Don't tell me I was born to be something,
Don't tell me I need to be this prophecy,
Because there's no way I could ever be.
Don't tell me to be someone else,
Don't tell me to change,
Because there's no way it's going to happen.
Don't tell me there's a path for me to follow,
Don't tell me I'm a puppet for God to play with,
Because I make my own future.
The only thing you could possibly know,
Is the fact that some day I will die.
As soon as you label me,
You fence me in.
Don't tell me I'm to be something,
Because I'm already me.

It's so ******* hard to get rid of you when you're most of who I am.

When you sleep tonight
listen for music.
If you're in a dream,
listen for his voice.
He is always there,
crafting beautiful
jewels of great wisdom.
Close your eyes and look
for him, my dear child.
He has not left you.
This I promise you.
You'll be safe with him,
This I swear to you.
Now close your eyes, dear
Listen for music
Feel him hold you close.

People wonder why I look out the window,
Instead of climbing on the seats and hanging from
Open windows all while laughing like lunatics.
They wonder why I keep to myself,
And not whisper secrets or talk of people.

The window offers something that you can't.
I can watch my imagination dance on the mountain side,
Swim with the River People, and curl herself in the autumn leaves
Warmed by the afternoon sun
All through the glass.

I'm a star gazer.
I'm a dreamer.
I wouldn't change anything about me.
I wouldn't loose myself to join the herd.
Because while you're swinging on chandeliers,
Laughing like hyenas, loving like gorillas,
You can't see your imagination fly free.
It dies without you,
Alone on that mountain,
Frozen in the river,
Falling from the naked branches of winter trees.

So, no thank you,
I don't want to be like you,
I want to watch my imagination through the window
Because that's who I am.
And I wouldn't change anything about me.

Latch the lock shut on this suitcase,
You folded lace and linens
lovingly, watch me leave:
the later beckons.

Oh, the ominous future waits,
but old days will hold me close.
Ornate minds and dresses:
there’s so much I owe.

Vast your love ventures-- I know this;
the same heart holding me
teaches independence
that fills a valley.

Each and every day I am me
as I learn to exalt who
I am exclusively.
Mother, I love you.

No          words          on          Earth
                                                                ­are
                                                                ­          more
                                                                ­                    powerful
                                lips.                                                       than
                ­your                        I do                                              an
             on                                     not want                                    outstretched
        syll­ables                                          habited                                  hand.
      than                                                    declarati­ons                           Nothing
    more                                                      or                                          more
   are                                                ­           shrouded                               than
    words                                                     whispers,                               a
     those                                                    I       ­                                   breeze
     me                                                   want                                       in
        show                                        daring               ­                        the
           me,                                   proclamations              ­           everlasting
              tell                              and an                                   vastness
                  not                     outstretched hand.                   of
                       Do                                                         space,
                          once did.                                    words no
                                        longer ignite me as they

How can I sleep?
Your face keeps
Itself on my eyelids.
Your voice keeps
calling, screaming, my name.
Your smell keeps
Suffocating my sleep.
Your warmth keeps
Destroying my comfort
Our memories
keep me from sleep.
Our actions
keep me from rest.
Our words
keep me from peace.
You keep haunting me,
after you left me to cry
after I pushed you away.
How can I sleep?

Love is a creature
That sits along side my God
And plays my ballad

Snow fall,
Crystal showers
That encase me in the chill of death.
Take me in your arms
And lull me away,
Put me to sleep with the oaks,
Tuck me away under the drapes of the willows,
Lace my dreams with memories of summer flowers
Cover me in blankets of soft uncut grass and
Douse me with frozen snowflake kisses.
I fear the cracking I hear
When I try to open my eyes,
The shattering of an ice layer so thin yet so heavy--
Is that the sun I see?
Washing the white landscape in red and pink
Reaching out, but never touching.
It is always the moment before the dawn
That I forget the beauty of the day.
Consumed by twilight and midnight stars--
Hopes that are billions of miles away…
Upon awkening,
The first steps are always hard.
The chill that encases so many holds fast
Only the strong survive
I fear this time I will not rise with the sun,
But sink low, deep into the willow's roots
And feed from the next tortured soul
Who comes to sleep under the drapes of the willow.

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied  
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!  
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;  
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,  
And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;  
But last year’s bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.  
There are a hundred places where I fear  
To go,—so with his memory they brim.  
And entering with relief some quiet place  
Where never fell his foot or shone his face  
I say, “There is no memory of him here!”  
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

You can't ask who I am,
What is important,
What makes me me.
What makes a
Beach a
beach

What makes a beach a beach?
Makes it not a cliff;
Not an abyss?
It is the
Water;
Sand.

Without any water,
The Sand will not be.
It will stay rocks,
Become cliffs
Without
It.

If the Sand were not sand,
Water would usurp
The beach.  It would
Be ocean
Without
It.

The Water is a passion
that could become visious.
The Sand is strict as earth
that has become stable.


What makes this beach unique?
Makes it so unreal;
A fantasy?
It is the
Water;
Sand.

You can't ask who I am,
What is important,
Because it's all
Part of me:
Good and
Bad.

Let.
Him.
Go.
I know you can!
Forget the tainted heart
Block the screaming head
Follow your gut.
You don't need him this time --
Or any time! --
To feel the warmth of happiness.
Let him go, you can do it.

Actions speak louder than words,
tell me; should I believe you?
Mouth running, but arms are still...
Disregard the tears,
The actionless claims,
Unless you plan to show me.

Little boy praying at the shore,
do you not realize what you have done?
That flower, soft red petals and sharp thorns,
freshly picked and found home in your hands --
you tossed it into that achingly slow creek.
Little boy you must've known
that a flower like that would float away;
Yet here you kneel, tired eyes searching for it
and a hoarse voice calling out a name.
Little boy you could've stopped this.
Fingers were meant to hold things dear
yet it slipped, and you used them to point.
Feet were meant to bring people together
yet you watched, sitting, while it slowly washed away.
Little boy, what if I told you a secret?
That flower, with broken stem and burnt leaves,
held onto a passing rock and waited.
It waited for you to fight for it, but you didn't,
so that flower let go, drifting slowly away,
listening to the cries of a Little boy who could have.

Fear is often reasonless, compulsive - like survival.
No one can quite explain why they fear the dark,
Although we try desperately to blame the parents,
It remains to be simply “because.”

Often times a story accompanies the fear of spiders.
Or the realization that soaring heights are terrifying
Comes from a close call, a misplaced foot on the edge.
But “nothing” explains my fear.

I fear the sound of tires rolling to a stop on asphalt,
The crunch of loose gravel and the sound of a car door.
I find myself locking my doors when I am alone
And seeking something blunt when the moon rises.
But “nothing” explains my fear.

My trembling soul is ripped raw from screaming “no,”
But my lips are soft from the whisper of “okay.”
They always told me words are the most powerful,
And yet his attention was elsewhere when it tumbled out.
But “nothing” explains my fear.

It’s true, he never laid a hand on me without “okay,”
But he’s like nature’s wrath: “no” couldn’t stop him.
So now I grow my nails to claw, not to paint,
I wear sneakers so I can run, not at the gym.
But “nothing” explains my fear.

No tangible evidence except the tears of a heart,
The sweaty palms, the shaking, a dry mouth.
Why speak out if emotion is your only witness?
The jury will not be out long, to them it’s obvious
Because “nothing” explains my fear.

“Nothing” haunts dreams meant for escape and bliss,
“Nothing” reminds me of slow tires on asphalt,
“Nothing” is the echo of hands on my stripped bare body,
“Nothing” becomes the reason I fear an empty house…
But “nothing” explains my fear except “him.”

This is it
the end.
Have all your loose
ends been tied?
All of your
debts been paid?
Good.
Now let us depart,
away from this crumbling world
and into the next.
I know it’s all falling around us,
with the ground shaking
and buildings tumbling, but
ignore it all,
and just come with me.
Together we’ll leave this horrid chasm
and sail away to an island.
One that hasn’t flooded,
one that has white sand,
blue oceans,
and swinging palm trees.
Look at me and
ignore it all,
dismiss the giant waves
and raging storms,
let the hurt go,
let the pain go, and
ignore it all.
I know that when the end comes,
we’ll be together,
away from the chaos.
Don’t worry about saying good bye,
we’ll see everyone in the end.
They’ll all be there, I promise. Now,
ignore it all,
and hold me tight
when the world ends.

The way his ghost fingers weigh on mine
Could break every tiny bone as if my hands
Were the dried petals of the roses hanging in the summer sun.
The heat of July is nothing like the fire that consumed him
One late winter day;
His water written promises couldn’t save him from the ashes.

Head full,
Pencil still

Images flying,
Pen dazed

Whispers screaming,
Voice mute

Face strong,
Eyes tearing

Stories telling,
Books shut.

These are feelings,

Are sensations,
that blight every sense.

They have become
a disease that has
stolen my clarity

And leaves me with
ringing ears. These are
temptations that are like
extra shots of dopamine

And have left me
disoriented.
I hunger leave from this --
this ache that has consumed me
and left me hollow as a husk.

Did you know
My first love was the sound of the piano?
Its longing chords and soaring melody,
I tried to teach my fingers to dance,
But they could never do my ears justice.
Did you know
I love sappy poetry and lit candles?
The smell of standard vanilla
And the dim glow on flowery words,
But I could never recite them quite right.
Did you know
I love the way silence sings?
That two people can sit, quiet,
And not feel the urgency to speak,
But I could never stop fidgeting.
Did you know
I crave the feel of his strong arms?
The passion and softness behind lips,
And the innocence of a presence,
But I could never...

Looking at the crack under my door and seeing the light go out.
At that moment, I know you are all asleep and dreaming,
and I can’t even close my eyes.
I can't enjoy the most simple of silences
because my body and mind won't let me.
Fill me with pills and formulas,
sing me lullabies and read me stories,
tuck me in and kiss my forehead...
it doesn't change a thing.
I'm still watching the light under my door go black and
the house fall silent, crying soft tears into a useless pillow,
fearing I'll never dream again.
Go home and get some rest they say...
ha, if only their words made it so.
Make me Ella and command me to sleep... please.
All I want... is a dream.
A series of images that make no sense,
a nightmare that makes me wake up screaming,
because you know what that means?
I was sleeping... I was dreaming!

That small sliver of light under my door keeps me sane,
without it I am alone
a room of light in this world of darkness,
and I want nothing more than to join it.
When the sun goes down, the clock slows its march.
The seconds feel like minutes
The minutes feel like hours
The hours... feel like they never come.
But when the sun finally does rise, it is a sad and happy moment.
It's an escape from the darkness but
it's another battle to fight.

This black ribbon that laces my door
fills me with dread and sounds the gun to make
the seconds feel like minutes
the minutes feel like hours
and the hours never come.

i am the girl
with questions in
her eyes

i am the girl
that question
lives

i am the girl
with untouched love on
her lips

i am the girl
that covers
her hips

i am the girl
with whispers in
her ears

i am the girl
that shouts but
no one hears

i am the girl
with a song in
her heart

i am the girl
in a play
with no part

i am the girl
with lyrics on
her breath

i am the girl
who is not afraid
of death

This abuse is without visible scars:

the coppery blood
is that of a broken heart
pooling around me,
craving to drown me
even as we join as one --

the throbbing bruises
are that of spoken words
sprouting like flowers
seeking to consume
even as he spreads me open --

the suffocating broken bones
are that of the fear
filling my lungs,
burning my nose like acid
even as he kisses me --

the deafening tears
are that of threats
ringing and screaming inside,
stealing any other sound but him
even as he makes me laugh --

the blinding black eye
is that of isolation
wrapping tight ‘round me,
sewing my eyelashes together
even as he glances my way --

But you can’t see it, so is it really there?

you Can't Stop A War That's Already Begun.
Two Sides Face Down, Stalemate--
They Each Request my Aid,
But i Am Unable To Choose.
you Can't Calm The Tides That Are A Tsunami.
Waves That Crash, Relentless--
Time Is Running Out,
But i Am Unable To Choose.
you Can't Stop A Bullet That's Been Fired.
Small Metal With The Force Of A Hundred Men, Blood lust--
There Is No More Time,
i Must Choose.
And One Must Die.

Some times I find myself thinking
Would it be better if I woke up dead?
That, somehow, all those people
That were my friends
My blood
The ones who thought they knew me
And the people who heard of me,
If by my absence everything would be better.
Too many times I find myself thinking
*Yes.

You have to do more than believe
if you want to change the world.
Prayers and shooting stars
just won't cut it anymore.
Get off your knees and
go serve the god you're so devout to.
It's time
                                                 to march,
                                                 to protest,
                                                  to cry out into empty winds
because it's better to be heard
than to die silent.

I hate myself

I hate myself because
I'm not strong enough to say no
I kissed you knowing how I felt
I held you even when my head said not to
I let you think… I let myself think…

I am despicable
I hate people like me,
The world needs to be rid of
People like me.

I was taken last night,
the beating heart of a love
young and quick
ripped from the chasm
that is my chest.
Now our bodies
cold and hollow
rest upon the shore
of tears and lies
promises and anger,
just the top of the pile of many.
In the eyes of the fearful,
our bodies stroke the skies:
Why jump if it’s so short lived?
But me, soaking in
the salt foam and sand,
do not regret a second of
                                                 freefall.
It was beautiful, short as it was,
and edged in gold
in the book that is my memory.

Impact was not kind
to bodies so hollowed as us.
The dust of so many before
cloud around our crater.
Yes, we fell hard,
but we are not dust yet.
So many broken bones...
Count the bruises with me,
and use a tourniquet,
you just can’t use me anymore.
I won’t climb back up with you,
but I hope that you will.
I want to, one day,
watch you freefall with another,
to be happy with any other;
it just can’t be me anymore.

Until then, I’ll lay here,
only looking up,
closing my eyes to the sound
of hollowed bodies hitting the sand.

How do you tell a heart to stop aching?
Command a warrior never to fight again?
A singer to never so much as hum another note?

Two long years, and all I've done is fight
sword raised high some days,
and others--
it's a miracle I'm standing.

How do you tell a bird to stop flying?
Persuade a flower never to bloom again?
A leaf never to fall?

Too many long days, and all I've done is sleep
dreaming of a world with escape,
and others--
a nightmare that leaves me weeping.

How do you tell the sun not to rise?
Punish a star for shining too bright?
Stop the moon from changing shapes?

Too many short seconds, and you're slipping away,
through my fingers like sands,
and others--
sitting on my shoulder with everything else.

It's about that time again
to lock up all the
Love
Anger
and Greif
and just wait for them to die.
But they never truly die,
do they?
They rally in the
locked box I call a heart
becoming stronger and stronger
until I am overcome with
Love
Anger
and Grief.
They never truly die.
No.
They never cease to come back
just as the winter comes
to destroy summer.
It's about that time again,
hopefully their rally is lifeless
so that I may see another day.

if only
they could shine
a little
bit brighter

there is nothing
wrong with the stars
and how they shine
like a dozen
scattered diamonds

i want to
change the stars
so that they
shine brightest*

but i like them
the way they are
he took the brush
and he started
to dot the sky
with bitter lies

i scream for halt
he doesnt stop
destroying stars
is like killing
a hope held dear

Poetry is fleeting.
It's like a drop of water on your dry tongue in the desert -
you don't know when it'll come again -
a scary feeling.
It's like a storm that passes over you, drenching you in rain -
but only for a brief moment -
and then it's gone.
It's like a passing subway train.
It's like a flash of lightning and
the only thing that you can remember is an echoing thunder where it once shone.
One moment it's there, singing songs and rhymes in your head.
And the next, it leaves you drained with only fragments.
You only have a few seconds.
By the time it's written, it's different, and can never be the same again.
It can never be that Angel's whisper,
but a true artist depends on how close you can get to that Angel.

I can't trust anyone.
I can't hold someone close and
I can't love another.
But I want to.
Oh, how I want to trust you!
But I can't.
I can't explain,
Because I myself do not understand.