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.

It's easy for you to speak
Because your black eyes always hold to what they seek.
You count off on your golden fingers in lists what you want,
And I tell you it's me who's as bland as pale typewriter font.
I can't just unzip the skin between my *******
And hand you the bleeding heart in my chest.
For that place has been soldered shut,
And the only way in is to cut.
It was my tethered hands that painfully made the seal-
Everyone mistakenly thought there was a piece of me to steal.  
I realized with broken car radios and muted clocks I only had what was inside,
And no treasure cats smile could ever paper cut this pride.
Your hands were made from the Sun,
Who made my battlefield and won.
And one day you will touch me and I will burn,
But you'll be too bound to your creator to ever return.

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.

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.

Snow
Settles on
My aching
Breaking
Heart.

I'm stuck
In a world
And inside a time
That's long
Gone.

I see
The map
Of the world
I keep looking
Home.

I think
This compass
Broke-
I have nowhere
Else to go.

If I could sail
The Mediterranean Sea
Maybe I could find myself
In Pari for free

Wherever I go,
Will I go
With my whole heart.

Im still stuck in
Small town New York.

I searched for the words to say to you
in the floorboards that creaked and groaned
whenever the ghost of you would linger around my mind

In the same places I find you
as I stray into opposite corners of your room
to find something else in you
that should give me a reason to stay

Seduction isn’t wise in you
while I'm catching your eyes wandering
around the stumbling crowd
looking for something else to touch

I need to think about you with somebody else
so I can dance alone
and be okay with that

though you never wanted to dance with me anyway

Sometimes
I can smell in the air what used to be.
Some days, the wind carries it
And it treacherously finds its way to me.

The very moment it's ripped from me,
I'm left wounded and scratching at.
I fight the air with all my strength,
Screaming at it and beating at it
Because it fooled me.

Sometimes
the sunset is just right,
And just for a moment
it sends me home.

It's lethal and a weapon of mass destruction.
Because it slowly fades away
As if It never was
But burns me as it will forever last.

Sometimes
I feel whole again.
Sometimes
Things seem to be fitted in the right places.

Sometimes
I'm pathetic and actually believe things as beautiful as those are true.

sometimes i wish i was back home, back in time. tucked in my purple galaxy sheets, upstairs in my twin size bed. back in a time where fireflies circled my room, with a night sky full of stars alight with possibilities. where familiar had a scent and it hugged my lunges around a camp fire. where it coated my hair in chlorine from night swimming on a summer’s night. where time had a feeling and it wasn’t so scary seeming so endless. where it beat in my heart like a song that i wouldn’t dream of hearing the end of it. home. i have scars of it on my skin from playing too rough in the backyard, with friends that made the air echo with kiddish laughter. i have pieces of it scattered in this house that doesn’t fit quite right. home. where every position of the sun hit every corner just right. where i grew with each vine. each root. each moment. i shared my adolescence with a blueprint built to a house that made itself a part of me. no fourth of july is right if it isn’t in my front yard, when the sun is just setting and the sparklers are being put out on the front porch. no christmas is christmas if I’m not watching the snow fall down between the street lamps of my neighborhood from the window in the front door, waiting for santa to give me what I’ve been good for all year. no autumn is autumn without the big tree in the backyard changing into these fire burning colors that rain ashes onto the grass, amazing me every time. no spring is spring without grams taking me to the back garden, showing me the respect roots need to grow.
home. once you leave it you will never get it back. sometimes you’ll find yourself on some random street in some random time catching a sliver of it. for no particular reason. the sun will align just right, and shine just enough, to remind you of what it used to be like. how life used to be before your home became somebody else’s. before the scars you now bare are not the kind built around laughter. before you got this hole in your chest where home used to fit. and everything that came with it.
holiday’s sing, but not in the tune i used to hear it in. flowers grow, but i lost respect for the roots that took my grams away with it. the forth of july will celebrate, and i’ll go along with it but it’ll never be the same.
home.
i’ll never stop missing it. no matter how long it’s been.

Rip me apart.
Rip me wide open.
Take these bones
And pulverize them.
Please.

I dare you to take me
For all that I am.
Change me into something
So I'll be damed.
Maybe you'll break me
With nothing left to see
Make it start so this could be over
Because just maybe I'll leave a warrior

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


Story Of My Life.

You can't just let go
Because it runs so much deeper than that
Much much deeper
And to dismiss it so easily
Means it didn't even exist at all
And that this pain that is so real
Is all my imagination
And I did all of this to myself
That the way you spoke to me
Was in a dream
And I didn't even want to wake up

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.

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.

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.

In the Door of Chains,
the invisible bird crashed into the water.
Nothing but tears with traces of blood remains,
as the sea boils and boils growing hotter and hotter.

The Door of Chains
asked for your biggest secret.
It's the crimson inside of you down shower drains,
but you would never say that to a snickering bandit.

Door knobs gave no mercy
to the raging mind with a fiery tongue.
The stars proved to you you weren't worthy.
So, you woke up beside the bird and made the plunge.

In the Door of Chains, you don't lead the hallways.
The hallways lead you.

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.

Words don't do any justice
to the way I feel.
I could be so detailed
and so raw,
but it would still come out vague and untouching.

Words don't do any justice
to a broken heart.
Time is the enemy
that will help heal it,
so your left with fragmented poems
trying to describe how it felt
when you let go...
all you come up with is nothing.

Words don't do any justice
to cure a disease.
It will eat at her everyday
until she is nothing left
but white lips and a pale face-
a number to a growing list.
You'll only be able to say you love her,
but the words won't cure the disaster
that was created in her departure.

Words can only do justice
when it's over.
When the tears have crumbled the paper.
When the edges are curled
from twirling the ends waiting for
the perfect thing to say.

Words are beautiful and real.
Words are hard and often misunderstood.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The first day was the worst day,
simply because that pointed smile invited me to play.
The time it took to count my wishes
was the time in which I knew I was going to need some stitches.
I talk to you, in the dead of night
when your not around and I just need to feel alright.
Yet you sit in your silence
while those golden eyes cut like diamonds.
You had a list, and I had mine-
It was the way in which you smiled...
the way in which you could lie as easily as the time.

It was the way in which I believed in you...
And how you disappeared into abyss of blue.

All of this and more without keeping my tongue tied
was the way in which a part of me had died.

My moment is finally going to happen and I should be ecstatic.
I should be screaming at the top of my lungs that I'm finally going to be heard.
That what I've been working for is finally going to pay off.

But I'm not, and I don't think I can.

Im petrified, because the world is terrifying.
They're going to judge me or they're going to love me.
Okay, maybe I'm terrified in a petrifying world....
It all looks the same.
Feels the same.
Sounds the same.

But that's the most comforting aspect of it all.
That analogy will never change.
The way the world is is just how it is and there's nothing i can do about that.

But Me?
There's a lot of things that could change me.

I'm not the world.
But I sure do act like it,
Sunshine and raining.
Pulling tides and hurricanes.
But the world will always be the world.

And I have a horrible feeling I won't always be me.

The soft hum of a melody was playing in the background. My fingertips were dancing across the keyboard and I was writing away. There was something about the combination that sent these beautiful tremors through me.
The words that flew onto the paper sang this melody and I was transported into the world that I thought I lost a long time ago. I was home in this instant.
It wasn't where I was, or who was around me.
It was was the realization that what I was doing was going to bring me bliss. That this right here is what is going to send me home.
Typing, or writing or singing these stories that come to me will be the life of me.
And I have no problem on spending the rest of my years doing this.

Tonight, there was something about the rhythm of my fingers that danced to the melody that played in the background.
And I wrote a story...

A beautiful story.

At some point
you just pull off the Band-Aid
and it hurts
but, then it's over and you're relieved
and you can see the wounds
for what they really are
and face the truth
that you're already healing.

*E.A.D

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.

There are hallways
and there are rooms.
Roads connecting to homes.
Paths leading to villages.

Vacant spaces brining me to nowhere.

Veins are lines on a map,
we are more than just bodies.
We are unfolded pieces of paper
creased in the corners with relevant urge.
With crests and valleys composed of experiences
and dreams
and adventure.

I have yet to unfold.

Doors whisper,
they invite you in.
So many locks and keys
and treasure chests full of passion
of determination
of unwavering will.

I’m locked and no key has ever fit.

Footsteps are history in the making.
Artifacts.
Proof of the reason you stayed;
the reason you left.
The carved sand along the shore
making you wonder if they are running away
or going home.

I turn to only find my shadow.

Maps full
of all these hallways and rooms
and reasons
and unopened treasure chests.
Missing keys and ghostly whispers
before every door
and I begin to wonder
whether or not I was begging please
to the slurring headlights down the midnight road
or to somebody who could save me.

I wish I could say that I want to keep trying,
But I've honestly had enough.
I've said to myself many times before
If I can't take it anymore,
It can't be that hard to let go.

Shouldn't it be that way?

Well it's not.

You, my friend, have abrasive hands
And they are all over me.
I don't understand how you could be so blind.
I've pushed you away so many times,
I'm surprised your not cemented face first into the pavement.

I can't stand your lectures.
You speak as if I need to grab
The pen off the table and document every word,
You believe your morals need to be the bible for the people we need to live by.
That would be a cold sick world.

Your hard headed look on life
darkens the light that wants to shine.
Pathetic really because you do it to yourself.

So this time, I'm going to push away
And I'm going to do it hard.

The difference from every other time,
You won't even see it coming.
Because you won't even know I've done it at all...
Until I'm gone.

Looking at these fancy pictures
Wondering what it's like
To be on the other side.

Taking this step
Is just not enough.
Looking out into the night
Wondering what it takes
To feel alive.

Everyday it's the same thing
Pick it up and go.
Not thinking twice about
What it is that's being me down.
I run to the place.

Welcome to the kingdom.
No one dares to make it past
Our gates.
Golden thrones,
Silver swords...
We got it all.

And I say,
Welcome to the kingdom.

This bloodshed is long lived.
Ready for the fight,
Because we got something better than
Cold lies.

We got it good in this palace.
Decieving eyes,
Wild minds,
Steel built hearts,
Undefeated and strong.

Even when the darkness
Demands a war.
We smile,
There's nothing to wait for.
Not thinking twice about what it is
That can stop us now.
We run.

Here in the kingdom,
We bring them down.
Fire to ashes.
Here in the kingdon,
We bring them down.
Snow to ashes.

Welcome to the kingdom.

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.

Take her down to the city streets
And she'll follow the trail of leaves
Down to the trees,
Where she'll climb the branches until
She reaches the sky.

She'll jump onto the clouds  
and lay there until she splits into pieces
and rains down onto the towns
Where she's dreamt
Of sleeping.

You'll remember her down
By the rivers where the evergreens
Meet a golden sky
Because she told you to live in color.

And on the bridges where the cities meet
These rustic roads
You'll hear her whispers between the iron bars
Like magnets to a needle on a compass
And be confused on which way is home.

You'll follow the footsteps in the snow
To a door that's frozen shut,
And remember that her hands were always cold
When yours were always warm.


You had a heart when she did not.
Your pulses drove her home,
Where she hadn't been in quite sometime.

Walk him up the driveway
through the door
up into your room
and see what it is he really wants.

Look at him in the eye
listen to him
and try to speak
and see if he'd do the same.

Watch his heart
that he claims is broken
and be the judge
of whose fault
it really is.

Take him to the water
look into his eyes
as you test his memory-
he'll look away every time.

It'll break you're heart, but it was already broken anyway.
Because you would've let him in
knowing he doesn't know respect
he doesn't know silence
he doesn't remember you.

You'll suddenly realize
that you didn't love him to pieces,
you loved him in pieces...
while he never even loved you at all.

I just want to come home
to you clean.

One day your the one I need,
loving and the wall that holds me up.
The next day your a disappointment,
burning me with all that you can't be.

You used to be so good to me.
To everyone.

You shut down to alcohol
and drugs.
So you hid away.

You're a presence I can barely see.
A ghost when your in front of me,
a killer of the mind when your behind your walls.

Your battle has turned the house into a war.
Every single one of us on a different side.
I've been fighting for too long now.

We are waiting for your white flags,
to surrender to your own madness.

Until then, I have to wait here until you realize.
That your supposed to fight.
For me.
For your family.
For this life.

Or I can run.
Live the life I was meant to live
instead of wasting my time waiting
for your white flags.

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.

The anger relishes in my blood,
i'm heating up like
an exploding volcano.

You throw these sticks and stones
at my bones
pushing me further day by day.

You've got this gene
that I can't fix.
You're using all the wrong medicines.

How hard is it to listen to me?
I'm screaming, "You're hurting me."

The plates of these mountains
fall apart
with every tipsy step you take.
The man is trying to find
his worth in you,
the kids are screaming...
you're not awake.

You heart is a ticking time bomb.
You're using all the wrong medicine's.

I wasn't a crayon
or a pen
or a marker
or a highlighter
or whatever it was you used me for
to fill in your empty spaces.

I wasn't your therapist
even though I'm studying to be one
even though I've always wanted to be one
even though everyone else used me as one
but you were supposed to be different-
even said you would be.

I wasn't mendable.
I'm no puppet
I'm no object of manipulation
I'm no tool for your satisfaction
yet you assumed I was palpable
and your hands were everywhere.

I'm human
not a product of your imagination.
I'm my own color,
my own healer.

I am myself,
the self in which you never knew.

The self that ran away from you.

"If you have a goal without a plan, then it's just a goal. Without a plan... you will have nothing."

Maybe if I just sit here,
everything will fall together.
The places I'm meant to travel to
will somehow find its way to me.

Or those jobs or colleges I'm supposed to apply to,
will come to me without a call.

Maybe if I just sit here,
people will fall in love with me.
I will meet the one and
we will fight and argue but will love
eachother unconditionally.

Or maybe the rain will suddenly
be a friend to swim with
instead of drowning me,
burning me to nothing.

Maybe if I just sit here,
I'll suddenly understand how to live.
Without procrastination or avoidance.
I'll live with Fire and love and
shake the world with my touch.

But it won't happen and that's the worst part of it all.
Life doesn't wait for you
and it doesn't care if you can catch up.
Sometimes your left walking
with chains wrapped around your ankles
and a rope dipped in acid around your neck.
But the thing is,
You need to keep going.

As *painful as it might be
to lift up your leg that one last time
over the most pathetic obstacle there is,
just do it.
Because as much as that pain
will reverberate down your spine,
shackling your very floorboards...
It will surprisingly be worth it in the end.