy a car - or do only men do that?

And here,
I love the imagination
more than the reality

terrified to be all caught up
involved in this civilization
dependent on you
on you
on you
and everyone