I am the burner of bridges,
Said Bridget, the smoker of
Cigarettes who lies and stares
At the passing day. My childhood
Follows me like a shadow’s dark;
Its ghostly presence is always there,
Its non wise words echoing in my
Ear. I sleep with men for the lost
love, kiss them in the search for
my lost mother’s warmth, hug them
In the lonely hours. My dead babies
Cling to my legs, their tiny fingers
Clutch at my dress as I walk along;
Their eyes look up like lamps in the
Still night. I am the aborter of babes,
The owner of a useless womb; I push
Out stillborns like a factory, give birth
To a form but not to life; I am anyone’s
Woman, any man’s wife, I lay and gaze
At the moon, I watch smoke rise from
My cigarette, it forms rings as father did,
The smoke curling and rising with his
Phantom presence there in room, the
Ghostly cigarette hanging from his lips.
I have searched for God in the blackness
Of night, sought His love in the arms of men,
Awaited His coming in the winter’s wind;
His love is there, but I do not see, His arms
Caress, but I do not feel; I am alone still.
I am the walker of cities, the sitter in lone
Cafes, the easy ride, the fuckable dame;
I wear the badge of kiss me quick or leave
Me never. I am the sleeper of nights in a
Musty bed; see dead babies in heart and head.

Inspired to write staying up late tonight
Thoughts floating in the moonlight
These games you play I'll never win
Addicted I debate if I shout stay away
Talkin to you makes my day and morning
Sometimes life is boring ever since I cleaned up my act
Taking it slow don't know where things will end
I hope I'm not wasting my time
My heart wants you to be mine
Your flaws and imperfections are okay
Just want us to be happy I pray
Felt a connection make me your selection
My hurt needs protection
Taking the risk was a rush
More then a crush not a game of lust

When I was little,
if I were scared,
I would crawl into my mothers bed to fall asleep,
to feel safe.

Now,
The monsters in my closet and under my bed come lay with me as the monster in my mind makes them feel the need to be safe.
Silently the monster takes control of my darkened room,
The wind applauding every dark thought that my mind generates and pulses through my veins

A chill slithers down my spine although I’m sweating,
I kick my legs and roll around,
like a wrestling match,
my body versus my mind
I wonder who will win.

last spring,
in firenze,
i met a girl -
we'll call her julia
(because that's her name) -
this one strange night
behind a secret bakery
that's open at midnight.
i was standing
on a small street
in italy
surrounded
by drunken chaos,
the smell of pastries,
and beauty.
how will i ever
forget her?
why would i ever
even try?

Dear therapist once said, "Once you stop trying to escape yourself, you will have won a big phase of the battle because in reality there is no one you presently have to escape or fear. One, because you are no longer a child, and two, because you have more, much more, personal power and capacities to protect yourself then in the past.”

It was so many years ago when I bought a costume of a confident woman with no history of abuse. I was the only one who knew it was a costume, and when I looked in the mirror, I longed to be that woman, the beautiful, confident woman with nothing to hide, and I never took that costume off. I pushed away the thoughts, the disgust that was of the past, I could do it…it was easy. I just had to stay busy, and not leave time to think about it. But one day that all came to a screeching halt and suddenly my life was so painful, and the pain was so intense…I wanted to be left alone in my pain, I did not want to share the pain I was feeling. I was afraid to explore the darkness that dwelled inside of me, the darkness that I had ignored and pushed away for so many years. I was afraid if the things that lived in my darkness were exposed to light, they would grow out of control, and overcome me, make me weak and afraid, **** me into the darkness until I no longer existed.

But the darkness was not to be ignored, it snuck up on me during the night, it rattled my windows, and wrote ******, bitter graffiti on my walls. There was no escape, I could no longer outrun my past, it had caught up with me, now ran beside me, and I knew it would soon overtake me. I began to have panic attacks, waking in the middle of the night, unable to breathe. I needed a coach, a life coach, and I needed one fast! I needed a coach to teach me to run faster, to escape. So I began to search for a coach and when I found one, but rather than teach to me run faster, he wanted me to slow down, to look…he wanted me to feel. What? Why would I allow myself to feel, it would just hurt, cause me pain. He told me that I could run until I wore myself out but I could not escape my past or my pain. I had to learn to face my past in order to move forward and heal. When I told him I was scared, that I didn't have the strength to face it, he told me that he would 'train me', stay with me, and help me to find the strength within me that he could see. The strength I saw in him was a reflection of the strength I was seeking for myself.

I have been hit time and time again in this process. I have had black eyes, bruised and cut skin, broken bones and a shattered spirit. And when I could not find the strength, he would help me, encourage me and cheer me on. I am moving forward, and I am starting to see my worth.

I look for the source of the disaster. I look in the mirror and it decides to screech. I'm lusting for love and a dime's worth of affection. Haunting vibrations are crippling my decisions. Everyday is unedited from the previous one. Looking for new high's in a comfortable setting. I want to change reality forever so I soak myself in fantasies and exchanges that don't really exist. Im sick of being stuck, nailed to my vexatious living pattern. That's what life is really about, patterns, how you change the patterns. How you leave a mark, a little piece of you, dwelling in forever. I'm a creationist, I consume to create, destroy to rebuild. I'm bored so I dang on the edge of abyss's . I want to see how far I can go, how deep can I scare history. It's all a matter of perspective really, what you sink your desire in. You could be the most beautiful tragedy, a crying saint, a god, love, the Devils cashier. We don't live by rules, there can't be rules, we will never reach our full potential. We have to stretch every emotional and physical boundary we have. We have to be successful or we lose.

Inside we drink tea and eat steaming waffles
While outside a white blanket drapes itself
Even over our minds
Painting things in a sweeping grey
That glistens in the sunlight

It’s a little too cold out
So our noses are a bit runny
And the heat’s on a little too high
But the maple syrup never goes bad
And neither does your laugh

Your thumb moves across my the back of my hand
Like it did in the summer
Gently; without much pressure
And in between my fingers I can feel your heart beat

If you wanna go outside though
I have a really nice hat
And some really nice gloves
And if you wanna go sledding
I have a toboggan too
So we can go down the hill
Together