It took me years
to fall in love with myself.
It was a foreign idea
throughout my childhood.
I remember the jealousy I felt
for the girls with flawless skin,
and perfectly straight hair.
I thought they were beautiful,
and they were,
but not in the most natural way.
I wanted to be the girl
who was beautiful
after rolling out of bed at noon
without any makeup
besides the mascara
from the night before.
I wanted to be the girl
who was effortlessly beautiful
without giving it a second thought.
I always admired those girls.
I loved the security
that radiated off them,
like the shimmer of sunshine
on delicately tan skin.
It took me years
to become one of those girls.
It was a slow process.
It took the shedding
of a society built for
flawless makeup ridden
artificially created beauty.
It took acceptance
for who I am without the mask.
It took forgiveness
for the flaws I was blessed with at birth.
It took years,
but I'm finally there.
I'm one of those
naturally beautiful girls.
I'm one of those girls
that could careless about shaving,
or washing their hair.
I'm a girl without cares.
I'm a girl in love with herself.

The sun glimpses
through the trees.
Casting a shimmering light
onto a dust covered world.
You can taste it in the air.
War is coming.
But, is it enough
to breathe life into
a race full of martyrs?
Probably not.
Only to those who see
through divine eyes
know the end is near.
By the hands of man,
not God,
the walls of the world
will crumble like Jericho.

Rainy days,
and cloudy grey skies.
I miss the sunshine
hidden in
your bright blue eyes.
Stormy nights,
and cold December mornings.
I love the way
we get wrapped up
tight between the sheets.
Sunny days,
and brisk may showers.
I hear happiness
coming from your laughter.

This journey
has awakened
something deep
inside me
for the first time
in my life
my heart is full
thawed
from the cold
with love
for myself
and the scars
that mark
my soul
will not
go untold
but instead of
ripping me apart
they’ll be let go
reclaiming my divinity
my tarnished spirit
is forever whole.

There are times
talking to you
feels like
throwing paper kites
underwater.
We are always
pulling
each other under,
instead of
building paper boats
to save
one another.

Entry ~
*I walked into the sea. I dove beneath the rolling waves, and released every piece of me to the sandy pits underneath my feet. I came here to find some peace, to relinquish the pain I've been carrying, since the day my soul was born to this spinning planet of blue and green. I think my soul is made up of the past, of lives I've lived over centuries passed. I can't explain this karma any other way. It's stacked up against me, towering so high, I must've done something truly awful in a previous life, because there's no way it's karma from this one. I've paid for my mistakes in this life. I've done my time, endured my suffering for the mistakes I've made here, but I can't do anything about my previous lives. I don't think I payed my do's then. I think I ran. I know I did, because there is always an incessant urge to flee, deep inside me, whenever something goes wrong. It's instinctual, kind of like a lion chasing a gazelle. It's a natural instinct for the gazelle to flee when it's being hunted, and for the lion to chase when it's after prey. I think I've been running from the lion for centuries, maybe even millennia's. I don't know who the lion is, but I must've done something truly awful to deserve being punished through lifetimes of karma. I think this karma is how I'm supposed to know he's caught me. I've always had this feeling, deep inside my chest, that life on earth is a punishment. I was sent here to learn a lesson, and maybe I haven't been able to figure it out. That's why it feels like I'm constantly reborn, over and over again. I think in this life, I'm starting to figure it out. I think when I die from this incarnation, I'll transcend beyond the heavens. I'll go back to where I came from thousands of years ago. I'll go back to the place where the lion lays. I'll face him, and hope he doesn't **** me, or wound me to badly. I have to face him, because I can't keep running. I can't be reborn here again. This place is truly hell, but at least I find peace when I'm floating in the salty sea. It's a refuge for me.

I followed a thin blue line
between the folds of a map.
I passed by rivers wider than time,
mountains larger than life,
and traveled through valleys
tucked between canyon walls.
I have been from the east coast
of Niagara Falls,
to the west coast
of California's golden shores.
I have seen the Shenandoah River,
explored the Appalachian Trail,
and the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.
I have gazed at those
white capped mountains,
while the sun slowly set behind them,
setting fire to the sky  
with swirling oranges,
yellows, pinks, and reds.
I have fallen in love
with the open road,
with the freedom
of a full tank of gas,
and no destination.
I found my soul on this road,
but I hope to find a place
to bring this soul home.
I imagine a place,
somewhere along California's shores,
where I can rest my head,
and finally start something more.

Entry ~
*I'm lost in my head, staring at an ash tray in the middle of the coffee table. It amazes me how a simple object can hold so many memories. I've had that ash tray for so many years. It's moved with me from 5 different houses in the last 10 years. It holds a piece of my soul locked up between its clear glass walls. I can't even remember where I got it, but I remember it wasn't always an ash tray. I used it to hold random little trinkets, like necklaces and earrings that didn't have a match. That was when I was about 13, before I really even took up smoking. By the time I was 17 it was used for cigarettes. I remember opening my bedroom window, climbing out to the flat roof of the sun porch, lighting up my camel cigarette, and staring up at the stars. I would sit there for an hour after my last drag, my glass ash tray sitting on the open windowsill, contemplating my existence in the hundreds of galaxies swirling above my head. I remember thinking they were close enough to know they exist, but far enough away for you to doubt it. By the time I was 19, I was no longer using that ash tray for cigarettes, but for joints and spliffs. It sat on the corner of my mahogany dresser, right next to my incense and antique lamp. It sat there for about a year. Until I left it behind to drive across the country. That was just a few months ago. I'm 20 now, and have just returned from my journey. I've come home to the same house I lived in before, to my glass ash tray sitting in the middle of the coffee table. I can only imagine what it saw from its resting spot. I'm glad it sat there, collecting memories like settling dust. It makes me feel like I never left at all. Like a piece of me remained here with the people I love. They just didn't know it. I think when I leave for good, I'll leave it behind once again. It'll be like leaving a piece of my soul with them, to leave my mark on their existence. They may not realize it at first, but at some point they'll look down at that ash tray, and think of it's origins. When they do I'll cross their life for just a brief moment. They may not even know it was my ash tray, but it won't matter. They don't need to know it was mine for our paths to intersect. The past is a witness, and I can live with that.

If you want
to capture a gypsy,
dance with her
beneath
the crystal moon.
There she cannot hide
behind her tricks and lies,
and if you gaze
lovingly
into her eyes,
and hold her heart
to the moonlit sky,
she will be yours
until the
end of time.

She will roam,
from coast to coast,
and she will love you,
but like a ghost,
she'll leave without a trace,
and you won't even
be left with a name.

His eyes burn like fire,
but mine are as cool as ice.

I'm dreaming
of laying in a field
of wild poppies.
Their fragrance
sweet as sugar.
Their petals
softer than silk.
I imagine
them wrapping
around me,
soothing me,
singing lullabies,
as I slowly
drift up high
into infinity.
Where the moon
shines bright
guarding the heavens.
I will kneel
before her,
asking her
to hang me
as one of her
most beautiful
stars in the sky.

I’ve traveled
a million miles
on an open road
with memories of home
strapped to broken bones.
Mama,
these dreams are heavy
against will
that’s strong as stone,
but I’ll carry these feet
across the desert ground.
With the moon above me
I’ll hear my spirit howl.
Like the wolves that run
protecting
their forest ground.
Mama,
I’m meant to roam,
to let my spirit soar.
High as condors
above the mountaintops.
I know
freedom
comes at a cost,
but so does
happiness
that has to be bought.  
Mama,
don’t you worry
I’ll never get lost.
I have the stars,
and a thin blue line
between the folds
of my map.
I don’t know
these strangers
or places I stop,
but my eyes are open
to the hourglass of time.
Mama,
I’m not scared.
I know
where I’m going.
My destination
is everywhere.
Mama,
don’t you worry
I’ll be fine.
When my cup is full,
and my heart is whole
I’ll follow the stars,
and wander back home.

It hit me with surprise as I was standing there beneath a starlit sky. I was so aware of life, so aware of time that I became petrified I would never again return to my kind. But when I opened up my eyes I saw the same starlit sky, and upon this realization I began to cry. For I longed for the place with swirling lightening tides. For the home I’ll return to upon my own sweet demise.

It's winter again.
That time of year
when I fall victim
to my hopeless
melancholy.
What eases the pain?
Pouring my soul
onto paper at 3am,
while you softly
sleep next to me,
completely oblivious
to the catastrophe
laying beside you
and of course,
alcohol.

I laid myself down
beneath the summer moon.
The breeze was warm,
and grass was cool.
I gazed at the trees
swaying in the breeze,
and listened to the stream
flowing free as could be.
I want to be the water
running wild as a dream.
I want to be the rain
dripping off of the leaves,
but what I want even more
is to be the blood in your veins,
to take over your heart,
and soak up all your pain.  
I would make you forget
all the hate and disdain.
I would fill you with joy,
and kiss your soul everyday.

My mother told me,
beware of the boys
with beautiful eyes.
They'll **** you in,
and tell you lies.
Then kiss you sweetly,
after making you cry.
They'll pull you in,
and give you a life.
Then sleep with the girl
who is not very nice.
They'll push you away,
then reel you back in,
because their hooks are in you,
and your heart is theirs to win.
Their eyes are dangerous
for a fragile heart,
because boys like that
love to break hearts.
Once they've got you,
they never let go.
So resist their charms,
and learn to say no.
When a boy like that
comes after your heart,
beware
the chase is on
from finish to start.
These boys are entitled,
and stubborn as hell.
They get what they want,
and they run the show.
So if one decides
to stake claim to your heart,
beware of the spell
he'll cast over your heart.

I see fire
burning up the roads
behind me.
It remindes me
there's nothing left,
but cinder and smoke
in the place
I used to call home.

Tonight,
I am more lonely
than the moon
in a starless sky.
Why,
is it so easy
for me to pour
my heart
into a little poem,
than it is for
me to tell you
how I really feel.
Maybe,
like the moon,
I go through phases,
and you,
like the sun,
are constant,
bright,
and always
burning.

I am capable of love,
even during,
the coldest of nights.

There is a bridge
that connects me
to a place of love
in my empty head.

It's called music.

I speak to the moon
in the dead of night.
I come to her
when her light is bright.
I confess my secrets,
beneath the starlight,
and pray there is not
another soul in sight.
I dance with her sprites,
around the firelight,
and listen carefully,
as she recites her rites.
I give her my secrets,
and she ties them up tight,
hanging them high,
like a stalactites,
that shimmer
like the northern lights.
In return she incites,
that we unite each night,
so she can hear me recite,
my love for her,
beneath her loving light.

I dreamt of you
in clouds of blue,
and woke
when the clock
struck two.
I looked to see you
through hues of violet,
standing in the springtime dew.
She was there above you
kissing you softly,
and calming your midnight woos.
She knows your desires,
and pulls at your heart
she is a goddess
to the darkness in you.
I can not compete
for your heart
she does keep
above with the
stars in the sky.
I know how you love her,
her beauty
like no other
I can see it in
your emerald eyes.

I'm too much of a mystic.
I live in my head.
I always know the words,
before anything is said.
I can see the future,
before I get out of bed.
Sometimes I lay there,
and let it fill me with dread.
It's hard to get up,
when it's written in red,
but these visions have led me
to share my bread,
because I always know
when a heart has bled.
I'm a mystic that lives
too much in my head,
but these visions don't always
fill me with dread.
Sometimes they give me
happiness to spread,
because a mystic knows tomorrow,
you could wake up in bed,
with a vision in your head,
that someone you love
will pass on to the dead.

I see summer skies
hidden behind
your cloudy grey eyes.
I won't let you hide,
not when rainbows
betray your every lie.

I wish you wouldn't
fall victim to my mood.
When I am sad,
you get the same way too.
It makes me feel like poison.
Like I'm salt,
and your heart
is an open wound.

When it comes
to loving me,
there is something
you must understand.
I am a hurricane,
moving hundreds
of miles across
the open sea.
Strewn in all directions,
a chaotic symphony
of madness
and clarity.
When you are
standing in the midst
of my storm,
do not fear my thunder.
Know it will pass,
with a delicate rain,
and the sun shining
bright overhead.

The night of
the harvest moon
was the night
I fell for you.
You held me,
kissed me,
and whispered
you loved me.
You pulled
me close,
and gently
brushed my lips.
You whispered,
"Are you ready"?
"Yes"
I whispered back.
You kissed me,
and I let you in.

I often wonder,
as I gaze at the sky,
if all those stars
that shine so bright,
are really just hearts,
captured by the moon
in the dead of night.

By the time I reached the end,
my mouth was tied in a twist.
Salt water and smoke
rose up from my throat
caged between porcelain,
and sugar sweet lips.
I lay awake,
swaying softly,
in a cacoon of strawberry silk.
Carefully contemplating
the white spaces of time
that kaleidoscope like fractals
between the shades
of falling leaves.
I am at peace,
fully aware of the world
around me.
I am happy,
dreaming of summer sunsets,
and kissing the cherry trees.

Entry ~
*I wonder what people see when they look at me. A girl with hazy eyes too tired to see? With ***** blonde hair, skinny legs, wearing an over sized black tee. A girl that smokes a lot of ****, and drinks way too much tea. Maybe they see the written travesty of me. Heard the stories of my early identity. How I used to be so easy and naive. Got down on my knees for the simplest "please" from boys who never gave a **** about me. It's no surprise I swore off boys when I was seventeen. Of course it didn't last. Girls never did it emotionally for me. And I wonder how much of this is perceived when people look at me. I can usually see it in their eyes. When buzzing questions of my puzzling past arise. I can read between the lines. I know everyone wants to know why. But there are no simple answers I can give to ease anyone's mind. My past isn't something I care to hide. I'm only human, and we all have a darkness inside. It took a long time to repair my pride. Something that shines bright through the haze in my eyes. I'm not ashamed. I know that I'm kind, and I've heard stories way worse than mine. I'm grateful and healed with a wonderful life. I've made mistakes, but shame is only relevant for a certain amount of time. I want people to see that when they look in my eyes. See that I'm living proof in the complexity of life. I'm the girl with hazy hazel eyes. With tight black leggings and a gap between my thighs. I have a tarnished reputation, and a silent observant eye. Even when I'm silent I'm fully present in mind. If you see me on the streets feel free to say hi, and don't worry I won't bite if you dare ask me why.

If you had
a beautiful girl
lying naked
in your bed,
would you
take advantage
of her innocence?
Or,
would you hold
her heart
in your hands,
and love her
the whole
night
through?

There are words
trapped between
my memories and dreams.
I am learning
to capture them,
hold them close,
before setting them free.
I will no longer
hold on to words
that poison the love
within my soul.
I will shed light
in the darkest places
of my twisted memories,
and broken dreams.

I drove across the country.
I've seen landmarks and monuments
laid out before me
in every passing state.
I've seen the Arapaho National Forest
with the Colorado River
running between its canyons.
I've seen the arches of Utah,
and the dinosaur tracks
left behind in the Red Cliffs.
I have traveled
over three thousand miles
from east to west,
and I have not seen it all.
It is often forgotten
how truly massive this country is.
It seems so small
from the comfort
of our little lives
in separate states.
It is far from small.
It is an enormous chunk of land.
It stretches for days on end,
and every part of it
is breathtakingly beautiful.
This country has left its
mark on my heart.
I will never forget
this experience.
I will never forget
what this road has taught me.
I may be going home,
but I am not returning
the same as I was.
I have seen too much.
I have seen more than
I ever could have
in my tiny New York town.
This trip has ignited
a fire within my soul.
I will see what the rest
of this world has to offer.
I will chase the setting sun,
and move until
the stars fall behind me.
I may be going home,
but the flame within my soul
will light my way
to my next adventure.
I've tasted freedom,
I'm never going back.

We cannot
rush our healing.
This life is a journey,
and darkness
always
holds
a teaching.
Love is the light
at the end
of the tunnel.
She is there.
She is waiting.
She is never leaving.

I miss the open road
with foggy streets at 5am,

driving all night long,

only to see the sunrise
in the rear view mirror,

time passes quickly
when chasing the California sun.

I'm not meant
to stay in one place.

I see
swirling colors
all around me,
they are moving
to quickly for me
to focus my gaze.
I am
in another dimension,
following fractals
through space and time.
I feel
the world around me
moving slower,
speaking to me
through patterns and colors.
I am
lost in fields
of iridescent flowers,
following the path
of my ancestors
to the holy
tree of knowledge.

I look at you,
and my heart
begins to bloom.
I know that
you can't deny
your heart
is blooming too.

Jealousy comes
in many shades,
from the lightest grey
to the darkest black.
In every form,
it poisons the heart
filling it with pain.
Once it's reached
deep inside you,
it almost never
goes away.
It creeps up
your throat,
during the most
unexpected of days,
forcing you to spill
the most hateful words,
things you didn't
mean too say.
This is how
it spreads.
It pours
from one heart
right into another.

On rainy days,
I feel lost when
you are not here.
I gaze out the window,
watching the rain
soak the world outside.
The trees sway in
the cool breeze,
and all I can
think about is you.
Yes,
on rainy days,
I feel like I'm 17 again.  
Starving my bones,
and staring at my phone.
Waiting for your message,
"Come over, I'm waiting".
I'd pull on my jacket,
and walk a few blocks
down the street.
Butterflies in my belly
the whole way there.
Yes,
on rainy days,
I think of you.
I think of the first time
you held me in your arms
while the rain washed
my sorrows away.
You held me so close,
I knew you loved me,
before your lips spoke
a single word.
I was yours.
You were mine.
Our eyes told
each other everything.