Not knowing, where the universe begins
Or how far, the darkness extends
Can one know, where it actually ends

Poison Ivy.
I must admit, I always questioned your ability to reciprocate the love that I deserve.
History has it that your charm and poison has a way of shinning through to people just like the way you got me.

Poison Ivy.
What was it that lured me to you? I think it was the way you pulled me in. As gentle as a dove and as wise as serpent. With every smell, every touch, as innocent as they appeared you took my breathe away.

Poison Ivy.
Will my last words ever be as sensual as your first touch? Did my eyes light up as my adrenaline rushed? Poison, friendship, love.... these words have become mundane and such.

Poison Ivy.
Will you still care for me? Is it better that we’re no longer friends? Even after I’ve chosen to die  and become vulnerable for you?

I seethe within what echoes disdain for all things wanting, because I can't seem to keep what's there to begin with

The desire to purge prior prose and start from scratch beseeches my mind to scrawl what dire nuance calls my name, but I don't look it in the eyes

It's my demon; my voice that resonates deep within; the call of all things mired by fate-less whispers of what's more, or right

But I know, it can't be how I desire. What can be will only come when time sets right the means to seek it out; to reach for whatever may be reaching back at me

I can't move forward unless I know for certain what's there would not bring more desolation. I am a coward, but am I human? I ask myself that every waking moment

I crave nothing more than to be normalized and reverberate with twining string of fate that actually calls my name, not the sour tones of dissonance and disdain as before

I crave reality to be my own, rather than reality to own everything I can not

I seek, eternally.. I find nothing but light that touches the surface, but never does the sun actually rise.

Bring me to my own horizon, bring me fate, bring me peace..

I hope..

The clerk behind the coffee counter,
she stares out the window
onto the sunny street, lost in thought.
Her half smile on that young face
is an art exhibit of a daydream
about a possible future.
An old woman at a nearby table,
she stares out the same window.
Her eyes glossed over,
they indicate she's remembering
the good moments long past.
The coffee shop daydreamers
have much in common.

-Ron Gavalik

When it feels like you're fading away.
And no one ever stays.
How are you supposed to spend your days?
When all you wanna do is feel.
But maybe you should spend your time trying to heal.
How do you find something real?
When you think you're worthless,
And your life seems to be in remiss.
Should you just write off everything to be dismissed?
When all you wanna do is get up and get out,
But you're filled with too much doubt.
How do you find a way out?
No one ever has all the answers.
But life shapes you into the person you are and who you will become.
So have hope and try to live the life you've been daydreaming about.