my unraveled words

not much, but its something

2011-02-07T15:13:00.002-05:00

so this year has started off as one of the worst and most stressful of my life to date.

I am sure that there will be worse yet and better.

It's part of life.

I do believe that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

that surviving isn't just half the battle, its the whole battle.

it doesn't matter if you come out on top, just that you come out at all and that you still have legs to stand on and arms to support you.

it might not seem like much but it's everything at the same time.

I have run the gamut of emotions.

I was scared when everything came crashing down

angry, betrayed and heartbroken when my family turned their backs

defiant when told how i was supposed to run my life

grateful to know there was love and support out there for me in the form of wonderful strangers

love for even those who abandoned me

relieved when there was light on the edge of the darkness

things still aren't perfect or remotely close.

there is still stress and panic and I am pretty sure a need for medication

but life has a way of evolving whether you want it to or not.

this is where the fates want me to be in my life.

I am sure there is a plan

what it is I am sure I will know eventually.

but for now I must keep treading water, keep my head up and SURVIVE.

I'll most likely kill you in the morning...

2011-01-04T11:12:00.003-05:00

Someone replied that to my goodnight twitter post last night.

I woke up feeling like i might actually want to kill people.

funny how that worked out.

Actually, its not that I want to kill someone or anyone, just kill life in general.

I want it to stop for a while.

STOP THIS CRAZY WORLD I WANT TO GET OFF!

Bad things come in 3's

I am hoping that I missed the first one and that Chris losing his job was number 3.

If not then that means that something bad is still waiting. I don't think I can handle that.

I try to be a little candid in my posts because I am constantly thinking about what other people might think.

What my family would think if they stubbled upon this.

Not today.

Today I am just going to say everything.

Forgive me if I offend... but i really don't care this morning.

Today I kinda wish my family would read this.

Today I am getting it all out

Spilling it out on the table

Heart and soul for you all to poke, prod and examine

Here it is.

I want to not be strong.

I want to cry.

I want to go back to the way I was over a year ago when my friends didn't like to leave me by myself with sharp objects.

I want to cut myself deeper than I ever have before.

I want the pain and fire that is running through my veins to come rushing out.

I know that some of you will understand what that feels like and there are those of you who don't or don't want to. but here it is.

I can only equate it to being a smoker or alcoholic. You just have to do it.

perhaps this is my vice.

I just feel this pain, this burning and its too much to handle.

no amount of crying or trying to talk it out helps.

It BURNS. courses through my veins, through every organ of my body

rips and pulls through my chest

I have to give it a way out before it explodes through my heart and brain.

I never cut to kill myself.

No matter how many times it thought about it

how many times I have closed my eyes and the seen the blood rushing over my skin.

I rarely cut that deep and if I do its no where near a major blood source.

I really want to do it now but I made a promise I wouldn't

That may not seem like much to members of my family, but they have no idea how hard it is.

these are people that smoke religiously and never quit longer than a few months.

they will judge and mock and throw it back in my face because posers have made cutting into something that tight pant wearing emo kids do because "no on understands them".

I never did it for that.

I started by accident.

I started because I was weak, I was hurting, I was trying to get through and function like a "normal" person and I wasn't paying attention when sliced my hand open.

It was the first time I felt like I wasn't on fire. I became addicted to it like my mom is to smoking.

It took her almost dying and getting pneumonia for her to quit at 56.

It took strength and a promise to Chris for me to stop after 15 years.

I won't break that promise to him.

Now for the topic of Chris.

I love him. case closed.

I don't know where my family thinks that that doesn't count for something.

That after the incident on Monday, that I could just say "eh, I don't love you anymore. have fun finding a new home"

I love him enough to put myself through some of the toughest times in my life in order to support and care for him.

I don't know what my family expects or thinks, but obviously they don't know how to love like I do.

It actually pains me to thin that my family would give up on someone that quickly.

Shouldn't have shocked me then that my brother disowned me and told me to kill myself.

Jason Webley wrote:

We learned to fight and learned to love- ...
How to laugh and how to grieve,
We learned to trust, we learned to leave...
Guessed we had learned enough ways to love,
Still I don't know mother who we are.
Our minds were sharp, our bodies burning,
We gave ourselves over to learning.
How to break and how to give,
Betrayal taught us to forgive...
How to sink and how to fly,
We learned to watch each other die...
Thought we had learned enough ways to love...

Perhaps they haven't learned enough ways to love.

You have to love with your whole heart or not at all.

if its not with every fiber of your being or its not worth it.

I am hoping that love does conquer all.

that my sacrifices will be as worth it in the end as they are right at this moment.

That someday my family will realize that the conditional love they show, the love that has boundaries and comes with conditions and ultimatums is not the way to love. that it is not true love at all.

perhaps I am being idealistic.

perhaps I am just bending ideas and notions to fit my ideal

but perhaps I am not.

This is what I believe.

this is part of who I am

take it or leave it.

Be careful, you might end up in my novel

2010-12-30T01:14:00.004-05:00

someday I am going to actually write something other than spatterings in a blog.

Someday I will achieve the artistic peak I have been aiming for.

I have written poems, painted pictures, captured moments in time with photographs.

I have even written songs and inspired others to write songs.

Apparently I am not the writer that my family thought I would be.

Perhaps it is time to put them into the words they long for me to write.

Perhaps it is time to stop being candid and nice

Friends are the family you choose for yourself

2010-12-29T22:29:00.002-05:00

I chose Chris.

He needs me and I love him and that is that.

My dad won't talk to me and my older brother disowned me.

well, he didn't disown me. he told me I should be committed or go back to cutting or basically kill myself.

My mom said she will always be there for me but not for him. he needs to prove himself again.

It took over a year the first time, but I know he will again.

As far as everyone else, it is for them to get over.

I am not giving up on them but if they want to give up on me then fine.

I am an adult and most adults have only casual relationships with their family.

Maybe it is time to cut some ties. see them now and again and that be that.

When I am at my lowest it is my friends that are there for me without question.

My family judged and yelled and made me feel worse than I thought I possibly could.

They kept saying that I keep blaming other people for my faults and mistakes.

If they listened to anything I was trying to say they would know that that wasn't true.

However, the horrid feelings, the gallons of tears, they were because of them.

Because for once I just needed them there and not to judge and not to finger point

to just be there and be supportive.

My friends didn't even ask for details.

they knew there was something wrong and they were there.

maybe not holding me or providing the physical comforting and support I needed, but through text, tweet and phone calls, they were there.

Now if my family reads this they will say that I am just being angry and unfair.

that I am arguing and not listening and finger pointing.

I bet not a single one can tell me a single word I said. And if they can, it wouldn't be in the right tone or context.

that's not fair. my one brother and mom both realized that they were being unfair to me.

One day I will write down the whole story.

one day when we are all ready to open up.

But right now it is mainly between Chris and I.

Anyone who wants to judge and be angry, fine.

you do that.

see where that gets you.

As for me, I have enough on my plate.

Chris needs me and I need me.

They can say that I am not the same girl I was before Chris

And thank god for that.

That girl was sad and lonely and afraid of everything.

that girl didn't like to take care of herself, didn't like to socialize

that girl used to LOVE to take a nice, fresh, sharp razor to her skin

that girl used to think about how much better off she would be if she wasn't around.

That girl was gone until a few days ago when her family started to point everything back out to her. To say that who she is now is worse than before.

I beg to differ. I was finally starting to LOVE me. not razor blades.

If Choosing Chris was a mistake, I hope it is the grandest mistake ever.

xoxo

running the gambit

2010-12-28T01:16:00.003-05:00

today I was told I have to either give up my love or give up my family.

No one should have to chose between the two.

who I love is my choice. Who my family is, is not.

They feel I ma making a mistake in who I am choosing to spend my life with.

I respect their opinions but not the fact that they are forcing me to choose between them.

I am sure that any of you that have read my blog have seen a drastic decline in my posts.

it's because I can't seem to write when I am happy.

Just about every post is me trying to deal with my fears, sadness and self loss.

I didn't know who I was or what I was doing.

Obliviously my family doesn't read this blog.

According to my mother, I am not me.

I guess she like the depressed, lonely, scared girl that I had been for the better part of 15 years.

the stronger, more independent, happy girl of the last 2 years must be someone else.

My brother called me out on my cutting today. in front of my mom.

I showed him my arms, and all my healed cuts and scars.

I haven't cut since my love moved in. since I promised him I wouldn't and had him to help me.

It took him and not my family to stop that.

It took him to make me embrace more around me.

yes there have been hard times, but there have been great times.

He fucked up today. I won't deny that. I won't defend it either.

what he did was shitty and I can't explain why he did it.

He broke my trust and it will take a lot to get it back to close to what it was.

He knows this.

he is willing to leave me if I think it will help.

My mother accused me of taking the easy way out and running away from my problems.

At the same time she is telling me to not even let him back into the house and to give up on him.

to me that is running away. and you don't give up on people you love.

if you give up on everyone that ever screwed up then there would be a lot less people in this world.

Maybe I am being stupid and maybe he will finish breaking my heart.

or maybe he will heal the cracks he made today.

I know I have issue. and in my time of struggle the last thing I need was to have them all pointed out to me and told that I am a disappointment to my family and that I have to choose them over anyone else.

I won't do that. If they have a problem then they must choose.

I have enough love for all of them, but if they don't like my choices then that's just tough.

they are my choices. I don't interfere with theirs.

I am tired of always walking on eggshells with them. I am tired of never being able to finish a sentence when they are attacking me and not being able to explain myself.

I have been battle depression since I was about 11. and my mother can't figure out why I have the problems I do.

maybe if she paid just a little more attention to what I have been trying to tell her for years rather than constantly interrupting me and telling me how hard her life was.

I know how hard it was and I never tried to say mine was harder.

I don't know why I feel the way I do half the time.

I don't know why I think about what it might be like to drive my car through a guardrail.

what it would be like the watch blood spill from my wrists.

Why I am as old as I am and still afraid of the dark.

Why I can never sleep through the night.

Why I hear people who aren't there calling my name and why i see shadows when there is nothing there to cast them.

Why I started having anxiety attacks at 17

why I have been on 5 different medications and to 6 different shrinks in 7 years.

why I can't seem to keep my room or apartment clean.

Why I just want to leave the world.

you know the only reason I never actually committed suicide is because I didn't want to stick my family with the bills and because I know they wouldn't respect my last wishes.

I guess my family liked the girl that had all of that bubbling to the surface

now that i have found ways to suppress it and put on a happy face, which for the most part is a genuine happy face, they don't like that girl.

they like the one that was sarcastic but still did everything she was told. the one who didn't fight.

I don't like that girl. But after today there is more of her coming back.

maybe I can find a balance. maybe i'll find the real me sometime.

maybe I need more meds and more couch time.

I don't know.

all I know i right now it is me and him and the support of my friends.

that my mother is angry and my father disowned me

and thats their problem.

I'm not choosing. but if I have to, I am his only family and he deserves love and support right now because this is not about me. its about him.

2010-11-18T00:12:00.003-05:00

Just popping in to say hi.

hi.

I doubt anyone still even pays attention to this since I have been shamefully neglectful.

If you do, I apologize.

give me a little push.

comment on this

let me know what you would like to see, read, know about

things I can't explain away in 140 characters

things that I might only show the loyal few

sleepless night of a stupid girl

2009-09-09T02:43:00.002-04:00

i don't know why but I want to cry

as i lay next to you at night

why won't you touch me, or hold me

why won't you kiss me like you did before

you say yes when I ask if you love me

but you haven't said the words in days

i know I am being silly

i know that it is absurd

i know you love me still

i can see it in your eyes

feel it when you quickly grasp my hand

hear it when you tell me to "be safe" when I must leave you

but it doesn't stop the tears from wanting to fall

from rising up out of a soul that is aching to be touched

every time you let go of me and turn away

every time you say "I promise" then drift away from me

every time I hear your rhythmic breathing mingled with my quickening pulse

every time a fall into dreamless sleep feeling alone

I even wonder now, if you realize I have left your side

a place i wish to stay forever

a place now vacant if only for a time

will you wake up and remember the fears I whispered

will you remember the longing in my voice

the words it pained me to say aloud

the words you fell asleep to

Will you feel me return

will you hold me close

will you tell me that you love me

will you make me forget all that came before

Happiness

2009-09-01T00:37:00.002-04:00

I know I haven't written in a while. sorry.

the thing is, I have been Happy.

very very very happy.

I can't seem to write "happy" poems

I can't seem to express the feelings inside me now.

I have turned into one of those girly girls

the ones that think in hearts and flowers.

He's the same way.

not the girly girl part, but the rest

he read me his poems today.

they were about heartache and betrayal

the imagery was breathtaking

I asked if you would ever write a poem about me

he replied:

"I can't write about happiness... I hope I never have to write you a poem"

he then kissed me on the forehead

smiled his brilliant smile

and kissed me again

he eyes told me he was serious

that he only wants happiness with me forever

I only want happiness with him... forever.

Not prose and a bit cliche at the end

2009-06-10T17:57:00.002-04:00

This isn't one of my usual poems

this is a bit of a rant that is usually reserved for my other blog

But since I do know there are few people who check this out on a fairly regular basis I thought I would share what is on my mind right now.

Someone said to me... "Your life isn't that bad. why the hell do you get so depressed. You have no reason. Not like some of us do."

First off, their life isn't bad either. All their problems they brought on themselves. If they want to change, they are fully capable of it. Saying things to me like "welcome to the real world" when they live in their own delusional fantasy land is what got to me.

I know my life isn't that bad. As a matter of fact, its really not bad at all. Yes it has the usual ups and downs everybody has... but it is an over all good life. I have never been beaten, molested, raped, or otherwise violated in any fashion. I, nor anyone in my family are hooked on drugs or alcoholics. I have never been in prison.

So why am I depressed so often... Ah, there's the rub. That IS what makes it so hard. I often have no reason. I wish I had. If I had a legitimate reason, it would make things easier. Do you have any idea what it is like to be perfectly happy one minute and someone says something or does something that is so unimportant but somehow triggers a mental breakdown? To know things are going well and every time you close your eyes you see yourself slitting your wrists? I know what it's like. I see that all the time. I get the urge to cut, to slice into my skin... to make this pain go away. Pain that I can not find a cure for. Pain that rushes through my veins like fire and the only way my mind thinks it can be dealt with is to open up those veins and let it out. Let it rush out like a fiery demon that can't find an exit and I must make one for it.

See where that can be worse than having a horrible life? I was born this way. I have no escape. It is like this during the bad times and the good. I am use to it for the most part, but somedays are worse than others. Yes i smile and laugh and most days look like I am enjoying life to the fullest, and I am, because that is the only way to keep going. I can't let the demon win. It will someday find its way out on its own. Someday.

2009-06-06T00:44:00.002-04:00

My razor blade is at arms length

I'll try to sleep instead

but every time I close my eyes

All I see is my wrists glistening and red

my girl crush <3

2009-06-04T23:16:00.006-04:00

I can't help it, Amanda Palmer makes me so happy :)

When I met her I asked her if it was okay to ask her for a hug

She said all I had to do was ask

She gave me a genuine hug and wouldn't let go, I told her I loved her (and her music)

She gave me a kiss on the cheek, also not just a quick peck

when the embrace ended she smiled at me and put her hand on my heart

I could have died happy right then

I was smiling like a girl in love for at least an hour or more

everyone on the NYC subway now knows I am in love with another woman

and I am okay with that

You don't need to worry... much

2009-06-01T20:21:00.002-04:00

You don't need to worry

I'll never try it again

If I did it would over

I'd be on to something new

I may think about it often

but reposition the blade instead

a few lines here, far enough up

nothing too deep, they'll heal in time

you may not always believe me

when I tell you I'm fine

you stare at the pink marks

you count each fine red line

but know they are my release

my way of freeing the pain inside

this meant the world to me last night

2009-05-20T15:44:00.005-04:00

This meant the world to me last night.

There was more, but this is when I felt loved.

white = him green = me

My personal essay.

2009-05-11T10:29:00.003-04:00

I have been working on a personal essay for a writing competition and have rewritten it at least 6 times. I would normally show any competition writing to my mom, but I never show her my personal stuff... I don't even think she has seen this blog, though she knows its out here. I am going to put my essay on here. It's longer than anything else I put on here, but if I chicken out of entering it, I want it to at least be seen by someone. It could probably use some more editing... here we go...

“The Beginning of My Decent and How I Landed”

I am the girl with tear stained cheeks.

The one walking past on sun soaked streets.

I will smile a small smile and wish you good day,

Then wish for rain to come and wash it away.

You see, they always say, “write everything down. It might make for a good book someday.” What your ever-loving shrinks don’t realize is that when they tell a patient to write a journal, that they themselves will never read, it doesn’t make for a coherent story. There is a reason why you are seeing them. There is a reason why you need professional help. The reason being, you can’t figure your own mind out. That said; how is anyone else going to understand it when you write it? This is my attempt to make sense of the mess long after it was made. I try not to hide much, and if you care enough to look you would find it. Even if you just took a peek at my blog, read one of my poems or looked at one of my photos. All of those are pieces of me. My life is practically an open book that no one is willing to read, but its there for the world to see. I am a cutter. I take a razor to the flesh on my forearms and upper thighs and no one notices. It’s right there for all to see. How is keeping a journal supposed to help with that? That’s where you come in. This is part of my story. This is part of my outlet, my journal, my conversation with you my makeshift shrinks.

Let’s just start with a little bit of background. I think that most of my problems stem from a chemical imbalance due to being born premature. My doctors would also like to think that. Another option plays into the theory that you are more likely to have mental instability/depression if your mother does. Now my mother would never agree with that, probably because she will not openly admit that she is mentally unstable, just “stressed” a little. Okay, sure, whatever you think mom. I personally think your shrink gave you a clean bill of health about a year too early. That’s just me. So besides the fact that I think I am genetically predisposed to being a tad bit crazy, the people in my life didn’t do anything to suggest otherwise. Hmmm. So this first part of my story is going to focus on when things first started to happen, when things started to go wrong. So here is “Stacy, the Beginning and the Now.” I figure I’ll save the whole, awkward college years and my mom marrying my dad’s brother and making me my own cousin stuff for another time. Let’s just stick with where it began, and what I am doing now to deal with it. This is where it started, the beginning of my decent into the dark places of my mind.

My middle school years were a torturous hell from which my inner child my never recover. It was filled with taunting and teasing over being too tall, too fat and too weird. Weird only because I came from Catholic school and therefore there had to be something wrong with me. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if my best friend since kindergarten weren’t the main instigator. I shrunk into myself. I was the girl that spent most of lunch in the bathroom and recess in detention for bad grades and missed homework. I hate everybody. I was ten. No ten year old should already be thinking about how bad life sucks and how maybe it would be better if they weren’t around anymore. I used to think that constantly. No one noticed. My mom always thought the notes she would find in my room were about running away, and some of them were, some of them weren’t.

Things improved in junior high. I was in the reject class and liked it that way. They were family; they knew how to look out for one another. That is where I met Billy. He was my first real crush and he was great, always happy, smiling, and ready with a hi-five or a hug. We shared a locker, which there was no real reason for sharing; he had a perfectly good locker on the end of the hall. He knew exactly where to grab me around the waist to make me jump and move out of the way if I got there first. He made me forget all the kids that made me feel like an outcast. He accepted me for exactly who I was, Chuck Taylors, black clothes, thick-rimmed glasses and all.

It was amazing how much a summer can change people when approaching the teen years. It would be no different the summer between junior high and senior high. We both changed. I was becoming increasingly moody and depressed. The doctors all said it was puberty and growing pains and that it was likely I was a little imbalanced from being born too early. Billy was going through the same thing and got the same “it’s only puberty” brush off. I guess being 13, most of us were being told the same thing.

Billy and I shared one class that year and he sat behind me. It felt familiar having him there, bouncing his feet on the back of my chair, tapping my shoulder, pulling gently on little bits of my hair when he was bored, just being him. He smiled less, but then again, so did I and there was always a little bit of sadness in his eyes.

It was Halloween day when he looked the saddest I had seen him. We went about class as usual and when it was done, I stood and turned to tell him to have fun and that I would see him Monday. Usually that was responded to with a small smile and a “yeah, see you later.” Instead, he had gotten up and was standing right in front of me. He looked so upset. I asked him if he was okay and he nodded. Then he handed me the tab from his soda can, told me it was for luck. I took it and told him I would put it on “our” keychain, the one we would use to pry open the broken locker we had share so long ago. He smiled, and for a moment I saw the Billy I knew and loved somewhere behind those sad eyes. I smiled back and said I would see him Monday. Instead of his usual “see ya” he said goodbye. With that he walked away.

That would be the last time I would ever see him. He ran away that weekend and committed suicide less than a week later, hanging himself from a swing set in a park near his home. He was 13 and felt he had no other choice. It was the first time my heart would break. It would also be the first time I would take a razor blade to help me deal with the pain inside by causing pain I could control. This is a poem I would write more than 10 years later, when it seemed like I had no other choice.

What went wrong?

Why did you feel so alone?

Are you looking down us, hoping we make better choices?

Was it your only way out?

Every now and then I see your smile.

I feel your hands on my waist.

I hear you laugh as you make me jump.

Why didn't I see what was happening?

When did we stop knowing what those little glances meant?

When did laughing in hallways, turn to half smiles across rooms?

When did I really lose you?

Why after all these years, do you still come to mind?

Every time I bring a blade to my skin,

I see your eyes.

But I can't see the color, just the sadness.

Pleading with me not to press harder.

Not to bring the pain I want to feel,

to those who don't deserve it.

All the crying eyes the day we heard.

The hollow left when my heart was ripped out.

The confusion and the anger

How can I do it to?

Let someone else feel that pain?

You saved my life,

the day you ended yours.

There are many more events that take place in my life. A boyfriend, who cheats on me, knocks the girl up and then proposes to me. Another who turned out to be a drug dealer and moved to another state without telling me. A series of one night stands throughout my college experience and an almost sexual assault. Oh, and the time my grandmother kicked me out of my apartment on Christmas day, that was fun. I was stretching myself too thin, and was on medication and in counseling, yet I was still not “right”. I stopped cutting for a while, or at least became less “accident prone,” which I what my mom thought I was since I was technically more into “self-injury” than just cutting. It all started again when things in my adult life started getting worse. My parents never knew, and hopefully still don’t know, that I cut, that I do these things to myself. I figure there are worse things I could be doing. I am not, nor ever was, on drugs of any kind. I never smoked a cigarette or a joint. I drink, but only socially. I have been trying very hard to get my life in order, but it’s a struggle everyday. I have been formally diagnosed as having “borderline personality” disorder and teeter on the edge of being a full-blown manic-depressive. I am okay with that. I have been trying to live my life without medication, but that is getting increasingly difficult.

I found a small bit of salvation when I joined an organization called To Write Love On Her Arms, which supports people like me and has opened up so many possibilities and outlets. I have met so many great people and have gained so much knowledge and in return have been able to help others. When I was having some issues with cutting, a lot of cutting, and went to TWLOHA’s website and posted a request for help and advice. A girl from the Czech Republic reached out to me. We talked for hours. Now we talk everyday, helping each other when we needed it, but mostly just being there for one another. She calls me “Vrba” meaning “Willow - someone you can say anything to and know that they will understand and not judge you.” She is much younger than me, but I forget that each time we speak. I hold onto the hope that because I am here for her now, she will be less likely to be where I am now. I hold onto the hope that her life will be easier.

It took a long time to get as “right” as I am and I still think about Billy from time to time. I think of him every time I think I am done with this world. But I know there are people who care for me. I think about how things may have been different if To Write Love On Her Arms was around when I was a teen, how maybe Billy would still be with us. I may not be whole and still a bit broken. I can’t change my past, but I can have a hand in changing my future. I don’t have all the answers and never will. I will always be a little crazy, but you know what, I am okay with that. It makes me who I am.

question of pondering

2009-04-29T12:12:00.002-04:00

It used to be a question of pondering

self reflection

why try to make sense of it all

there is no rhyme or reason

it just is

but I don't want to accept that

I want answers

but no one is speaking

or is it that no one is listening?

is it all in vein?

speaking to the gods

theirs ears and eyes covered by clouds

my words cannot break through

maybe they can

maybe I am just meant to feel alone

totally alone with nothing more

than a stream of unanswered questions

why try

2009-04-29T11:53:00.004-04:00

I think its time to give up

I don't know why but it is

all I can think about is the fact that I can't get ahead

so why try?

if you can't beat them join them

but who are THEY?

why would I want to join them?

why wouldn't I?

maybe its all part of some divine plan

nothing seems to be getting me any further

so why try?

I would hope that all of this is worth it

that life is worth it

that trying is worth it

but right now none of this seems worth it

so why try?

purple & yellow

2009-04-29T11:52:00.001-04:00

I have a yellow door leading to my soul

With a purple crystal knob and Alice's fingerprints

in us by birth

2009-04-29T11:43:00.002-04:00

Pain is in our blood by nature of our birth

it surges and courses gaining speed

waiting and hoping for grand release

a knife to pink flesh

some crimson left behind

a pin prick here

a thin slit there

little outlets precede despair

sometimes dull or stinging pain

one form or another is what we gain

does it leave when our flesh is ripped open

does it leave our souls a hole to fill

are we better with it gone

do we leave space for new pain and fear

spiritual for physical

never real contented

the raging beast tearing inside

2009-04-28T12:33:00.002-04:00

I can't do this anymore

and no one seems to notice

no one seems to care

no one's arms are opened wide

providing loving shelter inside

just more blood, more tears, more pieces

2009-04-28T12:30:00.002-04:00

3 more lines to add to the collection

salt stains on cheeks and sheets to commemorate the death of friendship

that's the hardest kind of loss to bare

for it's the tearing apart of 2 souls that wanted to be one

2009-04-24T11:49:00.001-04:00

I am holding on with all my might

Searching for hope in the dead of night

2009-04-24T11:36:00.004-04:00

I am the girl with tear stained cheeks

the one walking past on sun soaked streets

I will smile a small smile and wish you good day

then wish for rain to come and wash it all away

2009-04-10T16:01:00.003-04:00

echoing and screaming

soon to die

3 a.m.

sleep's a lie

2009-04-08T12:18:00.000-04:00

Grand Central

2009-04-08T12:07:00.005-04:00

perfection abandoned

2009-04-08T12:00:00.002-04:00

and the darkness pushed away the light
a dance, a tryst, a never ending fight

I will

2009-04-06T12:59:00.002-04:00

I'll try to save your life tonight
I'll pull you from the edge
I'll try to stop the hurt inside
I'll try to help you win the fight
I'll do that without know who you are
I'll help you battle through the pain
I'll try to prevent all the scars
I'll love you just the same

My bleeding heart

2009-04-06T12:56:00.003-04:00

I'll paint you a picture
I'll paint it with my heart
I'll paint with all the colors
but the red's a little richer,
coloring in the lines of life

letter unsent

2009-04-06T12:53:00.002-04:00

I want to ask if you're alright
I don't know you,
and you know even less of me, of my existence.
but still.
there seems to be a pain behind your words
a loneliness dripping from between the letters.
I would send you this,
to show you someone cares
but you would never see it
ans I would never know.

(3.7.09)

in like a lion

2009-04-06T12:50:00.002-04:00

wind howling
hunger unsoothed
ripping and tearing
grasping at all
throwing itself against hard panes
seeping like a thief
through cracks unseen
echoing and screaming
soon to die
3 am, sleep's a lie
angry torrents
turn to soft breeze
brushing cheeks in shelters care

reminders

2009-04-06T12:47:00.004-04:00

soft pink scars
reminders of the pain I couldn't cut away
lines marking each fear, each painful thought
taunting reminders of darker days

(2.17.09)

you will never answer

2009-04-06T12:32:00.004-04:00

what went wrong?
why did you feel so alone?
are you looking down us,
hoping we make better choices?
was it your only way out?
every now and then I see your smile
I feel your hands on my waist
I hear you laugh as you make me jump
why didn't I see what was happening?
when did we stop knowing what those little glances meant?
when did laughing in hallways,
turn to half smiles across rooms?
when did I really lose you?
why after all these years,
do you still come to mind?
every time I bring a blade to my skin,
I see your eyes
but I can't see the color,
just the sadness
pleading with me not to press harder
not to bring the pain I want to feel,
to those who don't deserve it
all the crying eyes the day we heard
the hollow left when my heart was ripped out
the confusion and the anger
how can I do it to?
let someone else feel that pain?
you saved my life,
the day you ended yours.

(for Billy 2.17.09)

the slightest smile

2009-03-04T16:18:00.002-05:00

maybe i know more than you think

maybe, just maybe, my reality is just a little better than yours

yeah, I don't know...

2009-03-04T16:04:00.004-05:00

"Banana split personality. Bi polar bear"

- pete wentz

from above

2009-02-21T20:58:00.002-05:00

Will the sky be as beautiful from up above...

Will the breeze be as sweet?

...

2009-02-20T15:42:00.001-05:00

... and then there were none

"razor blades are softly serenading you"

2009-02-18T15:32:00.006-05:00

Fine lines of red

on the already pale

crimson droplets stain

the porcelain below

a dull razor

a little pressure

a few marks won't hurt

what is one more note

one more word

in the soft spoken symphony

of a life untold

sweet slumber

2009-02-17T20:40:00.002-05:00

Like a thief in the night

thoughts and dreams stolen

sleep with the window open

new visions flutter in

don't wake me up

this sweet slumber satisfies

some worlds better than others

2009-02-09T10:56:00.000-05:00

Dancing in time to songs unheard

gagging on thoughts and words unsaid

recoiling from the flames of fires unfelt

praying on bended knee to gods unseen

2009-02-09T10:54:00.000-05:00

casting blue shadows in the midnight snow

full moon light casting lovers glances at those below

Battle cry

2009-02-09T10:38:00.000-05:00

There is a battle cry raging inside

screaming to recall the parts of me I set aside

calling to arms my life unled

ripping from my throat the words unsaid

casting dark shadows on the shell I've become

the life I lead has come undone

willing me to be someone new

so I can feel something true

(02.08.09)

Little white crosses

2009-02-09T10:37:00.001-05:00

Little white crosses

lost in roadside brush

lives forever missing

forgotten in the rush

(02.08.09)

midnight prayer

2009-02-09T10:35:00.000-05:00

Man in the moon

my guardian dear

to Fate's will

commits me here

full and bright

you smile on me

a watchful eye

you will always be

ever this night

shine from above

to light and guard

to rule and love

amen

(02.08.09)

2009-02-09T10:34:00.000-05:00

Dreams dancing on the edge of night

twilight distorting images in flight

(02.04.09)

I'd like to think it's you

2009-02-09T10:32:00.000-05:00

Every time my ears ring

I'd like to think it's you

whispering my name in the dark

thinking about the times we were together

lamenting the time we've been apart

dreaming of a time when we can be together again

whispering my name in the dark

hoping the Fates will change their minds

(02.03.09)

as yet untitled

2009-02-09T10:28:00.000-05:00

"Hey moon, please forget to fall down. Hey moon, don't you go down." -PATD

The moon looks down on me

my smiling friend

grinning at my pain

laughing at my faults

hiding behind clouds

durning my hours of need

turning his back

when I fall to my knees

peeking around the corner

as I pick myself up

gazing down lovingly

as I make my way through

stepping aside at the break of day

but never falling, never fading

never failing, always smiling

(02.03.09)

a use for a random bit

2009-02-08T00:06:00.000-05:00

the insecurities laughed as they tore at my mind

with the ferocity of a devil grasping at the spirits of the damned

laughing like a malevolent child burning ants with a magnifying glass

in the swelter of the summer

laughing... tearing... tearing... laughing

crying... crouching

hiding in places that seem to offer little more

than an uncomfortable seat of a hard floor and leaking roof

nowhere can offer escape from the whirling dervish

that commands center stage

center... left... and right

Ode to a Breadbox circa 1950

2009-02-08T00:02:00.000-05:00

Red and white bread box

taken advantage of in your brightest day

under appreciated in your simplistic beauty

one of a million others

everything measure up to you

tossed aside when you became obsolete

of no use in a rebellious, anti-bread box society

one that stresses individuality and shelf life

thrown in a box, the tables have turned

2009-02-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

Lonely tear drops for min my eyes

as they succumb to sleep

stinging pain of fighting lids

straining, yearning, fighting against themselves

like snowflakes to the pavement

2009-02-07T23:50:00.000-05:00

Snowflakes glide to the warm asphalt

melting as they touch down, extinguished

no, not extinguished, changed

dramatically altered, identity lost

reflecting the sun, in cold pools they wait

yearning to be absorbed back into the air

so they may begin their fall again

we careen into life

like snowflakes to the pavement

shifting, changing, adapting, waiting

waiting to be absorbed into the earth

to begin out decent once more

love songs say so much...

2009-02-07T23:44:00.000-05:00

Our parents' generation believed "All You Need is Love"*

Our generation realized it must "We Must Reinvent Love"**

Hopefully our children's generation will Be That Love***

* "All You Need is Love" - Beatles, 1967

** "Mad as Rabbits" - Panic at the Disco. 2008

*** A song yet to be written

pocket full of...

2009-02-07T23:42:00.000-05:00

ring around the rosie

pocket full of dreams

childhood ambitions

melt to adult schemes

still here

2009-02-07T23:39:00.000-05:00

I've talked of wings

and leaping over mountains

of sinking through the sea

yet still here I am

aching for change

scared to death...

what lies beyond those mountains?

and on the the other side of the sea?

what if the search for more,

causes the loss of me?

random bits

2009-02-03T12:05:00.000-05:00

The confusion laughed as it pulled at my soul

The clown car is teetering on the hi-wire and there is no net below

Why I never go to the Mall

2009-02-03T12:02:00.000-05:00

I actually went to the mall the other day. Rather than getting in and getting out, I decided to sit in the food court and people watch like I used to when I worked at said mall. There was a group of kids there, all about 16ish. This one girl decides to stand up and twirl in a circle with her arms over her head like a retarded ballerina and announce the she "doesn't eat food" and then strikes a pose. Her friends look at her like she's an asshole... I look at her the same way.

oh, Joe

2009-02-03T12:00:00.001-05:00

A friend of mine once said to me,

"somewhere in my development of social interaction skills, something went really wrong."

We never actually met.

a little late

2009-02-03T11:54:00.000-05:00

Here's an older one I just came across in an old note book

Wings

I need some room to spread my wings

the smallest bit will do

my life is too chaotic

it doesn't seem my own

problems close around me

the air starts growing thin

I can feel my freedom shrinking

as my wings grow from within

Paper Dreams

2009-01-26T00:15:00.000-05:00

I sleep with a pen

and paper close at hand

tools to capture the words

that come to me in the night

parchment under my pillow

ink at my fingertips

waiting in the dark

eyes closed

words fluttering behind closed lids

forming paper dreams waiting to be born

Sleep... you awful tease

2009-01-25T23:49:00.000-05:00

I always come up with musings

whilst trying to fall asleep

my body to heavy to move

not a flicker of the lids

my mind... oh my mind...

phrases, verses, pretty prose

run circles through my brain

promising me they will stay

that I will not wake up alone

but like the fine details of a dream

they are gone... a playful tease

the first one... here we go

2009-01-24T20:57:00.000-05:00

I'm hoping that this will help with the creative block I've got kicking... here goes...

"Things have changed for me, and that's okay, I'm on my way..." -PATD

I'm on my way and don't know where it leads

one moment I am terrified of where I'll end up

the next I am oddly comforted by the mystery that lies ahead

it is said that it is all about the journey

and each destination is the beginning of something new

I need to make the first step

though the first move was thrust upon me

... well that's as good as its gonna get tonight