She wanted to say so much
but....
thoughts rushed like rivers
she saved words in a jar
for another day

my soul is fragile. it slips into impending doom at the mere though you may be awake thinking about another. while i am stuck here like a cancer that cannot escape remission, your name plays through my head, it feels as though my eyes have become the lens that took this precious photo of you.

some may think this photo is nothing but a #selfie, unbeknownst to them, my fragile graceful hands pushed a button, which sent a message to you. the message you heard was the snap of a shutter, the message i tried to send through it was; no matter what you are doing, you are ******* beautiful.

in all the art i create, i try to procure the observers attention, i want them to take in, breathe and feel all the beauty around them. whether it is a girl in her early twenties who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, to a boy who feels as though he cannot be beautiful. i hate that line. if you re-read that line, it just doesn’t feel appropriate even as the writer of that line, because society has conditioned us into a mold.

well, wake up because nature isn’t taught that, just go look at the unique patterns of melting icicles during the afternoon of a mid-winter storm.

A pocket full of wishes scrounged,
From that jar hidden glistens,
Moss quilted over the with tight patterns
The way those words befallen like a tragic accident
Ridden of ecstasy, mirroring mirage scrubbed
Of the seedlings I planted in place of you,
And now the sun has weathered and water
Flooded the void crestfallen in my rib cage,
I see how ******* wrong I was,
The tree which have bloomed stands
Alien and distant, unlike the way I supposed to happen
These crisscrossing bones around my heart
Are not meant to be torn apart,
**** no, don’t you dare come in with a hammer
A key rests whisked away into oblivion
Maybe in that jar, a tiny glass jar
Hidden in rocks and soil,
Kisses of spring water and haze
Of pearly whispering fog,
Someplace far away
With the lid barely clutched to the lip
Roots have devoured the pretty lies
The glass slipped deep into the green earth,
So if you dare entire my life, dare step into this void
A void rattling, singing, cursing and barking of laughter
A void of paints and cold leftovers
A void of running feet and fleeting glances
A void bedridden of danger and ringing
Of the purest love and affection
To simply be, to breathe beyond the stitch of your sleeve,
I dare you, gather gander, smitten courageous one

I'll never forget our story
Because I'll always stare at stars
I'll forever keep our memories
In my Mason Jar

To a once close friend and a loved sister,

        I feel like I should miss you more than I do at this point in my life. I suppose after the year of drinking I have put us through, the 'us' I knew so well caught on fire and is now a pile of ash. I've managed to collect as much of it as I could before it was swept away, and I keep that in a safe place buried deep in the center of my heart.

        In those ashes are some of our fondest memories we spent together, almost always laughing and having a grand o' time, but now that all feels so distant, like it was many years ago. Sometimes it even feels as though I am remembering a great dream I had, or someone else told me a vivid memory that they shared with someone they called their best-friend, and I wanted a bond like that so much my mind convinced me it was really something I once had.

        It kills me inside to even think about how much I pushed you away but i'm doing what I can now to earn the right to even call you a friend. I know most of the time after this disease consumed my thoughts daily, and I moved out, it seemed as though I stopped caring about you and the friendship we spent our entire life building didn't matter anymore, but thats not the case. I can promise you that much. I understand if you chose not to believe me, because I am a liar, a thief, a cheat, an *******, but most of all an alcoholic. I'm in AA now to learn to change my ways of thinking and to learn what truly caused me to make the decisions I did. I know I need mental help, that much is obvious, and I did choose on my own to get sober and find the help I needed all along.

        My drinking after Chris left me increased drastically, to the point that I couldn't even get out of bed without being in morbid pain and shaking violently, unless I had alcohol to chase down my throbbing throat. At that point I had lost complete control of myself and I didn't really care about anybody but myself. At the same time though, from my understanding at least, you could've forced me to get sober and I would've received the help I needed and shown why what I doing was wrong, yet you deliberated chose not to. That says a lot to me, probably more than you realize. For I know if it had been you in the shoes I was walking around in, I would've used casey's law. You could tell just by looking at me that I was sick, and unable to change on my own. I literally was skin and bones and puked six or seven times a day, I know there is no way you didn't see that at least a couple of times.

        Knowing all of this brings tears to my eyes. It is the reason now why I still don't talk to you much, or really even attempt to keep you up to date with whats going on with me. Yet, at the same time, maybe thats just me being spiteful, I truly can't tell at this point. I do know I miss you quite a lot, but i'm not sure if i'm ready to look you in the eyes after all that has happened, at this point in time. I don't deserve your forgiveness but that doesn't mean I don't want to make amends. Maybe, someday in the future, we will call each other the best of friends, like we did when we were younger, and make more time for each other.

         Until then, I will carry those precious ashes in an air-tight jar,
                   with my chin up, proud of what they stand for.

                                                      -love your sister, the daydream girl

He told me that he is burning alive,
not literally, but inside. Said that he
feels palpitations every time he thinks
he might go back;

like his heart is a jarful of moths,

beating against glass.
I told him we are all breakable,
but that he is going to make it through.

He asks me if monks can really
spontaneously combust. I reply, no,
but they light themselves on fire.
It’s a way of protest. He says oh.

He then says, I want to protest

against Adderall, Cymbalta, and
Marijuana: he still can’t focus, still
can’t be happy, and being high is
a minor fix. I don’t know what to say.

We sit silent for a while. I ask him
what depression is like. He laughs
and says, it’s like a really drawn out
stubbed toe, only it’s in your head

and no matter how much you curse
you think the pain will only get worse.
It always does too. I just want to die.

The next day he scorched himself.
Someone called 911 and reported a man
walking out of a pawn shop

with a jar full of something dead

and then poured
gasoline over his head and lit a lighter.
I cried. I wondered if there were wings

still fluttering when he burst into ash.
He could have at least saved what little
flight he had left, what little life, for me.

She was like the wind, everywhere at once and suddenly not there at all,
She was madness, she was irrational, she was blinded by love,
She was passion in itself, her soul always one step ahead of her body,
She was the girl who always loved too much, always gave too much and always hurt too much,
She conjured up lightning with her words,
She spilled oceans onto pages and then drowned in the storm,
She was the dreamer who never really woke up,
Love was always just out of reach, laughter was always a step ahead of her,
She was madness, she was lightning and she was love,
"I must get my soul back from you", she said, "I'm killing my flesh without it".
She still lingers on, in between the pages of the Bell Jar, hiding in poetry that touches your soul,
She still lingers on, waiting for the day he returns her soul back to her so she can laugh in colors again.

A week and a half, a year before ship sails
Azalea path was already paved
Soon I found someone in the same state of mind as me
All insane of astrology, all insane of metaphors

There's this delirium episode going inside of me that made me
slash what carried me far to see if I could survive worse
even tried the continuum oblivion
till I dare my hands to drive me in to an atom collision

There are times when it wasn't all about wars
I spent it combusting to few places
When and where snow is an empire usurped by crippled leaves in the fall.
Fall, fall, fall
It was him who falls and leaves.

One night, or one day, I don't quite care
but that is when I got away
I ran with flames not yet ignited
I barricade the commotion out with flimsy threads, all I can think
Didn't even thought threads spread flames (if it's ignited)
(Well now it's ignited)
And someone caught up in it

I can still hear him even now
That's the end of my life
The rest is posthumous
talking me up