Heartstrings.

Nothing pulls them like a slow song.

A slow song and a goosebump inducing chill.

Rocking yourself to sleep, in the blue hue

Cast by the overhead lamp.

It shutters as if in rhythm with your pulse.

Drawing fingertips across your chest.

Self-aware of your own inner city.

Fading in and out of reality, losing yourself.

Losing yourself in yourself.

Breathing to match the roar of the ocean.

Surges overhead illuminate your palate.

All is still all at once.

Clarity in a second, peace at ease with the sea.

Lulling to dreams, unleashing hidden images.

Flash across the screen of your psyche.

The past mixes with the tranquility.

All behind you pushed back.

Away for now, away for good.

Settling finality in a split hair reaction.

Switches off, power down.

Giving into the the refuge coma, so comfortable.

This bright dark feels like home.

Rejuvenating behind closed blinds.

Practicing jokes to wow the morning light.

December 7, 2009.

I'm growing up, and for once I'm actually okay with that.

Life's opportunities continually breeze into my path.

I'm so lucky. So incredibly lucky.

Look out future, here I come with passion in hand.

Wednesday Afternoon.

Cold feet on the linoleum.
Cracked knuckles in my pockets.
Coffee and Campbell's soup.

The Future.

Our summer skins are so thin that they tear at the seams.
Hide your worries in the smooth grooves of my palm.
Dance across my dialated corneas, insomnia at its best.
It's all for the best you say.
Just waiting for a night of solace in pair.

Ash.

We don't choose the hand we're dealt.
Strength is in placing the best bet and winning the game.

Crossed Wires.

Incognito, in utero, innocence.
Standing on the block you're nothing but a prize.
Strutting with your feathers high.
Confidence, continuous, constant.
Shoulders set, deep breath.
Look them in the eye, they'll eat you alive.

Conversing With My Conscience.

You have no idea.
None at all.
Stop go.
Stop go.
Out of control.
Lost and found.
Lost and found.
Keep your head on.
On off.
On off.
Give up.
Give up.
No.

Sleep Deprived.

Your facade's melting away, revelance.
We both know you'd die for their attention.
Sucking on breath, choking on words.
This rain only gets heavier with the hours.
Your eyes, I swear they are glowing.
Linger here for just another minute.
Shut the window, pretend you're alone.
I can hold my breath for you.
I can hold my tongue for you.
Guests fill the room, ghosts in blue.
Eyes glaze, haze licked perspectives.
Lay here.
Be here.
Melt here.
This is the first and last chance.
Oh Gloria, picture the crowds.
One-demensional pictures on cards.
Hidden under our own sheets of gold.
Shield yourself, love.
I'll keep out of your way.
If you say so.
Just say so.

Inward Horizons.

Is this what it feels like to die alive?
Pulsating mass of inequivocal hope?
Who are you, anways?
Get out of my head, get out of my head.

11/13/09

I'm sitting in computer lab with the kindergarteners, and listening to One April Day. It seems strange to sit here reminiscing while the screens beside me flash twenty inch neon displays of A's and 5's. This sweater is way too hot. I should've gone with my second thought- not wearing three layers for the day. Sounds logical. Danielle is sitting beside me, dragging diamonds into a treasure chest. Her mouse sticks, and she can never seem to get the fourth diamond in. It's funny, isn't it? How even the most simple things relate? I'm nearly seventeen and I can't ever get all of my diamonds rounded up to dump in the neartest chest. Maybe we're all just so focused on the bright and shiny- maybe we're all a little too preoccupied. What about the rubies? And the emeralds? Momentos lost in the quake of determination. I'm constantly forgetting the little treasures, so focused on collecting all of the expectation-derived gems.

Exposures.

Flash.
Release.
Freeze.
Capture.
Store.

Expose.
Expose.
Expose.

Sick.

Six days from school and I'm finding myself
Bored with everything I busy myself with.
My alarm clock's become my only ally,
Keeping the minutes ticking until you call.
In and out of medicated comas,
Why do I keep laughing at the same cartoons?
The blinds are down on one window,
Shading me in semi-sheltered dark.
My OCD tendencies are kicking in,
And I want to draw them back to match.
Tossing and turning, dreaming the same
Dreams I have every night, again and again.
So consistent I'm starting to wonder if
I ever truly do wake up?
Six more hours, twenty-three minutes
And I'll be hearing from you again.
You think you're finally growing into your face.
And I think that's cute.
Late night phone calls blur together,
Yet somehow you still manage to stay clear.
Vivid, freshly engraved on my mind's eye.
Your laughter brings better solace
Than I could ever find in a perscription bottle.

Ashes Ashes.

It was so much easier
To take it all in stride.
Sing the song, spin around.
Fall together.

I'm Nothing.

I cry this lullaby from my knees.
I'm nothing without you.
I'm nothing without you.

Under the tears, the frustration.
Under every layer of stone,
You reign above all else.

October 5, 2009.

Downward spiral in an upward motion.
Where's my get out of jail free card now?
With every burst of momentum,
I find nothing but the starting gate.

Today has been such a long day.
I'm struggling to keep my head on straight.
I'm lost in every aspect of myself,
besides those I find to be fundamental.
The only absolute truth I know is Christ,
Apart from the substantial knowledge
That are my own beliefs.
I just pray that relationships don't rot.
I pray that inspiration does not stale,
Nor integrity run dry.
God, grant me an oasis of creative trust.

City Bus.

I've never been on a city bus.
I don't imagine they're much like a school bus.
Maybe more like a train on wheels.
I mean, I've seen them in movies and things.
Couples cuddled up on little bench-like seats.
Arms linked, heads on shoulders.
Waiting for their stop.
It reminds me of this huge oxymoron metaphor of life.
we're all just sitting on the bus waiting for our stop.
Talking, laughing, sleeping, taking in the view.
There are the days where we're silent.
Introverted, self-seeking answers.
And the days where the bus just flies.
I want to be that couple in the back of the bus.
Overhead light flickering, almost annoyingly.
But calming, like a lullaby.
I want to be that couple, bundled up.
In the heart of Chicago, in scarves, in your arms.
I want to be that couple, waiting for our stop.
Because I know when the time comes,
We'll get off together.
We'll inhale the brisk winter air, leaving our mark
In the snow behind us.
We'll leave a path to follow.
We'll leave a legacy full of wonder.
We'll leave footprints.
One pair bigger than the other.
Side by side, uninterrupted.
Deliberate, precise, unfaltering.
A long continuous line of evidence.
Evidence of you and I.
Evidence of us.
Evidence of our lives.
Evidence of our love.

The life.

Within these fingers is flowing up river
with the salmon colored independence
that drips from your lips.
I need a day away from everything.
I need you.
I need this.

7/5/09

It's 2:21 in the morning, and I'm wide awake watching The Emperor's New Groove. I feel like such a little kid this morning. I haven't decided if that's due to my pink and orange tie-dye blanket or the fact that I'm pretending to be a butterfly wrapped up within this bright cocoon. Yesterday was such a headspin. I'm getting really frustrated with people lying and putting all of their shit on me. I don't deserve to constantly take the heat for everything, when I'm unintentionally helping them to get what they want. Oh well, life goes on. The fireworks were great, like usual. The smoke is so overwhelming though. I need to invent smokeless fireworks. Mental note made. My glasses are kind of crooked, and I'm not sure why. I probably fell asleep with them on earlier when I napped the afternoon away semiconsciously. I wasn't able to fully fall asleep because I'm addicted to the History Channel and they had a Haunted Houses special on. I like talking on the phone, especially when conversation just flows. People make me so worried. I don't understand any of you. None. Once I finally think I've got my mind wrapped around your ways and your intentions, you throw me a curveball. Please just stay honest with yourself, because God knows I'll never be the one you're loyal to. My thoughts are so short and spontaneous. I was being Mario earlier. Black comb mustache and all, very authentic. Time to go curl up and look at the moon. Life is good. Even when you stab me in the back and fill my gut with worries and pain way past the level of intensity my sixteen year old mind should be dealing with, life is good. You can't take that away from me.

Postcard Sluts.

Such a pretty picture.
Such a decent price.
Used.
Licked.
Stamped.
And sent on their way.

July Fourth.

Sitting here.
In my neon yellow collapsible chair.
Smoke in lungs.
Colors in air.

Juniper Aurelius.

What a lovely name.
If only my parents had been so creative.
Where did we get stuck in this fad?
Why is it so cool to be so conventional?
Emilie?
Really?
At one point we must've created names.
Pulled them right from the clouds.
We're stuck in this copycat state.
I will not name my children something mundane.
How bland.
How boring.
How predictable.
If we're given the ability to create, why not create?
If we're given the opportunity to unite, why not unite?
Oh, marriage and birth are so beautiful.
To promise a life.
To be solely responsible for a life.
What a gift.
What a precious gift.
How can people throw that away?
How can you disrespect oaths?
How can you abandon your responsibilities?
You shame me.
Even more so than this la-de-da name of mine.

Peach Rings and Arizona Tea.

Life's so simple.
Here, in this moment I'm flying.
Eyes closed, even as I type.
I'm above everything.
The rocking of the car adds to it.
I can feel the wind hitting my face.
I'm a bird, now.
With wings.
With feathers.
My beak opens ever so slightly.
The moon's so bright tonight.
So elegant.
It's rays pry through my eyelids.
Infinite.
In this moment I AM infinite.
Just me.
My peachrings.
And my Arizona tea.
Life has never been so simple.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow could possibly mean healing.
Tomorrow could possibly mean hurt.
Tomorrow is the day it all starts over.
The day the forgiveness bleeds out.
The day butterflies die for good.
The day vomit burns in my chest.
The day tears well up independently.
Tomorrow it's over.
It's all over.
I'm free.

7/3/09

Sometimes I just get so frustrated with the world when I sit down and think about how my hand was already dealt for me. I have absolutely no say in the outcome of my actions, and the results I'll face due to the millions of lives laid down before me. I mean, I really do appreciate you past generations, don't get me wrong. You provided us with endless resources and lessons heaped upon stories and wisdom, but you've created these knots in my chest I could live without. Your insignificant remains bring helplessness to my heart, and I'm terrified of repeating history. Thank you for living and trying and dying, but God damnit you've set me up to fail.

It kills me everyday.

I wish I could take back everything I gave you.
And I can't, I really can't.
A million secrets and kisses down an impending drain.
You never cared.
Never.
It kills me everyday.

This is who I am.

And everytime I look myself in the eye,
I want to break through the crystal barrier,
Pick myself the most brilliant piece of irradescence,
And just bleed the monsters out.
Reach through the shades, and peel my skin.
Peel away this barricade I'm sheltered in.
Off like a shirt, over my head, off the shoulders.
Hair falls to the floor in heaps.
Features, bones, crumble, disappear altogether.
Slowly puddling on the floor,
Becoming something unrecognizable.
Falling apart until I'm absolutely nothing.
Invisible.
I am invisible.
I'm everything you've never seen.
Look at me and look through all you've ever known.
As broken as the shattered mirror,
That lies where my once visible feet stood.
I am insignificant.
I am proud.
No longer bound by these chains I bore.
I'm here now.
Outside of myself, I stand.
This is who I am.

Pressure.

Fingertips to temples.
Pressure.
Pressure.
Intensity increases.
Sanity decreases.
I can't take much more-
Pressure.
Pressure.

Until The End.

The kindergarteners I used to read Nancy Drew to are now
Doing more with their bodies than even I allow.
Eighth grade slut's moved onto better things, she's found a sense of worth now.
Life just keeps flying by, and I can't even start to comprehend exactly how
Time flies and yet I still feel as if I'm the same person I've always been.
I'll never change, I'll never change, until the end.
Raspberry Perfume's on repeat again, and just sitting here I can see
Myself walking down those halls again, so terrified to be
The odd one out.
To be the one without.
I really think those are the days I harbored more than I knew.
Big smiles hiding every pain that just burned me throughout, it was true
When I told you you'd be so surpised
To see what I saw behind my eyes.

The same still goes,
None of you really know
What it's like to be in this skin
I'll never change, I'll never change, until the end.

A Quarter And A Kiss Is All I Should Be Worth To You.

I'm so afraid to invest all that I am into anything,
yet I end up doing it with each minute's passing.
I'm a lottery ticket you'll always cash.
You're a check that never stops bouncing away.
In the end I'll be broken, without, alone.
You'll always be the one on top, you always are.
So take my history.
So take my future.
So take my plan.
So take the reigns, be the richer man.

Mister Bee.

I'll tell you just one thing, this wasn't worth the sting.

Carpe Diem.

"As one gets older, one acquires skills and resources which enables one to do things while simultaneously gaining commitments and losing physical ability which limit one's ability to do things. As for the last, as for the greater, there is one task which you may achieve once and once only, and in that task your heart shall rest."


Where's the appeal in a life full of wasted drives and subdued potential? Where's this undeniable world-wide attraction to selling out spawning from? There was a time when we all fulfilled the exact specifications of our own wants and desires. Childhood, such a simple self-pleasingly pivotal point in our lives. When and where did it all vanish before our eyes? When did the pupils seeking happiness turn to greed and selfish dollar signed self-written checks to the bank of moral disapproval? We as humans are always trying to pin the tail on change, and it's impossible. We notice every little aspect of every little detail on the person beside us, but we have no knowledge of the very changes we undergo. You're the person you were five minutes ago? Bullshit. Take a good long look at yourself in the mirror, you have no idea who you are. We're gut-wrenching, unconscious monsters from the depths of lake locked niavity. We think we're in control. We think we can stop time to fit our schedules, and we can't. Life is short, life is in control- guided by death. We accept wasting away filling our days with absurdities and egotistical preoccupations, while death is continually doing its job to its fullest potential. What are you doing to birth your legacy before you're food for worms? Because I know you're not caring. Because I know you'll read this nonchalantly and give me a big old, "Fuck you, Emilie." Because I know that it's so much easier to live in your possesions than in your head. Because today you're one day closer to being dead.

For Bailey.

We're raised with rocks in our shoes, to toughen us.
These dust-dirt road have immuned me to second hand death.
From the age of five we've been taught to turn our backs,
Hold our breath, and count to ten when the trucks pass.
The hawks left us gifts in the briar patch again,
Bass carcasses sucked of their livelihood.
Elbows linked, we walk down the middle of nowhere.
Remnants of the gypsies we keep in hiding,
Spring mattresses in the woods, secret getaway retreats.
The coverage breaks momentarily every so often,
Revealing clover fields topped off with daisy meadows.
Barbed wire dots the sunburt landscape.
Tractor tracks cover rover tracks cover our tracks from before.
Summer night spent in the fields, we're rooted in these crops.
Laughter follows our seemingly make-believe accents,
But they have no idea how hard it is to not use them.
We're bred with the inbreds that surround us,
We find ourselves cursing the very ground that gives us recluse.
We'll run, we'll hide, we'll finally break away,
Only to return again-this is who we are.
We're the screen doors slamming.
We're the buzz of the racetrack from your Grandpa's back porch.
We're the scent of nature that forever lingers,
That drifts into every knook and cranny in town.
We're the freckles on summer faces.
We're the ground after a beer can hail storm.
We're six month winters, and summers of drought.
We're the old station with the rusted Shell sign.
We're country down to our bones, and it'll never bleed out.

Hallelujeah.

Wainwright had it right when he said they were cold and broken.
I'm always so critical until I'm broken into a million pieces.
I never give up until there's absolutely nothing left to cling to.
My biggest mistake is ever believing that I'm strong enough.
I know I'm strong, I know I'm fully capable.
But I'm not strong enough, I can't safe myself from Pandora-
Be it box or this big mouth I've grown myself.
I lay broken in the dust with Adam, searching for my crux.
It's nights like these that I run from in hopes of returning.
Nights full of tense silence and the house talks to itself.
No sound rings throughout but that of the rain hitting glass.
I can close my eyes and pretend, I'm three again.
Nothing can touch me, nothing can touch me.
There's nothing but me, and the rain, and you Lord.
I can picture my own little Eden full of secure sanity.
You're always here, Lord.
You never leave, Lord.
These cries do not fall on deaf ears, Lord.
You're all I need, Lord.
Hallelujeahs whispered between choking breaths.
My hands are bruised from clasping to death.
Things will get better, they must.
Things will get better, I'm investing completely.
Things will get better.
I trust.

Wish.

If but a single wish could pass these lips,
I'd wish for not a single thing a'new.
Not for selfish brains or a tender kiss,
I'd spend my one lone wish on you.

GET.

The car's never been this silent all my life,
And I find myself craving anything.
Just sing to me.
Sing to me and make this all go away.
Sing me something sweet,
Something to fill my heart with anything.
Anything besides this burning contempt.
Fear is ringing in my ears, now.
Fear to ask all you fear to admit.
Sweet recluse, I seek you now more than ever.
It's all your fault, don't I know?
Oh, trust me.
I know better than the silver creator.
You'll never know, I'll never tell you.
This is where I bleed hypocrosity.
Rolling down these hills in silence, now.
No chassis to keep us in tact now, sweetheart.
We're getting away now, sweetheart.
180 in a 75, and we've never felt so alive.
Flying.
Freeing.
Braking.
Being.
Being more than anything we know.

OUT.

Sitting and thinking always seemed to be our existential indulgence.
Those nights we'd fill our lungs with the night.
Breathing in lonliness, exhaling all oppositions.
Those nights are long past and I'm still willing myself back into them.
Just one more night of peace and quiet, one more night of silence.
Those nights, now burnt and crumpled.
They lie like a leaf on the dirty cellar floor.
Go reap your fucking wares, seller boy.
Go work the street for your own enjoyment, you scum.
Go get all you're worth, seller boy.
Fetch your dimepieces.
Fetch your dimebags.
It's all about inconvenient conveniences these days.
Fetch your lies you threw in my face, they're still waiting for you.
Fetch them and take them home to Mother.
I'm sure she'll be proud.
You've always been a man of tens.
Filthy, street-stricken dimes in your pockets.
Ten fingers keeping me calm.
Ten fingers keeping me still.
Ten quivering fingers preaching equality to each.
Ten fingered strangulations in my sleep.

Do you remember?

Do you remember sneaking out to play tag at 2 AM
While your dad slept three rooms down the hall?
Do you remember jello bunnies and grass babies?
Do you remember running around all day on the roof?
Standing on the chimney, playing baseball.
Do you remember our tea flowers
That we boiled to death on accident?
Do you remember boys stappling walls
And breaking into windows and locked cabinets
Just for our 'carpe diem' shits and giggles?
Do you remember bike rides three states away?
Do you remember hiding at the park
And just talking for hours about imaginary people?
Do you remember stuffing your cat in a suitcase?
Do you remember nearly burning down your house
With our pink baking soda volcano?
I doubt you remember any of it.
But I do.

5/8/09

Tonight has been fantastic.
I went out to the country with Bailey, and rode the ancient tricycles around the barns. Talked to the busdriver, who pulled the bus off the side of the road for a chitchat. Had the best veggie burger known to man, and downed way too much grapefruit juice. I'm soon going to be a re-redhead. If all goes right, it should be a pretty massive change. I'm so fucking stoked, but I'm mildly terrified at the same time. I have no idea how it'll turn out, and I hope Lex's mommy will be willing to get up early and dye me up. Fingers crossed.

Realize.

I just want to live in a really small apartment, and paint, and write, and work photography, and walk. Walk everywhere, and see everything, and meet everyone. Write books full of testimonies and lessons, and leave them all behind when I'm gone. I just want to find the happiness everyone has. not just my own, but to experience everyone elses also. I want to wake up in the morning like I do for the rest of my life. I want to wake up and just lay there and think about everything, and put everything back into perspective without stress, and without a single care. I don't care if I have nothing but the clothes on my back, as long as I'm tied to nothing except everything that I want. I want to backpack. I want to travel. I want to minister. I just want one person in my life who will stay there and be there when I wake up every morning and just laugh with me for the sake of laughing. Everything else can fall to the side.

5/7/09

Great-Grandma Marie,
I'm so sorry I never took the time to get to know you.
I'm so sorry I took every second with you for granted.
I just know you're smiling down now.
You know I took everything from you that day.
You taught me so much from a casket.
Holding my hand all night, smiling away.
You were so happy to leave me behind.
You knew I'd figure it all out.
You had more faith in me than I will ever have.
I miss you so much.
I wish you could just come back.
I have so much more to ask you.
Everything I never took the time to visit for.
I just want you back on that day at the park.
Do you remember?
Your wheelchair under the tree.
It was such a nice day, Grandma.
Trevor and I looking at those pictures with you.
You were so happy.
You were always happy.
I remember playing with the salt and pepper shakers.
I was your little chef, and you'd buy all my food.
The stories of you living with the gypsies.
The stories of you in your skirt on the porch.
The stories of you, Grandma.
All I have are stories.
I can't wait to meet you at the gates again.
I'm older, Grandma.
I'm smarter, Grandma.
I'm ready Grandma, teach me.

5/6/09

I'm not entirely sure why I never post much of anything on here. All I ever do is rant and rave about things, yet I never classify my thoughts into categories and actually share them. I'm going to attempt to start posting atleast one blog every night, regardless of how pointless and superficial they'll probably become.

With that being said, I'll begin on my slow progression of ruining your life with my opinions and complaints. Today was a fairly boring day like all of the rest. I got up late, got around late, got to school later than I'm used to. I'm starting to realize more and more about myself more and more quickly. I used to preach the whole, "wear your pride on the inside, appearances don't matter" thing all the while never really giving myself half of an earful. I've gotten to the point where I just don't care anymore. I really don't. What's clean is clean. What's on my body, is on my body. It's just fabric. It's not me, and it never will be. There is absolutely no point in trying to impress someone with anything outside of myself. I've wasted so much time in the past years trying to perfect my image, trying to become something that I'm not. If I don't wake up in the morning looking like I walked straight out of this month's issue of Vogue, so be it. That's not who I am. I'm through with trying to cover up who I am to be what you want. Call me beautiful, call me ugly, call me whatever the fuck you want. Atleast at the end of the day I'll look in the mirror and see myself, instead of seven layers of foundation, six shades of blush, a truckload of lipstick, and fake eyelashes. Don't give me the whole, "beauty truly is skin deep" schpeel, because I won't buy it. You think your skin's beautiful? Really? Well so do I, so get the shit off of it. That's all for today.

Sunday Morning.

Sunday morning, momentary peace.
My slipper padded feet patrol the candle-lit hall.
Stretching sinews, rubbing lazy eyelids.
A subtle giggle, watching you lost in dreams.
Your slow breathing, breaking the utter silence.
My personal symphony you effortlessly create.
You're limp, seemingly lifeless stature.
Crawling oh so slowly, to meet you on the sheets.
Wrap myself in your protective arms.
The single most wondrous of all selfish creatures.
In your embrace, I know no harm.
Alarm clock's been broken for months now.
Perfectly content, wasting away in bed.
The calendar's from six years back, I laugh.
We're in our own world, apart from time now.
Gently, gingerly, I kiss your forehead.
Another Sunday morning spent simply; together.
Another Sunday morning, rest my love.
Another Sunday morning, until we'll rest apart.
Until that never-ending Sunday morning of forever.

thank you, heathcliff.

Equilibrium is just a sedative for cold feet.
An excuse for underpaid over-achievers.
Feeding lies through clenched teeth.
Boundaries fade amongst non-believers.
When rights fell and we all chose the backseat.
Night fell upon bloodsuckers draining bodyheat.
Narcissism bred by years of denial.
Eyes transfixed on everything beyond your reach.
Hands fell short from their desires.
Greedy muscles, greedy thoughts, greedy leach.
In time we don't belong in our own lifetime.
We won't crawl and never show our faces.
We'll stand firm and never show the traces.
Of the fear we knew but always could disguise.
Of this sinking feeling hid behind our eyes.

Let the colors speak.

March 7, 2009.


The old.
The constant.
The stable.

Distances sever my spine and leave me sprawled across the floor.
Is convincing needed when oblivity is present?
I don't even know who the hell I am anymore.
I'm certain my own hands paved this road before me years ago.
Why have I lost my way?
Why is it so impossible for me to continue here?
I carved these tracks with my very own soles.
The only like you'll ever see, you'll never look beyond motives.
I used to be so sure, so dead set on every level.
I can't even remember what it felt like to know myself.
Once that first rung snapped, everything flew.
It was a free for all for each and every insecurity.
You'll never love what I love in you.
No recollection has been spared.
What heart amongst the seas will truly love me now?
What body can muster the will to care?
I'm no good for you.
Call my bluff, call me off.
Call me every single word that's ever hung on your lips.
Call me baby, Call me impossible, call me mistake.
You've made yourself clear a thousand times over.
The bad taste of you has been on my tongue for months.
I spat you out on the streets where you belong.
Tragedies mixed with a hue of desperation.
I can't make you face yourself in the morning mirrors.
Please for once just open those beautiful eyes of yours.
Grasp beginner's knowledge of fears.
Single handedly claw your way through the words.
Metaphors heaped upon each serving of lust.
There's nothing here for you.
I've nothing to offer on the blocks.
Just a ship's worth of baggage and bitterness.
Would you take the challenge?
Would you take the chance, even?
You're the one to carry me through this storm.
You're the one I've needed.

Journal excerpt.

January 4, 2009.

It's five in the morning, and I can't sleep. My mind is on fire with a million ideas I have to get out, and until then I won't be satisfied. I'm on the verge of exhaustion, but here's my best attempt at manipulating your vantage points with my opinions. Why do we concentrate on all of the small things in life? Why do we pour all of our time and energy into things that have no lasting significance? We obsess over outward technicalities and overlook the most important aspect of ourselves; our souls. I don't care what your argument is, but a troubled soul in a pair of jimmy chu's isn't any better off. We fixate our attention on expensive things, big bank accounts, and massive egos we can't feed. Shouldn't we be cashing our checks in a more profound way than purchasing all the traps and fittings to become some emotionally bullet-proof mannequin society? Who set our standards for beauty anyways? Who's right is it to tell us what we can perceive to be beautiful? Where have we gotten this notion that slim is better, blond is hotter, and in order to be happy we must waste our money on nip tucking our God-made perfect bodies? Shouldn't we be defining our own realities? Appearance is truly only skin deep, make-up can't do shit for your psyche. Skin withers, hair fades, and eyes slowly start to lose their twinkle. Maybe we slowly start to decay as we age as a way to remind us that what we've been slaving over won't follow us when we depart. Nothing is guaranteed, we may be gone tomorrow or the day after or the next. Life is too damn short to waste it on climbing up the totem pole of reputational success. This is your wake up call, answer it or don't. It's time we stepped out of this Hollywood persona and jump head first into a perpetual mindset. One day we'll all stand completely naked before the one judge who truly matters. We'll be bare with all of our faults and ugly demons that we ignored while we had the chance. Perfect figures will be irrelevant, and our true beauty will be on the block. Look past that face in the mirror and start focusing on the exquisiteness of your inner being, the true you.

Lie[ing] awake at night.

January 4, 2009.

They said time would heal all of these wounds.
Why am I still bleeding?
They said a new year would bring a new wind.
A new wind that blew away my self-pity bandaids.
I'm trying so hard to ressurect myself.
Why am I failing?
They said that I'd learn from our mistakes.
Why am I only learning how to miss you?
They said life would go on.
They lied.

Carnival affairs.

December 15, 2008.

I'm sick of these gut-wrenching worries, I don't like to constantly grasp straws.
These cleverly bending straws of hope, twisting to perfectly fit my paths.
I need a pin-straight roller coaster.
I've no need for these turns and dips, my emotions are a ride in themselves,
And I'm easily terrified of heights.
I wish with my whole being that you, would see the holes you tear in me.
Would see the paint I use to fix up my red blotched eyes from their rains.
I want a wedding march of an afternoon, with shiny-toothed bouquets.
I want a pick-me-up of 'I love you's, in this dark sea of 'go away's.

Hook, line, and sinker.

October 4, 2008.

This time in our hands, slips through like it's sand.
We can't keep our heads above the sea today.
Drowning in our love along with our angst.
Learning, confidence isn't a flotation device.

Unregrettable regret.

August 26, 2008.

Time clocks in more often than my thoughts check out,
I'm stuck in this cycle of faked heavenly bliss.
Those words you cast out, nearly scatter my bones.
With all my heart I ache to regret every second of this,
But you're merely nothing more than an unregrettable regret.
Eyelashes stick, thick with the black that runs.
Palms sweat, tired from winding the twiddling thumbs.
Uncontainable annoyances that spill forth of lips.
With all my heart I ache to regret every second with you,
But you're merely nothing more than an unregrettable regret.
Their ugly mocking faces turn in jeers full of pitisism.
Again, the clock dongs at the hour of inhibitionism.
The clock that times in more often than I check my thoughts.

Robobarbie drone clones.

July 30, 2008.


Envy flaunts itself in many shades, but you're looking rather ill.
A jealous heart spawns many a disease, so I'd sit this one out.
You'll soon forget your face, and you'll starve yourself to ecstasy.
Before you know it, you'll find your pride on the chopping block-
I've heard guillotined integrity is pretty popular these days.
You're just the next one hit wonder that'll never hit their mark.

Please forgive my false regrets.

May 27, 2008.

I'm sorry that you knocked me off of this cliff that i stand on.
I'm sorry that you broke my heart and left it bleeding.
I'm sorry that you screamed in my face for attention.
I'm sorry that you hardly cast your eyes in my direction.
I'm sorry that your finger only wags and never holds.
I'm sorry that your butcher knife lips cut my soul.
But mostly, I'm sorry that I can't be sorry at all.
I'm not sorry that you knocked me down, to pick me up.
I'm not sorry that you broke me, to fix me up real nice.
I'm not sorry that you screamed, to hold me when I cry.
I'm not sorry that you rationed looks, so that you'd catch my eye.
I'm not sorry that you stuck out a finger, and followed with four.
I'm not sorry that your lips burned me, so the wound they could cure.
I'm not sorry that I love you with all that I've got within me.
I'm not sorry that I'll hold you until all the breath will leave me.
I'm not sorry that I care, I cry, I hold you on a pedestal.
But lastly, I'm not sorry that I would hate to hate you at all.

My sidewalk ends at your front door.

April 21, 2008.

Rash decisions only lead to rashes of the heart, indecisive lips but dream to part.
Your hands shiver and shake with the slightest subtle touch, a brush.
Forced; my mind leaves my side and rushes to the highest mountain top of blue.
These laughing days with you, these child-hearted play-date days with you.
I can't imagine a more astounding picture, I'm not a fabricating fairytale wisher.
But I'd like to think that we could make this last, forever more and every day to pass.
Let's throw chance to the wind, along with embarressment and shyness as well.
This choreographed wave of circumstancial heart beating, of mine and yours- I fell.
Whisper feeble words to cause this soul to woo, whisper just that single phrase, "I love you."
My aspirations are mere fantasies my mind paints, but I know this ones a winner.
Take my hand, my heart, along with my down-falls, I know you take my all.
If only we would've lasted forever.

Hands up, hopes down.

September 5, 2007.

Trick me, pretty please.
I'm a sucker for your games.
Flash those aces and your smile.
I'm not one to fold.