Is it still night if you don’t sleep?
Or is night that darkness that soothes the soul, the warmth of a fire in the middle of snow?
Darkness, that promises light and gives you the moon as proof.
The moon that becomes a beacon and watches those demons you keep at bay through the day, come out to play.
And with its light, gives you the courage to face them until you thrive in the dark and they burn in the light.
Is it still night if you don’t close your eyes in fear when the clock strikes midnight?
Or is night a siren’s song that wakes and beckons,
Like a lighthouse, calling home ships lost at sea?
Because you weren’t meant to simply survive the night, but revel in it and come alive.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC
In the dark hours of the night,
When your heart is breaking,
When you’re losing the battle against the pain,
When your mind is giving up on hope,
And you pray to the God above that He take you away….
In those darkest moments of your soul,
No one is there.
No one is there to hear your cries or heed your calls.
If I’ve learned one thing in the trials of this existence,
It is this:
In those moments when it hurts too much to live, to breath
And tears fall, scalding, down your cheeks,
No one is there.
During those nights when sleep is an elusive escape,
Condemning you to another night of punishing thoughts
And that empty ache in your heart is torn open,
Stealing your will to live, like a black hole,
Snatching away all the lies you’ve comforted yourself with.
Leaving you bare, exposed.
Ripping apart the wound that has never healed,
The wound of all things lost and never had.
The ****** gushing red marks of a wanderer butchered and left for dead.
In those seconds, minutes, hours of agony in which your heart shatters and breaks and comes undone again and again and again
In the pouring, raging storm of your pain unleashed
No one hears the desperate pleadings in your mind.
No one hears the howling screams of your soul.
No one hears a thing.
Because when you call in your darkest moments, no one answers.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
All you breathe is the aching that has burrowed deep into your bones.
The lullaby that follows you into your sleep, into your dreams.
Hearts breaking with love’s retreating footsteps,
Sorrows always in search of companions,
Roaming souls looking for purpose.
The whispers of the night,
Can you hear it?
There it is.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC
I’m repeating history and drowning in the replay,
This constant storm I call home.
I’m regretting my truth and the lies I've made mine,
A clap of thunder for every false word and a flash of lightning for every forced smile.
I've gone deaf and blind to this world.
But I won’t scream from the pain eating me alive.
Pain that begins as an aching in my bones,
A chill that seeps through my skin,
A hollow aching in my chest.
Oh, but how it aches.
Aches until it suffocates.
Suffocates and smothers, until I’m left gasping for relief.
But I won’t scream from the pain leaving me in pieces.
Because there is no use pleading for help.
Because in my travels I have come to learn:
No one can pick up the pieces.
When no one can see those pieces.
And no love is enough to put me back together.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
When I close my eyes the world burns with the embers of a fantasy fire
That keeps at bay the chilling hands of loneliness.
Like the sun and moon at war;
I live in the cusp between worlds,
Waiting on a sign from the light that I may finally dig my grave in its pure land,
Even as I continue to cling to the one I've called home in the depths of midnight.
Because that fantasy fire keeps me warm, safe.
Threats of flame consuming my soul lie in reality.
And when you carry your life unlived in day dreams,
No one can burn your soul.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 8:46 PM UTC
She’s looking through blind eyes again,
Letting the noise of life passing by
Lull her into this sleep, this coma
That comes upon her more often as the years go by.
And the same question is plaguing her:
How do you know if a life is worth living?
When you can say hello to a goodbye
Knowing that tomorrow shall never replace yesterday
And your today will never come to an end.
And maybe that coma can save her
From searching for the missing piece in her puzzle.
Because lately every today loses its shine after the first hour.
And the love she is looking for
Is taking the wrong forms, leaving her empty inside.
And yes, maybe she is ungrateful
But that pain that is burning holes in her soul
Is turning to ash all the good that is left inside of her.
And with her bare hand
She’s trying to keep the pieces together
And the shards are leaving gashes on her palm
Leaving new scars over old.
And she hopes if she holds her heart long enough,
It’ll mend itself back together.
But she knows deep in that broken heart
That the damage has been done
And she’s learned that in this life, you only get one.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC
Cry into the arms of the figure who isn't there.
You're running into darkness,
Searching for the light.
And in the days of silence,
When leaves won't stop falling,
Can you hear the hearts breaking of desolate ones?
Who haven't learned how to breath
Without bleeding from shattered dreams.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:56 PM UTC
It's 1:15 and I can’t sleep.
The world of dreams doesn't want my company.
My thoughts are chaotic and blank all at once
Every night it’s becoming harder and I fear
The escape of sleep will no longer be mine.
Have I become so hallow inside even my mind is left grasping at straws?
Colors are no longer vivid and music has lost its melody.
Who am I?
I feel and yet I am numb.
I've become sick of myself,
Sick of the thoughts that only tear me inside,
Sick of the actions that bring no satisfaction,
Sick of the empty life I have forgotten how to fill.
Where the night used to bring solace
Now it ignites endless cycles of self-recrimination
That burn from the inside out.
Another minute has come and gone,
Dawn approaches and life goes on.
1:15 is not giving any answers tonight.
Maybe tomorrow the night will be my friend again.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
I see their faces like a blur on the window of this car.
They stay in these towns we visit before hitting the highway again,
with gas in the tank for a thousand more miles.
Memories the souvenirs that clutter the dashboard.
Guitars keep strumming through the speakers,
As faceless voices sing melodies of broken souls and forgotten lives
Held together by soft piano and sad words
That play above the rumbling of an aging engine.
As rain pelts against the windshield again and again,
Leaving the world a hazy sight only seen by headlights.
The sun lost the battle against grey clouds and a howling moon,
Tomorrow it shall continue the war.
And who knows, maybe it will win.
Maybe then the sun can end the rain,
Maybe then it will shine through the night and quiet those melodies.
Maybe then it can slow down the blurring strangers and exchange souvenirs for friends.
Maybe then can that aging engine rest and maybe then can this car find a permanent town.
Maybe tomorrow the war will end.
But the trouble is: tomorrow never comes.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
The words we don’t say
Fall to the ground like dead leaves.
To be trampled and stepped on
Barely making a sound over the wind
Of the lies we whisper;
Too afraid of the truth beneath our feet.
And when storms begin to build,
Lifting the leaves to dance around us;
Those words crawling across our tongues
Fighting to be heard.
The rain of our tears beats them back down,
And the leaves fall flat, soggy, and drenched
To the cold, hard ground.
Beaten into silence,
To be trampled and stepped on,
Without even a crunch.
Those words we don’t say
Remain on the ground like dead leaves,
A reminder
Of dying souls we meet on these streets.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC