there's only artificial light here

the house is reticent.
chants and seances still hang
mute in the air
while angels enrobe us
to prevent evil from entering
like the air that enters our lungs.

candles strewn
plastic dolls broken
stained walls
white wens entangle the clean
and "do not enter"
scrawled on each surface.

my curious eyes
tiptoe over the murky walls
pleading to make sense of it all.
pleading for clarity
of the spiders that crawl and breed in my stomach.

the silence is deafening.
i can hear the slugs feasting on her skin.
they reverberate off the prison's walls
causing mayhem.

arms protrude from
every creased corner,
petting my senses,
inviting me to stay.

she tells me to leave
in a voice rung with panicked chords.
but i do not hear her.

through a white window
streams white praises
much more white than the pale sky holds.
it engulfs the darkness and frightens the dead arms back into their private tomb.

we run from the house
only two frightened school-girls
afeared of monsters in the closet.
but the monster's cancerous eye glares through a crack
watching us
until we are where birds sing again.

"you were your mother's emotional tampon"

a boy.
with ne'er a chance to be a child.
you were her blood cloth
to soak up her impurities and insecurities.
and you were cheated
your daily ration of love.
in your words,
as a child in a child's body,
"escaped."
but you are still stained-
tainted.
putrid wounds severed with hate
and dressed with bitterness
consume the air with their filthy biting aroma.
you are still all of an abused child
in the body of a full grown man.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0S3OZzsiZoI

cont.

i am a cracked sepulchral.
broken in a rooted ditch for my worthlessness.
so calloused and selfish
that i mock your sores with my own.
no, forgive me, believe me, please come back to my life.
i am your daughter.
let me nurse you back to life.
to Abba.
our Abba.
he has never failed.

what kate said

charcoal fog.
charcoal absorbed in my fragile fingertips.
sounds of brooding.
an artist's arm making love
to the paper with half-moon strokes.
we come alive.
our insides exposed.
matted hair
plastic hair
on my head keeps me small.
while you tower.

there's a chaos in my whispering tonight

letters. captured smiles. ballads:
morphed to my stomach.
i want to kiss their papered faces
and sleep with them
tight to my chest.

wait!
what is that fire for?!

such red-orange invites me to parade into it with a passionate embrace.
but with a sting.
a scalding disaster.
i cringe away,
eyes darting towards the wood to hide.
i do not want to be the victim.
again.

my companion lites her documents aflame
singeing her fingers as her tears consistently quench the flame
until her keepsakes agonizingly whither and writhe.
none but a charred gray remains.
indistinguishable.

my baby!
that damnation will never lick up my child!

i cling to my treasures in panicked desperation.
"and if i can't tell you right now or i begin to cry-
i just have to say that i love you..."

"say..."

just syllables scrawled before their time is all.
an innocent kitten, my dear,
you were only an innocent mistake.

pasteurized molecules in the are thick,
weighted
with gasoline.
in which there is no algebra or physics or english or...
or purpose.
no purpose.

one day he may come back to me....

my companion's mouth shapes the words "your turn"

no.
there is no purpose in my action.

with faltering shaking fingers
a match is lit in my hand.
my hand.

a sickening turpentine smears over my mind and clarity.
as i lite.
and lite.
and lite.
and abandon my final clinging of redemption.

smoke rolls about like the tide
and envelopes my eyes with drugs
that hurt worse than the tears
turning gray on my cheeks.
angst and dying face paint
accomplish my demeanor.

we retreat from the sin.
the silentists left to our own demise.

gasoline leaks from my fingers
and into my nose
my brain
my heart

"fire can make a concience clean"
i struck the match to see.
but all it delivered was regret.

self conclusion in one simplified motion

she stores novels in shelves of her eyes.
chronicles.
i've read and penciled and quoted few
when almond doors were open.
yet brashly reach in at times
just as the iron doors close on my hand.

oh to spend the evening atop your roof,
dash the sealed window.
no...thank God.
there is a stamp to prohibit opening.

she spoke of feigned foreign things
how an angel bared her window.
despite desperation and torn fingers
she is alive.

not just another conquered mind in a bloodied body
for no resolution to counter such an ailing soul
and descend with clamor to cruel earth
like a dog
dead on traintracks.

if my guts fell they'd be cluttered

theres an anvil on top of my chest
and every piano note
graced into a chord
feels like its suffocating my life
and i wonder if i might take
the
next breath.
or if this melancholy will murder me.

my baby

if only you knew the burden you bear.
i could not live without you.
you are safety.

dont tell me im secure in the foolish

fateless machines
oiled clocked gears spin relentlessly in service
beauty less
utilized blacks. grays. off whites.

no....such robots have hearts.

they protect and warm me. my child.
enclose me. solidify me.

street cars in cold nights
vague murmur
escort safety and sleep

mother's shower time - i was curled outside on the rug
to be drenched in such faint tapping and draining
evoked peace and security

my back up against a drying machine
thumps of clothing circling unflustered
unhurried
taught me rest with a kitten and blanket
as the warm clean smell bathed me

osculating heaters
blessing my chilled boned flesh
with unexpected warmth
lulled to dreams.

dont forget me.

I am unwraveling unbearable empty. And if this ground gives way I just hope that you'll catch me.

I am overflowing with scar tissue and blue blood.
For the HOPE written on my fingers is a false cause.
Where are the orphans I've fed?
Where are the dragons I've fought?
Nought.
This encompased prison I constructed.
You can't rescue me, you ain't that stong.
When we both mire in pathetic guilt,
you're a fool to hope for redemption.

Foolish wretch I am.
Lady Macbeth ner'e more will be scoffed.
For I have superceded it all.
Unsex my self to rid all feeling.

My heart self inflicts decomposition.
Bricks of my body collapse in worthlessness.

Daughter wake up from your sleep

Trees rejoice with the wind here.
Hallelujah.

Today, the sky is in oils and acylics.
I am wholly mesmerized.
Partially it is old oil paints
That have decomposed
And become grainy and imperfect texture.
The remaining conciliatory is perfected by watered acylics
And hasty brush stokes resulting in scratches.

Ravens fly, evoking mystery.
Swaying, they correlate to the wind's placid tune.
Their black feathers tremble
And their bleak eyes haunt.

Knobby trees produce calligraphy
And jagged teeth.
Foreground of purples and oranges.

And He treasures me over all the earth.
I am at loss.

Robot

Robot robot
Please don't cry
I know they lacerated your head away
Ripped out your appendages
Before jerking full your arms and legs
And mounted you upon the yellow wall
Opened you up so all would see
Your sprawling guts
Covered secretly
LAN LAN
Please don't cry
I see they keep you numb
And ignore your sad eyes
I know that you are not valued
For human but rather for
Your utility
So robot robot
Please don't cry
You're my best friend
In this room
With your yellow insides
Cluttered

Clarity [is gone]

Surpassing the limit at 70
And thoughts of you unceasingly haunt
What I would give for you to pilot
Us out of this forsaken anything
Deep gray speaks the sky
Clouds never lift for clarity
Only muddled thoughts that moan in brown water
Misunderstand depression
Death Cab repeats repeats
Orchestrating my scattered thoughts
If onlys
Wont leave me be
It is only 7:23

To: A best friend

Andy.
I've discredited you far too often.
I've thought you to be one who pleases the masses,
One shallow and dumb.
I was at great fault for such.
You've proven me wrong through years of discussions.
Every pretension of men that I think, was broken or mended by you.
I expected you to be the first to leave.
Oh, contradictory, you have not, and promise you never will.
You are not gratuitous, and for that I am thankful.
Never do you pretend, and you're so awful at hiding your feelings.
But no one looks down on you for your honesty.
Rather, they appraise you for it. For your truth.

Brother.
Unnumbered, the things we have seen.
Standing side by side, gazing as the world tears itself down and then rebuilds.
Galloping after dreams that disappear like stars when morning breaks.
Mourning, but able to kneel before setting out again.
We've owned a fair share of quarrels and misunderstandings,
But a bond of the same goal knots us together as if we were blood.
Amidst our failures, after our Lord do we seek.
In these calamitous days when the sky dismounts,
And those we trusted got scared and run,
Seasons when to our parents we smirked,
And pushed through barbed wire gates without knowing why-
Somehow our alike love and need of the Savior has kept us from certain death.

Friend.
You are an answer to prayers I did not know I pleaded.
God knew I could not live alone.
God knew I needed a friend so strong.
One who “weeps with those who weep,
And rejoices with those who do rejoice.”
One who teases me without avail and throws snowballs in my face,
But in the same breath reminds me of my worth.
One who does not lead me astray,
But encourages me to live a life of purpose.
I am unable to thank you sufficiently.
Just know, I am forever grateful to God for you.
“Sometimes I'm a selfish fake, you're always a true friend.
I don't deserve you cause I'm not there for you,
Though how I wish I could be.”

she was right handed...i could tell.

she was right handed...i could tell.
seven black red scars formed perfect lines from her wrist up on her left arm.

when first i saw her i was baffled as to why one so young should take upon her the mundane sweaty work of papa johns pizza. as i watched her still, i gathered that by her maturity and familiarity with the labor, she had to be older than the twelve i imagined her to be.
then i saw the scars.
my mind went a'reeling as my eyes immediately diverted to the floor.
gradually, out of curiosity, they lifted again.
why?! what happened to this child?
she was not exactly ugly. rather, she was somewhat beautiful. she had a mass of spiral curls held flat under her papa john's visor. she wore cutoff shorts to the knee and crocs with white socks. her eyes were brown. no. they were not brown. they were azure and sea foam. they were happiness stomped out. they were love hidden. they were dull and crumbling and decomposing in a casket.
"may i help you?"
i wanted to say that she could. she could come in my car and we could drive to a park and swing on the swings and talk. she could tell me why, the whole story, why she went through hell. she could cry, sob into my shirt. she could slap me for my ignorance of hurting people. she could scream until her throat bled. she could show me the razors or knifes or pieces of glass she used, and where she kept them so no one would see. she could show me everything she'd written in her blood.
but that didn't happen.
i said i was picking up an order for hannah smith and she gave it to me and told me to have a nice night.
i wanted to tell her jesus loves her. i wanted to tell her i love her. i wanted to tell her how beautiful she is. i wanted to tell her i was praying for her. i wanted to tell her i would never forget her.
but that didn't happen either.
i smiled kindly and told her thanks, you too.

Sepia-toned Outcast

There were to be stars falling all night.
This was the excuse she reasoned, while her quiet stocking feet sled down the oak stairs. Creeping out, feigning the cringe of the swollen door, she stalked out into what felt like endless black. The grass was wet, and she was poorly clothed, but she reclined nevertheless. Immediately, the dank was felt through and through. Touched but not felt. She was far to cold inward to acknowledge nature's greeting.
Someone had lied.
There were no stars. Only colorless clouds that hid Sky. In her narrow patch of vision, encompassed by trees, she made out the sepia gray tone of the night sky. Somewhere across the street an orange streetlight was humming.
It was very loud. The crickets and frogs and bats and birds all made chaos with their cacophony voices. There was no silence.
She rolled to her side. Then face down. The little cold she could feel felt good on her wounded legs. The grass smelled of reality. The green side of it. The greener side of it. She thought to herself how she wouldn't mind laying this way for the remainder of her life.
Father should be arriving soon. Maybe she could fall asleep or die, so that he might love her once afraid of loosing her. 'He doesn't even like me.'I wonder if he could care. No, probably not. Probably scream at her for scaring him and keeping him awake looking for her. 'All the better reason to die,' something nearby but far away kissed. But that was nothing new.
To die would be to take the easy way out.
And there were still no stars.

to:

no resolution.
im fine.

weary of unrequited emancipation.
neon green drones 'exit' sign ahead.
i dont give a damn
where i flee.
into anothers rough embrace
or loneliness acropolis.
so long. writhe write right away from you.
i dont want

no resolution.
im fine.

glassy

it is quite simple, really.
love is opium.
addicting. sucks life-trust after injection of numbing feeling.
like a bat.
i am the victim.
unaware of decomposition.
until red-violet emits from my
sea-green eyes.

tonight

"you will never know what you have done to me"
"i guess were all in imminent danger"
"is this heaven or is this hell"
"forget love, i just want you to make sense to me tonight"
"my eyes are black and charcoal theyre so imperfect"
"i am the fast sinking anchor"
"you are the scar on my tissue that i show all of my new friends"
"build me a home inside your scars love, its the only place i ever will belong"
"take me anywhere, wherever youre going, because nobody wants me here"
"heaven knows im just trying to find a cure for the pain"
"ive spent ten years trying to sing these doubts away, but the water just keeps falling from my eyes"
"ive been learning how to die"
"its like a thousand paper cuts soaked in vinegar"
"im leaving today, is what you said and i turned and walked away"
"we all learn to make mistakes and run from them...with no direction"
"the hardest part is letting go"
"it hurts it burns it hurts it burns it hurts it burns"
"every little kiss and grin you gave was just a little bullshit that i saw through"
"i let myself be taken just for the thrill"
"youre a dirty rotten liar"
"you painted me in pastel....so weak so little purpose"
"i should have turned back i should have known better rather than to walk away defeated"
"life is pain, highness"
"there will always be unkind people"
"i miss who we were"
"i cant take you this far"
"she is beautiful, but she didnt mean a thing to me"
"step one: light me on fire step two: walk clean away"
"my mind tells my heart i told you so i told you so"
"tragedy seems unending im watching everyone i looked up to break and bending"
"the skies are gray and its all i see"



"i cant help but love you"

My Own Caterbury Tale

I, Deirdre, will no longer to Kate be slaved,

As flight of a white owl, I will flee this disheartening cave.

With parting kisses and suffered adieus,

I will depart with my patched sack and rapture anew.

To halls of ivy will I there find relief-

Acquiring fine knowledge of art and literature that I seek.

Until the bright when alive come impelled dreams

In a London artisan central will I breathe.

Educating those the arts which we both so love,

As my journalist's pen will etch words not yet tongued.

One day to find him whose amour yet unsurpassed,

And abide together always, that our plans may never cease to amass.

I am adamant to fly, yet chained to a tree,

To see the world, to understand, please, let me go and be.

“I am growing tired of bedside resolve. Public display of depression.

And I grow tired of writing songs where people listen but never hear what's really going on.”

Myself in song form

"The Artist"
Hush Sound

I know that you're an artist,
you're the hardest one to deal with.
Everything that you conceal
is revealed on your canvas.

You find all of your ugly meanings
in the things I find beautiful.
Do you see the fall is coming?
Come, I'm falling into you.

You perceive all of these things
I'd never have known.
Love, will you turn off the lights?
'cause we're already home.

You painted me in pastel,
colors that don't tell of any boldness.
That's the way you'd love to see me:
so delicate, so weak, so little purpose.

But your eyes are drawn of charcoal
they're black, they're so cold, they're so imperfect.
Because they see a sleeping world,
where waking isn't worth it.

You perceive all of these things
I'd never have known.
Love, will you turn off the lights?
'cause we're already home.

How, how, can you live without your lies.
Oh, oh, love I've had enough of you tonight.
All of these things I'd never have known, oh.
love will you turn out the lights 'cause we're already home, oh.
You perceive all of these things
I'd never have known, oh.
Love will you turn out the lights,'cause we're already home, home.

me, Raindrop

"girl, you are like summer rain, soft, and warm, and delicate. and i am a foolish boy, trying to catch every drop of you on my tounge. but theres just too many, and i can't get enough."
i am fallen of Father sky.
i am the grieving tears of old men clouds.
i am life.
purity.
joy.
i am death.
filth.
sorrow.
i am too much.
i destroy what has been precariously planted in the hot sun.
i am not enough.
i kill the innocent because i do not give of myself.
i am soft and warm and delicate.
i am biting and cold and brash.
i maim fragile butterflies so they never again fly.
i provide that glorious sound echoing on the rooftop that makes orphans smile.
you can't catch me, i can't even catch myself.
"if you can't find yourself how can i expect to find you."
you will never get enough of me, i am incapable of allowing it.
you can't capture me without deriving me of my purpose.
"you can't rescue me, you aint that strong."
you cannot depend on me.
for i cannot be trusted.
this is my fate.
and all i have ever know.

my Spark

she is an oddity.
separate from the whole, and would give her very life to fly opposite of trite normal.
she is hypnotizing illumination.
radiant, reminding all of her glorious Father.
she is the one that even babes comprehend.
she is the one that no one understand.
she awes with her beauty and ability to soar above all, swirling upwards to calligraphy like midnight dogwoods.
she is feared.
untamed.
fatal.
evaded because of the painful singe of reality she uncannily bestows.
she spirals freely downward, all aglow and joyful.
parents pull their children away.
she descends on hard cracked earth for a breath.
so incandescent, though on our level.
then she is stomped out.
not only killed.
murdered.
after all, she is an influence.
she has potential so much to set our universe afire.
to incinerate the dead and superficial.
she is never sought after.
no, she will burn you, nothing more.
only by other sparks is she loved.
because we understand.

This hurts me more than I can stand to say in just one sitting

I don't know how to handle myself. This unsurity and pain is so prevalent, always creeping around the corner. I even find myself literally running from it. Like I can't stay in the same place for fear my demons will find me. I want to be free, yet am far too proud to hide. So I skip away. The kind of skipping done when in fear. It satisfies everyone, but my heart palpitates inside with terror. I apologize if I fly from you. It's all I know how to do at this point.

"I'm going away for awhile, but I'll be back don't try and follow me."

Yellow Butterfly

Small child so innocent is she,

Breathing vivacity.

To all in mind and voice akin,

Flitting Saffron wings.

No fear, nor war. Helios good reign.

In oblivion, sing.

Till Nortus dooming plague befalls-

Hail maims Saffron frail wings.

In clamor did lurk Black spiders,

Hands made for youth seizing.

Hoisted to their living Hell,

Trembling Saffron vain wings.

Writhing without relief – their mass.

Lusting the good to scream.

Monody chants, greedy claws rip,

Red, once Saffron – slashed wings.

Away is all! Vulnerable.

Death in the hour beats.

And she is doomed as 'fore rebirth...

Downfall – Saffron, her wings.

Abject

"It makes me sad to see you sad. Always sad."
-Mother

I don't understand.
I feel I can't be any other way.
But I can write. I can paint. I can breathe.
I'll endure, and I'll survive.
I just need to get out of this town.
Somewhere I can use my wings.
Instead of being ashamed of them.

Too much for pretty

You preach to me how to be beautiful.

Sexy and seductive. Rare china devoured by bulls.

You shape my eyebrows to arch like the backs of angry cats.

Peirce holes in my ears so I may adorn showy jewels.

You sell me paint for highlighting,

Because my face for your taste is much too trite.

You give me tools to guise already dead cells.

To either straight or curl - hair steams like hell.

You needle ink into my skin to identity spell.

Because a voice in the crowd is a shame.

You give me sharp razors to carve away black hair

The cream meant to protect streaks down my calves like blood.

I've acquiesced it all.

Violet

Under sea-green eyes are carved black hollows.
In some petrifying morbid way, they are captivating and eerily breathtaking.

Those onyx half moons are possessed by an anemic gorgeous little doll.
She has refused rest for the night's entirety, and now the moon has been eaten by her lover, the sun.

Ten fragile fingers bear her countings of the world's shameful problems.
They wane heavy, until they fall to the floor with ten flicks of a knife.

She used to draw the perfect eyes of those she loved.
Whether blinded, delighted, glass, or wooden.

But no longer can she let irises know of her love.
Her fingers are gone.

But the earth's pain still weights.

Daddy's Promise

My minuscule craft trembles with the water's lap.
You slide it placidly away from safety beach.
My poor boat and I are frightened by the sound of water's slap.
You will never leave me.

As far as my broken eyes can attest there is no element but water.
I am overwhelmed by terror of concepting no safety, my mouth has not reserve and only can scream.
In panic I dash my oars into dark waters, I am after all, Your most ruptured daughter.
But You will never leave me.

My fingers are unceasingly pricked with glass,
My bones raw bleeding, infested with sin fleas,
My voice a nervous dagger or forlorn and dumb.
My Elohim, You will never leave me.

Dear Father you whispered hope in my head,
But content in my misery, I heard no plea.
Laying tortured. Futile in my stead.
Dear God, please promise You will never leave me!

One reticent evening I beckoned the wail of my most lovely brother.
Awakened was my mind from it's stupor vicinity.
No longer for myself but for him I will comfort.
Jesus...You will never leave me?

Only by Thou might I come to myself.
Only by You may I his soul appease.
Rescue us together from our created hells.
I know You will never leave me.

I trust You.
I trust You.
I trust You.
You will never leave me.

Goodbye my friends, I may never return,
But I am assured of one promise He brings,
It will until my journey ends, fiery burn,
My Daddy, my God, will never leave me.

God uses satire. A mess in the skies to portray the mess on this earth.

*10/22/09
I think God decided to be Jackson Polluck today.

attesting angst

my heart hurts today.

this frail body cannot enclose such a massive tsunami.

and my tears only know how to give me away.

my tears and my sad silent smiles.

they give me away.

i'm drowning in rivers from my face

monday october 19, 2009
[3:48 PM]
my converse are falling apart at the seams.
they are replacable.
you are not.

[3:49 PM]
a white moth disappears into vaporous clouds.
i wish i could be her.

[3:50 PM]
a tiny blonde of four years toddles by with her classmates.
she smiles.
"you look like a monster."

[as of late]
i feel like one.

Conduent

I want so desperately to save you. To pick you up from your grave. As you are buried alive. Screaming face down in shards of shattered contaminated glass.
And hold you to my breast. Comfort you. Hold you until your sobbing ceases. Until your lifelong nightmare relents.
I would take you to my sanctuary. I would lay you gently in my bed. I would keep your viciously frozen body warm with mine.
But I can't. I am incapable. Not allowed. By others and myself. Even if I could plow through every opposition, I could not rescue you.
I am no savior. I am not the one you seek. I did not give you breath. I can not hoist you onto my shoulders. You cannot fall in love with me.
I beg of you. I BEG OF YOU. Plead Him for salvation. He is the only one...the ONLY one in whom you have any chance to be rushed from this most certain horrendous death.
I can only take your large hand in my small one. I can only be the sight for your gouged eyes. I can only be a mediator. For the most perfect of mediators.

"If you love him let him go."

stop it

fight until you have no more feeling.
youre insecure.
i understand.
but can you not love around the bush?
you dont even notice when my voice cracks
and my face puckers with pain
and i cry
and i run from the room to my frigid sanctuary
and all i can do is write my aching
until it goes away.

it hurts

it's like:

my ribcage being snapped apart piece by piece
an addict's withdrawal
touching warm skin but feeling dead man's bones
watching helpless as my brother accepts a scourging from demons
fingernail in my iris
raw hunger
my brain matter being unraveled and excreted through my ear
a door. i wish i would have opened. i wish i wouldn't have.
my stomach constructed of paper
my organs make shifted of snake skin
scars on legs
bleeding blisters
falling apart neatly so i will be no trouble when packed away in a pretty little box

that's what it's like when i cried for you last night.

my adopted one

my dearest most tender kitten,
these fragile bones would ache without you.
all day long i would go on knighting pseudo-esque, but you...you unshackle me.
you nudge me towards the edge of the limb, begging me to fly.
begging me to use my wings.
and mind.
and heart.
and sense of smell.
you are not afraid of my tears, and you hold me like the child you never had, the child you wanted, if only to take away her pain.
my sweetest blue lighthouse,
igniting the path which i should inhale.
guided to the way by the glistening wet on your face,
your soothing touch,
and your innocent brown doe eyes.
doll eyes that anguish to feel and moan for assurance.
but only remain cold.
and dead.
inanimate and
frozen by the imminent choice on blood.
where is your purr?
where is your heartbeat?
come, curl in my lap, and sigh.
i stoke your head,
memorize your features,
kiss your brow,
and whisper consolation.
you are beautiful.
so unbelievable beautiful.
how can they not see?
how can they harm my little sparrow,
when she lives and dies for them?
then your eyes leak salty water that floods my chest.
it seeps into my shirt, into my heart, out of my soul-windows.
let me rock you to sleep baby adelaide,
my little girl with pleading brown eyes that never was told just how noble and good she truly is.
my adopted anything.
shhh.
shhh.
you are safe here.

10 minutes

i posses exactly 10 minutes in which to list each aspect of life that i may give thanks to God for this morning.

black skies
open curtains
rain that never ceases
my bed that induces comatose
rich fragrant coffee
anberlin
relient k
jon foreman
yellow wires
calligraphy-like trees
pink headphones
purple arm warmers
my deposing writers notebook
eden
black eye liner
sketchbook
God putting me out of my comfort zone by sending me to Grace
trustworthy teachers
mrs. beal
psalms
mariella my ford focus
untitled my nikon
people that clean up everyone's messes
college fairs
being different
God making me exactly the way he did
swingsets
roller coasters
the smell of gardenias
mom's hugs
doctors who can fix broken knees
salvation
sammy frye
rachel
carrissa
flowers that grow in the winter
big sheets of paper
english homework
english period
yearbook
being homecoming designer
scholarships
being able to work hard and excel
my brain
my heart
chase moureau, and all he put me through
my past as painful as it is
my God who has never given up for me
the bell that just rang

but a child

parks are safe places. once inside, the mind can retrace.
my tiny hands were full of fear, but grasped the massive jungle gym for sweet life.
that ridiculous spring horse was my best friend. until it hurt me. i never thanked it for the toothless grin i bore. never forgave it either.
a screeching swingset that i sang on. that i learned to fly on. i would watch my feet soaring in front of me, touching the trees and then breezing the sand. over and over.
and the wind. it always carried the scent of bluebirds and icecream.
i remember.
and i am not too old to smile like a child.

blue

you grew up just a little too fast.
you were without choice or say. you were forced.
and i hate him for that.
i hate him for leaving you. confused. and aching.
i hate him for his hugs. hugs that were suffocating and bruised you purple.
i hate him for enforcing your silence and cooperation. for so long.
for so long, the world was lacking of your gorgeous heart and intelligent mind. your little girl eyes.
so now you sit at the foot of playground slides, afraid of the terrifying rush they promise. and you stare into the pool infinite blue and wonder why its a grown woman...not a small child that stares back.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qGNmJr7s2Q

feels so much like falling

confusion is wrapped about me like a hooded shawl.
i pause for one moment and feel it's thick weight blanketing my shoulders and its intimate warmth.

unsurity drags me like a leash.
in our mad world my dog barks and leads me foward with it.
when i slow i can feel the suffocation of my choke chain.

insecurity is likened to feet on the edge while eyes are put out.
never knowing.
never ever knowing.
while the only sound to be heard is grimy pebbles trickling down the ravine.

mayhaps it was wise of me to retain hold of my heart.
perhaps it won't hurt so bad when i fall.
if i fall at all.

or i will continue living. wearing my shawl, pulled by my leash, with my feet on the edge of a canyon.
waiting.
for the shove.

i am but a tiny dove

oh, tiny lonesome heartbroken dove,
i will save you.

birds of every nation sing with bravado and hop around with curious eyes,
every so often directing a glance to the sweet silent dove trembling in the corner.
they could never comprehend her agony, her confusion.
she is cold and exposed.
she is flaunted in an enormous glass box.
displayed for all to criticize.
to accuse.
she gracefully turns her face downward as little dove tears trickle on her breast.
i will save you.

i would carry you to a place of sanctuary.
of solitude.
you would have room to grow
to breathe
to exist.
i would never cage you, only show you what love is as you dream in my lap.
i will save you.

we are the same.

evil spun a web beneath my kitchen table

ring around the rosey pockets full of posey ashes ashes we all fall down
let the children sing
let them sing of what they do not know

as four wise grandfather longlegs tremble and creak in a conspirated snare
trapped by their own medium of death
hissed lies
deceits
prejudice
malice
they are withered like cracked bones
and crumpled like rejected love letters

their younger brother howls in glee over his feast of disparity
laughs and weaves his web
laughs and binds them with sin

weaving
laughing
binding
sing children sing

sing

Simplistic Stubbornness

My sword and shield are become too heavy.
I lowered them daily until I finally threw them in a foaming river,
And I picked up a trig to battle a fire-breathing dragon.

I know it's asking alot, but I need my armor back, because I cannot withstand this pain.
Will you do fetch it from the river?

And you smiled.
"Only if you will allow me to wield it for you."

"That is all I ask."

Non-fiction.

She simply stood and breathed in dumbstruck awe.
Before her lay a breathtaking field of pure white cotton.
Cotton that gave birth to black and white doves. Cotton that laughed and sang and was one with the wind. Cotton that gave freely of itself to warm you on chilled October evenings.
It smelled wonderful and fresh like a babe. It smelled sensual and luscious like tingling passion. It smelled...
Like blood.
White beautiful bodies spill over with putrid blood. As
Peaceful doves placidly beat their wings through the motionless air.
This is heaven.
This is hell.
This is a graveyard- an ancient minefield.
The cold bodies once had vivacious souls that danced betwixt the mines. Danced because of their love
Flitting
Inward
Outward
Twirling
Circling...
Circling...

and then

CRASH



and a foot was gone
and an eye was gone

and yet they continue dancing.
continue as body parts are ripped away by shrapnel and lead.

and they spend their existence on the idea of raw love.

She is gapes in reverie.
A small black dove whispers quietly,
"Do you want to dance?"

Glass Bird

Glass Bird

She chained herself within a cage- glass bird.

Adamant to heart and mind save- glass bird.

Love is a hoax. It shatters dear darlings.

Recluse rather than bare refrain- glass bird.

Broken voice. Pseudo smiles. Pretentious bliss.

Apathetic to grieveless grave- glass bird.

Alas, bloody broken reflection glimpsed

Sparrow to miser vulture breaks glass bird.

Disgusted. Disdained. She bound up her mouth-

Life's penance. Pallor pink to gray- glass bird.

Her despair repulsed those apocryphal friends.

Shattered; charity clings one fray- glass bird.

Vagabond glimpsed the child in filthy tomb.

He quietly speaks to allay glass bird.

She shakes at his voice yet pleads to be saved;

He longs her soul to assuage- glass bird.

To rescue her he would himself will pain-

His love risk her flying away- glass bird.

I would breathe his comfort and sing once more.

In rough warm hands Deirdre will stay, glass bird.

It would be a miracle...

Psalm 1:3
He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever he does prospers.

Can you do that with this broken bird?

terrifying void

why have you rendered me desolate?

i am swimming with searing arms and yet my lungs shrivel with the water's choking flow into them.
i am running barefoot on glass and bottle caps and oyster shells. running to my doom.
i took flight from an ignited sycamore, but my bones are splintered like decayed wood.

i scream in agony and terror.

WHY?!
WHY HAVE YOU GONE FROM ME?!
YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED NEVER TO LEAVE ME NOR FORSAKE ME!

But the Heavens remain reticent. So I paint myself black. Who am I kidding?

new found

writing is my new found freedom.
photography is my new found passion.
love is my new found scarecrow.

Blue Eyes

"Then I drew your eyes very blue, and I stuck them on my fridge."
-JayMay

Will we survive?

Cleanse us with your tears

Clouds are old men. Hoary pure heads with soiled feet. They have seen so much. They have ambled the heavens, shuffling in our selfishness, our prejudice, our greed, our malice. The aged sages wander above, always reticent. Days, weeks, months pass below the seemingly placid skies. Until the old grandfathers cannot bare our wrongs any longer. They mass together and mourn for humanity. One leaks an anguished howl, another sheds a tear. One by one, pity engulfs them and they cry.
We on earth shake our fist and curse their overwhelming grief. We are drenched and late to work.
And the eternal clouds continue their tears until their existence is spent on sorrow of man.

self explanation (unprovided)

i trod.
and see myself
in the
shattered pavement
dead summer leaf
final raindrop
lonely dandelion
unconsidered moth
crooked brick
dirty cloud
sidewalk shadow

no mystery i cannot explain myself.

slumber

circling like a vulture.
threatening to snatch Day's laughter and mirth.

alighting as a dove.
winged and peaceful with a soothing coo.

smothering like a hawk.
crushing talons hold a terrifying grip on
the eyes of it's prey
bereft of light till Morning come.

a soldier

war.
diverted you.
now absent for the noblest of aims.
the exhausting battle of the mind.
return only dead or alive.
i am alone with a farewell embrace waned chill.
my handkerchief trembling in the wind.
it whispers.
"do not forget me."

the tilted umbrella

me.
i am a shelterer.
hold me
and i will endure the storm for you.
trust me
and i will hold your grief upon myself.
i will suffer pain so you may live and love
in peace.
i have been shelved.
in a dim closet.
afraid.
i am not your favorite toy.
i am not your preferred emblem of happiness.
i remind you of darkness.
of devastating floods
and black
and sadness
and death.
you must not spend time enraptured by me.
i can only drag you down.
but when the thunder claps in harmony
you reach for me
and off we go.
i am happy.
you are happy.
but once again i am a disappointment.
what i was created for i cannot do.
i am tilted.
bent.
crooked.
and the rain splashes down upon your face.
the passersbys shake their heads.
the other umbrellas remain erect
with smirks.
they are able to take the day's beating.
but i
i am imperfect.
weak.
vulnerable.
you will find a new one.
i knew myself wise not to name you my best friend.
i cannot trust you.
for i cannot be trusted.

to my bluest doorknob

you've no idea how greatly you have enriched my life.
grant me explanation.

previous disclaimer: we are not the same.
you.
you offer life
escape
rest
adventure.
you offer all this to whomever will take time to see you and open you.
the greatest of treasures you hold.
you part the waters to reveal an unknown dimension of the earth.
you are unselfish.
you stop not the weary traveler to stand at your door.
you urge them entrance.
you give them life.
you are free.
freely giving and receiving.
no lock.
amongst millions of doorknobs
you pride uniqueness.
blue.
blue like the undying sky.
blue like tranquil waters.
blue like depression.
you are slightly rusted
and scratched.
only further proof of your kind endeavors
and ability to once again trust.
you are a guessing game.
a mass of contradictions.
a beauty.
you are a library.
an art studio.
a concert hall.
an enchanted forest.
a hug.
you
are a giver of life.

much adoration and love,
the tilted umbrella

curse

my eyes lie.
my lips lie.
my heart lies.

the pen anchors my hand.
my fingers etch words.



i cannot lie.

In Spite of my Alexithymia

My mind is void of eloquent words.
My heart is stoned by accusing slurs.

Alas, my voice is of one moaning in the bright of day,
Crying from the feat that acidly devastates.

How may I state this? I have hoped you saw through my games to the truth,
But now my heart capitulates for the agony your heart is sure to spew.

I am merely a wounded sparrow, striving to fly,
Under the loving gaze of your watchful eyes.

You outstretched your arms in a broken plea,
But still a cage, not freedom, I perceive.

I cower away and seek safety in solitude,
Oh, and yet you pursue!

I ache to open my mistrusting heart, and beg you to stay!
I wish to scream, "I NEED YOU!"...oh! I hope to God I am not too late.

Now. Tis only myself and the truth.
I will tell you at last the terrifying truth.
I love you.

Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

Lunch is the most depressing half hour of the day.
I can tolerate teachers and homework and exams. I can giggle at the antics of my classmates that never fail to get them Parkered. I can embrace inspiration gained of intelligent class discussions.
I can subsist.
Yes, endure, and possibly even let my heart regain lightness.
Until lunch time.
I loathe it. I cannot escape it.
The all-determining clock shouts 12:25...and I cannot face it with bravado.
The hour in which one gathers with those they hold dear and talk and laugh and eat. I find that whether with a group or otherwise...
I am alone.
I cannot find my place, and the sticky atmosphere grasps my words and throws them to the hard tile, where they never fully reach the ears of my acquaintances.
I belong only in solitary.
Perhaps I am no more than a pompous snob, intent on bestowing no favorable glances on those not worth of my favor.
Like a spiteful queen, damning anyone deemed unworthy of my pursuit into my self proclaimed inferno of antipathy.
Yes...I am a nasty devil of a queen.

Paradox of Bothersome

Math is my study of affliction.
Numbers muddle interchangeably simply to inflict confusion upon my brain.
My, how I am taken aback that on this day I should persist after them!

I pray I am not becoming a skeptic, but I must say throughout the day I have been in pursuit of number meanings. Repetitious ages and times, furthermore, anything deemed important.

One represents unity, primacy, the first, the best, the only, it has no divisors, no factors, no components, it is universal, whole and complete.
Two is unity plus another. It tells of companionship and choices, good or bad. Furthermore, it boast of always dragging along a choice to be made. A crossroad.
Three is the divine number. God's attributes are three, omniscience, omnipresence and omnipotence. He is one in three persons, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Four is the number of imperfection. Of mortality. Four limbs of man. Four seasons. Four corners of the earth. Four is the number of natural creation...plus one.

I suppose the purpose for a document such as this is to account for the paradoxical.
To take note of the good in relentlessness confusion and stress.
How a character so common as the number could have such infinite connotation and truth.
Perhaps like math class.
Perhaps even like school itself, I presume.

Deficient

Today,
all,
is dry.
the classes,
the people,
the teachers,
the food,
the ground,
and sun,
and rain,
the clouds...
Dry.
impossible math,
imposing parents,
fraudulent smiles,
parched lasagna,
silent grass,
obscured sun,
desirous rain,
reclined clouds...
Dry.

You are elsewhere.

Thoughts of Incommodity

Hence far this morning, I have been asked four times to explain myself.
I am weary of explaining myself.
The fact that "people never hear what's really going on now."
It's all "Tell me what's so wrong now."
Is too repulsively lucid to disregard.
The rain draws out my dwellings.
Whether it be as poison from a viper,
Or fragrance from a gardenia.
It comes.

Not great numbered are those who bare the others burdens.
Small in the eyes of the mighty, for we stoop so low under our millstones.
But.
On that level we can see one another.
Those like us.
And we trade our hindrances.

But in this place, all that reside are tall and powerful and do not wish to hoist anther's dead weight.
So I refuse to explain myself,
Instead, I bestow a pseudo smile,
And a lie that everything is fine.
Fine, fine, fine.
Lie, lie, lie.
Formality is a lie.

Yes, I wear an albatross today.
But I would rather it keep my mind company,
Than give it to a stranger for beating.

Taciturn unless provoked

Speechless graveyard:
Tombstones
Engraved with reminders of life and death.
Names. Names. People.

One boast of an oddity.
Two names.
Three dates.
And rings of beloved espousals.

The gentleman's name included Two.
The ladies...one.
I secretly addressed my thought
With my silent companion.

"I suppose
That when the one you love withers,
Your heart does the same.
Death is not so daunting as before."

Then-
We were reticent.
We understand.

I'm a liar with the best of intentions

You must know that I am lying through my teeth.
You must know that I cause you pain intentionally.
You must know that I am most selfish of all beings.

I am not as I appear.

You appraise me as beautiful.
I am an ugly mess of brokenness.

You envision me to be honest and raw.
I am fake as plastic boasting to be redwood.

You perceive me as unselfish and forgiving.
I protect my self above all else and hold grudges like the devil.

You do not want me.
If you could unearth my genuine soul, you would turn away in disgust.
If you only knew the hate I have spewed, the mistakes I have made, and the regrets.
You would not want me.

But you are blinded by something I am unaware of.
I cannot appraise myself to be a wonder.
But you see me as such.

Oh! I wish I had will to turn you away!
To wound your feelings before I wound your soul.
For I am a disappointment.

I lie to you and yet you pursue!
Why?
What is this in me that lightens your eyes and your heart?

I will continue to lie,
With the best of intentions.
But you must know I love you.
I just can't give you that hope.

Revelation

Such a sight have I beheld that will never leave my memory.

Someday, I will go back, otherwise, for eternity will I be haunted by it's beauty and mystery.

Still waters,

never saw sin, but see every wrong.

Dim and mysterious, a warning to those brash enough

to disturb the tranquility.

Generation of sons,

hold fast the sun's bounty in their shimmering green surfaces.

Perfect apart from the triangle cut-out

each withhold.

As if they together cut out a piece of their radiance

and gave it as a servant's vow

to sing praises of their Maker.

Daughters as well,

breathtaking white ladies of the water.

Cherished and rare in the family,

shining in all their youth and glory.

Magnificent, but still dimmed in comparison to the water lords.

Trees,

emerge forth of the water's darkness,

roots wide and strong;

proof of strength and struggle.

Excelling towards the Heavens.

Majestic.

Overwhelmed by all grandeur, I stop and breathe,

in revelation.

Fairy Tale

And so is told as the celestial story of my life:
Once upon a time, there was a ratty village vagrant named Adelaide.
She made her home with gargoyles atop chapels shaking with the sound of monks voices.
She was an outcast, and really, preferred life as such.
Her only acquaintance was the evil dragon,
Casimir, who hated flesh and blood, and despised the hypocrisy of imperfect souls. He wrecked havoc on members of town and palace, for rank and wealth held no prejudice in his eyes. Indeed, Casimir was lord of the country, for every mortal lived in great fear of him.
Every mortal but Adelaide.
Adelaide knew him to be wise.
He delivered judgment unto those who were too cowardly to deliver it amongst themselves.
She liked him.
And he her.
He knew her to be the true soul amongst all false.
Hungry and hiding.
Yes, he liked her too.
They coexisted in harmony,
the devil,
and a fallen angel.
Somehow happy in their despair.