Hope blazes within my veins,
between the broken and the unspoken.
Maybe something will change-
to finally go my way for once.

Too many nights I've sat
on this queen dreaming
of the day I'd finally live.
Hoping that the hands
of this beautiful thing
called life will fall into mine.

It has made my world
a darker place.
Creating savages of demons
clawing at me in the night.
I'd wake up from faces
of the enemies that can't be seen.

But it's different now.
There's this light
One I haven't seen in a while.
Filled with promises and adventure,
smells of roses and wet rain on a pavement.

I can almost touch it and right now I can tell you,
I'll run for years until I get there.
Because this is what I want.
I want to live before I get the chance to die.

Someone once told me,
"You should've have known better
makes no sense. We are trying are best."

Take a step back and realize,
It does make sense.

Sometimes we go off
Making mistakes.
Acting out as an instinct
As opposed to a logical
Reaction.

Sometimes fury overrides
Our senses and we are left
With a blinding void to
A straight path of
"Should have known betters"

So yes, it does make sense.
Because even when you are trying your best,
Your always destined to make a mistake.

These events in my mind are
aged and crumbled up like
a piece of worthless paper,
because I apparently, am the
only one who remembers it all.
This is all so unsettling.
From everything that they did,
to what the others did;
am I truly that worthless?
One night dragged onto the other
without a pause.
Continuously left behind.
Finding myself alone in these places
that are truly worthless.
'Stupid girl'
is what runs through my mind
as quickly as the people leave
me behind.
How worthless am I
compared to dust?
I see everything black and white.
The color faded away when
the happiness did.
How worthless can these eyes become?
Trying to please everyone
just brought me too far down.
Everybody treats eachother the same.
So how worthless
can these smiles get?
Lie after lie is what is
always told and heard these days.
I see that those spells have been
casted on me many times.
How worthless am I
to be told these lies?


But at the end of the day,
worthless is truly non-existent.
No matter what, everyone
will get shot down-
But everyone will find hope.
We all have that one thing
we find that's not so
worthless.
You have to find
deep within youself that
it's only you that will listen
to what the others say and do
And hold it against yourself.
You have to power
To turn around and be the one
to call them worthless this time.
Because when it comes down to it,
How worthless can someone be
to make you think you're worthless.

I know once I walk away, I'm going to inevitably turn around and wonder where the time went.
And in that exact moment, I'm going to realize that it has been in front of me this whole entire time.
The sad truth is that once I take the first step forward after that realization, I'm going to break apart. Because I will be walking in the wrong direction- like I always have been.
But this day will be different. Because as soon as I take that step forward, there's no going back.
I'll take my seat, turn off my dreams and be like the rest.
Just somebody.

I pushed you away because of what you did to me.
It wasn't your personal acts that ****** me of,
it was what the voices in my head would say whenever you were around.
A darker version of me erupted like lava in a volcano, intruding it's way out.
It took everything within me to keep it down whenever you were around.
You were always high and it did nefarious things to you and the people around.
It ruined your life, as it did mine.
Lethal weapons in a battle of your own.

So for four months I stayed away, remaining to myself. Keeping the wounds at a distance for as long as I could. I painted. I drew sketches. I wrote three chapters to my novel. I watched an animated movie that actually made me laugh.
I was stitching myself back together.

Then one night you came to me with promises in your words and wonders with your eyes. For a while there, I thought I saw hope.  Like stars in a cloudless sky.

You said you changed, but I knew that was a lie- you can only grow. You said that you haven't smoked- that you felt better and loved life just a little more.
I didn't want to believe that you were full of it- your ambition was floating in the air like pixie dust on a chilly summers night.

But of course you did.
You lied.
Just like before I left you and just like now.
You still speak to me as if I'm lower than you and you continue to paint cracked black paint on your face whenever you feel the slightest bit upset.
I try to help you, you push me away.

You broke your promises. You lie through your teeth. Its a been a long time since anything was actually good.

Looking back at it now, I pushed you away because of what you did to me.
It was the voices in my head.
The ones you put there.

I know your small... It's a really big world out there. Full of devastation and wonders and crimes and love.
But it's okay, because you mean the world to me.

People seem to have these small mouths with certain vindictive words that blow your confidence six feet under.
But it's okay, the future holds beautiful promises for you.

Looking back to the past, seems like looking at a life not of yours.
As if the eyes that once were are not the eyes you bear now.
A kolidescope of difference and confusion.  
But it's okay, because I will make my hands the lenses you need to see clear again.

It gets sad and lonely.
Youll get lost and unsure.
But its okay, I'll be the compass and the light to guide you and keep you warm.

It gets hazy and rainy.
You'll get drowned and need the search for air.
But it's okay, because
Everything will be okay.

There are the highs and lows.

High
When praise is the light
That glides you down  
The corridors of life.
When you've been smoking
All night
Your in another world.

Low
You walk around unnoticed,
Scraps in the wind.
Peoples words pound the
Deepest walls of your self esteem.

High
Confidence.
Fire.
Ambitious.

Low
Depression.
Dark.
Pain.

But sometimes, there will come a time when you can't tell them apart.  
Where the difference between high and low in like trying to figure out if you rather freeze to death or burn to death.

No matter which you choose, they're both lethal.

He has the face of an outmoded brick wall.

She never wears her heart on her sleeve.

He watches the world through
The eyes of a sailor
Anticipating for the storm
And always remaining anxious in the calm waters waiting for the waves.

She listens to what you say
Like the critic to your own novel.
Holding onto each word
And waiting for the slight chance
That you might go back on what you once believed.

He tastes what's around him in small portions.
Because if he ever got the opportunity to taste something so beautiful and unforgettable, his heart would be like pieces of sand on the floor in its absence.

She holds her nose in the smell of trouble as if hypocritical presnece is toxic.
Her lungs will fill up with the lies and ***** secrets of the world and turn them into tar.
She knows once she get that one sniff, she won't ever breathe the same again.

These are the Stone Poets.
The ones who have their eyes on everything.
From the way we blink to the techniques we use to tie our shoelaces, they have got our words and actions down to a personal science.

The Stone Poets are the poets that have to most heart in the words that they say, but you would never guess it was them if you somehow got the enchanting opportunity to look them in the eye.

I said, "don't blame yourself." But I was in over my head. Your excuses were painted on the walls, I fell for them again.

I guess I should have seen it coming. Wanting to pack my bags, and walk out the door.

Different cities would be good; different walls to keep us separated.
Maybe we were better off, only seeing each other once in a while.

That's the worst part- that it came to this. Fragmented stares from across the room. You had this war with you inside; so you gave up the fight. As did I.

Different towns would be good, different roofs for us to call a home.
Maybe we were better off only saying I love you once in a while.

But I fought so hard for this, screamed for you to realize that the heart inside of you is pumping blood. That you were living, that you were real.

Then one night the fury came out. I saw your cold bitter stone
of a thing your supposed to call a heart.

Then I realized.
You were dead a long time ago.

The feeling that you get when your about to lose control, has to be the scariest feeling of all. When too many absentminded people come in and break everything apart- without realizing it- electrify the band that's about to snap. And that's the worst of all. When you have to sit there watch how these people that live around you make countless mistakes. They sit in a pit of oblivion, but you see it all. And when you go off to make one silly mistake, all the walls come crashing down and suddenly your the one who is the burden. These exact people tell you how to live. They tell you that you don't understand time. That your feelings to have no logical sense to them. That your heart is in the wrong place.
Who are they to say that? Who are they to suddenly become you?
Who are they to act like they care?
You can see disappointment in their faces and you have the guts to believe it. Their  hosts have become clay sculptures- unmendable. Made to dry up and become nothing but a piece on a shelf.
It takes everything within you to not become that.
But it's okay.
Because at least your the only one out of all of them that knows what it takes to live.

I only have this
Heart of mine.

Absentminded hands
Rip me part by part.

The pieces are the sand
Beneath my feet.

My tears are the waves
Kissing the shore
Putting them back together.

The thunder is rumbling
In the backyard.

The rain is pouring down
On my soul.

I grab the keys
And put this car in drive
To the water.

I set sail across the ocean.
Tearing these rough seas
On my own.

A sailor.
A compass.
A steerin wheel.

Destenation: home.

A million pieces
On the floor.
Of you,
Painted in black.

Dark souls.
Colorless eyes.
We are drawn in
In gray
In disguise.

We lost the will
To believe.
When we are
Our own crumbles
At our feet.

Even in the night it's a fight,
This fire is burning me alive
In the streets.

I pick up the phone
and see that you said hello today.
I break apart inside.

I can't pretend
that I have the love
that you have for me.
It's just not right.

This is so messed up.
I'm taking five steps,
and always turning right.
Around and around we go.

I don't understand
how you can stare at my walls
and want to
break them down.

I would of gladly
opened up my walls
and let you in
in time.

*This is not okay.

You walk through the door,
you put the key in the ignition.
Destination:
somewhere you don't wanna go.

Yesterday, you heard from an old friend.
What do you say when your dreams
are coming true from someone else.
What do you say?

Your beliefs start seeping through.
You feel stripped naked on your knees
begging please.

So, I'll just lay here.
Let the memories come back
like a whiplash.
On the floor,seconds pass by
without parachutes and I'm free falling
wounded.

Your insides start breaking apart,
you become someone else.
Unrecognizable reflections.

You start saying these words.
What do you say when you
hurt the ones you love
without meaning to?
Oh, I'm sorry.

You morals start disappearing,
you feel stripped naked
on your knees
begging please.

*So, I'll just lay here.
Let the memories come back
like a whiplash.
On the floor,seconds pass by
without parachutes and I'm free falling
wounded.

You turn down the light,
you know it's time to go to bed.
Because dreading on this page
doesn't seem so worth it now.

You close those green eyes,
arms wrapped around
the letter against your heart.
Your life flashes back
like a little story in your head.
Wondering what happened
to that little boy.

We'll never know.

Tuck yourself closer
into these sheets.
Let the moon rise,
let the stars come out
into another restless night.

Let your mind slip away
under the pillow.
Let 'em run,
let 'em scream,
let 'em be free.
Because you know your better off
somewhere other than here.

Tucked into blue sheets,
knowing your sane
but everybody thinks otherwise.
Let them think what they want.

The demons come knocking
on your door
dressed in white.
I know you want to
push them away,
you don't want to do this
anymore.

Waking up to lies and lies again,
The more they talk,
the more you start
believing them.

Laughs echo down
the halls around you.
Your are seperated from
the happiness.
You have to remind yourself:
I exist.

Everyone around you
is talking.
You are seperated from
their madness.
You have to remind yourself:
I exist.

Lives seem to move on
around you.
You are seperated from
the adventure.
You have to remind yourself:
I exist.

In night and day:
I exist.
In time and history:
I exist.
I have flesh and a heart:
I exist.

As painful as it is to walk, it's the most beautiful thing.

A million times to say
goodbye in this life,
over and over again.

Empty rooms,
windowless pains
oh, I'm going insane.

I've lost the patience
to believe
when everything
crumbles at my feet.

Even in the night,
there's no end to the fight.

Three years ago,
home wasn't home anymore.
When your front door step isn't the same
or your secret hide outs don't exist furthermore,
it isn't home.

"Home is where the heart is",
my mother once said.
She told me to be happy because we are together as a family.
But what happens when
family isn't family furthermore.

More than three years ago
family wasn't family anymore.
When alcohol,
hospital visits,
poverty,
and pain seeped through the cracks of our roof,
we all broke apart like
shards of a broken glass.

***** lies drip from the walls
on the foundation we call home now.
Anger unleashes through their mouths and hands.
"Forget its" have become a process for breathing.

Three years ago, my lungs filled with holes.
They are rotting with the time and tearing apart by the hands of, not only my demons, but everyone else's.
These demons sense my weakness,
my vulnerability.
So they feed off of my broken eyes and make their way in through the cracks.

Three years ago I lost home.
Family.
And myself.
Where is the heart now, mother?

In The Broken House.

I lost my mother a long time ago.
But you see, she is still breathing.
Still here.
But is she alive?

Bottles of wine stack up,
one by one,
on top of broken promises.

Pills are disappearing
but we all know
where they go.

"You call yourself a poet? A writer?" You said to me,
last night after I told you
how I feel.

So the poems I left for you,
I took away.
The book I've been working on,
I took away.

You said it four times.
The first time, I didn't actually believe you did.
The second time, my eyes ran cold.
The third time, I walked out the door.

The forth time, I realized you weren't
my mother.

It's not that I changed,
I just wasn't the same.

Little hands explore the world with fresh eyes.
They don't know language or how to count, but these hands are utterly fascinated.

Little hands are wrapped around her fathers pinky,
being directed around the world.
They don't know what pain or suffering is, but these hands want to feel everything.

Little hands trace the path of a raindrop down the car window.
Webs of the tears from above cry against her absentminded fingers.
They don't know a broken heart or the meaning of forever, but these hands are determined to believe.

Little hands are now veined and strong.
Little hands have been through hell and back.
Little hands pushed the monsters away.

Little hands have a mind of its own.

These little hands aren't so little anymore.

5 steps to walk out of the room.
23 steps to make it to the front door.
2 steps to be one with the wind.
1 step to follow a dream.

5 times you fell.
23 times you didn't believe.
2 times you almost did.
1 time you gave up.

5 ways to handle this.
23 ways to make an excuse.
2 times to get rejected.
1 time to put it to sleep

31 roads and excuses to no where

It wasn't a mistake,
pushing you away.
My hands worked for me
As my eyes watched my fingers
Let go.

It wasn't a mistake,
running away.
My mind continued
to use as much force as I could
into my muscles to distance myself from you.

It wasn't a mistake,
the way I felt.
With a heart of broken fiber
And with hands of pressured veins,
I found the will to push you away.

It wasn't a mistake.

On the first day, I walked by you.
I fell into those brown eyes.
On the second day, you told me your name.
How do ya do?

Before I knew it,
we were walking down the same line,
side by side.
Our mouths were closed,
but our eyes were playing it all.

The thunder rumbled,
the cameras flashed and I told you how I feel.
But, it's not like you gave a **** anyway.
I played the role of a fool so well,
I should be writing a script,
or playing the part
of a girl who broke her own heart.

I received the flowers you gave to me,
I snapped them in half.
It's not like I cared about you anyway.
Do you like the taste of your medicine?

Before I know it,
I'll be dancing with your demons,
side by side.
Because I think I'm starting
to like this game.

It's all the words that are jumbled in your head.
It's all the emotions burning your veins.
It's the way your mouth dries
And how your throat clams up.
It's when you have so much to say,
But you can't say anything at all.
It's like trying to climb up the ladder,
To the promising light above.
To reach the top, for it to be too blinding
And throws you back down.
Your left to mend the broken pieces
With blood tears and scratching screams because
You were already broken.
You fell off that ladder
Over and over and over again.
The blisters on your hands,
The sweat dripping down your back,
The ache in your legs,
Push you to the the top.
You keep climbing and climbing.
You don't know to what,
But you see the light.
And it settles into your eyes like fresh roses and into your mind like a dream.
It never shuts off.
It never wavers.
It's always on.
So when the shadows from below try to pull you down and succeed,
Or when the tides swallow you whole, the salt burning your cuts,
And when that water enters your mouth, your voice to an inaudible whisper,
Remember that it wasn't the ladder or the water or the shadows or the burning cuts that were supposed to lift you up to the top as a warrior.
It was your blistered hands,
The working sweat seeping down your hallow neck,
And the ache in your legs
That was supposed to follow a dream.
Not a blind hope.

You said don't leave me tonight
And I did.
Not because it was late and your liver was filled with lust with a gitty mind.
It was because you broke the last string.
The last string that held this harp together so that we can get through these rough times in harmony.
You broke it.
And you broke all the other strings with the countless mistakes you made trying and trying to make me love you the way you love me.
I don't.
Love you that is.
I did in the beginning- it was new.
Like the smell of a new car,
or the feeling of the new jacket you just bought at American Eagle.
But soon the smell and the feeling fades.
It was like stepping into new territory with welcoming arms and walking down that path to a crowd of endless smiles.

But then the storms settled in.
The clouds wiping out the life in our eyes.
The rain poured down on our hearts, melting away all the beautiful memories.
The lightening bruising my tethering muscles.
The thunder rumbled our solid ground and cracks started forming around our feet.
Separating us into different worlds.
To different storms.
To different life.
But you didn't want that.
You fought against fate without a care.
For what the world wanted or worse.
For what I wanted.
You kept leaping over these intended cracks, finding the wrong way back to me.
You let the storm rage on not understanding why it keeps raining.
But you didn't realize that the control was in your hands.

I was the figure in the night that guided you, but only for a little while.
I wasn't meant to stay.
I didn't want to stay.
So you let the control run to your finger tips, letting the lightening be your strike to get me back.
You let the rain settle over me like an endless water fall, drowning me to no end.
You let the clouds linger around me, my greens eyes running paler by the day.
And you asked me
"Why are you so miserable?"
I said I don't know.
*But the truth is my dear, it was you and your endless need to control my movements and be the tar within my lungs drowning me in the storm.

It's not like there was anything I could do.
Crying at their feet and begging for mercy would've left me more wounded then the days and months that had passed.
It's not like she would ever change.
She threw her life away to the countless days sitting in the bathroom with alcohol electrifying her veins,
turning her into the mother that I never used to know.
It's not like he actually tried anymore or understood.
He had me running in a pool of water expecting me to keep my head above the surface because he was too fed up to help me.
It's not like they even noticed.
That I was still a kid.
That as soon as my siblings beside me grew older and wiser,
I was expected to do just the same.
To maintain their level of intelligence and work.
It's not like it mattered that I was 14 when they got tired of raising me.
Of teaching me the ropes.
It's not like I was tired of holding up the weight on my shoulders,
maintaing my first job at 15.
It's not like I was fed up with their constant bickering and nagging at each other.
It's not like I didn't notice that he started looking at other women because she wasn't good enough.
Its not like she was good at hiding her misery behind those eyes that looked shattered and fragmented like pieces of a broken heart.
It's not like she wasn't a mother anymore.
It's like he wasn't a father anymore.
It's not like that at all.

Just Tell Me-
"I will get away with you. I don't care about the lengths i'll have to run; I will make sure that I am with you."
                Just Tell Me-
                "This world is messed up. Everything in it; everything around it. Then I look at you and it all make sense: None of that matters."
                                  Just Tell Me-
                                 "I know you're afraid. I know you have been alone. Well just look up into my eyes. I promise you all of that will go away.
                                                                                               Just Tell Me-
                                                                                "It will be just you and me."

He hurt you.
                                   She broke you.
          They left you standing in the rain-
                                                            in undivided pain.


Story Of My Life.

She wasn't good enough.
Everyone lied to her, said she was okay.
She thought that she could prove them greater...
that she was better than they perceived.

Day and night,
days to months,
she worked.
Through the pain and the exhaustion,
she tried.

The lies kept coming
and she fathomed their intention.

They didn't want to shut down her dreams.
All in the while, they were the ones
who killed that fire inside of her
all along.

Tuesday night,
she laid in bed and cried.

Until her nose was throbbing.
Until her breaths were cut short of oxygen.
Until she couldn't repress anymore.
Until the dream inside of her
went to bed.

Once it all left her body,
She rested her head on the pillow.
Face- emotionless.
Heart- emotionless.
Mind-Emotionless.

Life- Dreamless.

Its like a forest,
this life, that is.
It goes on and on.
It all looks the same.
No matter where you go,
you'll be lost
if you don't know exactly where your heading.

Now imagine this.
A forest full of black trees.
A black sky.
Black ground.
But on that very ground is where you stand,
looking before you, the only white tree that seems to exist.

You stand there.
Just looking, afraid to take your eyes off off it.
Hesitant to run away, fearing that when you come back
-of if you can even find your way back-
it will be gone.

Night begins to turn up day
as you continue to linger to this tree.
The sun begins to shine,
giving an enchanting glow
to the beautiful creation in front of your eyes.

You can't help but stay.
And the thought that runs through your mind
is that this tree isn't just a masterpiece of mother nature,
its hope.

It's been a long time, hasn't it?
Since you actually let the past
actually sink in on you.
Since you let it come down
to salt streaks down your cheeks.
All you want to do is go back;
back in time.
To when you felt like,
you.


You want to roam the halls of the past.
To see what was left behind.
To see all the broken pieces.
The broken pieces of what could of been.
The broken pieces of your heart.


The doors of reliving barred you in.
You fight and fight,
but it's never good enough.
Because your young and a fool.
The present is all you have,
so make the most if it.


Memory Lane,
is nothing but an old ragged road.
It leads to nowhere but the past.
Don't be the coward that goes back.
You'll find nothing but simply,
memories.