For 2011

I want to run.

I want to run far far away until i can't hear anymore.

until the wind blowing past my ears is so loud and piercing that my eardrums cant withstand the pressure

until my sight blurs and my grip numbs

until i smell the rain.

i want to run far far away

where there is a sunshine and i can feel its pulse

and so can everyone else

i want to run far far away and teach us all to hope again.

I think that's what makes me scared

that even after years of whispering insecurities i still would try and help you
but you'd refuse to hear

I wonder sometimes what it'd be like if i had knowingly made a wrong decision or chosen to end things just because i could

I wonder sometimes exactly how small am I in this body of a world.

I wonder sometimes if I am merely losing myself in the wind I am running away in.

I just want somewhere with an ocean; where I can see my best friend laugh again, on the expanse of open roads; where we listen to the mixed CDs that got us through the deadest of winters. I want somewhere that restores innocence, and heals old wounds, full of sunshine and open windows. I want to feel what it is to love, with you who has taught me. I want to be able to stand in that open field knowing that I am at peace with the universe, with the wind hushed under my command.

That is my new years resolution.

Lamps

How will I ever get out of this labyrinth?

Life is a maze made up and dissected into separate labyrinths. They are the set of passageways within yourself you get lost in. These hold the thoughts and the fears you escape to in the dark corners of your mind.


Now, each stage of life can be taken as a new labyrinth. Some, radiate with clarity and vibrancy, and others, remain an opaque projection of the first. We thrive in the vivid hallways of our mind, taking new chances in leaps and bounds. But, we quiver in the face of darkness. It is in these dim steps that we stop.

"Before I got here, I thought for a long time that they only way out of the labyrinth was to pretend that it did not exist, to build a small, self-sufficient world in a back corner of the endless maze and to pretend that I was not lost, but home."

This was where I fell short. It is in this dusk that we cling to the shadows.
I began to take shelter in a house of memories and old friends and hurts, moss covering every wall.

It was then I heard your voice. You made me stand. You took me and forced me to the pinnacles of my jungle, to see the expanse of my web. You did not illuminate the corridors. You did not make the ground sure. You simply gifted me with a new perspective. You awakened something within me that was bigger than my labyrinth-an omnipotent glow-and I know the darkness will fight me for it. But I have been given the upper hand. I have seen its cracks and bends.



I have seen the Great Perhaps.

When They Were My Words All Along

And The winter doesn't sound right
I hear the evidence of Echo
being killed and scattered in the night
to haunt the corners we sew
I scream at her to be silent
but she holds a nameless fear
Her curse, so relentless and violent
Reverberates through the ether
Encouraged by my resistance
she preys upon my words
magnifying the omnipotence
of the things said but never heard
And this is my mind
as her poison accumulates
every word I try not to find
is but a crack for her voice to escape

One Sad Post.

You know what? No, I'm not alright. I'm so tired of forcing it all away because no one had time to listen, and i felt bad for making them listen because I didn't want to be the one with the problems. I wanted to be the one there for everyone, even though no one was there anymore because she is gone. And no, none of this is okay. Part of me left when she did. We were more than just best friends. And it hurts now. Everything hurts. And I just want to tell someone of how I'm not okay, but when I try, it just doesn't come out. Everything in me screams when I trust someone. Probably because when I told my dad shouting "it's not fair" with tears in my eyes he just pat me on the back and said "it's not okay you're right" and went on his way. Probably because no one knows me, and I don't know anyone enough to believe them when they say it will be okay. I just want to be able to let someone in. But, really, no one wants to hear. Why is it we are so scared of everyone else's problems? No one wants to admit something is wrong.

We were so innocent and beautiful. You were dressed in costume jewelry and a birthday hat, holding a pink balloon in your right hand. You were sitting right next to me. Now, you cry yourself to sleep separated from your friends. You are dressed in other people's clothes because you have no money. So, no. I'm not alright. But I hope you are. And I hope someone listens to you when you finally can say you're not. Because I love you, April Loy, my best friend. And I have infinite hope for you, all of you out there, that things will be okay, even if they aren't for me.

A perspective on Karma

Mother Nature's arms bellow beneath Orion
holding life & death in the sleeping hands of Zion
The world spins in her waking eye
The heart beats in his echoic sigh
Every new day, every sunrise
is but a sign, if they're satisfied

It was a dark dawn when one man
dove his fist into the sand
pulled out a handful, a rebellious plan
made a fist and took a stand

Zion released Orion from the flaming hands of Nature
a flash of green and lighning pink took away his future
As the sand turned to glass
in his few final breaths
his Karma-held hands
he clutched to his chest

The sunrise turned grey
the tide never came
"A warning to all" the gods sang
Looming over as his breath escaped.

Solstice

They say the only thing that separates us

is the knowledge of the barrier that is our skin

the wall of temporary genetics.

If it was gone could we still sin?
And if it is our skin that makes us sin,

what of the bones that carry it?

And if it is our skulls that coffin our eyes

with the delusion of a fiery demise

Could we melt into one another

with the Alchemist's reforging of the summer?

And if we are figurines of the greater picture

but a snowflake in the winter

Could we freeze into the atmosphere

no longer separate hemispheres?

If I am the winter solstice, and you, a flame,

Ignite until you consume season's change,

until we breach harmony, again.

And you are the oxygen

Darkness it'd be if not for the flashes
of technology bouncing off the moon
I dreamt that darkness overcame me

as I waded through the flume

My words lacking honesty

I scream at the echos

The enigma of me

fading like shadows

Remembering what should not be a memory
Swimming in what should not drown
I am an alarm hushed to a soliloquy
with a burning itch to sound

You keep changing.

They say everyone can be healed, if only you go back and work from where you had made the mistake. But what of habits? I never knew much about anything, especially me. The enigma it seems is as strong as the wall i built out of bricks and dark shadows. But I learned to ride a bikes so fast. And then they became cars. I wore lipstick and high heels as I traced chalk figurines into the pavement. If only I could have told myself.
Someday,
you will be older. People will expect things from you.
Remember the swing set competitions

The exhilarating fear of straying from the ground
when adrenaline rushed through you as you jumped from its safety net

or the glossy touch from that seemingly unreachable branch

Remember your room dressed in pink
For someday you'll hate the color.
And when you do, Believe your mother
when she says to let go.
Don't answer those calls. Be strong enough to go

Don't watch that play

or stay awake

Or listen to that song about the winter

The angels will take her but she'll hear them coming.
Get to know her instead of humming

along to the song played at her funeral

Remember how it feels to have God wrapped around you
for there will be times when you will almost hate him.
and you'll tell Him again and again,

but He'll allow your next breath
so still you will believe and try to forget

When your best friend calls you crying

about her parents fighting
or her mother in the hospital
find a way to get to her

before the end of summer

You'll remember everything he said.
but you'll deny it through and through
Because you'll believe when he says he is crazy about you.
But you'll fall in love again.
And you'll sing all the time.
and you'll let him read your blog

when He won't let you hide
Your friends will say you've changed
that you're becoming brighter
a joyous sort of deranged

A delirious inspired

Time will pass with ease, if only for a while.
You will have these tired thoughts

and sit at your computer

Wondering if these are the right choices

And how long it will be until you're writing to yourself again
of mistakes and of habits
Trying to find your way back

Give Me Proof

And some times, like these, all the lights turn out, and I become the only beating heart inhaling and exhaling on this revolving sphere of night. I am the pinpoint spotlight on a blank map. I am a blossom in the fog of winter.

I am the one writing the things that keep me awake at four in the morning.

When memories seep back, and people too.
When, for a few hours, you've embraced the sensation of flight, only to remember gravity.
When you're forced to speak of that you believed was quelled.
When the timing was never right.
When friends do the unthinkable, and unthinkable are the friends.
When he's out of town and she's too far gone to feel that which you felt.
When before you is a face of ambiguous sadness.
When no one realizes it became your face.
How do you take a step forward?

And the things I say I'm proud of.
And the things I don't, ashamed.
And I hate my job and I hate the cold
And my body's fragile frame
And she is the one who did this, knowing it would hurt.
And we tried so hard to keep her straight, instead of in the dirt.
And they are but flecks upon muscle of heart and of brain,
And I am the one making lists of things when four thirty in the morning brings pain.

I never remember 11:11
nor do I see shooting stars
I'm so confused of heaven since I'm here, and i don't know where you are.
I want wings and open fields to fly or run with pride
I want to remember how it feels to live with exposed eyes
I want to love fully and let go
instead of behind bars
But at times like these, the echos
ring like wheels in speeding cars.

Sometimes I don't know if God exists, although I still capitalize His name.
Sometimes I'm afraid of love since I lost it that one day
Sometimes I think of you, searching for verification
when I'm the only one awake at five in the morning, begging for justification.

Trampede

I strummed the chords of the vocal type

plucked the strings of a puppet's life

minstrel laments of unspoken words

praying to saints that this martyr be heard

your soul is the night sky

your eyes, the typhoon

your hands are a rhyme

and your song, the unsung loon.

black and white walks to a home near the tree

in the flood of heat-drowned June

"held on as tightly as you held onto me"

"you are an animal angry from ignorance

in a zoo, to be seen but never felt

Chained and barred with barbed wire fence

to be contained but never held."

But the frequency has always been too high

until he heard my silence

so i'll pull down the night sky

as you clutch your ears with science

The loon turned to weather and smiled upon the day

the petting zoo caught illness

Summer returned and flew away

and trampled through the stillness.

I said, "Keep me in check,friend," And she tried, but i couldn't be.

A beautiful, beautiful girl, kissed with sunrise skin tone. Angels sleeping in her hair, the holiness reflected upon the white-washed strands. The Pacific in her eyes, flooding over so easily these days. Body stretched long at birth when she traveled from heaven to earth. Wings invisible to the naked eye, cut off and bone dry.

Back home, another, a girl of wind-tossed, shaken hair, ghosts of stars among the ends. A midnight water-fall bubbling over the stone bed of her eyelids. When she sings, the owls stir, among the nocturnal thieves. Hoping one could steal back morning.

Windows

We are no story of love.
We are a novel of redemption.
Chapters of construction
of breaking down and rebuilding of keystroke homes
the meditation between cannon fires and sea-fed sirens outside
kept at bay by the stained glass, still framed, window panes.
The pains, of being alone.
Seep into me as I rise to the closed, winter-bitten screen.
Images
flash from a darkened sun on a canvas, me.
2012. Raging husbands and submitted wives,
I see no hope in the children's eyes.
Volcanoes fire
electrocuting telephone wires
we place as halos on the damned.
They chisel their way into my sponge of a mind.
I wake up. Your arms are around me.
You smile.
The images, beaten out with a head on collision,
a soft supernova, a gentle body slam.
the empty spaces in my hands and mouth filled
My gaze opens, pupils dialate.
Light let in, My sight returns.
Scanning vast landscapes until the drop of ocean edge
the square planet we live on,
the beautiful truth of this naiivety.
Waltzing heaven-sents
You are a child's laughter and a soul saved; a harbor built for the aimless seafarer.
You are the gloves and the three layered socks in the dead of winter. You are the fireside and the smell of rain upon evergreens. You are the warmest globe of yellow heat-rays stretching out and encircling me.
The words "good morning," painted on your lips.
And now, I see all, through you, my open window.

Waterworks

Sun has set
i make my way to the sink and wash my face
washing away impurities
i place masks over what i don't like
band-aids over gaping wounds,
skin colored so no one else will notice what i choose to forget
instead of forgive
till the impurities take over my appearance
and thoughts hear only echos
like a shocked ghost,
you speak dim light through the halls of my lungs,
illuminating the part of me that wishes to give up
like wishes upon a shooting star,
hanging until it falls to its death beneath the horizon
i cry in my mothers arms
she tells me to write the emotions i trust not unto audible words,
unable to pack the punch i wish i faced without flinching eyes.

but,
i do what must be done,
although the done is never finished.
Cadence is your presence left.
Carrying on when all else has stopped
like the spinning green we call our home
you left because i made you
on wings of eagles,
you fly too high for anyone to touch,
because touch is a fault,
but you longed for it,
didn't you?
lies!
As i once longed,
you once satisfied the needs i never knew i had till the day
my eyes were no longer blind,
and sirens penetrated my ears
you laughed,
not knowing that the wrists of my time grasped the murder weapon
stumbling backwards for the fear of what I had just done.

i wash my hands of you, but there's dirt under the nails,
so i painted them blue
hoping to balance the scent of chemicals we experimented with,
I wished for us to survive the ice age.
The water melting me as it was,
puddles my brothers and sisters,
i write with blood so you will know i have not forgotten the lyrics,
the harmonies,the revolving records you broke and scratched
to feel the colors on its face,
the faces we would wreak havoc upon,
if dam was not built.
To the rushing water i see in your hungry eyes,
i looked for salvation and found it,
until the pressure wore me down.
earthquake.
i shake.
you hold my hands steady but not steady enough
containing not what must be held captive,
the monster inside let loose,
with hopeful love you urged it onward
not knowing what you were doing
you saw it take hold in me and stabbed it in the ribs
water and blood coloring the pages we read
But the cursed are the cursed,
and hands can only steady for a while,
so i tried to steady mine
built new cages,
hoped echos fade in time
now when the sun sets, and darkness manifests
i see, the ghosts and monsters that color my lips.
i wash my wounds,
my hands,
and my face,
with the lakes in your eyes,
now flowing freely.

To Build A Home

Piano melodies swing softly past the caves

brushing hills as they pass

We built a home upon the sweet green of a water supernova

where innocense finds its beautiful death

i felt her tears crash upon the rocks

Atlantis was built this very day

You hid behind your suit and tie

with heart on sleeve

you played the tidal wave

I, clothed in tattered white

crossed the bridge whilst seasons changed

the leaves they fell upon my face

kissing you like butterflies

you held me as the night holds to sunrise

closely slipping away

she walks and walks

through the vibrant urban monochrome

"i should have stayed silent" she mouths to herself

the words drowned out by the inner city metronome

fading to piano she walks softly past the caves

a ghost of a lover

the muse of your ivory.

The Window

Sky is breaking into

color schemes of sunset blues

I stand on a precipice and feel so small

Looking down, i free fall.

I wake with startled dread

Am i pretty enough yet?

Backseet guilt, beautiful chaos

In my blurred perifferals, birds fly lost

"Your wrists are a war I am afraid of losing."

I want you to hear me, but My words are muffled by bloody lips from hits from your blue-ridden hips.
I reach out to you as far as my arm will take me
which we both know is never far enough
this is where i want to go.
as I point to the circles on the map
mistaken trips
i try to keep from your
mistake-ridden wrists.

Farther

I speak the words of water flowing from the mouth of something greater.
From the rivers that once coursed through the valleys of my muscles
They are now dried up
you said i'd never be thirsty again
So long as you were around

"And in that moment, I swear we were infinite."

This summer,

I've seen God in the eyes of the children, and hope in their eyelids, so i know that when they sleep, they still dream.

I've had those moments. Where you're surrounded by your best friends, the separate parts of your soul, and there's nothing but lights. And you know that no matter what, in that moment you were not sad, or lonely, or afraid, and it was still. It was whole.

I've slept in the arms of someone, I've breathed in the uncertainty. Knowing that this could end in the morning, and nothing would be the same. But I slept anyway...and you kissed me on the forehead, while the song sang of the woods.

I've stood on top of the world, and held my tongue. And wished i hadn't.

I've lost my home, searched the hemispheres and compass ends-rushed the sands of time. But still, she's gone, and along with me, that sense of wholesome still.

I've bought into the capitalism that enslaves us all, and I've acted as its executor.

I've heard the beautiful be denounced, and the innocent defiled. I've heard them all say we're ugly, and stupid, and never enough.

I've heard that there's something wrong with us.

I've been told that I have to grow up. And I have realized I don't want to.

I've cried, and I've laughed. I've lost touch with my friends, and I've cut my hair.

I've changed myself, and I've been changed. And I want the change back.

"All the vegetation in the settled world is stirring

I'm blurring into sun-burnt and heartbroken worrying

about how the day took such a long time to die

when it was reeking of women I once had on my side

but now that I've found another smell to believe in

I'm buzzing like hell just to hope I can breathe it

and resurrect the simplistic calm in some eyes

that are trying to find you or

bury your nightmind

and it will take

time.

Oh, your tongue and the twilight marina

when so young and brave and still dreaming

getting to know you lash by dark lash

the rooms where you sleep in

the floors where you crash

and gas-stations are pleasantly blowing

thunder rolls for dresses you're wearing

on a body so unknowing

of what that blowing’s for our preparing

and patience is never affording

when prettiness and sweetness are pouring

out from you and

onto me and

dampness of sweat is the sweetest recording

and you can lay with your head on my body

the worlds of the night and disease try to rob me

all the vegetation in the settled world is stirring

but stillness and calmness are all that I'm hearing now

and it will take

time.

But time is for hearts that don't know what they're eating

and nerves that don't spend every night-chance retreating." -Frontier Ruckus: Nerves of the Nightmind.

So far away.

Oh, the empty telephone wires, so lonely in their tall towers.

Winter

Sun has set

i make my way to the sink and wash my face

washing away impurities-

i place masks over what i don't like-bandaids over gaping wounds,

skin colored so no one else will notice what i choose to forget instead of forgive

till the impurities take over my appearance and thoughts hear only echos

like a shocked ghost,

you speak dim light through the halls of my lungs

illuminating the part of me that wishes to give up-

like wishes upon a shooting star, hanging until it falls to its doom beneath the horizon

i cry in my mothers arms

she tells me to write the emotions i trust not unto audible words,

unable to pack the punch i wish i faced without flinching eyes.

but, i do what must be done,

although the done is never finished.

Cadence is your presence left.

Carrying on when all else has stopped

like the spinning green we call our home

you left because i made you

on wings of eagles, you fly too high for anyone to touch,

because touch is a fault

but you longed for it, didn't you?

lies!

As i once longed, you once satisfied the needs i never knew i had

till the day my eyes were no longer blind,
and sirens penetrated my ears

you laughed, not knowing the hands of my time grasped the murder weapon

stumbling backwards for the fear of what I had just done.

i wash my hands of you,

but there's dirt under the nails, so i painted them blue

hoping to balance the scent of chemicals we experimented with,

I wished for us to survive the ice age.

The water melting me as it was,

puddles my brothers and sisters,

i write with blood so you will know i have not forgotten
the lyrics, the harmonies,the revolving records

you broke and scratched to feel the colors on its face,
the faces we would bring forth into the world, if dam was not built.

To the rushing water i see in your hungry eyes, i looked for salvationand found it,

until the pressure wore me down.

earthquake. i shake.

you hold my hands steady

but not steady enough

containing not what must be held captive

the monster inside let loose,

with hopeful love you urged it onward

not knowing what you were doing

you saw it take hold in me and stabbed it in the ribs

water and blood coloring the pages we read

But the cursed are the cursed, and hands can only steady for a time, so

i tried to steady mine
built new cages, hoped echos fade in time

now when the sun sets, and darkness manifests

i see, the ghosts and monsters that color my lips.

i wash my wounds, my hands, and my face,with the lakes in your eyes, now flowing freely.

Air Patterns

And there we sat. The air argued on whether to reamain cool or heat up again. It circled us.

My peaceful tornado. My calm in the mist of the storm.

Go Do

Run.

Wake from the sleep you've dreampt too long

Rub sleep from your eyes, turn to the blue and pink

Take a minute to stand here in silence,

eyes turned northern.

Anarchy.

Blushing sunset as far as the eye can see, one girl bathed in sepia emotions.

"One step at a time", she mouths to herself, as the wind pulls at her words.

A white dress. Short, chopped off midnight hair-the extension of herself. She felt nothing as it fell to the ground. And so, she begins to stride forward in a hushed sway, like a swimmer with only the sun as a harbor. Neither cold nor warm, only purgatory's current.

Everything she put on a pedestal crashed over time, the same sands of which now blow past her autumn eyes. Hands appear wrapped around hers. Thousands pushing her onward towards her absent destination.

Stop me, stop him.

I don't know where i'm going. I don't know where I am. I don't know where I should be, because I don't know who I am. I have been given outsized shoes and forced to walk. I have been forbidden to color or talk.

Could I just lie down with you here?

I could study your lines, and they'd never smear.

We could hush this lawless wind

and exterminate what has been.

The Great Perhaps.

I just finished reading the book, Looking for Alaska by John Green. The story of a scared shitless passionate girl named Alaska, and a boy who loved her.
The book swirls around the quotations "How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" and "I go to seek a Great Perhaps."
Alaska's answer for the first, "Straight & Fast."
I have to admit, I was tempted to do the same. I was too afraid to face the dangers and "perhaps" of the labyrinth i called life. But then I realized, it was not life I was afraid of. It was being hurt, and suffering.
I do not want to forget what I have learned. Nothing of matter can be destroyed. Not you, not I. Nor Alaska, fictional though she may be.
She taught me to speak, listen, and above all, act; that craziness is okay. Be as insane as you really are, it will matter that much more when people say they love you. Speak out. Women aren't to be objectified. Life is suffering. It's okay to not know what you're doing. The only way out of "the labyrinth" is to forgive and embrace "the Great Perhaps", straight and fast. Love "your crooked neighbor, with all your crooked heart." Most importantly, You are not permanent. You will not be remembered. And that is okay. It is completely and permanently okay.

And I Now Believe In The Beauty Of Things

Sometimes, after weeks and weeks of endless days, and crying yourself to sleep, you stop. You hit a sort of inward rock bottom, and you breathe. And after feeling this, a few things still bring me back until it's just you and me. You're finally listening and there's no more fear, no more swirling paranoia. I hear nothing but a small voice trickling into my innermost thoughts whispering everything will be okay.
In these things, I find you.

The third week of break, laying out in the heat, skin wrapped in summer sun.

A vibrant field full of endless of sunflowers.

On a blanket, stargazing, surrounded by the flash of hundreds of fireflies, like cameras memorizing the scene.

A hushed secret being shared between you and your best friend.

That song that seems to speak the words you can't perfectly.

The truth finally coming out.

Being told you're beautiful.

Realizing you're beautiful.

Laughing uncontrollably.

Not trying to control it.

Not trying to control anything.

Floating on your back in a lake.

Silent, night-ridden car rides.

Thinking up music videos in your head, better than any producers ever could.

Someone leaving you a personal voice mail that makes you smile.

Making a wish at 11:11 or on a dandelion.

Realizing that the wishes you make are completely possible.

How your best friend completely understands what you're saying when you don't say a word.

How people can still love after being hurt so many times.

The heart breaking and slowly making its way back to happiness.

Loud car rides, windows down, singing along to a horribly cliche song on the radio.

Colors.

The sound of water.

Butterflies, birds, flight.

Passion for anything, including yourself.

Hearing someone say "I love you," or simply, "I miss you"

Telling someone, "don't give up," and they don't.

The endless faith and freedom of children.

Being able to say what you think, and not caring.

Inside jokes.

Tea.

Mixing kool-aid together and having it turn out absolutely awful, but drinking it anyways because your best friends made it.

Helping a friend make the right decision, even when you see it breaking them.

Helping fix them.

Dancing to those artists you have on your ipod like Brittney Spears or Miley Cyrus that you're embarassed to have, but not caring.

Crying at a movie, or story, anything that makes you feel something, and lets you know you're still alive.

Hearing people's thoughts on life and love.

Getting lost.

Road trips.

New places.

A stranger's smile.

A hug from someone you've missed.

The indescribable feeling of wanting to put your head on someones chest and just sleep.

Being reminded you're worth more than anyone says you are.

Concerts, and the people you meet at concerts.

The concept of falling in love. Letting that one person in, choosing vulnerability rather than safety.

They tell me to wake up, stop dreaming. I say these dreams save my life.

"It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us."

What if everything I am is nothing more than afraid?

What if I'm only kind to everyone because I'm afraid of being alone?

What if doing well in school is no more than a fear to let down my parents?

What if I change my appearance so often, because I fear I'm average, and forgettable?

What if I don't speak my mind because I'm afraid to hurt someone?

What if I would rather have a memory than a boyfriend, because I'm afraid of loss?

What if my art is cliche, because I'm scared to take chances?

What if I don't help someone because I'm afraid I'll make it worse?

What if I'm confused, because part of me doesn't want to see the truth?

What if I listen to music, because I'm too afraid to say the words myself?

What if I sleep for hours, because I'm afraid of waking up?

What if I can only express myself here, because it's the only place no one see?

What if I want to be honest, but I'm afraid I'll let you down or become a burden?

What if I only have my beliefs because I'm afraid of not being able to control anything?

What if I stay alive, because I'm afraid of death?

What if I'm afraid of growing old, not because I fear old age, but because I'll run out of time to do the things I say I'll do later?

What if I want a relationship, because I'm afraid of being alone, and unvalidated?

What if the strength I feel I have, is nothing more than wall of fear around myself?

What if I told you this to your face, would you listen?

What if I've already told you, and you didn't hear me?

"No sleep Today

Can't even rest when the suns down
No time

There's not enough

And nobodys watchin me now

When we were children we'd play
Out in the streets just dipped in fate

When we were children we'd say

That we don't the meaning of

Fear.

We don't know the meaning of...

Wish I Didn't know the meaning of..."

We're all born with hope and independence, but somewhere along the lines, we're told to believe we're flawed, and fated creatures. Advertisements tell us we need cars, clothes, and cosmetics to fufill ourselves. We forget we are the pioneers. We were born alone and free, and somehow die alone and trapped by our possessions. But if there was once hope, there can be again-We can change the world you and me.

"It's life, and sometimes it's all we have"

"You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden, even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone....it's like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist... Maybe that's all family really is, a group of people who miss the same imaginary place."


Sometimes, I sit in this room, this empty space. Give me any escape that won't leave this box hollow. Thunder booms in the distance. I know that echos mean more spaces left unfilled, is there anywhere whole anymore?

Maybe that's all things are-home, love-maybe they're just fillings for people searching for something that used to be there, never quite able to get it back.


I awake and step out my front door as the earth shakes.

Between the echos of these empty spaces far away, only flashes of light illuminate the paths to them. My feet are lead wavering in the wind. I stand on the precipice between heaven and hell, and i don't know which rope to cling on to. So I walk alone.

As the storm fades, and the thunder stops, darkness creeps and the world is still. Black, flat land for miles and miles, neither cold nor warm, only myself, crouching in the dust, hands tight against my knees. and static.



What if home doesn't exist?

Umbrellas

Breathe

Breathe for those who cannot

for those who once did but forgot who they were,

becoming hallowed skin of empty stone,

finding solace in jail cells and empty habbitual nightmares

who sleeps to return to a time with no history,

when glass's shattered pieces are sure to reforge themselves in sleep's burning fire made unbreakable with the chains of oxygen shared between the two

but now, reality, suffocating, stifling the thoughts which once romped through the fields of your purity

whose oceans were vast, with swarming lifeforms

each whispering arguments of failure and hope

the war raging under moonlit nights whose dawn escapes the spring

which comes comes so softly, not quite able to undo what winter has commited

with bloody hands and torn up knuckles,

the evidence chained down with the blankets of insufficency and condemnation;

the darkness under which slowly diminishes my angel's halo,

i let him go, the light which once was, becomes eclipse for a lack of a better word

she speaks without knowing eloquence yet finds it in the ink and canvas,

the black definitions of the mind so deep it's sure to swollow me,

or i am sure to swollow it

Open hands she approaches the crowds

trembling voices gnaw at skylines built tall to keep out the world

inside of her heart a new city forms where beauty never fades,

tears never shed, praying that if no other way a place will exist where children stay young and innocence survives,

without anger and hatred that spills from empty cups overflowing

in microphones on stages where spotlights, hit,

x marks the spot where my bones cross,

no muscles to ease their movement, we grasp life by its ends with unsteady fists,

the same ones i pray with

to a God cursing me to be honest and pure a constant nagging against my nature,

i revolt as a child would, with angry eyes and heated words, burning bridges i built to the heavens, knowing the fault lies in me.

God, my thoughts have come out as breath,evolving into a devastating confusion until the anxiety consumes into an unsure wind,

spiraling until it erodes the foundations of the narrow path i call my own.

a storm brewing, "Tread lightly," you say, with umbrellas for arms.

Is it too late? Have i come too far?

Splitting rocks force my mangled heart to beat once more,

reverberating in response to a haggard breath another breathed for me.

This last wind, cancelling my own, matching heat with heat, cool with cool,

the seasons set straight.

I cough up blood spilt for my sake,

I breathe again.

Sirens

The warrior and the little girl's hearts beat true as one
masked within confines of the bulletproof vest
To surrender the dismal battle or embrace the fervent gun
To retreat home, or fight the dying breath.

She marched along the savage path
Dress snagged between jungle's claws
Heart torn in correspondence, she embraced its wrath
Here there were no laws

She set out to discover
what it was that begged her to exist
She had once found it was another
Who's prescense was short and sorely missed
Maybe they could meet again under the presence of the midnight moon
Maybe time would pass without a stain
And she could see him soon

A melody ambushed from above
songs shot her through and through
The creatures sang of love
But better still she knew
Stuck between the crossroads
hands tied down with ball and chain
Even now, she couldn't crack the codes
Yet still she crawled in bitter pain

And so in the futile hunt she would persist
until her body could take no more
The questioned song, "why do I exist?"
Still echoed on and on.
She sat and listened to its warning,
and the sirens sped to attack
He was loved in times of mourning
and that's all his name bought back

"I've heard this once before,
and It me ended in my woe
But now i'll write a new song
And i'll be the only one to know."

Clarity brought meaning
purpose and destined tears
It was all about the feeling
between her fingers and muted ears
"I'll get back up and learn to cope
just as winter melts to spring
I belive this song will end with hope"
as she pushed her pen to sing

Growing up, Growing old, Going Wrong.

First, let me just start out by saying I'm far too old. The beginning of summer after junior year, i'm faced with swirling possibilites and options weighing down upon my future. What if i just ran away from it? What if i refused to buy into the expected way? Today, I assisted my mother as a teacher of first grade students. The pure, unhindered innocense of the children still astonishes me. I miss the days when boys had cooties and we had no secrets. When we could speak our thoughts, but it was simply stated, no hidden meanings, or agendas. Best friends could be made in an hour, and hearts were complete and utterly unbroken. I found myself feeling like I was in the past as I was surrounded by the future faces of society. I imagined one child growing up to be a vet, or some sort of scientist, and another a careful artist. I felt like they already were these things, and I was in their past, seeing them before their future had set in. Then, I was sent back to my own past, to the bouncing bubbly long brown haired girl, who's imagination turned rooms into worlds, and backyards into adventures. I would have never of guessed I would have turned out this way, war torn inside from the people and beliefs I looked up to.

He stopped calling. Somehow, I'm not suprised. The entire time we began talking again, I warned myself: Don't think he'll stay, remember what that thought brought you last time, nothing but the feeling of a naked, exposed, bleeding soul. So tonight, I will paint for him for the last time. The last time I feel for him, or even allow him into my thoughts. I will erase him. No more ghosts. Slowly, I intend to become that beautiful innocent child again, clothing myself once more with the innocense I lost somewhere along the years. No longer will I allow you to strip me of my scars. I have learned. You cannot keep me in the past any longer.

"Settle up, you're calling up the pain.

sitting dead the sinker and the string

you came, you saw, you sawed her brain

cut out all the parts that held your stain

sitting clad you're feeling wild to blame

she's crying as you're climbing down your claim
sitting up you're counting up your names

seen enough to bend him off the frame

you came, you saw, you sawed her brain

cut out all the parts that held your stain

you clipped you clawed to no applause

you lost the will that bought the lying cause.

so try to be somebody

so try to feel somebody

so try to leave somebody

so hard to be somebody

Where can you run?"-Justin Vernon: Hazelton.

Someday, I hope you realize, and wrap yourself in guilt, and then maybe you'd finally apologize. All I've ever wanted was for you to let me forget.

Sunshine Folds Open, Leaks Into Summer.

Sunshine folds open. It's over. No more fake lighting, deadlines, unhealthy foods, insomnia, copy paper skin color. Finally warmth.

The past few days, I have faced my ghost, the one that had told me I was ugly, easy, stupid, and forgettable-the source of all insecurity within. The thing that caused me tears every night for six months, and a few times a year since. I saw this ghost daily, and faced it smiling. Maybe I had been crazy in the first place like it said, for holding on way too long. But, maybe I wasn't the crazy one at all. Knowing it wants to become a person again to me should be the closure I begged God for, shouldn't it? But maybe i was holding onto the ghost that I had created in my mind rather than the true person. It didn't feel like the ending I wanted. Something inside me wanted to run, but another part said it wanted to win. It wanted to win this battle that raged between us silently. I wanted him to want me, then shut him down like what had been done to me, I wanted to prove I wasn't like the other girls.

Then, I walked outside. The night laid heavy upon the house, easing into every corner. My friends and I gathered here in this place, surrounded by shadows of trees. Each of us had problems that cluttered our heads, but they could wait, if only for this one night. We stopped, and breathed. We lay down on the grass, becoming part of the earth. A cloudy sky made way to stars made of fireflies, flickering all around us, lighting up the caves of our eyes. I held one, like holding a star, or one tiny insecurity. We were in space, floating through our stars and embarassments, and we let them go. Peace enveloped me as it began to rain.


Four of my five friends escaped to indoors, but one wonderful soul remained behind to share the scene with me. We talked of love, and college, and how we hoped love would change in college. She told me "You've got to be careful. You're beautiful, and you treat everyone like they're so special." I told her they all are. And she said, "I know, but Some people have never been told that." I hoped her words were true, that maybe I had changed one person's life along the way, and gave them what I couldn't have myself.

I've lived my life letting this boy lay the standards of who I was, and all I wanted was a chance to prove him wrong, show him I could define myself, when really, he was absolutely right. I was just like all the other girls, in that I didn't believe I was special, reguardless of the value I saw in every single other person. Instead of finding it in myself, I believed him when he told me I was replaceable, and mediocre, and lost myself in the process.

So this is me telling you, you're all special. No matter who has loved you, who has lost you, what you've done, what you think of yourself, what others think of you or tell you to be, you are special, colorful, a thousand times more beautiful than I can say.

Today, the ghost reformed. Another friend of mine told me she thought it was trying to make up for not treating me correctly in the past. She had heard a conversation between the ghost and a boy, the words spelling my value, that I was a good person, and unique, but
after living for so long in the darkness with only ghosts and empty, shaking hands, the sunshine was too alien to comprehend. My eyes are still adjusting. Don't lend yourself even a moment to the darkness, or it may consume you. Let the sunshine fold open, and run into it. It's summer. Freedom is okay here.

Spaces

They danced their way through the pinks of the atmosphere
Young hearts, sea shells to fear
Stars flying past. Colored nebula fading crashed
Below the ocean and the tide, you were hers and i was mine"
They found me on the floor, it's the only reason I'm alive."
Darling tell me, what is this unmentionable sin?
The one unbrushed by the lips of my God within?
The walls tower around me, whithering and angry,
paint chipping from their hardened shoulders
i hear their words like distant thunder
"Why Won't you love me? "
The words bounce from west to east
But that's not where the sun sinks.
into skins of fallen angels you associate with
those hearts you wear inside your wrist
Coursing through your veins,singing
"I'll follow you into the dark,
thank you for believing i have a heart."
I fear the sky falling if i stay
the sun never stays in this one place.

But still, you sit across from me.
And i, watching with fearful admiration of the storms
brewing in your eyes of beaten forms
Then, the reflection of the ends of the earth.
Rivers drenched in sodden dirt
racing into the depths of the chasm.
Symphonies embedded in our hands,
beating as we held them.
"My love" "As i lay 3 feet from falling i realize I'm a fool and i deserve to be hurt again
just for the kiss."
He jumps, and as he falls, he speaks
"This makes me feel like it still beats."
I turn for one last look, and embrace gravity
Pulled back through my midnight depravity
through space and time
back to when your finger tips and mine
Were at one point intertwined.

She glances up with hastened eyes
And as she wakes she steals his life.

Questions

The few times I attempt at audible expression, it refuses to rhyme. There's just too much to say, and so little words to use. Thus forced to escape to other's genius--My emotions never were worthy enough to share. But what if everyone thought that way? The people I had met this year who changed my life. What if they had kept to themselves, too afraid of finding the wrong words?

I wonder as I begin this blog, how much will I put of myself into this project? Then, I think, isn't that the question for everything? How much of myself will I dare to trust into anothers hands? Is it worth it after all? I find myself submersed into a culture thriving on popular demand and isolation, and the effects are starting to take place. I tend to mask my deepest, most disturbing thoughts inside, behind a state of euphoria, and love anyone who breaks it.

I hope this stream of consciousness will awaken something within myself, something beyond what I choose to see. And, I hope that anyone reading this will find hope and meaning in these words that i'm so desperately trying to share to anyone who will listen.