perhaps I was only a tribute to your pride
perhaps you sought refuge in moments of raw desire
perhaps the nobility of loving was too much to ask for.

Music is a refuge
A sanctuary
From the people looking down on you with disdain
From the worlds pain
From the people driving you insane
From the things worse than *******

From the people you can't trust
From the ones seeing only disgust
From the things you wish you wouldn't have discussed
From the moment you think you might combust

From the anxiety
From the peoples mood variety
From the bad notoriety
From the loss of sobriety
Music heals all

In the new land we seek refuge
there is no war -
Am I free from my life’s deluge?
My spirit contains many scars.

Though we have found an oasis
I’ve been left in a depressed state-
Cursed to be born into chaos
Is this my bitter fate?

The past becomes a faded dream-
Memories of fear and terror
Is no longer what it seem.
Yet is my life any better?

Painful past I wish to forget;
Mind represses all memories!

(c) Jo Swan

The eyes that follow.
Down the hall I deeply swallow.
Is something trying to hurt me?
What are they trying to tell me?
The eyes that follow just beyond my bedroom door.
Do I dare to follow in horror?
I feel dizzy.
Quick has something stricken me?
The phantom questions that are neither seen nor heard.
I dare to question every spoken word.
Am I among the living?
What am I seeing?
Apparitions appear to me.
They are sending a message apparently.
They infiltrated my mind, body, and soul.
I used to take refuge in my home.
Now everything seems different.
Tell me who or what sent this.
My body has been taken over.
All I hear or see my system can not recover.
The eyes that follow have not released me.
Now my feet have hit the ground fleetingly.
As I try to flee.
The eyes that follow so evenly.
I have finally made it out.
The eyes that follow will they ever find out?

leave to remain
stay to move on
tear down to build
some space to call home

make new reminders
keep a fresh store
full of faint memories
with room for much more

drink to old allies
drink to forget
laugh with new friends
shake off your regret

this is tomorrow
a brand new today
this is fresh start
you're welcome to stay

the story goes
that van gogh would eat yellow paint
in hopes that it would
put happiness inside of him –
probably the same reason
he drank absinthe.

i never understood that level of desperation –
except i painted my fingernails yellow today
in hopes that sunshine
would flow from my fingertips
instead of the torrential downpour
that i’ve made a home out of.

but it only reminds me of van gogh
and new york city
and you –
lots of starry nights

who knew you had the power
to make everything feel so grey in your wake?

if you think about it,
all of us have our own yellow paint –
something we cling to for refuge
even though we know it’s killing us, slowly,
the temporary solace feels worth it
if only for a moment

and you were mine.

- courtney l. p.