Thoughts- secrets mingle in the dark
Memories of Winter take us back
To the start
Where we once stood,
Facing our demon as he peered from
Beneath his hood.

Yet here we stand after defeating
The trials. Still tall-
Victorious after many a mile
Of tribulations that almost broke
What we spent a lifetime continuing
To stoke. And still this fire burns
Engraved in our hearts for so long.
Forever letting us know, to whom
We truly belong.

It was meant to be special- worth
The wait.
I never thought myself to be a fool
So then why did I take the bait?

Sparks and hearts soar.
Fireworks burn to the very core,
Above where the stand, or more
They sway.
Why can't it be us feeling this way?

Clumsy. Anxious- i said
"I wasn't ready"
Too much, too many
Things left unsaid after parting ways.
Still I'm afraid to catch
Your gaze.
Anger set ablaze.

My most damning
Demons
Are the ones inside
My head.

It seems they'll never
Quiet down until
The day that I drop
Dead.

Too afraid, I'm
Running.
Living in the shadows of
My body.

My own desolate
Heart aches with
The burden of
Melancholy.

I’m standing here, a stranger to myself.
Wanting, craving the acceptance of my peers.

But as I look into everyone’s faces,
I can’t help but notice this strange sensation.
Nor good, nor bad.
Just sadness, emptiness and guilt
That I have no idea on how to please, love or have compassion.

I stare into their eyes,
Emotionless but vile.

The demon we all aspire to ****.
The very thing we try and distill,
Left unshackled and untamed
Can grow like a ****
Reckless and unmatched

Searching for the right words.
They do not yet exist.
                                   If they can.
Feelings are constantly forming.

                   But I'm scared.
                                                         ­                    Mark of the unknown.
Mind tells heart to stop.
Heart tells mind to prepare for pain.

          This pen my avenue to Truth.

Desires shattered by storms of doubt.
Fierceness kept within the confines of my being
Threatening further personal destruction if the winds do not soon perish.

                     Experience.
                                       The test.
                    Time.
                              Eye­ of the storm.
                    Patience.
                            ­      My only skill.

Doubts and Fears do not have to be felt alone.

                            Let time be the promise of perfection.




**Written sometime... Discovered April 20, 2013

They were lounging on the white sanded beach crusted over with bits and scraps of broken seashells. They were lounging in the hot Santa Anna sun baking in the ultraviolet rays. They were lounging as if they did not have a care in the world and like they were a million miles away from the everything's that had contaminated their lives up to and ended at this point.

There was the buxom Chéri Ann trying to forget the trial coming up in the next few weeks that had been a long trying time coming. She laid sprawled out stomach side down on her beach towel feeling the sun tan her back. Her hands were busy rolling a tea stick but her eyes were looking past the girl in front of her; also laying down on a beach towel but on her backside; at the waves crashing effortlessly into the surf. Her fingers expertly broke up the green leafy bud that smelled of lavender and coffee. She placed them in  a rectangular piece of rolling paper and still looking ahead of her towards the sea, rolled it into a medium sized stick. She took it to her lips lighting it with a lighter that she pulled out of the sand and inhaled its jade smoke. She held the smoke in for what seemed like an eternity and blew it back out onto the small flame still burning at the edge of the sticks tip, snuffing it out. She smiled and she passed it to her left where David who was wanting a cold beer and a cigarette after the past few days and also lying prone but facing away from the sun declined and grabbed it and sat up and forward and passed it to Heather who was the girl lying supine in the view of Chéri Ann. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his shirt lying beside him and pulled one out. He lit it. He took a drag and inhaled. He blew smoke out of his nose for a second before switching and blowing the rest out of his mouth in floating O shapes, sending them off towards the light blue sky.

Heather's face was enjoying the feel of the suns rays burn her face and bring out her freckles again. She was smiling. She took the stick from David who had sat up on his beach towel and leaned forward and arose her from her splendor. She still smiled. The tea stick went to her lips and she inhaled with a soft peaceful sigh. She smiled bigger. She could not remember her life before and nothing existed before and she was happy.

The sun shined down. The ocean was blue and the waves were crashing into the surf still with white foam beading on top of the waves. The sand was still white and littered with broken sea shell fragments.

Heather passed the stick to Bob sitting on the sand writing in his leather bound note book with a shortening black number two pencil sharpened to a point with a three inch strip of fine grit sandpaper and the edge of pocket knife passed down to him from his grandpa who got it from his dad who got it from his grandpa and so forth for another generation or two each on the day of their deaths. Bob sat facing the sun but looking at the cursive being written on the white five by seven lined notebook paper thinking not of anything but the words being written. He stopped writing and put the pencil down in the note book and closed it and laid it on the sand and took the joint and inhaled and held it and took another hit and held it. He exhaled. He took another hit and held it for a shorter time and breathed it out thru his nose. he passed it back to Chéri Ann who took another hit before passing it to Heather and he grabbed two beers from a cooler sitting next to him on a communal large sized beach towel that Chéri Ann had packed. He tossed one to David who caught it without looking or any warning at all.

Sometime alcohol screams to the blood in us.

David and Bob both snapped off the tops of the bottles in unison with bottle openers attached to their key rings. They saved the tops for Heather who made decorative art with them. They both drank them. Feeling the coolness of the liquid go down their throats and cool their stomachs. The cold amber felt good against the hot sun. They inhaled the beers and opened two more a piece and inhaled them. A breeze started to pick up.

Autumn wind.
Two plates,
Their designs differ