Where I go to escape.

When I begin to feel my body broken to the core and my mind shattered into pieces, this paper serves as my bandage and the words serve as my scars.
Words are my escape. I could write till the world ends. I write poetry when the mood strikes and the words just flow and I, unable to control the way my fingers move loosely stuck in a beautiful trance. Whenever I feel I need to get the feelings out, my writings and rumblings are how I escape reality. The words are the little sparkling stars that people think I would not have the courage to express.

My pink journal, filled with words and phrases help me to escape the violence that is life and it becomes a sanctuary where life's troubles and woes slowly drift away. Where I go to escape begins in my bedroom.

In my "haven" there are no rules , I simply say what I want, whenever I feel. My canvas becomes my paper and each word a small fragment contributing to the final image. It has the potential to create beautiful things out of scrap pieces I call my emotions. My ideas pour out on me with the intensity of water flowing through a newly broken dam.

The place where no rhyming, metaphors, or similes are needed. Just thinking, breathing, living and most importantly, the words.

My escape becomes a lens as It is a way to see the world from a slightly different perspective. My escape is part of an expression . When my family and friends turn their backs on me, poetry says: " take a pen and paper and write how you feel." Poetry is my therapist.

Poetry, for me, is all my thoughts. My heart belongs to poetry. It is my confidante, my best friend and the one thing I can turn to when everyone is sick of me. I tell poetry everything; and poetry tells me nothing. I am dependent on poetry.

My escape on pen and paper, emotions poured onto a page because poetry says:  " what you feel is what you write, it helps to let it out." It is a perfect outlet for those who don't scream or like shout but rather engage in their silent cries.

My new favorite poet is a fifteen year old girl.
Margaret is clever it's astounding.
I knew youth was coming like this but usually when I saw it up close they we're just these maniacal computer wiz kids but this girl seems to party.
I hope she meets Alex Turner someday.
I hope she meets Andrew VanWyngarden too.
I don't know why, but I guess it's because they're dashing and she deserves the best.
I hope the world don't tangle her up too much and don't sit on her like a fat bully.
I know she can dodge it though and we need her and her vision of peace like a checkpoint.
My favorite new poet is a fifteen year old girl.
Shine on Margaret, light up the world.

I was going to write a poem
telling how beautiful you are.
but it would be an injustice to the world's self-esteem
to immortalize such concepts.

if I starve myself my bones will show
if I cut my thighs no one will know
theyll check your wrist for cuts and scars
but none will mend the broken heart.
ill pop the pills and die real slow.
quietly, so no one will know.