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Jul 2016 · 480
In the corner of a curved ally sat a man with weathered hands and a guarded frame.
Beside him, a black dog rose as I neared, echoing the man’s hungry smile
Orange obdurate eyes tracked me footstep by footstep.
My pulse quickened and my feet surged me forward
Eyes front, I did not stop to look back  
Not because I believed all dogs to be inherently vicious
But because I knew that dogs
-like men-
could be made into monsters.
. ~ .
When I ask myself if it’s worth it to slow and take the chance
The answer is always no.
Jun 2016 · 569
She and I were like stripped broken wires
When you twisted us together
We shot sparks from raw ends
I'm sorry you were always the one to get burned
May 2016 · 503
do not misunderstand
I am not trying to claim the cliche
That time heals all wounds
Because it doesn't
It only puts out the fire
So that you can learn to heal them yourself.
Apr 2016 · 567
26 hours
26 hours ago
My friend told me she was waiting
“Life” she said
“Never seems to calm down,
And I’m waiting, just waiting, for it to just even out”
I looked at her and I stopped
It was like those words had opened something in me
And some wild wisdom poured into my brain
Something I had never before understood

“Honey” I said “Life is never going to even out,
Life is a series of ups and downs
And you and I just have to get better at riding the waves"
Apr 2016 · 447
My healing began
Six months into my recovery
When I tattooed a monarch on my arm
And tried to ignore the irony
That what I had chosen to protect myself
Was something so laughably fragile
But what people don't understand
Is that monarchs  are migrational
They may only live six months
But they travel over 3,000 miles
All the way from Canada to Mexico
And back again
They see more in those six months of life
Then most humans do in a lifetime
They live

So maybe my butterfly
Wasn't about protection at all
Maybe it was just my decision to live.
Mar 2016 · 490
March 21st
I curl up in March 21st
Like a renegade lost at sea
finally reaching the shore

Some days it had felt
Like the waves would never stop
Like they would always be
Crashing over me
Again and again
Until I ceased to get  back up
Others were calm
Numbly floating in the currents
Letting the ocean take me  
Too tired to fight

And every day
I thought about it
And every day
I think about it
Nov 2015 · 632
I have become one with the Sea
the waves my brothers, my sisters
and the Moon my guiding light
She puts air into our lungs
and we breathe together

in               and              out

creating tides,
creating life
Nov 2015 · 288
Untitled 14
But I am made of circles
And you are made of squares
And maybe we were never meant
to fit together
Nov 2015 · 652
My Maybe
My stomach, my heart, my mind
are all lost in a sea of maybes, of what ifs
And the possibilities swirl around me
as butterflies erupt from my ribcage
and flowers take their place.
Everything needs roots to grow
but you are not roots
barely even a seed
yet there you are, my barely seed
settling somewhere in the earth of my soul
keeping me lost in this sea
dancing with chances
flirting with unformed ideas.
There is something in me
that urges me to shore
yet here I stay swimming
holding on to something
some way, some why
holding onto the thought
that I think you might be my maybe
Nov 2015 · 574
Summer Wind
Perhaps the sun-kissed wanderings of an Old Fool
will reach us the way the Summer Wind does
Touching our souls
and stealing away the Lovers kiss
which while playful and passionate
holds no grounds in reality
but is born and settled
in those fleeting emotions
made giddy by sunlight and time off

His travels ramble the way their love does
there is no purpose, no destination
only the right now
and perhaps these Young Summer Lovers
This Timeless Old Fool
are meant to teach us something
about the right now
about life and moments and destinations
before we are all wrapped up
and swept away by the Summer Wind
Jul 2015 · 869
Untitled 13
Everything needs roots to grow
but you are not roots
barely even a seed
yet there you are, my barely seed
settling somewhere in the earth of my soul
May 2015 · 957
I once knew a girl
who lived in fairytales
and who walked in dreams
always keeping her feet planted
firmly in the clouds
I once knew a girl
who understood how to hope
who could comprehend
that in every dream
there is reality, because realities
always begin with possibilities
which are nothing more
than delicately phrased aspirations
nothing but dreams.
I once knew a girl
who learned how to fall gracefully
in pink satin shoes and wrapped in humor
an impenetrable armor
an armor meant to hide the pain
and protect from cutting words
that slash like swords
and bite like monsters
and leave a soul broken and bruised.
Because she believed that the pen
was far mightier than the sword
but when the sword is what’s accepted
when it is what’s expected
the pen doesn't seem so strong after all
and doubt spreads like wildfire
consuming the mind, burning the soul.
However the heart is not so easily persuaded
and human determination
is almost always victorious
and it is the best of people
who are always hardest to destroy.
I once knew a girl
who walked in fairy tales
and lived in dreams
carrying a pen
and telling stories
so that she could be free
Apr 2015 · 794
Ribs crack and flowers grow
Life, rising up from death
as easily as day from night

We are all wild flowers
who have no contract
with the word
and who pay no regard

but who whip and whirl
with the wind
staying rooted
yearning for more

Sometimes loosing petals
sometimes blowing away completely
We are our own collateral damage

lost to the universe, lost to the stars
Apr 2015 · 1.6k
If I could shatter
into a million pieces
I would spread myself across the world
So that there could be a part of me
Settled in every place
Maybe then I’d find a home
For each little broken bit
Because if I don't belong
In one place
Then maybe I can find
Safety in many  
Maybe then I’d finally feel whole
For if no place has all of me,
Then nothing can break me

But that's not exactly true
Because there is still the Earth

And perhaps the wind will sweep
A fragment of me up
And drop me in the ocean
Maybe the ocean will take it
And work me down to nothing
Maybe somewhere else
A fire will burn me up
Or maybe the rain will come
To wash me away
Maybe a storm will pound me down

Maybe I will turn to dust...

Dust that covers this earth
Dust that will spread
across the Universe
Apr 2015 · 758
Untitled 8
The quiet whispers of the soul
resound complacently throughout
the echoes of time
haunting our fractured minds
Calling us away
to places of darkness
that hurt and scar
My eyes glisten and sparkle
with the unforeseen knowledge of time and place

I love him I love him I love him...

But this whispering grips my heart
and keeps me still
with the pain of breathing in
and the terror of speech
Unchecked speech
Scared speech
Bleeding speech
Please, remember the echoes
Apr 2015 · 11.6k
Mind Against Mind
Those that are complacently designed
By the simpering vanities
of a domesticated world
rarely find the peace of mind
of which we all strive
because their materialistic
beliefs constrain them
in pools of normality
Drowning them in the pressures of society
and hanging them out to dry
in downloaded photos
that never fade
our lives are all dictated
by the subconscious influence
of one another
thus our souls
are irrefutably intertwined
locked together in endless struggle
mind against mind.
Apr 2015 · 796
Untitled 10
Falling slowly,
hands held tightly
spinning spinning
round and round

Easy turning
whirling, yearning
please don't let
me down

Quickly hiding,
worlds colliding
I can not

Driving sweetly
I am under
Mar 2015 · 438
Untitled 9
Thoughts swerve by
like lost leaves
scattered in wind
I wish I could hold on
to the words
that echo in my mind
Mar 2015 · 557
He was life
Vibrant, Vivacious, and full
talking miles per minute,craving human contact
The very essence of the human spirit  
bubbled around him like a clear mountain spring
When he was little people would ask him
what he wanted to be when he grew up,
And he would say
And they would laugh because they didn’t understand

He was color
Every shade, every hue, every connotation
On bright days he was sunshine yellow, and petal pink
On dark days he was midnight blue
and the green of deep still water
Yet no matter the day,
He was always fire
orange and red and crackling and quick

He was sound
Loud and boisterous
All the notes and frequencies wrapped around him
Loving him, protecting him,
keeping him safe
And that is why everyone thought that if he were to fall
it would be kicking and screaming
Loud and conspicuous

But when he fell
He went, so quietly and softly  
that no one seemed to notice
And he tumbled down
with no safety net to catch
no helping hand to guide

Because they had forgotten to tell him
That rainbows, while beautiful, are often misunderstood
And busy guardians make absent ones
And others come when you are too old to forgive
And sometimes
growing up alone is hard

So colors turned to grey
Sound became muted
Life lost it's vibrancy
And fire ran, unchecked and unrefined

But darling I promise,
even fire can learn acceptance
Even fire can learn to love itself
Because stars are made of fire
And they are what brings light to darkness
A perfect combination
of midnight blue, sunshine yellow,
And fire
Mar 2015 · 639
Tragically Beautiful
I want to be tragically beautiful
I want to whisper delicate fancies
in the ear of the unknown
I want to sit in pools of serenity
while the world passes unthinkingly by
I want to breath in the flame of passion
and exhale pure intellectual thought
I want to steep myself in contemplation
articulating the terrible complexity of humanity
I want to sit in a coffee shop
allowing the distinct sent to engulf me in comforting familiarity
I want to wrap my arms around the wounded
and shed magnificent tears of sorrow
I want to soak in scenery
taking in the exquisiteness that embodies nature
I want to smile radiantly
yet mistakenly allow sadness to show in my eyes
for I am so terribly alone
and yet so interestingly picturesque
But I’ll remain in delicate transit
until that day that I succeed in capturing
the dignity of tragedy
while relinquishing
the nightmare of beauty
Mar 2015 · 4.4k
I Dont Belong Here
I Don't belong here.
In this castle built with lies
stranded at the tallest tower
with nowhere to run
and everywhere to hide

I don't belong here
in this house of plaited gold
looking grand and innocent
the mocking oxymoron, masking
the nightmare that lay behind

I don't belong here
in this forced dream of fancy
in this perfect american family
that choked me into a whisper
complete with silent feet
and empty words

I don't belong here
stuck behind a wooden door
I closed myself
locked from the outside
with bolts of judgement
that my cowardice
won’t allow me to break

I don't belong here

So I lean my back against the gold,
and the stone and the wood
shut my eyes as tight as I could
and fought the instinct of flight
then I wished and wished with all my might
to live in the rose colored cliche
and wake to a golden carriage
with a price knocking at my door
ready to whisk me away
because I don't belong here
I’ve never belonged here
standing in plaited gold.
Mar 2015 · 813
Is it Bad
Is it bad that I would rather lie awake
Dreaming of you
Dreaming of death
Is it bad that I break every night
My ribs cracking open
With the song of your soul
That both slices and saves
Is it bad that I cry red tears
That bleed from scars on my fragile heart
I am nothing but broken ribs
And blood and dust
But you hold me as if
I am something more
The roots, and not just the seeds
And when I push you away
You pull me back
and hold me close
And I accept
And I sleep
But sweetheart you will not stay for me
For you are not mine to keep
So I will lie awake
In disconnected misery
Dreaming of you
Dreaming of death
Mar 2015 · 708
The Bells
There are bells here
Silent bells
They seem so out of place
Surrounded by the immaculate stonework
And accompanied by righteous statutes
Stilled angels

Their silent echoes
Reverberate off of the people
Who stand in perfect mockery
Of the stone figures scattered about the church

All of them here to partake
In an obsolete tradition
Of grief

An unmistakably deathly feeling
Fills the air
However the feeling is foreign to me
And I cannot comprehend
This ceremony of antique sorrow

For the breathing statues Morn
As if their tears were rehearsed
and what I feel is so raw

A silent moment is called for
and as if on cue the bells toll
three times, just three

Silence, sorrow, death,
All marked by
The tolling of the bells
Mar 2015 · 938
Paint my soul in your colors
Design me
Define me
Until we are one
Creation and creator
Imagine my lines and speak my thoughts
Put me onto paper
Understand me accept me
Take my hand
And lead me to the burning sun
Take me into the new world
Write how it
Scarred me
Jade me
Then fold me back
Into the crevasses of your mind
Close and secure
And then close your eyes
An listen as I whisper
Design me
Define me
*I am yours.
Mar 2015 · 1.2k
My Cliche
I feel the content
rolling about on my tongue
the same words
the same concepts
recycled feelings
that won't go away
no matter how many times
they’re hashed out
again and again
their delicate phrasing
varying in complexity
masked by deceiving themes
but all the same in the end
same organs, same bones
same blood, same flesh
and so as I sit
ready to write living words
I can taste the same content
I can hear the same feeling
I can see the same words
rolling about my tongue
Mar 2015 · 487
Winter Stones
Winter Stones
I. Her first love
was a boy that chased her around the play ground the way the wind chases leaves
Often he kept her close to the ground, but sometimes
he would spin her into small tornados  Untill she was dizzy and giggling
And sometimes he swept her up- the way wind does
Together they flew
he showed her the skies,
taught her how to manipulate the clouds and count the constellations one by one

II. She saw Galaxies in his eyes
Expansive depths that offered worlds of possibilities
And she cried when he cut his hair
Because he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen
And she knew that he was perfect with all his flaws
Because he was the sun and she the moon
And flaws were only clouds that temporarily dimmed light

III. Everyone told her
The story of how “The sun died every night to let the moon breathe”
But they had forgotten that it is the sun that rises and falls
So therefore the moon can only breathe when the sun says so.
And they forgot to mention that small tornados turn into big ones
That leaves in storms are nothing but collateral damage
And without a tree to hold them down are left and lost
to the whim of the wind

IV. All too soon
She began to find the wind suffocating
Yet salt still poured from her eyes when she realized
That leaves have no power to stay the wind
And the moon and the sun simply can’t exist at the same time

V. Still,
She never stopped loving him

VI. Then the night came
That he thought that maybe he loved her back
and when he kissed her it was with lips made of fire
Which burned her skin as easily as paper
And left her with scars when he said
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
They tell you scars are memories but really,
They just hurt

VII. They told her
That she was too young to know love
that what she had felt for him was only a shadow of love
So, logically, she could not possibly be heartbroken
But if this was only a shadow of love
Then she decided that she would go her whole life without falling
Yet her imagination still strayed
and she began to wonder if she was even capable of love
Because her pieces hadn’t quite fit back together right
And she knew
That she would never break the same way that she broke for him
It was hard to break
When all he had left her with were bricks to build walls
And she did, tall and high

VIII. But the thing about walls
is that while they keep things out
they also keep them in
And so she was a trapped in a place without wind
But even if he had been there it wouldn't have mattered because,
She was no longer Autumn Leaves but
Winter Stones
Mar 2015 · 899
The Break Down
Breaking down in pools of water
which surround me, envelop me

I am immersed
In a world tinted blue

Underwater… Under pressure

Bubbles play around me
Tempting but untouchable
For fear of fingerprints that pop

Bubbles are unreliable

Hold my hand and hold me down
Let me go and let me rise

Up Up Up to the top
To the surface…. well, almost

Foot neatly caught
In weeds too strong to snap

But maybe thats good
Maybe the surface is too real… too tangible

Maybe it’s safer here
In my world tinted blue

Maybe it’s safer here…
Breaking down in pools of water
Mar 2015 · 5.0k
If I were to be a day of the week,
I would be a Tuesday

Not a Monday, bright and yellow
Understanding that today “there be dragons here”
and we must be Ready to conquer, ready to claim,
ready to fight

Not Wednesday, Orange and steady
Containing a consistency that reminds us
we can make it, we will make it

And not the vibrant green Thursday  
Full of promise, anticipation
And the hope of what’s to come

But nor am I the explosive Friday
Dark, and passionate, dedicated
To the thrill and fervor of life

Or a Silver Saturday
Slick and slippery with the idea
Of adventure but that holds no guarantees

Yet still I cannot be Sunday
Muted Gold with warm mornings
and laid back afternoons but always
With the lingering remembrance of tomorrow

No, I am Tuesday

I am faded red
I am the waiting day
The looked over bridge of
What’s now, what’s next
Stuck forever in some delicate limbo

I am the stepping stone
The illusive day floating in and out
Behind the scenes, behind the week
I am tuesday
Mar 2015 · 2.1k
If rocks could fall like water
Then we would all be far less bruised
As our stones, our burdens, would roll off
Or else absorb into our skin
If only to be processed out again
We would not carry the visible marks
Of an unkind world
And would stay outwardly placid
And inwardly concealed  
But perhaps then the danger would lie
In the poisoning of our skin
As we absorb the lies and pain
Perhaps while we would cease
To present our story
Our nightmares would appear through touch
As our skin would become toxic from pain
And would burn all it contacted
And so easy it would be then
To isolate in desolate corners
So we could not be harmed --
So we could do no harm


So much better it is
To be to be bruised
Rather than to be alone
Mar 2015 · 647
Lately I've been dreaming,
Of wounded wrists
And red flowers
That bloom from open veins

Lately I've been dreaming,
Of melting into the ground
Never again to be lost
Never again to be found

Lately I've been dreaming,
Of carefully crafted leaving
That brings a poignant sting  
And gives unanswered questions

                   I try
      "It's so hard to let you go,
   For you know I've loved you so"
Mar 2015 · 458
Untitled 5
The silence is what pierces me
The untold deadly weapon
that hurts and strikes
your silence is what kills me
the unspoken words
that are too scared to pass
my sealed lips.
Mar 2015 · 517
Untitled 6
Falling stars
brush felted grass
that tickles the bottoms
of bare feet
we are here
for now and for always
prepared for the world
surrounded by moments
immersed in memories
Mar 2015 · 567
The unexplained light.
light that swirls and dances
light that won’t stay in your hands
light that is fleeting
light that sets beneath cold horizons
and suddenly you cant breath
Suddenly you can think
You’re trapped in a world where you’re all alone
Where you reach your hand for help
And everyone just keeps walking
Where you can scream
but not make a sound
Where tears must stay in your eyes
And words stick in your throat
The same light that once danced for you
Once made you happy
Now mocks you as you drown
In inescapable darkness
I want out
Dear god, please,
Just let me think,
Let me breathe
Let me feel,
because I’ve gone numb
Because I’m scared
Because I feel so impossibly alone
I want to get out
But I can’t
I am trapped,
I am
Mar 2015 · 573
Untitled 3
The silence is what pierces me
The untold deadly weapon
that hurts and strikes
your silence is what kills me
the unspoken words
that are too scared to pass
my sealed lips.
Mar 2015 · 356
Untitled 4
Understanding cannot be grasped
the yellow word that slips through
faceless minds
as silent as
sunlight in trees
what is allowed to freely fade into
the night of humanity
and hide in the judgemental quiet
forgetting is easier than true comprehension
and the act of leaving behind
preserves proverbial vanity
without the acceptance of fault
and without allowing for oddities
ones inner visage is maintained
and left unscarred and unscathed
by the sharp edge
of hardened perspective
Mar 2015 · 305
Untitled 7
Blankets of blackened scorn
torn and tattered
kept silent and wrapped
in permanent time
stilling in the proverbial frost
that encircles all things
good and evil
Mar 2015 · 563
Untitled 2
Twirling circling twisting
the bubbling spirit
their eyes close to list’ning
burning dead eyes
Quietly piercing
untimely lies
watch the dark bird take flight
to send solemn word
we are in search
of something, anything
to hold and perch
something tangibly near
and realistically far
something to break the fear
and loosen the grip
on supposed to be’s
which stay on the very tip
of our tongues and minds
and haunt our souls
with something we will never find.
Mar 2015 · 392
Untitled 1
Blanketing skies
that quietly balance hurt clouds
of fluffy white
dipped in burning cliche
And subtly forgotten
in night as black as night
Stars ***** the dark
and bleed light
which seeps into the minds of the mad
and tickles their insanity
tearing them apart
Mar 2015 · 307
Just Another Love Poem
I knew you once
So close so near
a whisper soft
like summer breeze
I lost you once
and felt a tear
As winter chill scoffed
and took you with ease
There with you fled
half my heart
and now the other stands
shattered like crystal wine
left  in imperfect pieces
  the smokey road where I now tread
my life mapped out like a star chart
searching in empty lands
pretending to the world I am fine
As I try to repair the pieces

— The End —