The only part of my day
That I look forward to
Is when I go to bed
And lay there making up scenarios
In my head.

I think of comebacks
To 8th grade bullies.
I think of witty retorts
To my mother's snide comments.
I think of intelligent things to add
To conversations I had months ago.

I think of all the things
I was too scared to say.

And in my mind
I say them.
And pretend how things would be different
If only I had the courage to speak.

Who,
Who are you?
What have you done to me,
The girl I used to know?
God,
Are you real?
Then why is my heart gone?
And you let me drown.

Please,
Help me,
I'm so sick of falling.
Please,
Save me,
I need your love to stop me.
I need your love to stop me.
I need your love.....to stop me.

It's not the fear that brings
about the images the painter
paints.
The words the writer writes.
The shapes the sculptor
sculpts.
Or the sounds the
musician brings.

It's the knowledge that there is more
than the trash filled gutters.
The windowless bars and
loveless street girls.
The foreign commerce you are
expected to buy and the life
you've been trained to sink
yourself  into while still dreaming
of oh so much more.

Some gifts shine and cast rainbows
in the light and some gifts expose the
darkness we all know is there but still
refuse to see.

The masses look to make a Hero
out of the artist.
They set prices on the works
and attempt to understand the
view.

This craft here comes in waves.
All there is to do is
try to keep up with the demands
of this ongoing battle
for time.

Time to sacrifice more
to the machine.
Less time for all the bad things.
More time for the gift.

My need to shy away from
the crowds in order to
create hand woven magic in the
dark.
The need to challenge Platos
view.
The need to feel the numbing
cold of Dantes Hell.
The need to live out my days
in Bukowskis harsh vision
of the world.

The gears of their clocks
keep grinding.
Grinding like a junk yard tweekers
teeth.

My remaining pages remain
unfilled and the sun has already
set on my tomorrow.

i can tell
by the bags
under your eyes
that you cry
yourself to sleep
when it comes
dawn you hide
and cut your
wrists, so the
sun doesn’t kiss
you and make you
conscious
let’s make
love and shut
the world out
and embrace this
new feeling that
we ignite in each
other’s bodies

i was the cell in your body

who lived in every part of you
who made you feel alive
who took care of your flaws
who completed you
who loved you



who got easily replaced

The ocean
Is the embodiment of sadness

The saltiness
Does not come from minerals
Or rocks
But from
Every tear
Ever shed

The conch shell's song
Is every scream of pain
Every released
Silent or not

The blue color
Is the color of sadness
Of everything the ocean has endured

And the grey
Is from all of the anger
The ocean has taken

So if you're ever feeling
Sad
Down
Or alone

Remember:
The ocean is there for you

To take your tears
In its vastness

Your screams
In its shells

And your pain
Sadness
And anger
In its colors

And if you can't take the pain
Any longer

The ocean will take your body
As well

So you are not alone
For the ocean is the embodiment of sadness