Undefined Damages

I am surrounded with smoke that
Quickly gets exhaled from
My undefined lungs.
They are caught
In between young and damaged.
I turn the band up louder.
Guys who know how to play their anger loud and hard
But don’t know how to hold their own instruments.
Their bass still agrees with me.
And I get yelled at.
From me. From you.And from all of them
But mostly me.And I know it.
I know I live my young life too hard,
A life too damaged by being too undefined.
I quickly take in more dark fatal smoke,
And laugh bitterly.
At my inner child for once protesting
All of this poison and these complex lyrics.
One time when my mind didn’t listen to all the yells.
Coming from me. And you and then all of them.
But it’s usually mostly me.
But it was still just noise.
White, simple little noise for me to dance in.
I created volume and light outside my small body
Wanting to wipe out all the confusion and fog I saw.
And I got a pat on the head for being little and full of good.
And I was that ray of sunshine for a moment more
Still too young to spell damaged.
Now I am too damaged from being too undefined.
Night after day I take what’s inside, and what’s too dark for others to see.
And I hold it in front of me.
Trying to define all that is damaged.
And I fill it with my own smoke and toxins.
And I’d rather breathe in the loud bass that I once protested,
So I can to spell the smoke and bass that defines
The damages of the anger and the yells,
That comes from me, from you, from the rest of them.
But mostly it comes from me. And I know it.

amsterdam mirrors

Hi this is my revised poem, "Amsterdam Mirrors" and some bio information:
Jess *&%

BIO: jess is a wanderer who is currently searching for intelligent life in boston. she is proud of this poem because she dosen''t bitch about her childhood in it. in her spare time she attempts to re define the word travel.

amsterdam mirrors
looking back
scanning images
amsterdam mirrors.
pause and surrender and allow
myself
to glimpse sharp edges of time drainers,
loud mind exhausters: architects of my every day.

amsterdam mirrors and there is no magic
just a mortal experiencing equator shift
Unabound to these weapons you call limbs

beaming inwardly in the low lights
the low ground the
sun is outstretched and mild day
and night bearing
prizms of light
subtly meet weaving lines of
waterway and shore

unabound to these weapons you call limbs
i gotta say
i look so much bigger
to that sad little life
measured in un checked e-mail
and the next best thing
thought fit so well
i see myself in the light, now.
i see myself taking my first steps all over again,
like ive never seen myself, before.

first draft "striped and bound"

give me the freedom of taste
leave me a moment of haste
i mean

frankly im intoxicated with worry
the streets stick to my souls
littered with dented scratch cards
weak matches that bundle in dampness
concrete forms harder under every breath
each blasted step

do you believe everything you hear well
hear this:
there is no peace in silence

express

well here it is