imagine building this story in your mind, the story itself is not the most important part, more so the time spent on every detail. You imagine its October and you are sitting on the back ledge of your lovers apartment, feet dangling  between the railing, with a cigarette in your left hand and a cup of something warm in the right. Imagine making enough dialogue for short film.

Imagine flipping through the four pages that had just been printed, neatly double spaced in bold black print, now imagine taking those sharp cornered four pages, crumbeling them into a mishsappen ball and dropping it carlessly into the trash. **I Make It Tough to Write

The clothes on my back...

I can feel them brushing against my skin~

The words of my family

I hear them flooding into my brain

Little flares of light,
I see them into a rushing blur
The responsibility of my age
Watching as the world turns to chaos

The clothes
They restrict me
Tightening
Groping
Strangling me all at once

The Family
They whirl around me
Words pouncing
Steps thundering
Conversations surrounding

Flares roaring
The sight
of the atomosphere...
Raging..........Sparking.......Lighting up
The storm of chaos...Pouring down..Winds of complete and utter colors whipping my mind into a blender. Everything becomes blurry, The stress from all the sounds, the color, the people, the lights, the feelings of clothes, remembering responsibility. Everyone telling me to CALM DOWN

HOW IN HELL am I supposed to CALM DOWN!!!!

My world is I flames BURNING IN MY BRAIN
THE FAMILY, THEY TELL ME I NEED TO CONTROL
CONTROL MY SELF!!! HOW!?!

I AM ON FIRE
EVERYONE, EVERYTHING
BURNING STRANGLING AROUND ME
EVERYTHING CRUMbeling around me,
my mind lumps together, turning to mush
my fingers becoming useless,
everything falls through the surface
as I leave the room
abandoning my responsibilities


The family thinks of me as a monster
I swore words in the form swords at them
All I wanted was the chaos to stop
All I wanted was to stop
the clothes to stop strangling
the light to stop rushing by
the words to stop pounding in my ears
the world,
I just needed it to stop..
Stop..

I am not a monster

I am not trying to be rude

I just wanted to breathe

I was just stressed.

Please
Don't think of me as a monster,
I do not mean to be.

I am just

Stressed.....

I live in a dying city.
With more for sale signs than inhabitants.
When walking through the streets i see no activity, no joy and no people.
This city has no malls, no gas stations, no schools.
When passing by the old buildings who used to house laughter and learning i only see the unmowed lawns and crumbeling structure. Yesterday i heard an ambulance.
Now there is one less inhabitant and one more for sale sign.
This city is dying, if we leave, it will be gone forever, if we stay it will die with us.
Im not sure the title, city, fits anymore.
I live in a place with small rows of houses and more for sale signs that inhabitants.
I live in a place where laughter is no more and where failure is written on the street names, i live in a place that is dying with no hope for resurection.
And no, it is not our fault, it is not your fault, we can not blame anyone for the deception our city has caused.
We live here, we stay here, and we will fight for our right to call this place a city for as long as there are inhabitants.
Untill all there is, is for sale signs, we will be living in this dying city.

Here I am again
trying to make you think
that i am fine
and well I am.
Except for one little thing...
I haven't touched another persons skin
in weeks.
And yes, I feel lonely
even though that loneliness might be more of a skin hunger.
You have no Idea how much I long
for a gentle embrace.
In fact I don't even know it myself.
The feeling is trapped deep inside of me
and I can only feel it
when my walls are crumbeling to pieces
and i am left naked in the dark.
But this feeling has been haunting me for years.
A strange obsession with vulnerability,
I just want to be held and cared for.
I want to be able to show you my naked soul
and I hope you will see the beauty in it.
I hope you will caress me
and soothe the deep longing in my heart.
But I can't even talk about that part of me,
it feels way to vulnerable
so poetry is the only way
to give it a voice.