Awake, staring into nothingness,
I listen to the terrifying darkness,
With huge eyes, wide open,
Begging...sleep, please, happen.

Insomnia is a terrible thing causing one to become sequestered from reality.

Our skin tells more about us
Than most people would think.
So many stories to tell,
So many secrets that hide
In our skin.
Only a few layers deep,
Only a few chapters into the book of our lives,
And already one can learn so much about another.
And as we turn the pages, the skin we see becomes stronger.
Every scratch, every bruise, every scar has a purpose;
With these marks we reflect our battles,
Our defeats and our victories.
Every mark of ink holds a memory,
To illustrate the moments we shall never forget.
But our skin only shows us part of the story.
For the rest, we must dig past the layers
Until we reach the core of our bodies,
The soul of our stories.
And we will find the soul one layer at a time.

He was the type of boy who wrote memos on his hand because his skin absorbed the words better than paper but they soon came off when he scrubbed her of his skin and from under his finger nails.

Nights are getting heavier and the sky is darker and it feels like the stars could swallow you whole but you have to keep moving.

Memories are long and painful and shots of your image like knives are imprinted on my skull and i can't seem to shift what appears to be your apparent state of mind. Oh what a funny way to live, not knowing if the leaves are turning brown or if our veins run blue but we can't see it.

It's not about me, you see, i can't control my mind it's not full of fields where daisies grow no more. It's full of the thoughts you should run from and people whose hearts should not beat but we must ignore these factors for i am still human. And my blood is warm and my skin is warm and so is the sun. Please love me and show warmth to me too.

Monster

There's a monster in my home
With a soul as black as death
He's lurking somewhere nearby
Waiting with baited breath

He'll jump out and attack me
When things don't go just right
He's waiting for just the moment
He wants to start a fight

This monster I know from childhood
Although his face has changed
And yet I let him in again
Am I the one deranged?

This monster hid it well this time
A devil in disguise
Until he reared his ugly head
It was too late when I got wise.

And now I'm stuck here in this house
He'll never let me get away
This monster thinks I owe him
A debt I can never repay.

I slowly descend into hopelessness
Wishing the day would come
When I could go away from here
And find my hearts true home

The monster lives off my pain you see
Built a wall I can never get through
The saddest thing is you'll never believe
The monster with me is YOU

Light is more important than the lantern,
The poem more important than the notebook,
And the kiss more important than the lips.
My letters to you
Are greater and more important than both of us.
The are the only documents
Where people will discover
Your beauty
And my madness.

In the night this woman becomes a little girl.
She feels mighty small in this gigantic world.
Alone in the room. No one sees her there.
Just a quiet ghost sitting in an empty chair.
She's seen sunny days and cloudy rain showers.
Over time she's seen the growth of these beautiful flowers.
But with the reccuring events she has grown so bored.
It's like some ancient object that was once adored.
The item is precious and makes up her dreams.
But from her sleep she awakes with heartbreaking screams.
Fear sets in. It takes its toll.
It devours her heart and leaves a hole.
Her God. Her solution. He's very close.
And in His hands she places her highest hopes.
She looks to her right and to her left.
She realizes God is the only One left.
She prays for a change and a brand new flame.
With everything she has, she calls on His name.
Of course she bruises. She's only human.
But in the morning this little girl will become a woman.