March 2011
1 post
it's all in the wrist.
it’s funny how I can see my evolution through my handwriting. I’m not talking figuratively. there’s a distinct difference between now and then through the pen in my hand. those sunny-eyed days with an immature imagination. scrawling, messy notations before my thoughts galloped away from me. cartoonish, almost. a childish exaggeration. but now? a reserved interpretation, as the...
February 2011
4 posts
there's no song and dance to this.
shut the hell up. you’re giving me a headache. you reflect your intelligence inversely with the sounds of your voice. you batter and rant – I rage and you can’t find the power within yourself to zip your lips for one glorious second. your baboonish laughs contrasting the Eden inside my head. but those gates are crumbling down. every word, every noise is yet another gunshot to my brain. to say...
there's no song and dance to this.
shut the hell up. you’re giving me a headache. you reflect your intelligence inversely with the sounds of your voice. you batter and rant – I rage and you can’t find the power within yourself to zip your lips for one glorious second. your baboonish laughs contrasting the Eden inside my head. but those gates are crumbling down. every word, every noise is yet another gunshot to my brain. to say...
say cheese.
eye contact is the funniest of things. it’s like a make-or-break deal. I tend to top mine with smiles. even if bad feelings are to stir, I’m no soothsayer to see that truth. we live in this moment – not the ‘possibility’. not the ‘when’. she could be having a bad day. his girlfriend might’ve dumped him. she might be feeling fat over her lunch. but one little smile could brighten their whole mood....
red dye in your hair - oh, you're so edgy!
let’s be blunt – you have nothing. you have no redeeming qualities to your antagonistic values. you’re a character in a terrible piece, a half-baked idea in a cliché-ridden book. the tests give one point for each tragedy, and you’re just loading them on like shopping at a grocery store. you’re not a victim, I promise. you do not fall out of the tree dead. there’s no crime-scene investigation,...
September 2010
3 posts
social deprivation.
do you mind if I list out my aching frustrations? well, not quite a list - more an exaggeration. let’s start with numero uno, the only one: I’m tired of being left out of the fun. she tells me I’m strong, not like the others, but I just can’t help but feel a bit bothered. even the purest wants to be everyone else; what’s numbness if I don’t even know how it...
eyes everywhere.
you tend to forget there are eyes everywhere. this is why we distance who we are and who we want to be, because the wrong pair of lips can part – even with such virgin eyes – and write novels with the story you tell. a whole news broadcast dedicated to you.
you turned to the corners to whisper, but you must’ve missed the microphone hidden there.
polite.
I always feel so impolite, that words I say are said in spite and despite the many thanks I give, they’re never, ever just as big as the ones I wish to say. and even if I say it all, surging like a waterfall, it’s not enough to make the grade and often then I feel afraid and thus my words become dismay. but maybe it’s just in my mind and I am, in fact, just that polite and...
June 2010
3 posts
down the rabbit hole.
consider this the last hurrah. this is the point of no return, where we enter as children and exit as men.
who knows how long this tunnel will stretch on for? maybe a few more months. maybe a whole lifetime.
each day I fear that when I crawl inside, I’m never coming back out. maybe somewhere down the line, I’ll asphyxiate.
but I can’t let that stop me. even with my senses blocked, my hands...
you're kind of pretty.
you’re kind of pretty in the way that 0.99 is pretty much 1, and that small of a difference is just close enough. you’re kind of pretty in the way that you’re totally not, but you have such a great personality that it makes up for your looks. you’re kind of pretty in the way that my eyes hurt when I see your face, as does everyone else’s, but no one wants to be mean because you’re just so nice to...
the last week's lament.
I feel empty inside, even with such a cluttered mind. my eyes stalk each tick of the clock. 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 2 minutes, no minutes. yet no freedom is rung. and even in a crowded room, filled with the trite chatter of my peers, I’m alone. I wish you were here to clear my head. make all the noise disappear, with only our sounds to be heard. I wish you were here when I’m stressed out to my...
May 2010
3 posts
the worst evil of them all.
my head feels like it’s spinning out of control.
I can hear the blood rushing and thumping through.
even with the power of blockades I stole,
my mind’s excruciatingly askew.
and you just add more with the lack of your soul
while the anger inside me spreads and imbues.
do you believe a bit of what you endow?
because from here it looks like you disavow.
amuse the masses.
things aren’t as broken as they seem. a patina of distress paints the picture while the smokescreen blurs their vision. or maybe that’s just their stupidity.
a patina of distress paints the picture and the children wish to pursue. or maybe that’s just their stupidity; to believe a word they say.
and the children wish to pursue a wish that is corrupted by the future. to believe a word they say is...
claustrophobia.
I feel incomplete, closed in without a barrier in between. eyes looking over my shoulders. claustrophobia personified.
without a barrier in between, I’m ripped apart by silence. claustrophobia personified as I feel their gazes on my back.
I’m ripped apart by silence, save for meaningless chatter as I feel their gazes on my back. they distract and confuse.
save for meaningless chatter, there is...
April 2010
6 posts
dead and done.
Don’t you miss the way you bled?
Right, when I shot you out of my head.
Don’t you miss that dreadful smoke?
Is that supposed to be a joke?
Don’t you miss the way things were?
I’m afraid it seems to be a blur.
Don’t you miss my helpful words?
‘Hurtful’ is more like the term.
I certainly miss the way you cried.
Like how...
the age-old tale.
oh dearie me. I’m a hypocrite now, aren’t I? just like a penny - two-faced and worthless, don’t you think? well, that’s just dandy. I like it up here, believe it or not. it’s nice. the service is great, really. you should try it sometime. oh wait. you do. and yet still you fail miserably. what’s this? the umpteenth time I’ve beaten you at your own game? I...
no, seriously.
is it impulse? every time you open your mouth and babble incoherent sounds that are supposed to resemble intelligence, is it just second nature by now? or do you know you’re doing it? is it your trick to knock out the competition? to annoy the fuck out of them until they back down and give you the crown? no, seriously. you can just keep your mouth closed, because I can guarantee that...
a little less than three.
little hearts line the pages. annotations stuck in tiny spaces. together our hands fit like a glove. I think I might just be in love. daydreams pushing work aside. smiles at every sweet ‘goodnight’. rainy days have come and gone and happiness goes on for long. notebooks filled with lame love poems (and cheesy lines by she who wrote them). feeling your beat against my ear. protecting me...
everywhere I turn.
I look to my left. cute couple ahead. they’re a little awkward together, but I guess to each his own. she’s been around a bit. finally found someone who appreciates her. or just another arm to latch onto. but they look happy. they share as kiss as I turn away.
I look to my right. my favorite two. he’s so much taller, and she’s petite. just like us. but they fit together. just like us. they’re...
you're not funny.
hmm, okay, how do I put this…? you’re not funny.
shit happens, you know. it’s humorous. we laugh, all share a moment. and then it’s done. but you’re a necrophiliac. you wake this joke from its peaceful, death slumber and proceed to FUCK the hell out of it. it’s not just beating a dead horse. it’s like raping it.
and what if it’s not even funny to begin with? are you laughing that hard at a joke...
March 2010
9 posts
there's something about Mike...
there’s just something about your smile that makes me melt every time. the reason why I’ll count down the days until I can see it again. there’s just something about your eyes that I can’t get enough of. perhaps it’s the way they light up when I’m around. there’s just something about your words that send me flying every time you take a breath. and how I...
inspirazione.
this is children’s stuff compared to the rest of the world. this is how I know that everything around me has not yet blossomed. that the intended depth to this still -called- life is cartoonish and fake. but this is how I know that I can take their breaths and feed it through my veins - just the same. to make a shell out of what I pretend to know. or to make a mask out of what they really...
you make me smile.
and for the first time, I’m speechless. not a single world could convey the emotions that are running through my head. not a poem could I write to echo those unspeakable words. only one that touches on the lack thereof. (which is what this is.) (duh.) but not a smile is lost on my face. because you left me a memory that makes me fall even more for you. so maybe there is a single word. no,...
kaboom.
they say that somebody’s eyes are watching you. though, maybe he doesn’t have eyes on the back of his head… nor is his third eye glued on you. but let’s just say that it doesn’t go without notice. trust me.
you’re buying the consequences, with each brush of your hand being another nickel to add to the grand total. sure, he’s no ticking time bomb, but if you press the right button, you’re going to...
headphones around my heart.
she wears headphones around her heart, craving to shoot up another song into her addicted veins. she needs another overdose to keep her going; too weak to go without her drug. her palms shake when her ears are open. she feels incomplete and broken without a lyric running through her head. she longs for the bass to thump in time with her heartbeat. for the echo to vibrate deep down, resounding in...
JK JK JK LOLOLOL.
you think it’s your duty – your God-given right to say boo to me. hiding behind the mask that is lol just kidding! because you lack the metaphorical testicles necessary to talk with no strings attached. stop hiding, coward. if you’ve got the guts to throw the words, don’t you dare sneak around and play it off as a joke. your nose has grown to the size of your lies; you’re not fooling a soul, so...
just wait.
let’s die together tonight. there’s just too much work involved. it costs too much to buy a breath. you know – you with your growing up. me with my falling down.
a tsunami downs my words, a mountain blocks us between, and breaking down this Berlin wall is impossible with a ball and chain around our ankles. so what if we hold our breath, count to ten, and say goodnight? even in complete darkness,...
OUR eyes are watching you.
the filthiest creature of the animal kingdom; one that’s unidentifiable, yet everyone still knows how you slither your way through the grass. how you stalk down your prey. how you wait until the twinkling stars appear before you strike.
there’s something here that doesn’t belong. your trail left behind, reeking of your stench. we know where you’ve been. we know what you’ve done. we can follow...
innocent until proven guilty.
dainty and cute. innocent. perfect, almost. refined. tamed sense of emotion. yielded to the horrors of the world; lust. love. sex. irresistibly ignorant. tightening her eyes to those icky subjects; lust. love. sex. eyes on no one. waiting until marriage. hormones have nothing on her. other ideals fill up her imagination. rest assured; she is pure. every girl’s façade.
February 2010
8 posts
to be human.
here’s the philosophy lesson for the day; what does it mean to be human? does it mean to live? to thrive? or does it mean to just go through the motions day after day after day? the line between these two is blurred - it has been for a long time - and we have forgotten what it truly meanest to live. admits our world of occupations and money and taxes and hell, we focus on what we think is...
fictional? but real.
separated by the façade of death, she was barely hanging on. with the only thing left being that sliver of hope that he was still alive. he was being controlled in a realm outside our world where no one could hear him scream. but he held onto those vague memories of a woman he knew not the name but still loved. and when their worlds collided, and when it all came crashing down, the truth was...
my baby shot me down.
maybe I should’ve feigned sickness that day. I should just have listened to the signs that the world had been projecting. or perhaps someone shouldn’t have bit their tongue and turned away. there was a colliding sign that ached in my heart. something that contradicted everything else around me. he had already made up his mind. how he was going to ruin my world and shatter my glass...
to the sixth station, please.
once I dreamt of a train station that could take me away to the world I always wanted. I would fall asleep every night, drowned by the worries of the world. when I opened my eyes, my dreams would be like water; looking into the dirty reflection I wanted to escape from. but one night, I stepped outside into the cold winter air and something was different. something was new. something that...
goodnight, sweet Queen.
such a foolish mistake to drink from the chalice. you were dead from the moment your precious lips touched the cold and ghastly cup. you should’ve heeded the warning that your lord had set high, even though he did nothing to stop you when you wanted that one taste. no, but you tested your chances. you drank the nectar squeezed from the forbidden fruit. though if its bitter taste hadn’t...
and she has no soul!
heart and head pounding. she’s got me again, ensnarled in another trap, like the monster that she is. she got me so suddenly, like falling in love, with that repulsive taste in my mouth soon turning to a compulsion. I must, I say to myself, I must, with the playlist on repeat. another one to add to the collection. again and again and again. the addiction sets in. the poison she’ll...
the fakeness of relations.
drama. a word that goes hand in hand with teenager. for some reason, we’re wired to think that everything is a big deal and that everything is a crisis. for some more than others they intentionally look for and cause this “dreaded” drama so they can piss and moan about it later on. but drama doesn’t mean a damned thing. it has nothing to do with social standings or what you...
true rumors.
you know what? fuck it. I can feel the burdens that weigh me down - hanging by my shoulders, tugging at my composure - tear at me. that burning want to whisper few secrets over the things I’ve seen? that ache that compels me, almost bringing me to stand atop the roof top and scream it all out to the world? it hurts. because deep down I know that I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t tell a...
January 2010
3 posts
semi-colon end parenthesis.
once upon a time that isn’t so very distant I was afraid of who I was becoming and what I was getting myself into. corrupt images followed what I knew. I was still that immature girl who was unsure about having a stranger in her strange land. never wanting to duplicate the things I viewed upon the lifeless screen. never wanting to become the monster I was making myself into. but once upon a...
piss off, Megan Fox.
she’s got him by the heart. just another notch in her imaginary bedpost. just another name to add to her collection. she’s got his hands bound, mouth gagged, knees weak. she’ll take that cupid’s bow and rip his heart out with it. she’ll eat him alive and leave him as an empty shell. a crab stuck in boiling water. a fly trapped in a spider’s web. ...
I know hate is a pretty strong word, but I fucking...
I could just kill you for what you’ve done to me. you should have known better than to say those things. but that’s the thing; you had no clue. you didn’t know how to act. you didn’t know how to behave. shoddy. shitty. take your pick. am I just kidding myself? no. hell no. these emotions that I feel, these tears that I sob, are all the direct resort of your drama and your...
December 2009
21 posts
breaking my own heart.
it’s humorous, in a way. I click, click, click the links on the page. watching the faces before me as they whiz by. and it seems that every single one of these girls in the world is lucky. because every single one of these girls make me think, “gosh, she is so damn pretty.” so much prettier than, say, me. I’m just a lonely loner. a flounder amongst all the rainbow fish in...
light as a feather.
all her life she looked in the mirror and whispered softly as the tears ran down her face, pretty and skinny. she wanted to be the parallel to the airbrushed images that she had been told to ignore. but there was that lingering, bitter taste in her mouth. the burning want . get thinner, get thinner. eat food, get fat. eat nothing, be pretty. and the poor little girl let that take over her. the...
in new york.
the twinkling stars amongst us, parallel to those hanging by a string in the sky. with the lights and the sounds of the day echoing further into the night.
the busy streets packed even further. with the stragglers of the day and the moon bearing down upon them all. each with a story to tell.
the late-shift office workers just getting off from their daily hell; some rushing home as soon as they...
the day it rained colors.
sometimes I wish the world was grayscale so we could wait for the day it rains colors to really bring out the beauty of our lives.
our every day black and white. monotonous appearances. stained by the liveliness; the loveliness of color. the natural paint. to see the sky be blue and the grass be green. the shining depth to the seas. the brown tint to the autumn leaves. to see our life in color.
...
so put that in your pipe and smoke it.
name? claire d. hawthorne 1 gal 128 fl oz. but that’s not your name, they tell me. sure, it’s not what I was born with. it’s not what you know me as. but it’s still who I am.
pen name is an understatement. though it was one at first, it grew. it’s become a part of me. and that I can’t go without the pseudonym being strung across the page.
so many joys have come because of the animosity I...
make your own sammich, bitch.
that’s where you’re wrong; i DO know you. you are the definition of a wigger. rude and disgusting, the scum of the earth. and wow! imagine that; a girl talk back to you! i’ve shattered the illusion that we’re all just a cheap fuck. maybe that’s what you’re used to, because the standards these days have taken a nose dive, but i’m just as strong as you think you are. let the vulgarity defecate from...
i'm not going to lie - you piss me off to no...
the image you’ve created your life has been sedated repress just who you are despite the blatant scar side swept bangs cover eyes “oh, the sorrow,” or just lies don’t even dare to say that you’ve fallen through a darkened womb since diapers i have known the story and you’re not winning any glory i struggle to stay insane you tarnish the respected name i’ve...
upon the windowpane.
slight drizzle at first. pitter patter upon the windowpane. a rhythmic beat in time with his breaths. tear stains on the glass as i nearly fall asleep to the tune of his heartbeat. winds begin to blow shaking the trees with gusto and i hear little noises upon the windowpane. and with his hands on my hips the drizzle quickens its...
what i'm not.
i’m not a barbie doll i’m not a little toy you can play with when you want to and then throw away when you’re done i have feelings i have emotions i’m real. i’m not a joke i’m not pretending to be in love with you and i’m not forcing myself to do these things i want to be with you i want to make you happy but i want that happiness in return. i’m...
should've figured this was going to happen.
Once upon a school day dreary, My heartache lifted very nearly A month of mental suicide A month of worthless sense of pride Feel fine at first, heroic state But soon becomes a source of hate And so a raped and tortured soul Thought time was up to pay the toll The tears, the fears, the aches and pains His hurtful actions, these stupid chains And so upon that one school day I thought no longer...