The glasses you peer over have lenses thick but entice the people you want to discover and do not change the fact you can stare into their souls.

Retrieve their hardships and feel them as your own.

Your words flow with truth even when truth is something you haven't been given opportunity to ever know.

There is beauty in a tortured soul and from that thrives like vines with tangled mind and suddenly you have managed to gain some mental control.

Auras of green yellow and pink like changing leaves that fall only when your internal seasons have to release the memories burst like a gust of wind craving to be exposed.

But this, my giving tree, is the beauty I need you so see and not dispose.
That when you write it's like planting an impact in someone's mind and allowing it to grow.

Smoke of cowboys killers and vices of late night talks and wonderful company. Have honestly helped me create the person I can allow myself to be.

The saddest thing I have seen was when you sealed that envelope. Put it in that mailbox and we drove down the road. Leaving behind your past pain from years of hindered hope.

As your story on your shoulder says you are always a free soul. And helped me discover the meaning of hope. And I want you to know how much you mean to me. That together we bind through our ideas of humanity.

You thought me to tap into my darkest through rhythmic repetitive jabs at my temples. And revived the only person I didn't know I could resemble.

So this family tree your now apart of can only be determined improved. And my sister is how now I'll always think of you.


Emily A. Grande

i live in a world
where honesty is not a mandatory escort  
and an unnerving love
comes like the ocean
waves that
break in inconsistent ripples
of blurred lines and hazy breaths
and the best moments are captured by
mental shutters, unwritten words and
erased by empty bottles  
its violent
but its all so pretty

I saw,
a man in a wheelchair,
carrying,
a stepladder.

another night with you consumed in my thoughts

I never really thought I could feel this way
and I'm somehow unashamed
of my want of you
of my craving

to think,
at home,
there's the sweetest of any man-
waiting for me?
I'm boggled
blown away

I want to grasp your hair
soft, pleasant, lovely
I want your hands on me
strong, skilled, hungrily

you just know how to woo me-
I'm getting breathless right now,
writing this
just thinking about your leg touching mine
and then my hand on your cheek
then my lips on your lips
and my pelvis on your thigh

oh god you make me
want to scream

your sly
sweet
eyes look me over
pleasantly
without greed
and I know
you want me
as much as I
want you

I hate PDA,
but I would kiss you anywhere

this is not intended to mean anything

I just want to clear a little space in my mind
I've been thinking a lot lately about how most of the time I'm living in yesterday, or tomorrow.

but never today.

why is it I have such a hard time living in today?

too much thought, not enough living.

This trust
Put in me
And put in others
Will corrupt her
And change the way
       she will be looked at
By her mother
The constant worry
And forever holding fear in her eyes
That she'll wake up and hear
"I wish I could die"
That she will wake up
And hear nothing
But the silence that will end her cries
And one night
       with a deathly quiet
That she'll wake up and find
Her blood all over the floor
Is it more
than what she had inside her before?
Was the pain so much
That she had to share it
That she had to wear it
And give it to her parents
And rumors spread around the town
Like a wildfire
And everyone prayed that her spirit
Lifted her higher
To a heaven
Where she could watch
The whole town perish
      and suicide spread
And tears shed in their beds,
Never had she realized before
That her choice
Would open up a door
For teens everywhere
Spreading blood on their floors
And they all joined in the angelic world
Thanks to that girl
That couldn't stand her life
As it ****** and swirled
Her through a roller coaster
As scary as Satan’s hell,
Everyone thought she was doing quite well...

Bathed in darkness and blue light from the monitor,
I realized I loved you,
danced with the black and integrated in ink,
I realized I loved you,
it wasnt until tonight when I say on my bed,
I realized I loved you,
when I held my breath during every pause,
I realized I loved you,
you are far away, but I watch the moon as you do and at that moment,
I realized I loved you,
I wanted to say it to you but the words slink and slide like my tongue has turned to sand,
I realized I loved you,
holding hands with my own fate and accepting the fact it happened,
I realized I loved you,
and I am alright with that.

Reading back through diary entries...
Old narratives of true love
Before pino noir and paychecks...

I've never felt so far from myself.

I've realized: Writing has become my profession, and no longer my pastime.