Papercut Skin

Day out, day in
It's the alarm versus me
and the snooze button wins.
I've been waking all my life
to become what I'm going to be.
I'm a crone, la da da da da da
A headstone

Day out, day in
and begin again

Day out, day in
recycle bins
cash out, cash in
debit pins
day out, day in
the paper cuts my skin again
skin again

Cash out, cash in
I can burn all I earn
on some weakness or whim
without thinking
I'm a mark for their marketing plans
I'm Americancer
A Myspace romancer

Cash out, cash in
and begin again

Day out, day in
recycle bins
Cash out, cash in
debit pins
Day out, day in
the paper cuts my skin again
skin again

Day out, day in
Vitamins
give out, give in
Vicodins
Day out, day in
the paper cuts my skin again
skin again
skin again
skin again

All ye, all ye, come home free
Olly Olly oxen free
Day in, day out
I call time out

All ye, all ye, come home free
Olly Olly oxen free
Day in, day out
I call time out
I call time out

Give out, give in
If a man's hands show his trade does it suit me then
This papercut skin that makes me wince with each hand
I'm required to
shake, shake, shake, shake

Day out, day in
recycle bins
cash out, cash in
debit pins
Day out, day in
the paper cuts my skin again
skin again

Day out, day in
Vitamins
give out, give in
Vicodins
Day out, day in
the paper cuts my skin again
skin again
skin again
skin again

I call time out
Olly Olly oxen free

-THE MATCHES

Mountain

The Mountains are my home
My proving ground
My place of Zen

thin air
crisp, light snow
like sugar
I mount my skis
And let go.

Through shoots of powder
(my head is rushing)
And slits between trees
I fly through the forest
And set my mind free

Rock

dull, heavy, ugly, and gray
it takes him thousands of years to change his ways
gravity holds him in place,
without so much as a smile on his face
he may be tough,
his body clearly defined
but his mind is absent,
too tough to find
just as boring as dirt,
he blends in with the rubble
evolution is a foe
and because of that,
he'll never know

Nine Digits

Mrs. Vanjaarsveld said,

"Go home and write a poem tonight
I want this poem to be about you,
For it to be true"

My seat in English is of typical placement for me
All the way in the back,
But right in the center
After class i crowd through the door
With the other forty kids
Just as eager as me
To get out the nearest exit
And let the rubber feel the road.

Could poetry really be so simple?
I'm seventeen, bored, and raised in Bend
Some days are stupendous,
Most days are the same
I countdown the hours until I can escape.
In between counting those hours I like to create mischief
I like politics, skateboarding, and music
I enjoy a hot shower and coffee in the morning
Being a teenager makes me feel like I'm from Mars.
Too many people give up on their dreams as they reach adulthood
When the real world hammers down
On the head of the standout nail
Using a nine digit number regularly as identification
Has a tendency you feel small and incapable
With only three months left,
I won't let myself get trapped
Throw commitment out the window,
It's time to do things when I want to
Mastercard hasn't got me tied down with debt...
just yet

take us to space

hello

my name is Zach
and here is my blogspot for Mrs. V