Full steam ahead, at last,
No journey into the past,
Solar flares with clues
To our lives, nothing to do with you,
Full steam ahead, Oh no,
More like steady as she goes,
On track for peaceful days,
Serene golden years is the way....

Life is a carousel......
Always going forward, never going back.

Existence is a hard thing to keep
when you stop trying. 

To live a life, you must want to live. 

To want to live you must find a way.

When all hope is lost you must stand tall. 

When all others retreat you must prevail.

You are the conscious inside your head.

You create your own destiny. 

Life is a very hard thing to keep 

when your life does not always
go the way you plan. 

Fight for your life and the right
to keep dreaming.
If you feel you were gifted,
share your gift. 
If you feel
you were cursed, fix it.
As you get older, your life
becomes a challenge. 

Who are you? 

What do you want in life? 

What will you be? 

What is your purpose in life? 

If you worry, these things
will turn into burdens. 

But if you hold on to them
in the back of your mind,

all of the answers will come in time. 

Life is a carousel,
always going forward never going back. 

Look to the future not to the past.....

I'm not afraid of the way we use to lay
All alone, in the dark
When we used to stay up late

Whispering, kissing, loving
Holding each others hand as we fall blissfully into nothing
Not knowing whether we’d wake up in this bed
Or in another book waiting to be read

We speak softly keeping our touches on the edge of our seams
Creeping ever so softly until we’re too tired to sleep
Your grip is tighter, your breath is heavy,
My heartbeat races, and we’re getting sweaty

When I lay with you I don’t wish to sleep
The touch of your waste, your lips, your taste
Watching the stars collide in the reflections of your glistening green eyes
Holding you is too nice to waste

The way your touch sends shivers down my spine
Like 10,000 hits of ecstasy molecules running through my mind
It trickles out my pours and into yours
Leaving you with the feeling of my glittery warmth

We cuddle, we hold, and we stop
Now Im afraid
Because now sleep is stealing us away
For tonight is almost done
But before we fall blissfully into nothing
I just want you to know a little something….something….

I feel you…
I want you…
I love you….

One thing they don't tell you when your older is how suppressed childhood memories will effect your life in small and big ways.

"I just haven't found the right guy," you think.

They don't tell you that once the two of you make it official, you'll leave within a week.

They don't tell you how once you kiss him, you can't even look him in the eyes anymore.

They don't tell you the gentlemanly things make you uncomfortable..

You'd rather freeze than let him give you his jacket.

You'd rather walk to your front door alone.

You'd rather open the doors yourself.

They don't tell you how his ***** hands will stop you from loving any boy.

They don't tell you that your father took your innocence at age 3,

but they sure as hell won't let you remember it.

If Jesus is the question,
What is the question?
Is it, let's say,
Youth disaffection?
Kids need to be taught to say,
"Back off' to drugs and bullies these days,
Jesus as a forever friend,
To wisdom their lives to wend,
How can we reach more of them?
In this modern, digital age,
Introductions need to be made,
If an issue, is, indeed,
Youth disaffection,
Is Jesus the answer to this question?

Pulling your blanket back on when it falls off in the night.
***** feet
and raspberry stained hands.
You, chewing on ice.
Me, sipping lemonade through red straws.
Moths that haunt the street lamps.
Dancing home alone,
ghosts that sing you to sleep,
old records on the table.
Riding your bike as the sun sinks sleepily at your back.
Being pressed up against the back door.
The seasons.
Winter.
Freedom.
Naked, terrible beauty.
Watching your back receding down the long, sunlit hall.
The two of us,
always running away from eachother.

Our Synaesthesia is for free,
Music is the muse for me,
In my blood, you see,
Images imaginary,
Elvira Madigan wakes to see,
Mozart play Mozart lucidly,
Swooner songs sound so silly,
Old rockers croon so vividly,
Funny lyrics in my brain,
Sounding a little deranged,
(It is hereditary
In my family)
Yes, Synaesthesia is for free,
Smurfette's songs, so silly.