I'm done

Fighting
Trying
Fixing

I'm done

Being a cliche
Not making the cut
Being picked on

But yet here I am, doing all those things
Cliche
Cut
Picked

So I try to do as they say
And do something different

I cry instead of keeping it in
I talk instead of bottling up
I become vivid instead of shutting down

I'm done

Feeling stupid
Feeling useless
Feeling powerless

I'm done

Trapped
Pawn
Kid

I'm ready
Ready to stop taking it
Ready to take control
Ready to get out

So here I am
I'm done
I'm ready
So
I'm gone.

Somebody told me that you can always find your way home. That is because home is not always a place. As I sit at my desk, exhausted by nothing but what weighs on my heart, I realise — you’re home. You always have been and no one can compete with that. We can build a home together with our disagreements, our lonely nights and the love we think we deserve. But, that doesn’t matter as long as we keep it together.

You’re (I’m) the shelter I (you) seek.

You’ll kneel at altars and beg for a sense of belonging, but your home is here.

I'm trying to forget you,
I really am,
but when I hear a certain song or smell your cologne
I'm back on the bathrooms tile floor craving your name with shards of the mirror into the walls,
but nothing's enough to match the feel of your sharp tongue,
I would say you were the one who left,
but we all know I was the one to slam the door when I left,
I just always thought you'd run after me, you were always full of surprises.

"When someone notices the true beauties & wonders of nature, their appreciation radiates with every life they touch."

                                           © Jl 2005

I miss the excitement of liquor
The bite before the burn
Before the heat
Echoing up from my core
Like the refrain of a cannon's fire.
I miss the tiny suns in my cheeks
and the need to love and be loved
As the magic swam through my veins.
I miss the thickness of words
The gentle barrier between thought and speech
That made it impossible for me to tell him
That his eyes were like Spanish moss
And he smelled like the Northern wind.

Honey I'm drunk,
Don't come by,
But if you do
Bring Canadian Rye;
I've two feet planted
Six feet high,
And I ain't right ready
To lay down to die.
But the sun is sinking,
And my body's stinking,
Honey will you come,
Please bring that Rye.

Honey, I drink,
We both know why,
Let's not pretend,
Let's not lie.

Honey I'm dry,
I'm gonna die,
I've six feet planted
Two feet high.
I ain't quite steady,
I could use a high.
The sun's in the east,
My demon's a beast,
So Honey drop by,
Please bring that Rye.

My chest aches
My heart sinks
My body tenses

There is a hole in my stomach
and I wish I could dry my eyes
but all I see is what they refuse to hid

everyone is happy
with a lover or friends
and I'm in drowning in emptiness

Why the **** isn't anyone offering me a hand?