We are open wounds with closed minds
And no one has to know what hurts inside
But why would we care anyways.
Just like why would we care if someone won the lottery
Or saved a life
Or fell in love
and the stranger next to me can win or lose
and its none of my concern.
The only concern I have is numbers under 21
And the somebody with the cards
And an ace of spades and a black jack.
I am only doing my best.
But what is my best?
What is my fault?
Sometimes I don’t have a club
and sometimes I don’t have a heart
and sometimes I don’t have an eight
but that doesn’t mean you can call me crazy
I don’t think.
This is a different kind of game
And there isn’t a boneyard to choose from
But sometimes I feel so alone inside I think maybe
all the advice Im hearing is just the bones rattling with defeat
and any second now they will shatter
like the memories we forgot to keep.
I hope that my luck hasn’t run out
Now that Ive lost all of the jokers
But maybe theres still a little crazy left inside me
Because sometimes when I play solitaire
I think there is someone else there.
But when I look up its only me and the deck
So I shuffle and hope
But most of the time
I don’t win.
So give me chess
Or dominos
Or dice
But its all the same.
We have chance
And luck
And statistics that tell us don’t do this and don’t do that
Like don’t eat too much meat
And get 8 hours of sleep
But even though I try
I still don’t get enough protein
And I don’t stretch after I run
And I cant cut the sugar
And I stare at the screen to long
And I tell mountains of lies.
The point is I’m tired of this game.
I am tired of losing
Against
Me.
Tired of making my own rules.
And breaking my own rules.
And beating myself up for the hands we are dealt
And the bets that we make
And the money we lose.
But Im learning.
Learning sometimes you get lucky
And sometimes you don’t
And we all get our share of luck and unluck.
Or we can hope so.
As a way of believing life is fair.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
I didn’t find any pennies on the ground
Or any horseshoe facing up
Or any four leaf clover
And I didn’t get the good half of the wishbone.
So why is it me
Why I am I the lucky one
Why do I get everything I ever ask for
There are people in this world who feel alone
Who have no home
People who hit rock bottom and there’s no way back up
People who know they are at the end
I wish that there was no such thing as less or more
Wish that there was no such thing as luck.
Because the karma says
They get what they deserve
But the thing is
Maybe they didn’t deserve it
Because maybe were wrong and the world
Is just a little unfair
Reality
Isn’t some piano piece of planned perfection
Maybe there are suppose to be holes
And mistakes
and screw-ups
Like there are suppose to be stars and serendipity
And sheer strokes of fortune
And I will run miles and miles
On a clear and cleaned sidewalk
That snakes in circles through suburbs
And they will trudge pavement with
Ruins and cracks and stains
On city streets littered with corruption
For the only fact
I’m not him
And he’s not me
And this is how it’s meant to be
Because we had no choice
Sometimes I believe there’s a book
With every thing in between your first and last breath planned.
So there’s some excuse.
So when unjust appears we say
There was nothing we could have done different.
That everything that happens in supposed.
That we were put on this earth with the timer set.
Because luck is just too unpredictable.
And I wish there was something to blame.
And I wish it was fair.
And I wish that every clover we pick had four leaves
And every wishbone and horseshoe holds some worth
And I wish that every time we are in need
We look down and there’s a penny
That brings us back to the right track
Because if this world was based on superstitious thought
We would live in fear and in fortune and
Maybe some people would have a shot.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:39 PM UTC
People Change.
People Forget.
We move on our own tracks
and make our own opinions.
and make our own decisions.
We take steps on a path
which twists and turns and winds its way
into a map of memories
in which you can look back
to see footprints
you remember
and respect
and regret.
And over time
the footprints will fade.
We can not return but only look back
which is why regret is a dangerous thing
because it is hopeless
You could miss something to the side
if all you do is look back.
It is walking
up a downward escalator.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
When it is beyond the point of life would be the same.
When it is
What
Would
Life
Be
Without
You.
I used to go on
As if nothing happened.
As if your fingerprints faded in seconds
As if your footsteps were covered in snow
As if a tree fell in the middle of the forest but no one was there to hear it
So I guess it didn’t really happen
It didn’t really happen
Didn’t really happen
Really happen
Happen.
Because I felt no different
Because I showed no difference
Because it was like some dreams you don’t share
Just like some secrets you don’t share.
Now it is ingrained.
Still nobody notices
But I notice.
I notice how you occupy so many more thoughts.
I notice how I want you more then not.
I notice how I smile because of something you said.
Because more then once I’ve almost blurted your name.
I notice how its not so much I would like you when Im sad
Its I need you.
Whats wrong
Some one slap some sense in to me
Is this what being an Alcoholic feels like?
Because I think I understand this guilty pleasure thing
So now Im begging you baby
Please
Don’t break my heart.
Because I think Ive let go too long
Its beyond coming back
And if there is a way
I have no map.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
Will you tell me your secrets
All bunched up
Boxed in
Screaming to be let out
Will you tell me why you stare off into space
Why you lose yourself in memories
Why deep down there are
Stories who make you who you are
And why the shame is too great too reveal them
Tell me why you are so afraid of being judged
Of guilt
Of being left alone
You are not empty
You are bursting
Why do you keep this reminiscence to yourself?
Why do you believe your mistakes are greater then everyone else’s?
Why can’t you own your actions
Back your case with no excuses
Only care and honesty and responsibility
Because this isn’t some sort of shame
These secrets are not some sort of pang
This is who you are
And why shouldn’t you be satisfied.
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
Don’t Climb too High
They say
And don’t use the dead branches
It is a challenge to test how high she can go
Where to step
To make no mistake
Go faster and faster
And she can feel the adrenaline pounding in her ears
And the fear rising and the power building
The coming closer and closer to the sky
Till it is so close she could almost reach up and touch it.
And it would be smooth and soft like the icing of a cake
And the clouds would smear
Like messy cotton ***** or cream in coffee
They would leave white stains on her fingers
And she would be able to tell her friends tomorrow
I smudged the sky yesterday.
But to touch the sky is one of those things
That isn’t suppose to happen
Because before she can come close
The silence is split by a crack so sharp
She can feel its vibrations pulsing her insides
And her heart jutting into her throat
And there is a moment of panic
And she remembers what it was to play with the ocean.
And she decided to try something new
And see what happens
What happens when the tide can do what ever it wants with her
So she doesn’t duck or hold on or swim any faster
She relaxes every muscle till she could almost be asleep
And what the waves do is
Rip and pull so violently
She is thrown from side to side like a piece of dough
Torn to pieces
And in this moment she realizes
why some people die in the ocean.
And then all at once
Her delicate body is slammed into the sand and
This deep fish bowl of a memory is shattered
As she hits the ground.
And she realizes
why some people die falling out of trees.
There is two kinds of pain.
One that aches and drags
And one that shocks you with its ferocity and comes on so quickly
you think maybe all you did was blink to miss it
and she is hit with the second so hard
it does more then just knock the wind out of her
It steals the scream that tried to slip out of her open mouth
So there is this cold deafening silence
It leaves a memory so thick and scarring
It digs a hole for itself deep into her gut
And it wrenches her muscles to relive
It taught its lesson the hard way
She will never forget.
When it feels safe enough to open her eyes
She sees dark frayed pieces of dead ebony
And the echoing of the warning repeats
She sees what mistake she has made
To confuse life with death
And only one will support her
As she climbs higher and higher
Broken branches are broken bones.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
It is twilight in the summertime.
I am alone and I walk on the empty street.
There is the heavy scent of rain
And the light gusts of wind
That chill to the bone
I see the glow of the TV in other people’s windows
No one is watching
So I run and jump and run and jump
There is a shadow of the kid I used to be.
And with the wind
Comes the laugh I used to have.
The pavement is warm from collecting sun all day
And it doesn’t hurt to walk on
Because my feet have become tough as leather
As they always do in the summertime
From weeks of running barefoot
And even when I step on a piece of glass
And bright red blood dots my trail
I hardly notice
Because to this kind of pain
I am immune.
Nothing feels this free
The only thing I hear
Is the sound of my own laughter
But it is different now.
There is a hollowness inside
Because something has left
A sort of spirit has cracked just a little
Now I am aware of horrible things.
People don’t whisper
When they talk about death and dying
Cause they don’t have to worry
About ruining innocence
That was robbed long ago.
A price you pay for age.
I am not broken.
I have hope.
I am just like the rest of my youth
And embrace the role our generation will take on
I believe that I can make a difference.
But with remembrance and reflection
Comes the capability to hold a grudge.
Something is missing.
I cannot run and jump forever.
My shins hurt.
And my ankles sting.
And my back is starting to ache.
And sometimes my heart feels smaller
Because my breaths are shorter quicker
And I know I am not the sinless little girl
I used to be.
The line between right and wrong
is not so much blurred as it is ignored.
Sometimes we are aware of the mistakes we make
And with each one more
We move farther and farther
From the child we once were.
When I was little
I was not afraid to run in the rain and catch a cold
I was convinced there was a monster under the bed
And I wanted to hold my mothers hand
And I would pretend to be asleep so my dad would carry me to bed
And I was afraid of the kids
Who burned ants with magnifying glasses
Since then
I have gained a little maturity
And a little bravery too.
But now I care to look in the mirrors
Now I judge.
I do not enjoy ice cream as much as a used to
I do not jump in the river with a dress on
I do not paint with my fingers
Or leave crumbs and chocolate stains on my face
And I do not believe in the Easter bunny anymore.
My mouth will not make a smile as big as it used to
And my eyes will not shine as bright
Because no longer am I shielded
From cold, hard reality
The purity I once had
Is shattered.
When it starts to rain
I stop running.
I stop jumping.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
There is a girl who I wish I was.
she has a vase of dying daisies next to her bed
and she has holes in the bottom of her boots
but imperfection is beauty
She has learned to live with what she has.
She has learned to forget what she doesn’t.
There is no such thing as negativity
or a word to speak bad about someone else
she has learned to accept.
she dreams through a field of flowers and blue sky
that goes on forever
and she understands the concept of time
present only lasts for so long
present will eventually fade into future
and past can be forgotten or remembered
Things heal.
Things get better.
She empties her pockets of change on the street
and never asks or expects anything back
because she knows how to care about others
more then herself
knows what struggle is
and she puts pity to a perspective
of making a difference
She sees herself as no better then anyone else
she measures giving and happiness
on a scale of equality
and she doesn’t keep track of how much help she has given
because she always has more to give
So there will never be a final total
She woke up late this morning
and she bashed her toe in the door
and she slipped on the sidewalk
and she forgot her books
and to eat breakfast
and everything has gone the wrong way.
But everybody struggles.
and complaints are meaningless words
to fill the space
they are ****** up by people
and build habits of unhappiness
in a place of unsatisfaction
things can always be worse.
She has learned to live with what she has.
She has learned to forget what she doesn’t.
She has learned to forgive and giveback.
Everyday there will be a sunrise
and a sunset
and the hours in-between
and after dark
will end.
They will not be wasted.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
You asked me about the neighbors.
They don’t say much.
They don’t mean much.
They lie with their backs pressed up against the bubble
In which we call home
We know so little about each other
Besides a name and a face
and the color of the outside of your house
We judge you by when you put your Christmas decorations up
and when you take them down
By the cars parked in your driveway
By the kind the of dog you own
and how often you are outside walking him
or by how many flowers you have in your front lawn
You asked me about the neighbors.
From my balcony
I can peak through the trees to the house of the older couple who
Obsessively water their lawn
How much water can you use?
Isn't your grass green enough?
And do you really have to mow the lawn at 7 Sunday morning?
And stop losing your cat
we are tired of hearing you call her name.
But on Monday evening
When the pile of textbooks on my desk is so heavy
if you threw it at someone it would **** them
And who knows when the studying will be over
Settle in
It should be a long night
The sound of the little girl’s laughter next door
Is like music that sinks deep into my soul
And brings a breath of relief
Your granddaughter is very beautiful
And I think she loves to sit in the
Green fresh cut grass with the cat
Time doesn’t stop for anybody.
I remember when that was me.
The people in the round house with the rickety steps
Are too loud.
Unstable young people who party too much.
The cars parked up and down the road are dotted with tickets
the next morning
The trash men have trouble with the bags of beer bottles
overflowing your garbage can
What a crazy night it must have been
and all over again next weekend.
You barely even made the rent this month
But everybody goes through a stage like that
And at least you ride your bike
And your big brown dog doesn’t chase our cats
Im betting in the next six months you should be out
And someone just like you will take your place
You asked me about the neighbors.
Across the street is the biggest house
They just bought an SUV
Its bulky and black and you cant see in the windows
so most of the time I don’t recognize them
That ****** ballerina of a daughter they have should get outside more
and her sister too
I think the fresh air would do them some good
We are surprised to see the maid’s car in their driveway today
Arn't they on vacation?
Whats the point?
We used to have that same maid.
But she only came once a week to our house
and twice to theirs
We decided we didn’t need her anymore
Because we can do our own cleaning.
When we were little I remember our lemonade stands
And pulling each other around in the wagon
the mudpies and the sandbox
gymnastics on the trampoline
They go to the private school and we go to the public.
We don’t talk much anymore.
The man and the woman with the golden retrievers are very kind
Although maybe they should think about a dog walker
Sometimes we worry Powder is going to pull his arm out of its socket
and Betty is going to yank her down
When we look in the window we can see her knitting
She always made me laugh when I saw her at the mailbox
He always gave good candy on Halloween and told us funny jokes
My brother and I are older now.
We don’t talk to them much.
All they really have to say when we see them is
“How you’ve grown up!”
You asked me about the neighbors.
They don’t say much.
Most of them have very green grass on their front lawn
And we don’t judge them for keeping their Christmas light up year round
Cause sometimes we do that too
There are no mean dogs
Come to think of it no mean people either
Sometimes they ask us to water their plants for a week
and usually they pay us well
Its really no trouble. Who doesn’t like flowers?
Your violets are my favorite
and your daises are very pretty too.
All we have in common is we live on the same street
And the same bear attacks our trashcans
And we all inhabit a place where sometimes the sunrise
is too beautiful to sleep through
And so we walk out on the driveway in our bare feet
Clutching our coffee cups
Grab the paper and stop and look around
And breathe the fresh morning air
And listen to the silence
And wave and smile and say good morning.
You asked me about the neighbors.
They don’t say much.
But I think they mean something.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
I am from pancakes, from ovaltine and cheerios
I am from an empty street that welcomes bare feet at twilight
I am from a big green back yard
from lilacs and daffodils
valentines and Easter eggs
from road trips in the van
And tuna sandwiches with extra mayonnaise
I am from being late to everything
And bedtime and naptime
From Bactine and band aids and bee stings and remember to wear shoes
when you ride your scooter
or walk over the pine needles
or under the slide where the grass is dry and sharp
I am from everyone is equal and religion is not a bad thing
And no one is wrong to believe,
But you don’t have to.
I am from Cheese pizza and Chocolate Milk
From the dinner bell when dad gets home from work
Or the candy cookie at the end of the day
if you help mom with the groceries
I am from waffles and homemade peach ice cream on the forth of July
From water melon and doctor Suess on a picnic blanket
From Crayons and markers and coloring books
I am from stuffed animals covered in dust cause you left them outside
From ski school
From pink lemonade and M&Ms;
I am from no matter how cold that water is
I will swim in the rivers and oceans
I am from flying kites
From riding bikes to the end of the street
From sleeping outside on the deck
But not the whole night,
Cause you start to miss your bed.
I am from Halloween is scary sometimes-
And so is the queen in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
And the witch in the Wizard of Oz
And the abominable snowman in Rudolph
From I think we will stick to the jungle Book and Lady and the *****
I am from snowmen and sledding hills and hot chocolate
with extra marsh mellows
From hanging Christmas lights in a snowstorm
And Dads sorry he let you jump off the deck
when you hit your nose to your knee-
He thought the snow was deep enough.
I am from Sprinklers and Trampolines
From Lodge Pole, Columbine, Bear Tree
From Ten minutes to bedtime
Junie B Jones Clifford the Big Red Dog and Bear in the Big Blue House
I am from Juice Coffee and Cinnamon toast
From broken heels and Sticky fingers
From counting stairs and sheep and pennies
and the days until Christmas
From the top of Dad shoulders at the tree lighting
From falling asleep with your head in Moms lap
in the booth at the restaurant.
I am from love
From hugs and kisses and holding on to one another so tight
Because what other way to show them you care.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC