I'm bigger than a hurricane rushing past,
I'm stronger than the ivy that takes root and holds on tight.

I'm the girl your mother wishes you'd bring home.

Do not reduce me to ashes,
Do not reduce me to dust.

I arise in a sea of tears, salty from the sorrows that drip down like whispers.

Strength is a virtue that little recognize as a force to be reckoned with.

But you will see me rise,
You will see me burrow.
You will see me grow and shrink,
You will see me stand my ground.

Always, with my back turned, to a beating sun that never wanted me.

Imagine your ice cold fingers
Like melting candle wax,
Seeping onto a window pane,
Waiting for the ever looming ******.

Imagine a bed of flower thorns,
Digging into your skin.
Convince yourself it's normal,
Tell yourself to start again.

Wait patiently for the sound of the lark.
Wait quietly for the non-existent spark.

Tell all your friends and your ex lovers too,
Tell me what they think of you.

When morning is gone and night won't start,
Make yourself pull apart
From the demons inside your soul.
I won't follow them where they go.

If you cry before you wake,
Say one good prayer for goodness sake.
And if you die before you rise,
There's nothing left to do.

I am always here and never there,
So tired of the day to day.

I keep waiting for the moment we can jump on a train,
Like the ones I hear calling from my bedroom window.
I like to imagine they are going to far off distant lands,
But I doubt they'll go past Cincinnati.

I keep trying to make something beautiful out of something ugly
And I guess there's some sort of metaphor there.
Well when the train finally blows the whistle,
Tell me who still cares.

When I'm awake, I dream of pears.
I like to think of anjou pears because they remind me of the french word for jewels: bijoux.
I don't have a preference for red or green, I just dream of soft pears.

Speak to me in your honey suckle voice,
Eyes bright like blue lavender laid out to dry;
I want to be drenched in the stickiness of love.

Sticky like a fly trapped in a spider’s web
But unwilling to try to escape.

Croon to me in your apple cider voice,
Lips puckering at the tartness;
I want to be warmed up in the heat of love.

Hot like an egg frying on the pavement
Ready to be eaten with salt and pepper.

Hunger or Anxiety?
My stomach does backflips and I think it's Hunger.
You know, the kind that clings to your rib cage,
Trying to **** out the bone marrow.

Well cheers to you, Hunger,
The kind that makes my eyes hurt and go fuzzy in sunlight.
Your never ending creepy-crawly feeling makes me feel like going for a swim to wash you off.

It's times like these that make me want to live.

"Why do you think about death so much?" My mother says to me one evening as I eat a cobb salad.
My mother is imaginary.
In this dream, I come up with some funny rhetoric and she laughs a pearly laugh and suddenly I'm 12 again:

My childhood best friend snorts milk out of her nose and this makes her laugh more. I don't understand what's so funny.
Suddenly she stops and looks at me with doe eyes.
"Why do you think about death so much?"