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Monday, August 8, 2011

So Utterly Tired

Eyelashes like bars on her eyes,
locking away all her fears.

She's just so tired, 
so utterly tired.

Don't let it it escape your control, girl
you know what will happen.

She is past the point of no return,
but hides her sadness behind apathy.
Look past the blue and gray
and see the black slowly taking over.

It was you who broke her
Sound mind and body 
reduced to madness,
listen hard enough and you will hear
the chaos of her silence.

Stare straight and blank
absorbing but never omitting
any light
just absorbing;
the dark.

Call and she will not answer.
She is not mute,
do not underestimate her,
she does not speak because if she does
she will erupt and then there is no going back
everything will come crumbling down
and it will not matter until everything 
about her
is reduced to ashes
never once blinking until the dust settles.

But see what you have done?
You should have kept your mouth shut!
Lock and key,
chain and weight,
return the bars to your eyes, girl.

But she wont let that happen.

You call 
but she will not answer,
because if she does a world of pain 
will crumble around her,

and she is just so tired; 
So utterly tired.

Friday, August 5, 2011


Dull ache.
Persistant pressure,
Drooping eyelids.

towards the blanket of darkness.
off a cliff.

Black road.
White eyes.
It's dark,
so clear.

Black hood,
outstretched hand.

strong hands pull
away from the dark.
Back to the
light, and the pain.

Someone's hand is pulling.

Pain and struggle,
it's worth it.
Dark and empty,
too easy.

Death is easy. 
Living is hard.

An awfully big adventure.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011


My bed lay underneath the window,
with a clear view of the street.
I would always look at the streetlamps,
and count cars instead of sheep.

Was I, so young, afraid of burglars or robbers?
Absolutely, no. 
The night held too many promises,
Of adventures and heroes.

I would imagine my stories,
Taken from my book that day.
I would put myself in them,
As always the heroine who always knows just what to say.

The Night was my chariot,
And it took me to a far away place.
Anywhere, and anytime,
I was in control of the time and the space.

Under my window,
safe in my bed;
but I was really somewhere else,
At least in my head.

And when I opened my eyes
I would see the streetlights;
And know I would come back to my adventures
Always the next night.

So young, not in control,
I loved my bed by the window.
Because I was always staring out and dreaming beyond,
It was a habit, I learned, I would never outgrow.

Each night was an adventure,
Each night a release,
I was in control of my life,
And it was how I found peace.

That’s why I loved my bed by the window,
And spent each night watching the streetlights, (Even when I was grown)
As they drew me, and took me,
To a place that was all my own. 

Friday, July 22, 2011

What my words mean

I eat up your attention,
 every morsel you dangle in front of my face.
Begging for more,
notice me.

This matters,

I fear the day when my words won't matter.
What am I without this?
This is all I know,
and yet am I even good at it?

How daunting is the thought that
the one thing that matters to you
doesn't matter the world.

Isn't that what we all fear?

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


When I thought you couldn't stoop any lower,
When I thought your lies were all done....
Seems like you have a trick or two still up your sleeve,
because you go and you do this, and then you run.

Away from the truth your words fly,
and convincing smiles blur the lies.
But it will always be there, what you've done
Hidden deep inside.

You hypocrite, who justifies all that you do with lies, 
then judges with an iron rod.
You've compromised your "truths" and "morals"
By quoting your so called "god"

I thought you had changed because you said you did,
Dad how can you do the things that you do?
I thought you said you loved me,
I guess that was a lie too.

Saturday, July 16, 2011


The sun is bright,
what monster hides behind your
beautiful folds?

A child down the street greets
the warm day with a 
smile and a laugh.
Opening his arms
to grasp at the air
with his chubby fingers,
his face skyward.

The world is his.
To explore.
To create.

But his smile is unaware
and his heart is not prepared
for this world.

I shudder to think of the day
that he must face the sun
unfiltered by the sheltering leaves,
and without a breeze to cool his face.

He does not know that 
monsters hide behind beauty and promises.
He does not know that
the more terrible monsters are those who
 once upon a time, brought sunlight to your life.
Only to take it away.
He does not know that 
one day the sun will forsake him
and throw him into a darkness, 

He does not know, but 
he will learn, one day;
all too soon, that
the brighter the light is,
the darker his shadows will become.