I want to surround myself with photographs at my feet.
I want to explore and have adventures with my camera in hand.
I want to get up early in the morning to see the sun rise and see drops of dew on the grass.
I want to walk around at night and see the city lights shine.
I want to count the stars as I lie down on a field of grass and play Us Against the World.
I want to write in a leather notebook all my thoughts.
I want to have a bonfire and watch all my memories burn in the flames.
I want to curl up on the couch and read as the sun warms my skin.
I want to sleep at 2 am and wake up to the birds chirping outside my window.
I want to remind myself of why I fell in love with photography and writing.
I want to go back to makes me me.

If I listen carefully,
I can hear the lapping of the ocean tide.
The splish
              splash
                       of skipping rocks.

If I close my eyes,
I can feel the sun again.
The warmth my hands held
For those few seconds.

If I stop for a moment,
I can still find traces of those stolen moments.
Of that sweet summer
Trailing in the October breeze.

My dear Icarus,
Have you brought tales of gold for me?
You-- the master of self,
The one who held his own thread and shears.
Don't share of how hard you beat your wings
But how the air beat against your brow.
Don't echo your father's faded cries
But sing the songs of the Aegean sea--
Sing them only for me!

My sweet Icarus,
Is the world as grand as the travelers say?
Are crumbling maps and hand-spun tales nothing to compare?
I've read of Sicily, where your father rests his mourning head.
I've traced its rivers as they curved against my torn papyrus.
Sicily, the land of Aetna.
Oh, to watch the land shake at the beckoning of her call
(Oh, to fly free of these labyrinth walls)!

My darling Icarus,
Tell me-- is life better above the blanket of Grecian blue?
Is it better than what the Fates designed?
Is it better than what I hold today
(please, let it be more than today)?

My beloved Icarus,
Will you give me your wings--
The mingling of feather, wax, and dreams.
Will you give me your wings and
Your will to yearn higher and higher

So that I too can reach the city of gold.

Wishing on stars
Won't get you too far.
It won't matter how far it is
Or how bright it shines.
You can't sit at the window for hours
And cross your fingers until they're blue.
Put your heart and soul
Into "I wish I wish I wish..."
Why?
Because you can't just sit back
&
Hope something happens.
You have to get up and do something-
Anything
If you really want it.

I don't like labels.
Labels mean restrictions.
Oh, you want to do that?
No no, you can't!
Labels mean expectations and
Expectations means disappointment.
Labels mean something has to be
Ought to be
Like this
& not like that.
We'd constantly be thinking if what we were doing
Was what we should be doing.

I like labels.
Labels mean structure,
And structure means order.
If everything was in its place-
Exactly as it ought to be-
We'd be okay.
We wouldn't have to worry about crossing over the lines
That the world has drawn up against us.
We'd know what to expect
And what to feel.

I wonder if there will ever be a day when people will stop treating each other like possessions.
You'd think that in kindergarten we had been taught how to share.
“Everyone gets a turn,” our teacher would say.
"Five seconds at the water fountain after recess.
Pass along the book to the person next to you.
Share your box of crayons with those at the table."
We were taught how to share the tangible
The objects at our feet.
But what my teacher never taught me was how to share the intangible-
Concepts such as time, trust, and love.
Ultimately at the end of the day she never taught me how to share people.
The problem with people is that you want to keep them-
Keep them close
Keep them tight
Keep them safe.
You don't want to take turns because you fear that they will find someone who is better than you.
That one day they will leave because you were not enough.
So to suppress our paranoia we resort to rules and regulations.
We employ the facade that what we are doing is out of love
When in reality we are living in fear.
People are not possessions.
We are human beings
Capable of emotion and free will.
We are granted the ability to choose
For that freedom is what distinguishes ourselves from the rest.
We are not objects upon a shelf
To be taken down when felt like or guarded like a metal safe.
We are not punching bags
To be used at one’s disposable.
We are not mountains
To be climbed and conquered.
We are human beings
Yet humanity continually treats each other as if nothing.

No matter how hard the the wind might be blowing right now, i still can't be brought to where you are.

You told me to forget,
So I forgot.
Forgot about the days in the summer sun,
The hours spent together.
As if we were next to each other.
I deleted traces of what you did-
Wiped them clean off my memory.
I don't need them anymore;
I'll be just fine without them.
So if someone were to say your name,
I won't think twice before answering.
The feelings won't flood back
Because they can't.
They'll have dried up into the atmosphere,
Leaving just me here on earth.
So I did what you told me.
I forgot.
Forgot all that you did.
But every word that you said-
It's echoing in my head.

You strum your guitar
Like the strings on my heart.
Pluck them effortlessly
To get a smile or two.
& on those summer days I couldn't help but feel
w
  e
  i
   g
    h
     t
      l
       e
        s
         s      
Like a wandering balloon
With nothing to hold on to.

If you promised me you'd stay,
Would you spend the night
And tell me it'll be okay.

Hold me tight
Never let me go.
Wrap your arms around
My fears
My failures
My faults,
Make up for what I can't do.

Catch the tears I cry.
Wipe them away.
Tell me tomorrow's coming-
A brand new day.

Just hold me
And never let me go.

We're stuck
Laying tangled in this mess we've made.
I'm pulling one way,
But so are you.
I don't know what else to do
To make you mine.
I can't figure it out.
Someone send me a sign.
Cause I'm slowly falling from cloud nine
On this Indian summer night.

If I had a ticket out of town,
I'd make it one way.
Scrawl a letter goodbye
& leave it on your pillow as you're fast asleep.
Take one good look
And stash it deep inside my memory.
Coffee cup in hand
Suitcase in the other.
I climb into my car
And just drive.
Past the laundry mat
Past the library
Past the old school we knew and loved.
I'm lacking a destination
And a sense of direction.
Map's laid out on the passenger seat
But I've got my eyes on the road.
A blur of memories pass me by
As I inch closer towards the stop sign.
But I don't stop
Because I can't.
Cause If I do,
I'll never reach where I'm meant to be.

I am not yours
Nor can I ever be.
I am bound to this world
This earth
This terrain
While you-  
You are walking across the universe
On steps that I will never graze upon.

I envy the faces you pass-
People who don't even know your name
Yet are privileged to be in your presence
While I am here, clinging to the mere indentation of you on my bed.

I don't understand the logic behind this.
I know you.
I have seen you wake up in the early morning,
A sketch of hazy eyes and soft edges.
I have seen you thrash in the middle of the night,
Delirious and fevered from the demons in your head.
I've held your calloused hands
And mapped out your scars
To the constellations of the dark dark sky.
I knew all of that
And yet
I still could not be yours.

there's a voice inside my head
that's screaming
raging for its death.
it's thrashing against the walls
clawing at the linings of the cage.

get it out

get it out

please get it out.

for i fear
it's going to be the death of me.
spreading from my head
to my body
like a poison
but one i can't seem to resist.

you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook.
last autumn i dog-eared the top corners so i would find my way back.
your veins dance with the curves and loops of my
frail
frail
words.
the contours of your dreams lay in the indents of my ballpoint pens.
your fears bleed black and blue.
your voice--the raspy scratching of graphite before bed.
my sentences often sit incomplete because that's how you left--
in the middle
without warning
because you lacked a single transition.
your breath echos at the turn of every page
inhale--look back
exhale--look forward
(i can almost feel your lungs working alongside my own).
your blood runs red as i scribble across the pages--
at times i am in a frenzy, lacking control as my hands skirt along the paper.
other days, i am silent, waiting for my hand to pick up the pen
and bring you to life.

i keep telling myself that
you still exist
in the crinkled pages of my notebook
but
every time i close its covers shut,
i can't seem to find you.

Help me
Before I fall too hard.
I'm one step from the edge
And I can't turn away.

I'm floating
Floating on a little river
Down to who-knows-where.
Direction and time is something
Unheard of
In a place like this.
Time could be tick-tocking away
And I could care less.
The current's taking me wherever it pleases,
And I'm in no mood to argue today.
It's just the river and me-
Enjoying the sunlight and summer breeze.
It's nice finally nice not having a care.
There's no burden
Or heavy weight dragging me down
On this little river of mine.

Winter is coming but I fear I am not ready.
I may have spent too much time chasing sunsets that I've failed to notice the leaves changing.
Reds, oranges, yellows, and browns--
They came upon me before I had a chance to grab a jacket.
Now I'm left outside shivering.
Waiting.

Longing for a warmer day.
But the only day is today,
And I am at a loss.

The leaves are finishing their descent, eagerly awaiting to see their friends once more.
And as I watch, I am envious, so envious.
These leaves-- they are quick to change.
Quick to adapt without a single worry of what's next.
They know that reunion is coming soon.
Soon they will feel the rough edges of those they grew up with.
Soon they will echo together.

Winter is coming.
Winter is coming.

They whisper quietly as they crunch underneath my boot.

*Winter is coming.
Come quickly, dear friend,
For winter is coming.

These feelings need to die
Because they aren't doing me any good.
They've already grown roots-
Holding onto the deepest part of my mind.
& it *****.
It really really *****.
Cause it's all I think about.
It's all I see when I turn around.
& I know, oh, I know,
How dangerous these thoughts can be.
So I'll grab a knife to
Cut out these silly little feelings.
I'll take a hammer
And nail my heart up.
I'll layer bricks high
Just to keep you out of sight.
& though it might hurt just a tad,
It's probably better this way.

"You cannot save him."*
I used to think that I could
Be a knight in shining armor
With my sword in the air and my head held higher.
I thought that I was better than what the mirror showed me.
***** streaks across my face?
            *War paint from my last battle.
Scuffed up shoes and calloused heels?
            Proof of a great highway escape.
Rope burns across my palms?
            A reminder of how strongly I held on.
However, someone should've called a magician because I’d become the next grand illusion.
            I was the backdrop
            The focal point
            The uneven lines
Which strained your eyes and made you feel as if something more was present.
But really— the trick was on me
            Because I wasn't a knight in shining armor but a child with a toy.
            I was a lifeguard who’d never learned how to swim.
            A fireman who choked on the flames.
            A therapist who’d never sat in her own chair.
*I was just a girl with a heart one size too big and mask worn too well.

A seed has been planted in my head.
Just a single
Solitary
Seed.
I pushed it aside and
B
u
r
i
e
d
It
Underneath a million other thoughts instead.
I tended my thoughts endlessly.
Watered
      them
          with
              doubts
                  excessively.
& let them bask in the light of insanity.

So they sat.

And sat.

And sat.

Slowly
R
  o
    o
      o
         t
           s
Dug down deep
And clung to every bad thought conceived.
They started from my head and curled down my spine-
Encased every inch of my being-
Until the person in the mirror
Wasn't me anymore.

I don't need you
     (So why does this sweater still smell like you?).
I don't need you
     (So why do I walk the long way home?).
I don't need you
     (So why do I stall whenever I'm at the bottom of the hill?).
I don't need you
     (So why is your favorite song in my search?).
I don't need you
     (So why do I keep staying up late?).
I don't need you
     (So why is my phone on loud?).
I don't need you
     (So why do I keep looking at the door?).
I don't need you
     (So why do I have to keep reassuring myself?).
I don't **need you.

An ocean away
Can't keep our problems at bay.
It felt surreal holding my ticket
Just ten days ago.
A simple piece of paper
With simple black, blue, yellow, and red ink
And simple words and letters.
But this piece of paper whisked us a world away.
Took us to an island
Filled with people I didn't know
Places I've never been to
Feelings I wasn't accustomed with.
It was supposed to be an eighteen day escape
A trip to relax and, well,
Let go.
& to some extent it still is.
I've still got time to go to the beach,
Feel the waves lap at my feet,
And be somewhere other than home.
But reality has to come back into view somehow
Some day
In some sort of way.
It just always has to.
& with reality comes problems.
& with problems come worry.
& with worry comes feelings and choices
That I don't want to contend with.

We're all authors
Typewriters
Pens
Pencils
Erasers.
We have stacks upon stacks of paper
Piling high
Of what we wish could happen
&
Of what really did happen.
We're all painters
Palettes
Paintbrushes
Tubes of endless
Reds
Blues
Greens
Blacks
Yellows
Whites
& in betweens.
We try to make a prettier picture
Of what's in front of us.
Try to take something ordinary
And make it other worldly.
We're all photographers
Polaroids
Camcorders
Film strips
Memory cards.
We capture the moment
And
Lock them in our hearts
Imprint them upon our brains
Because we don't want to forget.
We are all artists.
Because we each have visions
And create them
In order for others to see what we see
And
Feel what we feel.

i can't help but feel sad
over all the people i'll never get to meet.
never feel the calloused hands that have turned the earth inside and out
never see the eyes of those who have chased the sun, moon, and stars
never trace the constellations they weave in their heads.

this world is overrun with beautiful souls
but not enough me-
why can't i have more hands to hold the ones stretching out to me?
why can't i have more legs to carry me further across?
let me meet them halfway
between "what i know" and "what i could know."
let me go
i beg of you
please let me go.

there are so many beautiful souls
but not enough me-- not enough me.

so instead i will embrace the bodies before me
i will hold out my frail hands
and read theirs like they're the last book i'll ever read.
i will be afraid to blink
in hopes of watching every sunset they extend.
i will carry their hearts wherever i go
and wear their lives through each season.