Methodology

I can’t help but cloak myself in multimedia
to make up for what I can’t verbalize
because [the only way I have learned to express myself
is through other people’s descriptions of life.]
And maybe that’s more than a little wrong,
but I’ll make my excuses
the truth is they’ve written everything I couldn’t
and better than I could’ve tried.
I can feel the music thrumming through my every nerve,
taunting me as I try and fail to learn to play.
Believe me, I’m all too aware of my own weaknesses
and I might be the only one,
but I feel like you’re watching and I want to do my best
to appear perfect and worthy because
[at this moment you mean everything.]
I’m being honest with other people’s words
and, at times, they taste like lies,
with a metallic-like falseness,
you know I’m only golden plated.
Anything I reference hasn’t gone platinum,
so their obscurity helps me hide,
but it’s when I’m alone that they call me like the sailors to sirens,
whispering, [I want to have control;
I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul;
I want you to notice when I’m not around.]
I can feel their breath on the back of my neck -
I can recite the words, feel them on my tongue,
make them my own – you’d never know the difference.
If I’m honest I’m not clever, these words aren’t borrowed,
I know them with unusual certainty
because I breathe them, think them everyday
but they get lost between the constantly replaying
[I just want to feel alive for the first time in my life,
I just want to feel attractive today.]
And, if you were paying attention,
you’d notice my hesitation and lack of control
over every word that isn’t actually mine.

Who We Grew Up To Be

‘All for one and one for all.’
Hannah and Tony,
together we made the three musketeers
when our summers burned
brighter and hotter and shorter,
and we couldn’t get enough of the sun and rain.
And we were inseparable,
we were perfect friends
but we were young.
You and I, at the time, didn’t know
that you were my salvation,
the first friends I ever had.
Did you ever know?
Nah, you see we were restless,
we were children and maybe that was for the best.
Maybe our friendship was perfect
because it ended so abruptly,
maybe it was perfect
because we never got to see us grow up.
First, you, Hannah,
desperate for attention,
I remember liking your name because it’s a palindrome,
and that’s a big word for a six-year-old.
You didn’t know that when I met you
I’d already been to kindergarten once before,
you wouldn’t have discriminated anyway, right?
And second, you, Tony,
your parents own Bandidos and, as it happens,
you went to Carrboro too, do you remember me?
You were Prom King and I doubt you would’ve hung out with me
even if you did remember, did see me, you’d just walk past me.
I wondered if you remembered that day on the bus,
on our way home, you kissed me,
had we been older it would have destroyed our group
because we’re taught a boy can’t be friends with a girl.
Not really.
See, this was what was so great about our friendship.
We came before all the madness
and hormones, aren’t they just one in the same?
I remember swimming and playing pretend and playground runs,
but to be honest I don’t remember much
and I’m probably making half this stuff up.
I promise that, at the time, I treasured the friendship
I had with you but I didn’t have the words to express it.
But I do remember the day I knew I would never see you guys again,
in early June, I cried,
both of you were leaving our old school
and I was to be left behind.
On the cusp of the summer before second grade,
I lost my first friends and I learned the days
are actually longer, not shorter
especially when you have no company to share them with.
But sometimes I’m glad we didn’t grow up together,
we never saw the end of our friendship for real.
Because maybe you or I would’ve been disappointed
in the people we grew up to be.