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I love it when you read to me.Today is the eve of your birth. Generally, one wouldn't know that. Usually, it comes as a surprise. But, your mother is impatient, and she was ready now. Pros and cons. But, it gives me time to say a few things before you come into this world completely unprepared for everything it will throw at you. Tonight is your last night sleeping and growing safely in your mommy's belly. It's your last night of real, true, absolute peace. Peace you will never know so well again. And the first thing I want to tell you, is to enjoy it. Savor it. While you're surrounded by fluid, and every word is muffled, and you feel invincible, take it in and enjoy it. Fall in love with the sound of being closer to someone than will be humanly possible in 24 hours. While you're still in the dark, don't take darkness for granted.
Tomorrow morning the process will begin and you'll be woken up too early and pushed around until you are where the rest of the world needs you to be. This will be the story of your life
Sweet ThingMy skin hurts. Literally, my skin. Not my muscles, or my bones, no. My skin. It's not burnt or calloused or cut. It's sore. My clothes hang around me, and that is all people see. Clothes hanging on bones like a metal hanger. When I pull my belt tighter, my skin pinches my spinal cord and tells my brain I'm in pain. I press my oversized hand to my chest and wait for a knock. I wait too hard, or too long, or something too much, because my skin pinches again. I am sore. My outsides are sore. My cheeks are soft and when I hold them between my fingers they hurt like the rest of me. I have no injuries, or marks anymore. Nothing that obviously, and brutally, and absolutely in your face says that I am injured, but my skin hurts. I can't say it any other way. I don't feel it any other place. My outer shell, my epidermis hurts.
My stomach used to. I woke up the day after we had out first kiss and I threw up. You made me sick a few times. More like too many to count. You are right though, the fir
Obsessive Compulsive DisorderWhen I was little, it use to amaze me how colors were made. In art class I would sit and mix paint because blue and red didn't stay the same when they fell in love. Every single color found its match and danced beautifully as I swirled them together. Black and white were my favorites. I'd pour the creamy paint into a bowl and watch as black and white swirls, turned into grey swirls and owned the container holding it captive. Grey was amazing to me. Because black and white are nothing alike, and grey is in the middle. Black is dark and scary and demanding. And white is graceful, and trusting, and clean. Grey is nothing. Grey is bland. And safe. Grey is careful. And I would do anything to be grey.
Friendship is black and turns to ash in my hands. It is dust, so hard to hold. I am keeping still so none escapes, but it feels like at any moment, the wind will kick up and steal it all away. Every move I make is monitored and judged. I am wary about my words and am second guessing everything.
Saying Goodbye to ChristmasWhen the sun hits the trees just right, I didn't know this, but it looks like the world's on fire. Its rays sneak through the branches and reflect off of cars and land on the table across from me. I'd much rather stare into the street than look around me. Out there I start to feel like a year, even a single night. The wind is chilly and I can feel it past my skin. This sort of thing doesn't happen anymore. This sort of feeling got lost within too many nights leading up to another move. All the boxes and trips and packing is exhausting. And when you do it so often, eventually settling down becomes like unpacking, you only bring out so much, because you know pretty soon you'll just be putting it away again. Moving only a few minutes north, or south or any direction that feels more like home. Only after this many moves, everywhere starts to be another house and nothing will ever feel like the first time.
Not that it matters now, now I'm a tumbleweed and if I ever settle anywhere I can onl
Letting Go or Giving Up?Rain is murdering my window. The wind keeps sounding like a scream and it echoes in my head even after the trees stop casting spooky shadows on my wall. The water streaks the glass and races toward the bottom of the pane, I pick the underdog and I always lose. It's kind of hard to win against gravity. The lightening illuminates my bed and I can see my frame shaking in the storm. Pretty soon my eye lids are heavy and even sooner the sun is up and I slept through shakes and terror and being afraid my house would float away. Afraid that the waters would rise to my second story and my daddy wouldn't hear me scream and worse he wouldn't come to rescue me if he did. When the sun rises in the morning I can never even tell that my bed was home to nightmares, cold sweats, and violent shakes, because, what other way would I child say, I'm scared? When my eyes open and my window is dry and my walls are still purple, even though the night before, they held no color at all, it
PagesThe paper of the book was rugged and used and starting to turn awkward colors from spills and sun and too much life. Corners bent and the edges were all soft like feathers rubbing against the tips of your fingers, or better, your wind burnt cheeks. The binding cracked and little pieces of dust floated into the air and took to the wind. The cover was red once. A beautiful, shining red, vibrant like the blood in my veins. Or so I imagined, as I let them echo out a story. The corners held tears and rips and soft fabric that I think, maybe, once was paper. The middle pages began falling out and tape just wasn't enough to suffice anymore. The ink was faded and smeared and It covered every inch of every page. My fingers ran over its bumpy surface and drank in the words through my skin. I soaked every memory up. I flipped the pages and let the sweet smell of the past fill the air. It was sweet and it was bitter and it filled my senses with regret. Maybe the last page wasn't ready. Maybe the l
Sandcastles Maybe it started when I began placing too much worth on the little white seagulls that fly over the bay. Maybe when the sunshine started being responsible for my happiness everything started to go downhill. Maybe it was the sound of an air conditioner whirring loudly in the background, or the feel of smooth cotton around my bare arms, or the way the warm wood was soft under my feet. I think it probably started with a lot of things. Maybe it started when those little birds started feeling like an excuse to smile at a big body of water. When the rain started lasting longer and the sunshine seemed impossible to find, that was when it started. Maybe. That air conditioner made the whole world cool, only it never reached outside that room. With cold metal frames holding up years of memories. Hours of building a family. So much time spent thinking up jokes and games and things that only half of us would come to remember. And that whir
Make It A Sweet, Sweet GoodbyeI can't even write about the color of his eyes. I can't tell you that they were blue or green or that they sparkled when he talked about love and sports. I can't say he had the greatest smile or that his laugh was enough to make birds sing. I can't say his hugs were out of this world and that receiving one felt like receiving a gift. Like every time was like unwrapping a smile. And maybe that sounds like too much. Maybe that sounds too good. Like whose arms really hold that much heaven. Maybe it sounds too perfect, But these are things I cannot tell you. I can't reminisce his childhood filled with silly tales of dragons and snow ball fights and bus rides. I can't say he grew up gracefully and never faltered in his choice to live as if it was his decision. I want to be able to look back, and smile, and tell you all these things. I want to be able to answer when you ask why I'm crying and paint you a picture of the most beautiful boy. But I can't.
I can tell you only what I know. And the
The Best MotherMy dad doesn't pay me any attention. Oh, poor kid, another wasted individual with daddy issues. I know how it seems. And you're probably right. There isn't anything special about me. No sad story except that I am here, and nobody wants me. My mother is a beautiful woman, and I know she tries to love me. She tries so hard. I know she sees my art work. A talent my father gave me, no doubt. She sees my grades and my great decisions. Trying to live up to Dad's history is tough, but I do my best. I'm rarely out of line. And I know she tries to smile at me and touch my shoulder often enough to make me feel it. She tries to remember talent shows and birthdays. They do a pretty good job. But I can still see the glaze in their eyes when they're attending just to keep me sober. Can't have a failure on their hands. I can see their plastered on smiles when I win some dumb award that doesn't even come close to my father's accomplishments. We are rich because he made it so. We have fame a
Beware Of The Bad BoySo he touches you in all of the right places
But with a clenched fist and not a gentle hand
By ‘right places’ I mean those easily hidden
By the latest expensive designer brand
Which he buys you to either keep your silence
Or to beg and to plead for your forgiveness
Is this where the attraction of a bad boy lies?
Please explain where is the excitement in this?
So he kisses you with a so-called passion
His hands round your neck steal a two letter word
It seems that he cannot feel satisfaction
Unless you show him signs that his dominance hurts
Which he tightens each time to keep your silence
Or maybe he just enjoys hearing you moan
Is this the deed of some stalker, some stranger?
No, this is your husband and this is your home
So he lays you out on the living room floor
I wonder what will fall down to the carpet first
The drops of blood from between your legs
Or the tears flowing between his regretful words
Which he whispers in your ear as you lay silent
It’s safe to say
The Villain (Bye Bye Mr. Nice Guy)I am desperately seeking someone to save me
Wondering where I have been going wrong
The more I allow myself to be walked over
The more I feel like it’s where I belong
Under the tread marks of your rubber soled shoe
My face has been driven in to the mud
You’ve laced my dignity with so much self doubt
What on earth have I gained from being good
I am desperately seeking something to save me
The next line to the poem of my life
Dissecting my past with clinical precision
Using a pen-shaped surgical knife
With a blade that seems to cut deeper and deeper
Each time that I am wounded or I am hurt
But maybe now is the time to put down my pen
And distribute my anger with more than words
I am desperately seeking something to save me
I feel I’m on the cusp of a rebirth
I will take centre stage and leave you in the wings
There is no more time left to rehearse
I have stiffened the sinews, I have summoned the blood
I face my fears and I’ve made a decision
I can be strong, I can
WordsIt’s when I get my thoughts to rhyme
That I can truly start to see
What has been swirling in my mind,
And then I get to set it free.
A turmoil of chaotic calls
Becomes a desperate, pleading choir
Of thousands of tangled words
Awaiting me to help them thrive.
They cry, and weep, and beg like kids,
Won’t let me drown myself in sleep
Until I give them what they need –
A string of rhythm and sense to grip.
I strive and strive to make them speak
And give them a melodic vibe.
Yet their presence is too weak,
I'm losing hope that they'll survive.
But after stumbling time and time
Again to let them slip away
I start to hear their chime.
I start to see them find a way.
So one by one and step by step
I see them coming up to me.
They join to spin a magic web –
My soul’s true epitome.
And that’s the place they shall remain,
In subtle, fearless accord.
I never thought that I could tame
Such mischievous, capricious words.
So now I’m pacing back and forth
DethronedDelicate fingertips were once against my cheek,
as were the smiles that you so affectionately cast towards me.
But then you tossed me into the gaping sea,
and I am no longer a beloved queen to thee.
Sweet Music MelodySweet Music Melody lend a mid-night dance to me
Oh what tender lips are these that lay sweet kisses on my cheeks
Making my bashful heart sing...sing...sing
Sweet Music Melody lend a mid-night song to me
Oh what beautiful notes your voice is to a lover's song
beckoning a drifting soul home sweet home
Sweet Music Melody never let your music end
Play your seductive heart's song again and again
Step by step, song by song, you and I are forever one
She Does Not Love YouDo not hear
Her glorious speech
Pretend to be deaf.
Elude her hair
Dancing in the air
Don’t think about
Those sunny eyes
Knowing your past
With just one look.
Avoid her laugh
A melody of harp
Played by angels.
She’s hurting you
Giving you false
When she reveals
All her evil plan
You will be broken
Thinking about suicide.
Bury the memories
With you by her side
Even if they are
The best times
Of your life.
Four EverSugar coated, and devoted
To the bright side of life.
Optimistic, and artistic
With a blessed soul and mind.
May God bless you, for breaking through
The darkest side of death.
Keep your smile clear, my precious dear
For it brightens the sky.
A Rainy PlaceWandering roads that branch so I can never see
Where the path I choose will likely carry me
Then comes the fear
As apprehension looms above
Like the cloud I am always victim of
Driest days are still enough to make me drown
Happy plays go on in side my little crown
But always in
To show these thoughts enlightening
Speed up the coming derailing
Conclusions crash from up above
To think my mind was stronger stuff
A paper boat
In sea that grows around my feet
The longer I wait with all the thoughts I keep
Mask the way with rain as paved paths taper on
The traveller who must be gone
Then comes the pain
How I cannot be one of them
Who takes a gamble on a whim
Yesterday was long before the one I made
I forget how many of them passed the same
My will is only weakening
Come future I will not be able swimming
Earth to break from where I stand as water falls
Wash the state lethargic I am victim of
Unable to move
Even when all offered it slowly takes
With nothing left I will not wake
You Will Drown In The MusicThese lyrics will seduce you
take you anywhere they please
hold tight, it's about to take you under
why even try to breath?
just let it reach you one more time
before you start to leave
This will be the song of a lifetime
let the beat tear open your heart
we live by the smash of a drum
we breathe at the strum of each guitar
just let the song capture you
as soon as the first verse starts
This is how we get out
from under every watchful eye
we take one look at the crowd
than close our eyes and dive
we let the music pull us down
and tear apart our minds
I know you've got to feel this
the beat running through your veins
I can see it in your eyes
it's the only thing keeping you sane
breathe it in a few more times
cause this song will never change
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