We are open wounds with closed minds
And no one has to know what hurts inside
But why would we care anyways.
Just like why would we care if someone won the lottery
Or saved a life
Or fell in love
and the stranger next to me can win or lose
and its none of my concern.
The only concern I have is numbers under 21
And the somebody with the cards
And an ace of spades and a black jack.

I am only doing my best.
But what is my best?
What is my fault?
Sometimes I don’t have a club
and sometimes I don’t have a heart
and sometimes I don’t have an eight
but that doesn’t mean you can call me crazy


I don’t think.


This is a different kind of game
And there isn’t a boneyard to choose from
But sometimes I feel so alone inside I think maybe
all the advice Im hearing is just the bones rattling with defeat
and any second now they will shatter
like the memories we forgot to keep.

I hope that my luck hasn’t run out
Now that Ive lost all of the jokers
But maybe theres still a little crazy left inside me
Because sometimes when I play solitaire
I think there is someone else there.
But when I look up its only me and the deck
So I shuffle and hope
But most of the time
I don’t win.

So give me chess
Or dominos
Or dice
But its all the same.
We have chance
And luck
And statistics that tell us don’t do this and don’t do that
Like don’t eat too much meat
And get 8 hours of sleep
But even though I try
I still don’t get enough protein
And I don’t stretch after I run
And I cant cut the sugar
And I stare at the screen to long

And I tell mountains of lies.

The point is I’m tired of this game.
I am tired of losing
Against
Me.

Tired of making my own rules.
And breaking my own rules.

And beating myself up for the hands we are dealt
And the bets that we make
And the money we lose.

But Im learning.

Learning sometimes you get lucky
And sometimes you don’t
And we all get our share of luck and unluck.
Or we can hope so.


As a way of believing life is fair.

I didn’t find any pennies on the ground
Or any horseshoe facing up
Or any four leaf clover
And I didn’t get the good half of the wishbone.
So why is it me
Why I am I the lucky one
Why do I get everything I ever ask for

There are people in this world who feel alone
Who have no home
People who hit rock bottom and there’s no way back up
People who know they are at the end
I wish that there was no such thing as less or more

Wish that there was no such thing as luck.

Because the karma says
They get what they deserve
But the thing is
Maybe they didn’t deserve it
Because maybe were wrong and the world
Is just a little unfair
Reality
Isn’t some piano piece of planned perfection
Maybe there are suppose to be holes
And mistakes
and *****-ups
Like there are suppose to be stars and serendipity
And sheer strokes of fortune

And I will run miles and miles
On a clear and cleaned sidewalk
That snakes in circles through suburbs
And they will trudge pavement with
Ruins and cracks and stains
On city streets littered with corruption

For the only fact
I’m not him
And he’s not me
And this is how it’s meant to be
Because we had no choice

Sometimes I believe there’s a book
With every thing in between your first and last breath planned.
So there’s some excuse.
So when unjust appears we say
There was nothing we could have done different.
That everything that happens in supposed.
That we were put on this earth with the timer set.


Because luck is just too unpredictable.

And I wish there was something to blame.

And I wish it was fair.

And I wish that every clover we pick had four leaves
And every wishbone and horseshoe holds some worth
And I wish that every time we are in need
We look down and there’s a penny
That brings us back to the right track

Because if this world was based on superstitious   thought
We would live in fear and in fortune and
Maybe some people would have a shot.

People Change.
People Forget.

We move on our own tracks
and make our own opinions.
and make our own decisions.

We take steps on a path
which twists and turns and winds its way
into a map of memories
in which you can look back
to see footprints
you remember
and respect
and regret.

And over time
the footprints will fade.

We can not return but only look back
which is why regret is a dangerous thing
because it is hopeless

You could miss something to the side
if all you do is look back.

It is walking
up a downward escalator.

When it is beyond the point of life would be the same.
When it is
What
Would
Life
Be
Without
You.
I used to go on
As if nothing happened.
As if your fingerprints faded in seconds
As if your footsteps were covered in snow
As if a tree fell in the middle of the forest but no one was there to hear it
So I guess it didn’t really happen
It didn’t really happen
Didn’t really happen
Really happen
Happen.
Because I felt no different
Because I showed no difference

Because it was like some dreams you don’t share
Just like some secrets you don’t share.

Now it is ingrained.
Still nobody notices
But I notice.
I notice how you occupy so many more thoughts.
I notice how I want you more then not.
I notice how I smile because of something you said.
Because more then once I’ve almost blurted your name.
I notice how its not so much I would like you when Im sad

Its I need you.

Whats wrong
Some one slap some sense in to me

Is this what being an Alcoholic feels like?
Because I think I understand this guilty pleasure thing

So now Im begging you baby

Please

Don’t break my heart.
Because I think Ive let go too long
Its beyond coming back
And if there is a way

I have no map.

Will you tell me your secrets
All bunched up
Boxed in
Screaming to be let out

Will you tell me why you stare off into space
Why you lose yourself in memories
Why deep down there are
Stories who make you who you are
And why the shame is too great too reveal them

Tell me why you are so afraid of being judged
Of guilt
Of being left alone
You are not empty
You are bursting

Why do you keep this reminiscence to yourself?
Why do you believe your mistakes are greater then everyone else’s?
Why can’t you own your actions
Back your case with no excuses
Only care and honesty and responsibility

Because this isn’t some sort of shame
These secrets are not some sort of pang
This is who you are
And why shouldn’t you be satisfied.

Don’t Climb too High*
They say
And don’t use the dead branches

It is a challenge to test how high she can go
Where to step
To make no mistake
Go faster and faster
And she can feel the adrenaline pounding in her ears
And the fear rising and the power building
The coming closer and closer to the sky

Till it is so close she could almost reach up and touch it.

And it would be smooth and soft like the icing of a cake
And the clouds would smear
Like messy cotton ***** or cream in coffee
They would leave white stains on her fingers
And she would be able to tell her friends tomorrow
I smudged the sky yesterday.

But to touch the sky is one of those things
That isn’t suppose to happen
Because before she can come close
The silence is split by a crack so sharp
She can feel its vibrations pulsing her insides
And her heart jutting into her throat
And there is a moment of panic

And she remembers what it was to play with the ocean.
And she decided to try something new
And see what happens
What happens when the tide can do what ever it wants with her
So she doesn’t duck or hold on or swim any faster
She relaxes every muscle till she could almost be asleep
And what the waves do is
Rip and pull so violently
She is thrown from side to side like a piece of dough
Torn to pieces
And in this moment she realizes
why some people die in the ocean.
And then all at once
Her delicate body is slammed into the sand and

This deep fish bowl of a memory is shattered
As she hits the ground.
And she realizes
why some people die falling out of trees.

There is two kinds of pain.
One that aches and drags
And one that shocks you with its ferocity and comes on so quickly
you think maybe all you did was blink to miss it
and she is hit with the second so hard
it does more then just knock the wind out of her
It steals the scream that tried to slip out of her open mouth
So there is this cold deafening silence

It leaves a memory so thick and scarring
It digs a hole for itself deep into her gut
And it wrenches her muscles to relive
It taught its lesson the hard way

She will never forget.

When it feels safe enough to open her eyes
She sees dark frayed pieces of dead ebony
And the echoing of the warning repeats
She sees what mistake she has made
To confuse life with death
And only one will support her
As she climbs higher and higher

Broken branches are broken bones.

It is twilight in the summertime.
I am alone and I walk on the empty street.
There is the heavy scent of rain
And the light gusts of wind
That chill to the bone
I see the glow of the TV in other people’s windows
No one is watching
So I run and jump and run and jump
There is a shadow of the kid I used to be.
And with the wind
Comes the laugh I used to have.

The pavement is warm from collecting sun all day
And it doesn’t hurt to walk on
Because my feet have become tough as leather
As they always do in the summertime
From weeks of running barefoot
And even when I step on a piece of glass
And bright red blood dots my trail
I hardly notice
Because to this kind of pain
I am immune.

Nothing feels this free
The only thing I hear
Is the sound of my own laughter
But it is different now.
There is a hollowness inside
Because something has left
A sort of spirit has cracked just a little

Now I am aware of horrible things.
People don’t whisper
When they talk about death and dying
Cause they don’t have to worry
About ruining innocence
That was robbed long ago.
A price you pay for age.

I am not broken.
I have hope.
I am just like the rest of my youth
And embrace the role our generation will take on
I believe that I can make a difference.
But with remembrance and reflection
Comes the capability to hold a grudge.

Something is missing.

I cannot run and jump forever.

My shins hurt.
And my ankles sting.
And my back is starting to ache.
And sometimes my heart feels smaller
Because my breaths are shorter quicker
And I know I am not the sinless little girl
I used to be.
The line between right and wrong
is not so much blurred as it is ignored.

Sometimes we are aware of the mistakes we make
And with each one more
We move farther and farther
From the child we once were.

When I was little
I was not afraid to run in the rain and catch a cold
I was convinced there was a monster under the bed
And I wanted to hold my mothers hand
And I would pretend to be asleep so my dad would carry me to bed
And I was afraid of the kids
Who burned ants with magnifying glasses
Since then
I have gained a little maturity
And a little bravery too.

But now I care to look in the mirrors
Now I judge.
I do not enjoy ice cream as much as a used to
I do not jump in the river with a dress on
I do not paint with my fingers
Or leave crumbs and chocolate stains on my face
And I do not believe in the Easter bunny anymore.

My mouth will not make a smile as big as it used to
And my eyes will not shine as bright
Because no longer am I shielded
From cold, hard reality
The purity I once had
Is shattered.


When it starts to rain
I stop running.
I stop jumping.