I don't see the color in the flowers which line the path to a supposed never-ending fairytale.
Knight in shining plastic, melting with each step that I take.
I can't seem to shake the nightmare which depicts your heart slipping out of my hands;
Keeping it there is about as difficult as trying to grab water and cup it without letting it slip through the creases of my fingers.
Yet, just like the water falling through the cracks of my blank palms, the loss is inevitable.

I could tell you a story
though it may not be true
about pain so gory
of a heart ripped in two.

In legend it is told
a tail thats spun
upon lies was sold
and now its begun.

There was once a man
that gave it all
without a plan
not afraid to fall.

I guess he was naive
as his heart was on display
attached to his sleeve
and on it she did prey.

For he met a girl
or she found him
like a precious pearl
that shined within.

But also without
for he tried to grab it
and she had her doubts
as it was writ...

That never can such a jewel be owned
nor can you claim another's heart
for all beauty is only on loan
till such a time you must part.

Broken, shattered
Dreams unraveled
Yet new life springs
From empty matter

Bury me
That I might live
A damaged vessel
Is all I give

Bruised and battered
Full of sin
O wretched man
Abiding within

Bitterness watered
By the tears I've cried
Forgive me Lord
For I have tried

Arms outstretched
Mercy tender
For victory now
I must surrender

rapacious dreams
of you and screams
haunt the seams
of incorporeal subsistence

(i miss your flesh)

012804~10.34p

Don't listen to what the culture says about you. Forget about what you see in the magazines. Forget about what you watched on TV. Forget about what you have seen in the movies. Forget about what you hear on the radio or came across on the internet. Forget what you just saw on a billboard or store poster. We are women of worth. It doesn't matter what we look like, how much we weigh, what our bra size is, or how **** we are...we are beloved by God who made us and He loves us without ridiculous, unrealistic demands, the cruel demands to be perfect to the eyes of the world. Outer critics are everywhere, and our inner critic wants to chime in and get aboard. We are women of worth. May we all remember this.

Screaming in silence
Urges so strong
Inside a whirlpool
Crying for so long
It becomes clear
Death is here
E**very step of the dark, dark way

Your body is hard to the touch
but easy on the eyes.
I'm a *** slave in disguise, you don't
owe me anything more than your
throbbing companion.
Fed explanations filled with thrusts,
moans and scratches,
Resolutions created through the exhale
of your sleeping body.
I'm no more than a cage to poke your stick into and you want me to bite you out of frustration.
I'm reminded of my role: lay down. Shut up. Don't look at you. Take it. Roll over. Take it. Take it. Take it.
A drunken sigh of satisfaction sneaks out through your lips as if it was trying not to wake your tongue,
as any disturbance will cause my body to surrender to you, against any will I have left.
The desire to be the one you surrender to is slowly passing.
Because with each breath I hold, I find myself still gasping for air.

I hope he doesn't get it on anything valuable.

He plays with my hair until his fingers get tangled,
I keep them there in fear that it's the last thing keeping us connected.