my soul's cringing

is it possible for your mind to eat your soul?
because sometimes I get that feeling.
where nothing else matters
u just have to do one certain thing
or the mind will devour you.
the minds powerful.
the heart, yes of course
but the mind is the one who says everything.
someones name. reminding you of them
them
them
them.
the heart kicks and punches
it does summer salts
it turns different colors
it roars
screams
fights for
one
person.

it never feels good though.
it hurts,
it reminds you that they
n e v e r
loved you.

6 word memiors

• The ground's where my heart lays.
• The stars look even brighter tonight.
• Was it coffee? or your eyes?
• There's that secret barrier separating us.
• I'm suffocating & I need you. 

Tanka Poem?

Crows call deafening,
            as I walk the lone forest.


The trees surround me,
           as I write vigorously;
        the world    c a p t i v a t i n g   me

Brainstorms??????

I've already posted two things in the last 5 minutes but its all good. I wanted to share this. Today we made up very weird but interesting questions. So here's mine:

Q: where do unwritten poems go? (Question created by Abby Thomas)

A: a story that has not yet touched paper is wild, free, and forever young. its like a song someone came up with but never wrote down. It can be changed however many times wanted. It can travel anywhere and get stuck in anyone's mind; urging them to write it down. Because everyone wants a starting point, if that "starting point" isn't written down, then it will never end. A poem cannot be a poem without ink. (my original answer)

And here are some of the questions I came up with...

-Do stars dream?
-Where do aliens live?
-Do pencils feel pain when sharpened?
-Why are only some people paranormal?

Grave Yard Scares...

So we went to a grave sight today and sat around, writing and letting our imaginations run wild. I got a little morbid and wrote this...

       Wilted dandelions lay on top of soulless bodies. Life is gone. Another story has ended. A human being lying; breathless underneath beads of soil. The wind blows, so slight you can hardly tell. It feels like the sky will soon mourn for us.

Speech Bubble Actions

So today I have spent time wondering around in my mind. my pencil has not stopped moving and my brain hasn't stop processing. so I wrote this six worded story, is easy for a not-so-ordinary teenage girl to get caught up in stars I guess. I hope you enjoy, while I sneak off and drink coffee.