and from this pain
love will grow.

I am living
four hundred feet
below the sea
that is you.
I am wrapped
so lovingly
in your silky
black waters.
I am drowning,
but at least
it's because
of you.

Entry ~
*How can one person change so much in a single month. I've been walking under the same sun, but passing beneath different streetlights. I haven't been traveling long. I've been gone from my hometown for about three months. I miss the snow covered trees. The cool familiar sensation of the Lake Erie breeze. I miss the tulips in spring that seem to pop up wherever they please. I miss the big blue house with white window frames sitting on the corner of Temple Street. The big garden out front surrounded by an electric fence to ward off deer. That place was my refuge. My sacred ground. I was born into a family twisted from life. I was lost during my childhood, and for most of my teen years. I was a hopeless kid. I kept it together on the surface, but never could hide the sadness in my eyes. I moved into that house a month after I turned eighteen. I was at that crucial age. Teetering on adulthood, fresh out of the high school scene. I moved in with my boyfriend. The man who would become a rock for most of my life. He was the first person to teach me unconditional love. Two words I have been vaguely familiar with from childhood. It was a long process to learn how to give, and receive unconditional love. It's been three years since I've met him. I'm only grasping the concept now. I lived in that house for three years. That house is my home. My real home. When I moved in, I hardly knew my housemates. We were acquaintances. Not exactly friends, but I was accepted because of my boyfriend. I was such a shy girl back then. I hardly said much. Kept myself busy by cleaning, and reading. Smoking lots of ****. Little did I know, three years later they would become some of the most crucial people in my life. My boyfriend taught me unconditional love, but the people in that house taught it to me too. For myself, and for others. I learned more from them then they will ever know. I was brought into their world, one so different from where I came. For a bit, I felt like I was in wonderland. Like I fell down a rabbit hole chasing the cheshire cat. Wandering through scenes of nonsense, caught in the folds of time. Looking back, I can't tell if that's how I actually saw it, or if that was just the acid. Either way, I learned to love it. I was Alice, exploring my new wonderland. I expanded my consciousness in that house. I soaked up what was going on around me like a sponge. I'm an observer. I always have been. I can sit back in a room full of people, not saying a single word, just watching. I notice the things most people do without thinking. The little things. Biting nails, shaking legs, even twisting their earrings exactly three times. Detail is my specialty. I notice everything, from the words people choose right down to what they do when they say them. I'm an observer, not a judger. I keep most of my observations to myself. Unless, I feel someone could benefit from something being noticed. I grew up more in those three years than I had during my entire adolescence. I grew so much that I felt like I was exploding out the windows cracking the white frames, blowing off the roof. I had three of the best years of my life in that house. I had no idea what I was prepping myself for when I moved in. I never would've had the guts to travel cross country if it wasn't for that house. For those people. I owe everything to those three years of my life there. It's been three months since I moved out. Just three short months. I've seen everything from the Appalachian Trial to the Rocky Mountains to the Mojave Desert. In each place I've been, I've found a piece of my lost soul. If life was fair, I would get to keep those pieces. Finders keepers. Unfortunately, that just isn't the way it works. For every piece that's found, one's left behind. This is simply the way. It was decided long ago. By those who understood the circle of life. There must be balance. For what we take, we must give, in order to receive. This is what I learned in that big blue house on temple street. This is the lesson I hold dear to me now as I prepar to come back to my hometown. I haven't been gone long, but I'm not the same as when I left. I'm stronger. Wiser. I'm ready to face the tragedy that awaits me when I pull off exit fifty three. I'll be walking into a storm, but I'm not afraid of the rain. I can take it. I'll feel so much relief when I pull into that rocky driveway, park my car, and walk up the path half swallowed by grass. Up those steps, then right through the door held together with duct tape. I'll walk into the kitchen right into my family's arms, and finally find some peace. I'll be right where I need to be. Right at home with the people that love me. Supporting me, as I face an unbearable tragedy.

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.

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.

Never apologize for struggling.
There is strength through endurance, and redemption in forgiveness.

Your body gets used to the poison.

Alcohol,
drugs,
love.
They are choices
we make
that break us apart.
We use them to fill
the voids in our heart,
to cover the scars
we've had since the start.
It's a petty game
that we play,
even when we're smart.
We pour kerosene on fire,
then cry when it starts
burning holes in our life,
and chars up our hearts.
We love that it burns.
We love that it hurts.
It's never enough,
they always play their part.
We love them more,
than we love our own hearts.
We can't get enough
of ripping ourselves apart.
We gaze in the mirror
to see our black hearts,
and smile at the feeling
that pain makes us art.

Through the looking glass
she fell,
and fatefully declined.
Into a world
more cold and dark,
than what she left behind.
The rabbit hole
is vast and wide,
not bound
by sense or time.
To find her way,
she must obey
the rules
of this domain.
For if she strays
she'll lose her way,
and find herself astray.
She must be brave
to fight the daze,
and see the light of day.

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

I love you so much,
you never miss my cues.
I'm always here waiting,
watching all that you do.
I make sure you're perfect,
not whiny or shrewd.
I'm always in your head,
controlling what you chew.
I won't leave your side,
we are stuck like glue.
I've been your best friend,
since the time you were two.
I love watching you move,
it's quite a beautiful view,
but if you make a mistake,
I'll beat you black and blue.

I'll pray for you
beneath the moon,
and shed tears of moonlight
that reveal your truth.
I'll walk barefoot
across this shore,
collecting treasures
that remind me of you.
I'll pretend they wandered
from me to you,
like a message in a bottle
tossed out to sea.
I'll write you letters,
and burn them here,
setting you free
from my dark memory.
I'll let you go,
while walking barefoot,
but always thinking of you,
beneath the waning moon.

I am not a
perfect being.*
Flaws,
and imperfections
weave the
canvas of
my skin.
The scars that
mark my body,
tell a story of
where I've been,
who I've loved,
and who's loved
me in return.

I saw you,
for the first time,
beneath the light of
the dancing moon.
Your eyes,
they flicker
so much brighter
than any star in
the midnight sky.
So bright,
I was sure
you were my sun,
and my whole world
revolved around you.

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 will paint the dawn
with our long lost song,
and cry to the moon
that we've moved along.
I'll sit beneath her
all night long,
and tell her our story
how we didn't belong.
I'll sing to her softly,
a sweet little birdsong,
about a love story
meant to be lifelong.
I'll tell her we were strong,
but couldn't hold on.
We were too headstrong,
just stringing along.
We couldn't see ourselves
being in the wrong.
I remember crying
all day long,
trying to shove myself along
to see the difference
between right and wrong.
I couldn't prolong
the end of our love song.
I remember singing
this same little birdsong,
when you heard me
you played along,
but trying to rush me
for you couldn't stay long.
I remember your eyes
tearing with goodbyes,
as I sang the last note
of my loving little song.
I watched you walk away
feet scraping along,
and that was the end
of our loving little birdsong.

I could hear
the angels sing
as I stood upon
the mountain top.
I looked
to the land below.
Then to
the heaven's above.
I swear
in that moment,
I believed in God.

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 great grandmother,
passed away 10 years ago,
but last night,
she stood at my bedside.
She told me the story,
of the beautiful butterfly,
who feared to fly.  
She told me,
this butterfly was beautiful,
much more than the rest.
Her wings shone of gold,
with a deep silver hue.
She was so beautiful,
but she always wept.
She feared,
her wings were broken.
Then came the day,
when she looked
towards the sky,
only to see the
rest of the butterflies
begin to fly.
That's when she realized,
now was her time.
She stretched out her wings,
and leapt off the vine.
She fluttered her wings,
and was lost to the sky.
She had faith in herself,
and her wings
carried her just fine.

She’s a restless bird
inside a cage
with fragile bones
and broken wings
her eyes were pierced
by her lover’s sting
still
she trusts
though she cannot see
her beak was tied
by her lover’s string
still
she waits
to be set free
silently
she weeps
like the moon
does the sea
begging him
please
*let the caged bird sing.

I can't wait
to see the sunrise
over California skies.
I know when I get there,
I won't believe my eyes.
It'll be a new kind of high,
to watch the sunrise,
way above the mountainsides,
into that California sky.

We are water.
We are fluid,
and bending.
We move with the ebbing tide,
and embrace the seas of change.
We are ruled,
unknowingly,
by the rhythm
of a crying moon.
We are dependent
on her love
to lead us back
from deeper waters,
to lead us back to shore,
to lead us back to you.

Your heart beats
between the walls
of your shattering chest.
I swear,
it sounds just like thunder,
and in your eyes,
I see rainstorms,
mixed with
catastrophic hurricanes.

The moon.
She beckons the lonely,
and weeps for souls
that can hear her calls.
Her crystal moonlight
pollutes the starry night sky.
She is so beautiful.
It must be torture
for the sun.
To only glimpse her
before he sinks
far below the horizon.

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.

I sat beside
the waters edge,
and pondered
the life in the riverbeds.
I wondered how
it all began,
the fish,
the tides,
and the small
grains of sand.
It seems to be
a question to me,
just how exactly
it all came to be.
It's complex,
yet simple,
and began
with a ripple,
from the birds,
to the turtles,
to the small
little minnows.
This world is a circle,
a never ending cycle.
What lives always dies,
but secured with a tie,
will return back to live,
only to return back to die.

I'm up in the sky,
and everything is fine.
I'm higher than life,
I'm riding cloud nine.
I'm sleeping while awake,
and stepping over mines.
I'm pushing my body,
and crossing the line.
It's the feeling I chase,
when the ketamine is fine.
I get out my plate,
and rack out a line.
It puts me to sleep,
and feels better than wine,
but it leaves me hollow,
and empty in mind.
It's the come down that hurts,
when I'm dead inside.
It's a vicious cycle
in the addicts mind.
It's always one more.
It's always the last time.
It's easy to say,
as I rack out a line,
and easy to forget,
once I'm high in the sky.
It's the devils words,
those two little lines.
There's no such thing,
when I'm riding cloud nine.

This desert
reminds me
of my heart.
It burns
hotter than hell
during the day,
before growing
colder than ice,
beneath
the moonlit night.

I have seen beyond
the walls of death,
beyond time
there is a place
of immortal bliss.
I have seen a world
lingering next to our own,
hiding just beneath
our preoccupied senses.
If you lift the veil,
and dive into
your own consciousness,
without fear
of losing yourself,
then you too
will see your own mortality
is a mere illusion
of the vessel
you are caged within.

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.

You are my cosmos.
My galaxy
of swirling stars.
I will never get out
from beneath your skies.
It does not matter
where I go,
or how fast I run,
You are always
above me,
watching,
laughing.

and without her ~
you will never be whole.

I fold my wings at night,
only the dark underside is seen,
and I become invisible
to predators passing around me.

I waited each night,
by the window
in the moonlight,
for you to come home,
and tuck me in tight.
I waited, and waited,
putting up quite a fight,
because I refused
to believe my daddy
would leave me in fright.
Mommy would come in,
and kiss me goodnight.
She would tell me,
my daddy loves me,
but he's not
coming home tonight.
I waited, and waited,
until a quarter
past midnight.
That's when I realized,
mommy was right.

I often wonder,
if dying feels like,
falling asleep
in a field of daisies.
It must be similar,
with the soothing scent
of rain in summer,
with the way your head,
drifts away,
watching clouds
with all their wonder.
I imagine,
dying is peaceful,
effortless even,
as you take your last breath,
and fade into
the daisies forever.

I wonder
what it is like
to have a soul
that is tied to stone,
that is happy with
the littlest amount
of love shown.
I wonder
are those the souls
that can withstand
the strongest winds
in the worst storms?
I will never know.
I have a soul
that is lighter than dust.
In one gust of wind,
I am gone,
like a dandelion
dances in the wind,
after it is blown away
to make a fragile wish.

It was half past nine,
as I searched for a sign,
hoping that someday
you would become mine.
I gazed at the skyline,
and prayed for the divine,
to send you a countersign
that would detonate the mine.
I'm hoping these words
creep up your spine,
and rest lightly upon
your loving mind.
My darling,
believe me when
I speak these lines,
you are as fine,
as dandelion wine.

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 was 20 years old
when my depression
came back.
It hit me so hard
it knocked me off my feet.
I had 3 years.
3 years of feeling so much,
while sadness lingered
just below the surface.
Waiting,
for the perfect moment
to cut my rope in two.
That rope
was my lifeline.
Now,
the days drag on,
but the nights seem longer.
I gaze out the window,
watching the snow
cover the world outside.
I can't help,
but wonder
if nature is ever
this sad
when all her beauty
is dead
and buried.