~
She stands on the roof of the world, a ship in a bottle. She likes to wave at passing boats, inviting 120 volts to raise their sails.

Words unbosomed -- her attempt of blotting out the sun and those bloodletting habits.

Her eyelids say, "Only the disquieting muses have time for me." So she writes like an umbrella, shading reality; remembering pluck and luck stories about bumblebees, lovingly wrapped in Tiffany-blue ribbon and paper.

Father used to solve her every contemplation. Now indecisiveness in what she asks. Now indecisiveness in arbitrary tasks.

And she and her negative capability are the last two awake at a slumber party, giving commonplace words the allure of secrecy.

You see, she is only harmless when she sleeps.
~

I write to create a world where I belong.
I write to feel at peace within my surroundings.
I write to provide a safe space between my heart and my mind.
I write so that I don't judge.
I write so that I learn.
I write because knowledge makes me feel safe.
I write because to write, I have to read...... A LOT!
I write to calm the daily anxiety-
I write to calm the bouts of unbearable anxiety.
I write to my depression.
I write so that I can climb inside my own universe and lose myself in my imagination.
I write because my heart would surely break if I didn't.
I write not for you to read, but for me to purge.

I write because the child within me, demands that I stay true to myself.
I write because it's the only form of art that lifts me up, that quietens my hyper sensitivity and unpredictable mind.

I write because if I don't release my thoughts, they'll turn inward and manifest into black.
I write because words are powerful.
I write because it's my life and my choice.
I write because to not write, would mean to lie to my soul
I write for solitude, for happiness, for gratitude.
I write to belong
I write for love.
I write to save me from myself.
I write to protect myself from my most damaging enemy, my fear....
I write because it's my only way through to the other side.
But mostly I write, because it simply makes me happy....

windowless day,
particles of strange salt on his brow,
generator man
on the coil,
double-sided,
a love for radioactive honey:
a storm in a teacup...

but for some reason
could not reciprocate
due to the metallic taste in his mouth,
and so he seemed driven
to build his electrical dream,
and took comfort from his pigeons,
the “lightning machine,”
the hair on his head bristled
as he discovered his purpose
in rings of glory that died
as flags of dust...

"let's face it,"
the professor of filosophy
realized
during his doctorate dessertation,
"LOOK,
Thoreau
had
had enough of Waldon pond.
when asked, why did you leave Waldon Pond?
Thoreau shrugged and said,
"**** it."