Weakly balancing on split tracks.
Please don't look at me like that.

Judgement returns my while insecurities are sold.
Heat can sometimes burn too cold.

The fire played with holds my mind tight.
Trapped inside it dims my own light.

Wanting the pain that hurts so good.
Doing things I don't want to think I should.

To those little moments of being pulled away by time.
Forgetting the conscious that draws clear lines.

Between quick satisfaction as the heart runs wild, and choosing satisfactions lasting longer than fake smiles.

I think I need to run away for a while.

I need you to hear me out this time.
While holding together my severed spine.

Time to start  keeping discretion in mind.

A mind open without haze, struggles or stories.
To see what can hold true in faiths controversial glory.

And as I walk away in that familiar rain I feel as though I am floating on a dark cloud accompanied by erie silent screams ringing loud. I want the water to douse me of my imperfections but my imperfections are just that of the falling Water. And as I think of you and your skin close to mine I realized that this lie has taken something special from my heart this time.

The pavement is cold and dark shadows induce thoughts that cause bliss to turn from amber to black and not even cigarettes can help me get my dignity back. That tiny tube of rolled hope that's  hits heavy on lungs like the dry heaving of guilt sitting on shoulders before relaxed.

And in my mind the clock ticks with silent echoes of aches and hidden secrets. Feeling helpless of my own discreet indiscretions on sheets of passions burning crimson red like a letter stamped on smooth with devastating  costs at best.

I am  traveling in the valleys of my mind with only forks in the road and destinies map has become blurred with perceptions of flashing cars and road trips at large.

Thinking of my old soul is like missing a step in the dark with anticipated acceptance that false awareness is still marked. And as I look down that familiar road I see only streetlights paving the way to clichés home embarked.

This routine has my mind high like always and honesty has become two faced. Is this idea deceptive of my own memories or have I built tiny walls around this beating cause of my pulse to race?

Once again I am captured in bed looking through broken blinds reminiscing about newly discovered cluttered minds. But guilt and satisfaction are becoming a common  bind.

And as god as my whiteness let me accept this sign. That when anticipating hope has no faith to bestow, it's time to continue on making decisions judgement of others chose.

Emily A. Grande

For him.

Just having you makes me breathe easier and see clearer. Your the calm in the storm and shore on my horizon.    

Your my hit of cigarette after a caffeine drip and my shot of whisky when the sun goes down and so follows my sanity.

Your my understanding and my lack of reasoning and you are my only reason.

Your the ground I can land on when I fall into your heart and don't know if feeling it's thumping makes me feel more alive or more absent in life. and your the hand that I allow to pick me up when only myself brings me down just knowing you exist makes me feel like your around.

I hold a piece of you that you will never understand and with our misunderstandings we find our common bindings.

Tangled together in webs that weave, a different pattern then I thought I'd see.

Because you are the darkest light creating Crimson memories. And this awakening will be the death of me.

The death of the darkness I wanted to rely on overtaking who I was supposed to be.

Which was no one. And for once I allow your heart to hold on. To take me away and let everything go. Every time my rich heart beats it will know. It can be for you forever more.

"The pain is here, it’s real, it’s new.

I thought I knew who I was talking to.

Darkness resides heavy in my heart.
Just waiting for sincere healing to start.

The fire was real and I fueled the flame.

So guilty I’ve been carrying this pain.

Being a prisoner trapped in my own mind.
This high’s all I wish to feel this time.

So sad, so strong, so weak and true.
Slow songs induce strange thoughts of you.

Not common or right for binding me to insanity.

Oh how my veins pulse with this conflicting tragedy.

Hard times of each life are unfortunately common.
Why the **** do I feel so unnatural and bothered?

True, I had invited that feeling so fake that it’s real,

but only Satan’s heart could feel.

The crack of light in the darkest of indiscretion.
Hope sin won’t taint skin and take over my soul’s possession.

Memory is faulty and haunts my mind.

I want no one to be a victim of my kind.

What happened that night follows me around.

I will no longer stand back or bow down.

For these people who lie and cheat and steal.
Innocence taken only for fast thrill.

Hope of forgiveness grips my mind.

Just wanted to feel more than fake sincere of some kind.


The roots they can’t unwind this time.

Still…I sit, I wonder, I wait.

If one day I will escape this twisted discovery of fate.

So gripping, so chilling, so ghostly I subconsciously feel.
What makes this purpose of life so real?

And yet, I thrive in the hurt of deceptive captivism.

Still it leaves me tangled in bitter cynicism.

To decipher what feelings are true and sincere,

For tragic time has dragged me down, my dear.

For each soul not to to see what I see in a day.

So blissful and unaware in their mind’s they will stay.

The heart it beats without time in mind.

Wish others could see things on my side.

This kind of thinking isn’t simple or plain. 

Everyone else seems stuck in this game.


Of greed and lust and experience to blame.
Spiders only weave webs of shame. 

This dangerous adventure has many to claim.


Hypocrites have only themselves to blame.

As I realize this life I’ve continuously made,

Memories of sadness get locked away.
Healing begins and time takes charge,

Of keeping the soul you recognize at large.

And one only knows how far that goes.
To each other’s own personal experience we toast.

To the keeping of safe things around to stay.

Hoping for those demons to just stay away.


But simplicity of shame has no beginning or end,

To staying indefinitely happy forever my friend.

This idea has sparks that your conscious mind ignites.
To crave staying out of the darkest of times.

Your mind will spin and won’t win at first.

Playing tricks through your darkest treats that leave burns.

Scratch and itch until these marks bleed.

This method of recovery doesn’t work it seems.

Leaving scars seen only through subjective time.

That taunt until your hinges unwind.

Consistency in mentality is major, it’s crucial for change.
Taken aback by simply just hearing his name.

My identity tainted, shocked and shaken.
What has this occurrence ended up taking?

Not the love I wanted.

So unrealistic, yet I can feel, 

That after carful recovery my insecurities will yield.


That light in the end can draw back my shield.
That this shadow uplifts and leaves me for real.

Medication of mind is found only through time,

Through genuine acts of someone truly kind.

Souls slowly die when they question hopeful living.

My sincerest apologies for the lies I’ve been giving.

It’s a cover, a mask, and the truth of pain.

I refuse to stay stuck in this cycle of shame.

Stay strong.
They say that’s all you can do.


And true as this is, I’m still stuck thinking of you.

That night is over and so is this blame.
Sometime I believe I will be able to tame,

These thoughts that flow so easy to spark,

cannot **** my faith in humanity to start.


I refuse to give up on this battered heart.

I will not become what I fear in my most secret confidential.
One who only sees light in the shadows and ignores what is stressful,.

Through highs and excuses I will no let them take,

That piece of my heart I’v trying to wake.

Though struggles seem unavoidable and consistently collected. 

I truly do not want this free spirit caged and affected.


This stand of my emotional recovery is not of physical kind.
This healing begins with the true detox of my mind.

As I end on the note of freeing of my soul.

I hope this helps others who want to console. 


The heart they knew and wanted to keep.

There is undiscovered hope for you and as well as me.

So take these words as a binding contract.
That cleaning of wounds only reach pains surface.


That believing in reaching that once discovered place,

though damaged and battered is still accessible to face.

Easy satisfaction and crossroads emerge.
I was easily one to allow the temptation to purge. 


In sins that are quick and easy to explain.
This will not help but add to each pain.

Listening to others tell of their relatable mistakes.

Only add to our internal blames.


And conclude the point of truth and pain.

Advice refuses credibility once harsh realization is triggered,

The angel on your shoulder only begins to shiver.


Will power and self esteem being to wither,

and trust can’t help but to surrender and quiver.

Every profoundly denied claim being kept locked away,

Comes clean and draws free to cause damning dismay.

Worst part is knowing this ideas been exposed and hindered

Also tainted by reality my soul will forever carry this pain with her.


Admitting the second it surfaced it was what I had subconsciously figured.

This must be forgotten and thrown away.
The business of the mind must retain a stance to not play.


With ideas that settling on perceptions of others is craved,

And the idea a veiled mindset is what should be portrayed.

The strongest hearts beat to sounds of their own drum,

Flying freely above others actions that stung.


Still keeping in mind humanity in other kinds, 

And believing they can soften others relatable pain that binds.

And this I have to know is true.

Because it takes just one soul to have faith in you.


It’s the strongest of souls bitter sweetly kept insane.

And believe, after time, life can be beautiful once again."

Mentality of the younger me.
Emily A. Grande

And as I return to thoughts inducing removing of cellophane off packs of cancer sticks I look around and see memories of cluttered messes. I open up my arms to my insecurities but that always seems to **** me and I start to not be able to withstand me. I think back to when life wasn't made up of cliche clicks of the inevitable clock that makes time the most important thing in this life that inside your conscious continually clicks.

I miss mentality of a childhood and unfortunately to grow up you have to grow old and forget of those children's stories you were told. Of Heroes and knights in shining armor of sensitivity and realizing they have always just wanted to **** me. It's sad to see the princess you thought you we're wear a crown that feels more made of thorns because that one sacred and now questioned  person died for your dignity. But then you question religion and in turn question living. And **** I want so bad not to flip through the chapters of my life and believe that they can't have fairy tale
Endings but that's the thing...

This beautiful tale already insinuates it's make believe. And inside you start to turn bitter it seems because when you grow up it's all about the questioning and overthinking and decision making and times catching up on me. And just when you start to feel like you can breathe is ironically when you start to inhale different smoke. Or maybe something else and then you realize your becoming one of the kids your mom warned you about and this induces doubt that your okay and can mentally stay sane and Wonder where you'll end up someday.

I don't need much just a simple kiss or tight hug and I seem to be giving more of myself then my soul because opening legs opens minds but builds up walls and close doors and. Makes god open that window that seems more of an escape to jump out rather then just open it up and take in a deep breath.

Deep breathes now are more of exasperated signs accomplices of chips piling up on shoulders and never giving tension in your head and heart a rest. And your feeling like ribs dominate the whole cavity of your chest and start to realize the real things for which your blessed. I'm learning how not to want to "not want," to give into sweet temptations that are no longer recreations and becoming daily routines.

I wish my day still consisted of playing outside and running around with the entire world created in a mind that hasn't been molded into what fate has decided to deal in life's game. But that's the thing about games. We all seem to want to play but I am never winning or a sore loser but always losing. These decisions aren't mine for the choosing. But souls sore from losing creates scars on hearts and overthinking starts.

And it's always check mate for that person who made me think they would actually stay with lies of sincerity and devotion and those strategically placed pawns are played. I'm dealing a deck of cards that are all faces and I'm stuck with low numbers and days that seem to change from black to red. Two extremes hot and heavy and heaving sighs build up and I can't ever begin to rest.

I feel like I'm constantly the name Called in red rover because even as kids we were taught to call out the weakest link in the chain and it's those that break through this wall that survive. But those that don't are forced to hold hands with people who's defeated soul couldn't break through the wall and together they collectively become Strong on each others losing common bonds.

Children play hide and seek because people learn to accept the idea of finding what they can't have as a challenge right off the bat. And as you begin to decide you are not one to win you want to throw hands in the air and scream **** it. That the chase is the thrill and to win it's about the other person giving in.

And **** I feel like my closest friends could be the death of me but I also couldn't begin to live without them and we all condone what we're doing isn't collectively wrong. Partners in crime are future misfits staying strong.

Preferred  are those conversations accompanied by cigarettes and splifs and misfits sitting where they knew they always should.

There comes a time when cleared minds realize conversations of personal problems and unified disfunction's exposed feels right. As though your ideas of crazy themes and wandering dreams are unified.

Listening to the good die young by billy Joel blasts as slow motions and hand gestures toss stories and emotions like cracking the binding of a books once judged by unpredictable covers.

I connect with people who's skin has sunken ink that tell stories people think need to stay forever by vibrating needles. Piercings on questionable parts like on noses that drip from other kinds of recreationals. that give bad impressions to those cliche stereotyped people. But if we're all the same species then how do you begin to distribute labels?

I believe there are certain people that smoke cigarettes. That need a release knowing risk that with each pack your buying death. But living larger then safe is easily the option that's best.

To fly free through roads just watching others live lives and in  split seconds build their story lines. Like that feeling of peoples first expressions when first meetings happen and the only conversations are those of eyes that frigidly glance back. When you realize everyone is there for same reason. But curiosity is the catalyst for judgement and we have all done that.

I believe there are layers to the soul. Not like designated  pieces and parts but one giant relation that we all hold. It's that common beating of trapped souls kept in that bone cage our chest mold. Each chest holds humanities most sacred vessel so how come so many people turn out damaged and evil when born starting with the same soul?

I'd like that think that our common bind is that we have the ability to breathe. And even when things get crazy and life gets messy and that ability to breathe starts to feel more like your starting to choke at least it's sign your still apart of this earth as a whole and not already six feet deep...

There's something beautiful in the fact your mind makes you who you are.. Or do you make up your mind? Are we all strung up like puppets being pulled on premeditated strings? Or are we morally free willed  where fate is created based off every individuals caged vessels desires and whatever subjective shoulders conscious ends up deciding.

It's funny to me that people have angelic and demonic whispers on opposite shoulders because I believe that they are one in the same. That in reality our conscious is one unified subjective subconscious who has free will to take a ride with the devil but if they chose to live a live of angelic routine the heart gets hurt and your heads to blame.

Because the heart wants what it does but the mind always knows what's best. But what if together they worked the same and the explanation for decisions being made, are based purely on happiness with consequential benefits determined by what's locked inside that bone cage.

When does choosing between what's right and what's easy ever stop giving beatings to the beating vessel a rest.

Because I have never seen them coincide for most instances there's always that contradicting choice. The one you know you've already chosen but if you want everyone to win you will have to personally sacrifice happinesses of the real meanings of life.

The ones that hurt the most but are so addictive they are mentally deadly to any head that's got a heart full of selfish wishes that claw to fulfilled within me.  

Regret is a funny concept because it can always be avoided, that intuition is real and if any instance of doubt or denial is present during, before, or after these ordeals,
you know your accepting the warm rush of blood make it's way home and suddenly your head turns numb and cold. And the only thing to do is uncage that spirit and let it go.

And these constant battles of war and peace have never in history coincided it seems. But what makes you the winner or the losing team? In reality it all doesn't matter in seems, because things happen and If you chose regret and if that's true happiness should anyone put there's souls intentions to rest?

Because hurting are those who believe they would  rather  let everyone else win because being themselves would ultimately hurt others.. And its conclusions like these, they say, you just cannot win. But I grew up when I realized life was really about how your pawn is played. And let's be honest,  Humans have always been the most dangerous game. And ultimately everyone wants to win in a way, but their victory prevents others from reaching their souls restless place.

So this circle of life is that of our species chosen shape. Which makes a lot of sense in minds bigger state.

And I guess that's cool because anyone could say, that we do live condensed on a circle floating in an infinite space, where its never ending and confusingly contradicting , kind of common to that comparison about humanity's constant levitation around mixed messages that mind and heart keep sending.

But in the end were all just spinning. Rotating on sanities axis and gravitationally pulled one way, because that's the way the stars aligned. And that seems quite similar to humanities battle of premeditated fate. So free wills just another excuse for regret shunned away?

But after your feet get planted back in the ground and your mind doesn't feel like it's spinning, that's when you know your true conscious is winning. And even if I there's regret as minds price to pay, let your heart benefit from not caring what decisions it's made.

And for once don't settle by locking it back away in its cage.

See ribs have have rows of entrapment like cell doors and windows but don't they say if god doesn't open up the door he will a window? I think your heart needs to only be able to see through what it can handle. And your mind only cages that soul of questioned decisions away, because it's the one that hurts in longevity and gets damaged with mental repercussions in your head that will always stay. And hearts vessels only know what they've seen through the cage. It will be bruised but like clockwork healing starts and familiar tempting feelings once again become craved.

And anxiety of memories are sent to the brain when the heart wants to start over and relies on its mind to be brave. And sometimes that deceivingly beautifully ****** devil, on your shoulder distributes desired deadly sins your mind is banned from letting it's sweet heart discover.

Which is when it knows it's time to come back down from that beautiful risky heart thumping heaven and evaluate  the damage you have done. And so now I see why hearts and minds don't get along. They desire each others abilities of their methods to stay strong...

This cigarette is barley a source of serenity. Smoke doesn't taste sweet and hits aren't releasing anxiety.  Tonight I look up to see stars and stars are absently replaced with only troubled gray tones and foggy clouds. Locked away thoughts streaming together are brought out.

Like one giant psychologically damaging moving that's so disgustingly beautiful it's as though it's a train wrecks in effect that you refuse to look away from.

Im examining trees with dark branches twisting and winding in erie beauty. Tonight  I think of people close to me and try to believe that they weren't all the death of me. That hard times didn't come to me subjectively but faithfully.

I hate when my heart pounds because questioning humanity overwhelms me. And sadness always seems to hit me like a ton of bricks and I feel naked or exposed as everything everyone doesn't want me to be.

Wanting to not be dictated by my  past but also wishing I had the ability to go back and alter those  memories that turned my heart from crimson to black.

I want nothing more then to look into his eyes and let my heart go. To not question if you will be the one to officially shatter this fragile soul. I used to think I could see myself crystal clear. That I was so absent from being discrete my eyes shown like glossy glass that caused exposed fragility surrounding auras atmosphere.  

But this constant battle of mental stability has had my conscious slipping on black ice. And the problem with trying to keep up this wall is that I am to transparent of a person to let my minds memories sacrifice.

The good bad and ugly are all one trifecta of chaotic beauty, and as they say pain and beauty are one in the same. It's seems sometime that I'm a pawn in gods inevitable game.

And this whole idea that I can reach my full potential only day is slowly starting to stay away. But **** I hate the idea I'm not so ******* sweet and innocent as I used to be back in younger days.

When optimism wasn't questioned and glasses were always half full of happy energy and not half empty of liquor used to hold everything together. Sobriety hasn't been a friend iv had close to my heart lately and that girl isn't me but the image of my pain that hopefully won't be around forever.

Friends and family don't know what it's like to look at those stars and be searching for someone who has been taken up in that divine infinity. That the mystery of what resides above isn't myth and that one day we will all be looking down and trying to get through to that one special person staring up that they actually are there with me.

Time heals but it is also moving back words. Having time lines only show that there is ultimately an end but there is something calming In that as well as worried concerns.

That maybe when you have nights where a cigarette doesn't taste so sweet or you can't see the stars, it only shows you that what hasn't killed can make you stronger in turn.

Emily A. Grande

as im naked and lying in bed with you, I allow the reveal of my most exposed parts. not those of my body but those of my heart.

i cling on to your arm and rest my head on your shoulder and this routines not something i had wanted to discover.

its easier to have suitors who do what they need, to get up after selfish  pleasures are pleased. give me fake promises and acceptingly leave. this routine had me feeling empty it seemed.

i accepted that repeated routine and didn’t realize it turned once beautiful hopeless romanticism into a myth for me.

that idea of this was one i thought was irreversibly now sincere . but this time for once i want you to stay over my dear.

those big green eyes that dont look hazed or glassy, have caused me to want and need you for real. you held me and kissed my neck and our bodies tangle tight.
i don’t feel as though this bodies all you needed that night.

i felt pleasure I swore off and didn’t think could exist again.
pleasures pulsing in my body but also mentally in my head.

i am reluctant to passion or emotional acts of this kind.
but **** baby that night I knew I wanted you to be mine.

and as hard as that is for my own mind to understand,
i want you to know that I can contribute to future plans.
that i wont hurt you or deceive you and support and my comfort for you whenever you need my helping hand.

you made me feel like I had someone safe and I wanted to keep the feeling around for always. Please just say my name so heavenly sweet and softly…

but although this feeling has hurt others in turn, I want my own heart to  
finally be able to have what it deserves. and to you I know Id be sincere, sweet and kind.
to your untrusting attitude and damaged heart similar to mine.

and it seemed at first that jaded attitudes are all we had in common. Until you opened up to me and I emotionally let you in.
because for once I wasn’t thinking this wasn’t going to be anything real in the end.

And I unexpectedly loved that sweet feeling of our pressed bodies sharing skin.

when you told me you wanted to be good enough to have me,
Iv have burning desires every time your around me.
I dream of you taking me fast and pushing hard against walls,
And when desire overtakes on the ground we should fall.

Where ill let you take that one part of me I didn’t know I had.
And I know your sweet passion will give up to me back.

Hard and heavy breathing as your green eyes catch mine.
Holding bodies and remaining still as we let final pleasures overtake us and our bodies bind.

And as hot and heavy heat simmers down and subsides, I lie on your chest and feel  my most comfortable inside.

Your arms protectively wrap around me and we temporarily rest.
But this routine of intense amazement will start again fast, because our hearts are finally accepting what we both deserve at best.  

Emily A Grande

i love late night cruises where street lights are road maps and the clicking of seat belts are signaled confirmations of undiscovered adventures. i love looking out the window and gaging speeds of trees flying past and wondering who else is in the place I'm in. i love turing on the radio and not knowing which genres of music are going to cause induced emotional thoughts and memories brought on by past lovers and significant experiences. i love winding back roads that induce stress of not knowing where to go, but only in the best kind of way. the stress of discovery and unified serenity. i love  premeditated song choices set moods for the adventures we are all going to take. that talks of real things in life flow smooth and rhythmically like the turning of spinning  tires on pavement coinciding with melodies of memories. i love the sound of celiphane removed from packs of cancer sticks and buying dying has never felt so satisfying. overwhelming sweetly harsh smells of gasoline and lit matches. That sometimes in these elements you think back to when you swore off ever trying these bad habits you now can't seem to kick. getting high and driving around neighborhoods looking at dream homes like built houses of cards and wondering what secrets reside inside these covered walls. i love the pattering of my heart down to my chest when i am in a automatically comfortable place iv never seen or been inside. realizations that days like these are in fact the best of your  life because there is no concern for passing time in mind. in this city, where i reside, there are battered homes of love and sadness and winding roads that seem to lead to nowhere of happiness. but when i look out into those vast open fields of half rural living i couldn't think of another place i would prefer to be. that the fact there is nothing but vast land ahead and a tiny bit of sunlight sitting gently on horizons are something someone somewhere else may not ever see. makes me feel overly blessed that is pictured when i think of  beauty, to me.

emily a. grande

When I look into your eyes there are tiny crevices like tiny trap doors. These doors lead to hidden passages that have access to your innocently desensitized soul. You've been tampered and taunted with life's beautiful lessons that make eAch day seem like an impossible place but mentally you had a choice to make. And I know you think that the fork in the road is going to turn down another dead end and your stuck  inside your head again but I want you to remember that I will always try and be your realist friend. And I knew this when we had experienced those real conversions on my bed. I want lift the pain from your heart and heal the scars they've left but that's not the way god intended. It Amazes me that when I look at the sky I see only black with little glimmers of hope and you still look at it with destiny inside and predetermined events of undiscovered hope.  . And that makes me feel special to know you and your healing me with your own severed timeline. As each new door is revealed your eyes continue to shine with innocence that you think can't still exist. For you my best of friend have kept me sane and help me want to breathe again. You showed me that love can still be real even when your struggles are hard and it's foggy where there should be light at the end. So forever I will picture those eyes staring back and see a beautiful little kid. And I know you hate that your younger then others with more knowledge then most but you should see this is the best of your qualities exposed. Your a kind hearted wanderer that wants to finally plant his feet but it seems your stuck and cannot grow because the roots are deep and your dreams can get drowned out by each mind altering memory. But when your mind is altered you always still manage to say the same thing. "Please don't say sorry and just talk to me." Because burdens are held on your back that should have already broken from straws that strike when your spirits had been previously broken. But you still manage to take my problems and make them your own. And you do this without making me feel like it's a subconscious chore. For no other motive then to keep me happy when I'm used to these words to keep score. And that makes you more special then anyone iv been able to know before.

The sting it stays and hurts and burns. Heart is thumping intentions are cursed.

Innocence lost in mindful bliss. Winking at sin with tempting kiss.

Upon my lips the bitterness teases. Should be bothersome but only pleases.

Blood is rushing hot and bothered. This feelings exactly what iv wanted.

Teeth and skin they sweat and chatter. Pulses of pleasure please and rattle.  

My minds escape just beginning to get started. Tongue is tight from craving water.

Saying no should have been easier this time. But being caught in the moment continues inhaling of lines.

Flick, breathe in, exhale, watch smoke. This addiction is familiar the most. The combinations of mixed substances are making me choke.

Feelings heightened and free are only temporary. Coming down has been to realistic and scary.

Shaking and sore until your trapped in your head. Unable to sleep or gain peace in your bed.

Caught being dead and awake in one body. This has been the downfall of preferring to stay faulty.

And for the first time in a while it showed me with surprise. Being sober was a high of my most preferred kind.


Emily A. Grande

The glasses you peer over have lenses thick but entice the people you want to discover and do not change the fact you can stare into their souls.

Retrieve their hardships and feel them as your own.

Your words flow with truth even when truth is something you haven't been given opportunity to ever know.

There is beauty in a tortured soul and from that thrives like vines with tangled mind and suddenly you have managed to gain some mental control.

Auras of green yellow and pink like changing leaves that fall only when your internal seasons have to release the memories burst like a gust of wind craving to be exposed.

But this, my giving tree, is the beauty I need you so see and not dispose.
That when you write it's like planting an impact in someone's mind and allowing it to grow.

Smoke of cowboys killers and vices of late night talks and wonderful company. Have honestly helped me create the person I can allow myself to be.

The saddest thing I have seen was when you sealed that envelope. Put it in that mailbox and we drove down the road. Leaving behind your past pain from years of hindered hope.

As your story on your shoulder says you are always a free soul. And helped me discover the meaning of hope. And I want you to know how much you mean to me. That together we bind through our ideas of humanity.

You thought me to tap into my darkest through rhythmic repetitive jabs at my temples. And revived the only person I didn't know I could resemble.

So this family tree your now apart of can only be determined improved. And my sister is how now I'll always think of you.


Emily A. Grande

Take inhibitions away and embrace artificial drunkenness.
who knew I'd ever be involved in this.

Perceptions are tainted by my mind and from others,
but we condone by letting collective anxiety recover.

With flower and wax and fire and smoke.
Seems not to be the road we had hoped.

The road is winding, oh that we know,
but staying bound by function is our favorite act to bestow.

On friends and family who don't have a clue,
who we are because it's safer for you.

It's the shoulder holding temptation with sweet whispers of sin,
Which got a hold of my morals and changed this sweet kid.

My blame is this mind...

So curious but never shy.
So things I swore off I decided try.

Regret and relieve can go hand in hand.
So curious are those who fail to understand.

When decisions are made it is never done by chance.

I live in a life of winding roads that lead to grassy plains, corn fields, and many different run down homes. It is always gray and makes me feel as though I am destined for this kind of shade.  I am surrounded by the middle class who know a thing or two about unified  working community's  and this causes cool personalities to arise full of stories and surprises. Almost everyone smokes the cowboy killers and we all reside in white walled living rooms with TVs always on to pass the pass the time. Sometimes it's amazing to see what the glow from a tv looks like on someone's face in deep thoughts.
We are people who share conversations with that blessing in disguise because we have scarce options for entertainment. But lucky for me people fill that void. I people watch to see what kind of story I can achieve from just a first quick glance and impression. I drive down roads and roads of tree tunnels that lead to suburban country neighborhoods and gravel Driveways.
I Always did like how the gravel
Sounded under my boots. Simplicity is a virtue. I grew up to appreciate even though my relationship of that concepts is one of half love and half hate. Everyone has secrets that eventually unravel and everyone knows of them. I don't know if I want  to become the adventurous type and leave this boring and oh so peaceful serenity or experience life of a different kind. Is it really about where you are or who your with? This questions seems like a rhetorical paradox because they both mater and they both don't.. And I feel my gift is that I can make time with anyone. I like looking someone I knew for a while and seeing them as how they truly are. This can honestly change their physical appearance depending on what you conclude. And I love hearing peoples stories they spill out like they were waiting on that one person to ask the question I know nothing about. I like discovering those hidden crevices in people's minds and being able to correctly premeditate their preferences In various things I have no previous knowledge about. I like  seeing people open up like a split personality because there are always depths of a soul not even closest of lovers get to know. I carry these burdens on burdened shoulders of my own, but I in reality I know I couldn't have it any other way. Curiosity of others, as my mom would say with always remain I'm your heart like a constant addiction to collecting people.. Or maybe just their stories.
But I find nothing more beautifully cool then sitting and having the ability to make someone let their guard down because they have to know my intentions are good. Or else let's be honest they never would. So in this little town that doesn't know whether it's country or suburban, it allows for different colored people like me to grow up and always have a mysterious day. To see how in such a quiet place people use their time during days. And growing up with people of substance is something only a select few get to experience...

Emily A. Grande

I hate seeing goodbye in his eyes and hearing the song play in the background.

I want to let everyone know I'm still mentally here but not even my own mind can trick me this time.

And now I need a moment of silence to collect my thoughts as well as free my mind. When I catch myself starting to drift of to you my body responds only seen internally. As goodbumps rise and warms washes over me I know iv found someone good to stay around. Maybe not
Forever.

But that's always the gamble.

I would
Hate to give up being able to look into
Your eyes and decipher your mind. To
Have hou hold
My hand softly and whisper sweet tempting nothings in public occasions. This feeling of you in my bed is most as exciting as the fact it's insinuated I can now sleep and clear my head.

You have a dark aura but not that of pain but mystery. Burning crimson and causes pleasures in undiscovered places and unexplainable syncracy under covers. And as opposite as the shapes of of our hearts are, our desires for each others bodies through affection is yearning and we coincide frequently understanding how to fit together our personalities puzzle pieces.


They say opposites attract and baby let me say they do. I seem to always think what it is you can see when you seem not to have anything In common with me. But maybe we can trade stories and learn how each others personas we're made. I haven't felt that look of lust in a while and it's killing me to be restricted from you.

I'm more ways then one.

As each day moves on my lips want to get closer to that forbibbem fruit and damnyself into selfless trust once again. I think of my torso your body and feeling your skin hot and sweaty. Your eyes roll back in a kind of certanty only lovers should feel because love being made in a concept kept away. But if I imagined what it could be like that's what I'd think of any day.  And scratching your back as though to show how much pleas my souls can take.

I rely on the feeling of smoke hitting my lungs and letting me know that choking on polluted air can clear my head of dark gray thoughts.

Rid it of its worry for a second and let my blood pulse through my veins without heaving feelings sitting comfortably on my heart.

That thoughts of anxiety are just those of memory, and I haven’t actually deceived the real me.

But when I look in the mirror I wonder why its easier to look away instead of ahead because I have to judge my own book by its cover.

My mind seems like my room covered in cans clothes and ashes of cloves from nights that keep my throat stinging and mind buzzing like I have expendable time to give out and expose.

I don't want to be miserably happy. To have others think I'm not miserable and lonely but truth be told I'm getting older and grumpy. I hate that I have to hide my feelings and they pour out of me. That jk fragile but that's not aloud when you grow up and out into the world in front of yourself. That you can find the child left in your heart and so you rely upon shame and self doubt. I hate going to bed and forcing myself not to think because the thought of being my own person scares the fake person inside me. And u have to smile and wear nothing but fake pleasure  like a scarlet letter but it helps justify my needs. And the fact I don't have needs. And the idea I want to lose my wants and find my flaws and smoke them up because behind this newly discovered person are still the same flaws just covered up with a new awakening I try and share with those I need to impress to feel like good and whole and really I just want to be ******* raw. I want my scars to seep out and my secrets to unlock their closet and I want to tear down my securities walls and tell myself I am not whole. I am not okay and I love being forgotten.

And as I get lost in surreal daydreaming, longing for your love and lust triggers sweetest appeal to be utterly dangerously pleasing. I think in flashes of slow songs of sensual ****** moments caught in minds designed camera. most images seen through lenses of eyes capture common pictures in black and white while others exhale a sequence of vivid moving memories in most extravagant  clarity and of colors. Like something could dig up my freshly buried time capsules of unwanted and untrusting memories. That I could truly give in to rejecting anxieties.  That night I looked down from the balcony that seems to romeo and Juliet cliché, considering restricted consequences through our eyes locking as minds synapses sync and confirmed risky behaviors that day. I had a trusting instinct about who I thought you were and who you could be. You didn’t want to open up  my legs but  instead led you to my hearts hidden pathway. When your green eyes exposed innocence through talks of hardships and hardest times my heart was tempted to flirt with ideas that you could be mine in future days. But the past only digs up skeletons of your shame
and retrieves relapses and regret working in harmony as old habits become clearly apparently easy to blame. And so we fought like a couple that night. And so badly these feelings I have wanted to fight. But life has ways of keeping your surprised. And gray areas surface like the smoke of being exhaled in your mind. Like a weight around your heart and selfish wishes reside. where others are hurt and  rightful confessions unpleasantly surprise. Where lines are unrightfully drawn but not distinctly determined who's to blame and who's the reliable side. Thinking there are two sides to every story but third party is truth and thinking in a reliable way. What if the two stories coincide and both people are most important in your life and your thinking you’ve been cursed with never doing anything convenient or right. What if I told you I would give up this feeling of dependency chemically with another body, but this choice isn’t an option because the heart wants what it does and it will always overpower minds strong intuitions of being emotionally robbed blind.  And these butterflies floating away in my stomach with wings of woven colors constantly changing like mood rings confirm readiness to give into hearts fight. Away from always being caught in nets like childish games people  like to play and leave shoulders heavy from others burdens disposed of into heartbreaking piles. And thinking of deceiving leaves heart in a fluttering type to its rhythm’s beating. And so sounds of your own drum begin being heard over muffled requests as recognition of what it means to really be not only be hearing, but truly listening.

When i looked in your eyes you said you saw mine staring back at you. But that was a lie. You held me when I cried and I believed the sincerity in your sweet innocence and honesty. But that was also a lie. When you held me at night and told me everything was going to be fine and made my heart beat to sounds of your drum for once I believed you. And in future thoughts hoped to be with you. You have a charismatic aura that radiated kindness and I know you never meant to hurt this damaged heart and wanted to splint it up with your kind gestures and take me under your also broken wing but those eyes you
Claimed to see weren't mine. They were hers and that should have been fine. But this heartbreak seems to be a different kind. The kind that hits hard.  because hurt was never the intention but your heart beats for her and always will and that's something you failed to mention. I wanted to stay in those unfamiliar arms and believe that if I tried hard enough I could have you. But I guess when you wanted me to give everything up that was just a fantasy of getting your heart out of a limbonic routine. And when you said you might be able to love me that was a lie. But there was real truth when I said that you are a mental magician. Someone who's heart is really full of love just not for this person. So I am forced to forgive you for your heart that's too big for two. And I want you to know that I fully forgive you. I'm only cynical because I want someone to feel for me the way that you do. She's a beautiful lucky girl and she deserves what you give. And I want you to know your a person who helped me remain wanting to live. I have a love hate relationship now that our escapades have quit. But im also sorry your heart had to bear all this ****. Because all I needed was someone to understand me and you did. I thank you for teaching me many new things. But most importantly you made me believe I could be happy again.

Time has taken what you knew.
I still have too many thoughts of you.

Deep down dark where secrets reside.
Tangled in hope and swallowed in pride.

This time is harder and leaves me shaken.
We continuously welcome our mistakes again.

Closing my eyes, drifting to hidden hopes.
That your soul finds it way back to that person you know.

Your eyes they shine like they had always done. But allowing this confession does not keep me strong.

From the scars that you left and bruises you've earned.

Why do I want you, still so broken and battered? Cannot recognize this version of protected spirit shattered.

I can only pray and plead that my heart changes desire. And with that comes accepting your addiction in its entire.

The ***** and pains and price to pay.
Will catch up to your pride one day.

Needing that person I once new to come back around.
I refuse to put my first love in the ground.

Under the filth that buries the skeletons they've found.
Taking  regret in entirety and your words silenced of sound.

All I ask is you take this message as a memory.
So YOU can feel what it's like to be bonded to infinite worry.

To have love resembling scars that reside on your heart.
Your problem leaves no room for healing to start.

I think of you all the time in the darkest of nights. Erie when the stars are all so bright. I wonder what it would be like to let you have me again. To let your arms wrap around me and hold me tight. Tighter my heart feels for committing to this confession. Your glassy eyes are honestly crystal clear of clarity for me. Buts that's how we remain and are conscious how it will always be. Contradicting and dancing in limbo of fiery serenity. Mind spins like on carousels without the ability get get off and learning to just ride.  But this confession seems to always **** me. I think of times of innocence event though now innocent we are not. The others close to my heart don't understand and think or bridge has burned. But little do they know there will always be water underneath to carry you home to me like blood that rushes to my heart. You are the only one that truly left a scar and I know at night you think of me too when it's dark. And I know you think of past times when we unanimously see stars. Erie as it is we always swim in the gray area. The deep depths that cause swallowing hard because guilt resides where pleasures are carried. Like the day we crashed and totaled the car we were prevented from taking things any farther. You said I was your angel and someone wanted us to survive and this memory I have always harbored. It's you iv been waiting for and wanted. Our companionship consists of the contradictions of each other's demons riding on shoulders. And damaging mentality never sounded so sweet and tasted so bitter. And you don't believe in god but I believe I'm just one of purgatories cliche sinners. Living to love hating our past and knowing how my heads going crazy but my sweet heart remains clever.