As swift as they come our reality strikes
we try to define what is around us instead of just existing
we're always asking who made us and what goes beyond the stars
I used to question it all until I realized the truth
every choice that we make puts us on a path to a certain destiny
we make more than one choice to each question we come across
but a part of us is only conscious for one of the choices
because of the world we are in and the people that we are around
we have trouble focusing on all of the options that are acted out
so we look to the one that is easiest to see
we are universal
our own God
we construct all that we have
subconsciously we make everything happen in our movie that we play out
and our conscious acts it out
we come down to this universe as a gray
no tainted thoughts
no influence
no decisions made
completely pure and innocent
and as we live
we begin to gain a blend of black and white
balance is key
we continue an infinite cycle that only multiplies more and more
there is no end
and the beginning was only the beginning of a new thought
time is only a human thing
So one would ask if it never ends then what's the point?
The point is to continue the story
to live
to love
to be happy
Those are the cherished elements
the most powerful elements
they are the best of reality
the rest you must feel so that you may understand
so you may help others see too
we are here together
and when we die
we will still be together
though there will be distance between us
we all will still make a part of the balance
that is our purpose
To just.......be

Teased and taunted
Forever haunted
A breath or two
From black to blue

One cut up girl
Against the world
Holes in her chest
Soak up the mess

Her eyes grow cold
Her soul's been sold
She's left shattered
Broken and battered

There is no such river or ocean of this world
(temporary, to which we pass through)
that I would not in a single breath
sink to its greatest depth
and rise again
for You

no mountain cliché
that I could not overcome
in a single test of my love
for You

I would go
one step further than hell
walking into the dark of Wal-Mart
for You

YOU
for whom stars collide
and new worlds are born
in my minds eye

I shall live in the dark of my inner world
(seated, legs crossed in yogic poise)
counting each and every breath
as if held back from death
and be born again
for You

The absence of you is everywhere I go,
Especially in the cold, blue night outside,
My breath leaves it's ghost on the window,
Just like you left me here.

It's 4:10 in the AM and I need to write
My second *** and diet coke is taking affect
Partly because I'm running out of diet coke
and partly because I want so desperately to be in this state of mind
I need creative release.
(This is ironic because I'm an artist.)
At least, when people ask me what I do... I say I'm an artist
But lately I can't
Just.
Can't.
I've run up against some demon
Who chants "thou shall not pass, thou shalt NOT"
He is likely a remnant of my last relationship.
I see her everywhere.
I think she drives a silver sedan now
So whenever I see one driving past, I shiver.
There are a million in my small city.
I see ALL of them.
I smile when they pass
So on the off chance she is occupying the driver's seat,
She will know that I overcame her bitterness
I am hypocrisy through and through.
The tobacco on my shirt stinks of all the false promises I've never kept.
It is a vile reminder that I am a cliché wrapped in a gas station burrito
I am naked here.
I am exposing all of the parts that I've vowed to keep inside.
Inside where the A/C can keep the sweat from revealing itself.
My creativity is a joke.
(I don't understand the punch line but I continue to laugh.)
She must have gobbled up the right hemisphere of my brain.
Maybe not her, but the ever-present ghost of what I agreed to allow into my soul
Her white-hot beautiful and angry ghost
Why can't I remove her violent spirit from my bedroom.
Jesus Christ hear me as I cry your name.
Exercise the ghosts of my last three years.
I sweat realism.
You would disagree if you saw my paintings.
Playful.
Happy.
Primary triad displayed proudly.
It's that part of me that says that this very poem needs editing.
It needs to be set right.
It needs.
THIS POEM IS SELF AWARE.

In your Garden

There’s a chance that I am immortal,
And so at night I climb and decorate trees,
My pale limbs hanging dangerously
Over wind and cold water seas.

I have found other worlds in your garden,
While crawling through the tangled leaves,
My crown fell down a hole that led to
A land of compultion thieves.

I hold my knees to my face and whistle,
My pink hands shiver, tippy toes freeze,
I pick roots of ice growing, biding my time
Till the moon lets me hang from trees.

Over time frost grew between my blue hair,
And sharp cold raindrops tickled my feet,
I’m still waiting for you to remember me
In a garden playground wrapped in sleet.