Caught Between

Lyrics:

Why does my heart long for you?
I don't understand why I love you,
but I do. Though I swear it isn't true
'cause I'm afraid it could be
forever, forever you and me.
You and me.

So I lie to you, leave me alone.
Just leave me alone,
but I'm crying out, I'm crying
please, please don't go.
But you go.

I bleed when you forget me.
I lash out from my pain
that I never show.
Just kiss me, I can forgive
your cigarette flavored lips.

But I lie to you, leave me alone.
Just leave me alone,
but I'm crying out, I'm crying
please, please don't go.
But you go.

Oh, if only you could be
what you say you want to be.

But you lie to me, make me believe
that you could be a better man for me.
But I see, oh how I see things so clearly,
though I don't want to.
I see you.

A Call Girl Called Stacy

As he rolled off of her bare body, she felt something she never had before: filth. Stacy, the name everyone in Chicago knew her as, had been selling her skills on the streets for quite some time now. Never once had she felt any shame or filth in the things she did to get by. She sadly enjoyed herself, as pleasing these desperate men guaranteed money in her bra and cocaine up her nose.

“How much did you say?” the man grumbled with satisfaction and a hint of guilt in his voice while she pulled her skirt back down.

“A dime and 200,” she replied dryly. He glanced with a look of confusion. When he met her, she had spoken sweetly and pulled him in with the seduction in her voice. His needs had been met though, and the aftermath was not of concern to him; she could speak as dryly as she pleased. He pulled the dime of coke from his pocket and the two hundreds from his wallet.  After he pulled his coat over his broad shoulders and put his hat back over his dark brown, curly hair, he walked his short and chubby figure out the door to, in the eyes of Stacy, hopefully never be seen again.

She stayed in the hotel room for several moments after he left. She drenched herself with cheap perfume to rid the stench he had left on her skin, though to her it felt as though it had sunk in much deeper. It was a stench she could not eliminate and it reeked in her bones. She looked around the place as if this room was a reflection of her life realizing it was; the sheets messy with disgrace, the static of a TV show playing in the background, the coke in her palm, the odor of her perfume mixed with the scent of an unclean man. She quickly formed a line on the bedside table to escape. She laid back into the bed to let the high sink in.

                 An hour later, close to midnight, Stacy walked home passing by her corner at Pop’s Italian Beef Restaurant. She unlocked the door to her studio apartment where her mattress lay on the floor and her fridge was once again empty. She pulled her heeled boots off slowly and turned the T.V. on. After snorting a couple of lines the stench of that chubby man filled her nose. She felt queasy and quickly leaned over the side of her bed to throw up on the floor, but nothing came up. She hadn’t eaten in days.  She pulled herself into the bathroom, propping herself up over the sink. She lifted her raccoon eyes to meet herself in the mirror. She looked weaker than she had felt. Her face was dull and her cheeks sunken in as close to her teeth as possible. Her natural, dark-colored hair presented itself along the roots, though the rest was dead with blonde coloring. Her nose dribbled blood slowly over her dry, colorless lips.

                Grabbing toilette paper to clean up her nose, she headed back to her bed. As she lay down, her mind began to race. Flashbacks of her childhood mixed with scenes of her current life. Images of her mother’s bleeding face after yet another one of her drunken father’s beatings, or moments of dirty men grabbing at her privates after having paid a fee to own her clogged her consciousness. Half-mindedly, she decided she wanted better. Before she could think a clear thought, she found herself passed out still partially clothed.

                When Stacy woke the next morning, she awoke with a pounding headache and severe cramps. Looks like I’m out of business for a few days, she thought to herself. She opened the refrigerator looking for something to chug her Tylenol down with, but only found a cold beer. She grabbed it and sighed while she twisted the top off. Returning to her bed, she sat in silence, going back to the thoughts she never finished the night before. She searched around the room as if her answer could be found in the cracks on the walls or the spots where dirt hid between the floorboards. Her eyes found only her bag of cocaine. She concentrated on it for a long moment, for the first time thinking about what to do with it. There were roughly two lines left, and she had no money to purchase more. Her rent was due a week ago and even with the two-hundred she made the night before, she still didn’t have the funds to keep the run-down place she occupied. She felt that stench seep into her nostrils once again, and she knew she couldn’t continue this way. It was now a choice of life or death.  With the next few days now being open she took the opportunity she had been refusing for years; to help get herself cleaned up.

                Looking through her closet, she realized she owned nothing professional in any area of work besides prostitution. She did the best she could to make herself presentable and began the search for job openings. Since she didn’t have a car she rode the bus all over the city, stopping at each diner and pub she could find. She figured serving people would be easiest for her, since she had been doing it in a sense for so long. When she walked into the fifth diner of the day, Lou’s Diner, she felt she had finally succeeded. They were hiring and set her up with an interview for a couple days later. Thrilled with a possibility of change, she went to the nearest clothing store to buy some waitress attire. She figured since she couldn’t pay the rent either way, she might as well invest in her new job. Returning home, she snorted up the last of her dime, knowing this was the last of it for good. 

                The next morning she awoke to the sun in her eyes. It was nearly twelve when she rolled herself out of bed. Today was going to be a big day for the newfound Samantha. No longer would she be calling herself Stacy, no longer would she sell herself, and no longer would she do cocaine.

                She walked slowly up to the house just outside of Chicago. It was a half-way house, but everyone knew it as Marg’s Place. Marg was the lady who ran the house and helped those fighting addiction. When Samantha knocked on the door she was greeted by a warm face partially covered by red, curly locks.

                “Hi, I’m Samantha Burt. I called you earlier this afternoon,” Samantha said shyly.

“Yes, yes! Come in, Samantha. It’s so nice to meet you!” Marg replied with glee. They walked in to the small living room with green walls and a brown sofa.  “Would you like some tea?” Marg politely asked.

“Oh, thank you, but I think I’m all set. Maybe just a glass of water would do,” she nervously answered. After Marg returned to the room with Samantha’s glass of water and tea for herself, they spoke for a long while about Samantha’s big step of moving in. Samantha and Marg agreed that it would be best to do it as soon as possible, and with her being free after her interview in the morning the next day, she would move in then.  It was nearly 7pm when Samantha left the house. She was filled with joy. Luckily, a bus was running close to her apartment at 7:20pm. She hopped the bus and journeyed home, ready to begin her packing for the next day’s move.

She stepped off the bus into the chilling wind and began her five block walk to her apartment. It was just after 8pm, but the sky had already darkened. The streets seemed slightly quieter tonight than they usually were, but this could have been due to it being a Thursday evening. Pop’s Italian Beef was on her walk home and she dreaded walking by her corner. She continued briskly by the window hoping to not be seen. As soon as she got to the alley just beside it, a man stopped her.  He was short and chubby with brown, curly hair. She recognized him from a few nights ago. He was the man whose stench she could not rid; the man who changed her life.

“Can I get another round?” he said, obviously remembering who she was. He grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her closer. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“No, I’m not doing that no more. Sorry buddy,” Samantha said firmly trying to pull her arm out of his grip. He held on tighter and had an intense look in his eyes. She felt a bit of fear rise in her.

“Well, I don’t care. I had you once, Imma have you again,” he slurred as began forcing his mouth onto hers. She fought back but she was weak and he was drunkenly strong. With force, he pulled her into the alley beside Pop’s. 

Mending Shades

                I view through large, open windows the hectic world continuing on its diligent course. In here, this place in which I rest and mindfully observe, it is quiet.  Empty tables where people should reside sit lonely around me. The smell of cooked meat and fresh cut vegetables fills my nostrils as I breathe in deeply. The walls hold few paintings and are a hideous orange. The carpet shows areas well-traveled and where people lost their manners and left pieces of lettuce to rot upon the floor. My plum scarf heats my sorrowed heart as a breeze drifts through the bell singing door. Slowly, this place begins to transform.

The walls paint mountains and trees onto themselves, and oddly, I can smell their sweet scent. Puzzles unfinished make up the tiles beneath me, creating unexplainable images. The tables stay empty, longing for company. Heart shaped flowers spring delicately from each table top but droop when I look away, as if I have not given them enough mind or attention; the open windows distract me. I draw the shades, casting shadows into this visionary room while flickers of light break through.

A gentle tune of flutes plays lightly in the background. I can hear my heart beat half-heartedly in my chest and faint sounds of the happenings outside. A bird flies by with a destination in mind. Many cars speed and pass each other, hoping to cut minutes from their travel. Though, I am here, as if in another world where time is not defined but rather left outside. Only the measure of breaths I take guide me in understanding the world exterior to me.

These pieces scattered about, these heavy flowers, I question. Where are the missing pieces? Why do these flowers droop so sadly when I do not contemplate them?  I explore more deeply, letting myself out of my sound grip holding me in the moment; an epiphany begins to arise.

New windows appear on the far wall. I look out them and see myself placed in the middle of that hectic world. I see myself continually pass by my ill-colored heart but embracing my mind close, looking as if I’ll never let go. Puzzle pieces disperse beneath my feet as I hurry forward. I step back from my realization to let it sink in, to better understand how I let myself fall apart. I glance at those flowers again and see a fully healed heart emerge from its center. In my palm, puzzle pieces grow from nothing, but fit my unfinished foundation. I return them to their destined place and place my blooming heart in my hand, pressing it against my chest. It sinks into me, beating beautifully.

Weaving Through Time Slots: A Mind Never Lost

The floor smells of rotting leaves, soft soil, and bits of blood. Shards of the dead leaves stick to the fresh cuts across his face. Around him is a blur. Colors of green, brown, and slivers of grey smudge together. A slight sight of blue emerges in the background. “That must be the sky,” Tristen Wolfton thought to himself. Laughter echoes in the distance while the sounds of birds’ wings send pings of pain throughout his head. As he slowly props himself up, all around goes black. He holds on for the moment until his blurred vision returns. It becomes clearer as he sits against the giant oak. A large rock, almost a boulder, sits bloody to his right.  Leaves and broken sticks lay beneath him, some still sticking to his wet face. His blood drips to the ground, from both his head and the rock.

He touches his face and forehead to feel how bad the wound is. It feels as if his head has been split wide open. He can fit the tip of his pinkie between the two flaps of skin. From this thought, he becomes light headed. He is unsure what has happened, why he is here, what he was doing. He shuts his eyes for a moment, but dizziness takes over, so he reopens them quickly. He turns his head slightly to the left at the blur of a squirrel scurrying by. Finally, he sees something to jog his memory; the outline of a bike, his bike to be exact.  “Am I on Rocky Curb?” He thinks to himself, trying to figure out his location. He faintly remembers leaving his house; his wife, Christy, left in a pool of anger as he headed towards the trails to let off some steam. He felt the dampness beneath him, slowly remembering the difficulty of the trails this afternoon.

He tries to move towards his bent and broken bike but slips down the small slope beside him. Once he catches his footing he rises to his wobbly legs. He steps slowly to his bike to examine the damage. It is ruined. He delicately falls beside it, letting himself rest.

The leaves begin to sway strongly in the trees as the wind starts to pick up. The air smells of coming rain and sounds of thunder stir in the distance. His unsteadiness will not disperse so walking home is hardly an option. He suddenly hears the crunching of leaves beneath a foot and realizes the sound is coming closer. His body becomes tense with worry that grows with his knowledge that there are bears and wolves on this mountain. He keeps his eyes peeled towards the noise, ready to put up whatever battle he can, given his condition. A figure appears from behind the blur of many trees, though he is still uncertain what is approaching him.

“Tristen? Oh, my God. Are you okay?” a voice finally speaks. It is a familiar voice; his good friend Ron. He can see another figure approaching and realizes he was biking with his two riding buddies, Ron and Alden. Memories slowly come back to him about the path. It was difficult to ride today due to the hurricane that just passed through.

“Yeah, I… I don’t know. My bike… my head… is cut,” Tristen tried to spit some words out.

“Just sit back. You’re bleeding pretty bad, man. We’re gonna have to call the ambulance. Did you bring your cell, Ron?” Alden asked in a tone covered by concern. Ron searched his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. Alden took his over shirt off to wrap around Tristen’s head and hopefully slow the bleeding. Ron called the ambulance while Alden attempted to patch Tristen up. Tristen, loosing lots of blood, was feeling slightly delusional. The words they spoke around him began to slur into nothing that made sense. Trees looked as if they were falling towards the ground and the sky became black. He looked towards the mid-day sky and saw the moon, full and orange. A lightning storm formed around it, as if it was happening outside of the Earth and in the atmosphere surrounding the moon. “What the…? What is going on?” he questioned as he closed his eyes and felt his head fall back into Alden’s hand.

“Tristen… Tris…”

He delayed moving from his bed, looking at the unfamiliar walls. His wife’s arm was wrapped around him. “Where did all our pictures go?” he puzzled. He scratched his head and felt a large bandage wrapping fully around his skull. He thought the accident had been a dream, but when he looked at his hand still covered in blood, he knew it was real. Sitting up too quickly, he blacked out while a vision of the blood covered rock flashed through his mind.

He walked down the hallway that used to be covered in family pictures, but now was bare. Once in the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to see a mangled face. His heart stopped for a moment as he observed the stranger in the mirror. He had a five o’clock shadow, which never happened for him. He was always clean shaven for his teaching job at the local high school. One of his eyes was now brown, rather than blue. His cheekbone was swollen and looked as if he had a tumor growing there. As he looked in shock, his wife came up behind him. Her hands were weathered, not the hands he once knew. She wrapped them around his torso saying, “I’m loving this new look, hunny. I’ve never really seen you with facial hair before. Let’s go back to bed. Adam is still sleeping you know,” she hinted kissing behind his ear. He was in no state to mess around, though. As he was about to deny her, he was saved by the cry of their young son, Adam. They both sighed and she walked out the door to attend to the baby.

“I’ve never heard him cry that way before. Everything feels so strange. What day is it?” he thought to himself, feeling confused, as he walked towards the kitchen. A white board hung on the fridge with the duties for the day, given the date. It was July 21^st. He looked in disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last week. He sat down as the blackness returned to him as whispers flooded his escaping mind.

Happy birthday, honey. Another…

Dad, can you hear me? Dad, I...

Several weeks had passed while his wounds healed. He still suffered some blackouts but it was getting better. The day was filled with sunshine and a cool breeze, perfect for a bike ride. He had rode a few times with his new bike on level ground but was feeling an itch for the mountain once more. He set out for Rocky Curb again, with Ron and Alden joining to make sure nothing happened.

He rode carefully down the slopes and over the roots of tall trees. When he came to the corner where he had spilled last time he slowed right down to a stop. Not because he was scarred but because he wanted to observe the area. He still did not remember how it all happened, just the things he saw after the accident. He walked to the rock which was still stained slightly red. A chill shot down his spine as he noticed a bright white light between the oak and the rock. Ron came walking up behind him, making sure everything was okay.

“Man, that was really scary. Luckily it was just a little concussion though, right?” he said as he shoved his elbow to Tristen’s, trying to make a bit of a joke. Tristen smiled.

“Do you see that light there? Next to the rock.” he asked with a slight worry in his voice. He had been seeing strange things lately that others weren’t. He hoped this wasn’t one of them. He was sick of looking crazy to his family and friends.

“What light? You mean the sun rays touching there?” Ron replied as Alden came walking up to them.

“Examining the scene, huh?” Alden interrupted before Tristen could agree it was just sun rays, though that was not at all what he was seeing.

“Yeah, I just wanted to see the spot. It was kinda blurry last time I was here,” Tristen said with a chuckle. It was easier to make a joke out of the situation that happened.

After finishing the ride, Tristen felt rejuvenated, but couldn’t stop thinking about that white light. “Have I lost all sanity? “  he questioned. He couldn’t make sense of the things he’d heard or seen. He knows better than to really believe his dog, Bob, could speak to him or that there were lightning storms in his room and circling the moon that never left the sky. He felt the answers may lie within that light. The image of that light swelling from beneath the rock blanked out his vision as he heard loud ringing and voices.

“Tristen, can you hear me? Come back to me, hunny. Come ba…”

Tristen was walking alone up Rocky’s Ledge when he realized he had no recollection of getting there. He was almost to the white light by the rock though, and he knew he wanted to examine the area. Once he approached it, it looked as though it had gotten bigger.  He set down his backpack and kneeled in front of the white hole. It was so bright it was hard to look into, but he couldn’t look away. He shifted his head slightly, trying to reduce his blindness as he proceeded to put his hand through the hole. He shoved his whole arm, up to his shoulder, down the white light’s throat, but felt no end. He pulled back, confused.

“What could this possibly be? I don’t know that I dare look inside. I wouldn’t be able to see anyways. I don’t think… maybe I have to look in. Maybe I will understand,” he thought, trying to talk himself into proceeding into the unknown. He cautiously stuck his head straight into the white light, leaning forward trying to peer down into its depths. He opened his eyes to see a blur of lights, ceiling lights; the long ones that hang in schools and hospitals. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision as he heard a familiar voice.

“Tristen!? Oh my God, Tristen, hunny? He opened his eyes! Call the nur…” the voice blurred out. He pulled his head up quickly, unsure of what he just saw and heard. He looked around the forest. No one was in sight. “What do I do? What do I do?”  he repeated to himself. He had no explanation, only curiosity. He wanted to jump right into the light, discover what was in there, who was calling his name. He thought for a moment, trying to reason the possibilities, weigh out the risks and benefits. “I need to understand. I can’t keep living this way. I have to,” he started to tell himself. He looked into the light with fear filling his dark brown eyes, and dove.

Kitten-Heart

Okay

what I’ll be, am—all you
said when I explained
there was no
making up for habitual

mistakes.

One sentence, you gave
up— neglected
the idea of changing

my set mind.

I cannot identify, absorb
your reasoning— accepted
failure effortlessly;
realized I wasn’t

easy to capture.

Your passion for me—
weak, evaded by your life-
lesness, dormant ways;

vacate.

Where Love Cannot Re-Blossom

There is nothing there.                                   Nothing,
but a sliver of              love                 and caring                               for you
but I guess       not more than
I care about my own well-being         and that is      part                 of our problem.

I love myself more than I could ever              love you
because you are          not       concrete but can move freely            in
and out of my life       as you please,                         and do, 
and I can only watch               it happen again           and again and try my best

to protect myself        when I see you            on the caller ID after months                         of waiting.
You must not want to change someone         to love them, but darling,                   I slightly want
to change you                         because I believe it isn’t your lips      that I am addicted to

but must be the taste              of lies, the residue      of an addict’s preference;      dribbles of
pills             stuck above your lip.       Free your nose,          smell only flowers,                  crush me             
up and breathe me in;            I am                 your drug of choice                 since you
always treat me the same way          you do that bottle. Use me up            till I am

long gone but linger               in your system, and you                      will crave for me
to get you        that high once again, but        never               will this happen,          for I am empty.             Withdrawals                will haunt you                                     each night as memories
occupy your dreams, nightmares                  they will become                    unless you rehab yourself                   from these pills, these lies             you feed me while I                continue
to rehab          you                  from me.

Glass Walls

Lyrics:

Decipher me. Pick me apart
‘Cause I’ve forgotten how.

Break me, somehow set me free.
Unravel my twisted heart.

I want to feel again,
it’s been
so long.
I want you in my arms.

But I’m scared to have you near,
I’ll just hurt you in the end,
so I’ll put up these glass walls.

We’re just two strangers in a room
who’ve met a thousand times before.

Can you show me,
tell me what you see
when you are loving me, oh

I want to feel again,
it’s been
so long.
I want you in my arms

But I’m scared to have you near,
I’ll just hurt you in the end,
so I’ll put up these glass walls.

Oh these glass walls

Will protect you from my harm.
I’m tainted and bruised,
I don’t want to blemish you.

So I’ll put up these glass walls.
Oh  I'll put up these glass walls.

Seal up My Love

When placed                                                             O

so delicately                             N

                                                                               

T

    O

P

it suffocates,

ceases

her from dancing

with molecules.

She stands

tall, still—until

she shrinks and shrivels

leaving but only

a black

wick.

There is a J in Heartache

Oh, how I could have loved you, pleased
you better than any other woman
you will ever meet. You may think 

you have the slightest idea of what you

gave up but you have not even begun
to figure it out. Once you find yourself

only sleeping among dirty women
whose skin reek of drugs and privates
ache with disease you will remember me

and how we cuddled up on your couch,
you kissed my clean forehead and smelt
my washed hair; How our lips fit perfectly

together and I didn’t taste like the butt
end of a cigarette. Yet, I foretold this to be
the outcome from succumbing to a J.

Just as J’s rolled, breathed in, harm,
you, when considered, break hearts. 

Captivating Criminal

Once again, you’ve changed me,
showed me the spark that can ignite
a fire deep inside by a simple
coming together of lips between two lovers
who can only refuse one another.

We are not right,

yet we cannot be wrong
with a longing like this, lasting
years of silence and months of
separation at a time because

neither you nor I have been ready
to love one another, though we
have always burned to. Your lips

stay locked on mine in my memory
and I hold on to that feeling of bliss;
the taste of your green cigarette;
the feeling of possibility that maybe

this year, this day, we will finally connect.

But I fear you soon will run away
as you always do; forget to call
for our very first date.

Your best at abandoning but I can imagine
the lover you could be to me and how
I could attempt in calming that innate anger
that seems to always be boiling inside
those beautiful eyes and mumbling
from those perfect lips that are

destined to someday be mine.

You are sweet; will wait on me hand and foot
in the moment but forget me when the sun
decides to rise. Our situation is difficult,

like Romeo and Juliet, and this may be
the only reason why we long so deeply,
because we are not meant-to-be.

But I love you and you in some way
love me, though you still are not ready
to act on this but instead daydream
of what we could be. You string me along

while you attempt to figure yourself out.

And I will wait, whether it may be
by choice or by default from my lack
of ability to long like this for

anybody else.

Mother's Day

reminds 

many of their wonderful mothers who

were there 

no matter what the situation was; only one

 who 

put your life ahead of their own,

you were 

the center of their world, the universe.

You know 

she will always have your back, never suspect she may turn.

Though this is not 

what some think of on this day. Some like myself

wonder 

what happened, where things went wrong.

Looking

at her–I don’t see a mom.

Some people

 like me, sit with their siblings and talk of how

embarrassed 

we are, how we wish we could help.

She’s so far 

off the path, hopes of hope are far gone, we continue on.

I’m thankful 

for what you have taught me in all your wrong doings of me.

 I’m deeply thankful 

for the scars you left and my dying insecurities.

Deep, Deep down,

I wish I could love you like others love their mother, but

resentment and hatred lie 

where your love is, though I did not plant those seeds,

 it was your hand that reached in. 

Dear J's of My Life

                Where do I begin to explain how all you J’s chAnged me. My first, stEpping up to the pLate to teach me how to never again need someone so badLy chEst pains sting at the thought of being without; volunteering to be the first to truly crush my heart and naïve hope that in men there is a sliver of decency. I was a slow learner and it took five years and two more J’s before I could leave you. 

J nUmber two, you Showed me That forbIdden love is fuN, but only disastrous when you get down to it; schooling me on how to see the clues of a better cheat. Our fling so quickly burnt out the smoke still rises years later as a reminder.

The ultimate J, J number three, the One; you Helped me see the evil that surrouNded me, the bitterness and self-loathing I had, though you created more in the end.  I came to you with a wounded heart and mind and you, at first, made me heal, but soon infected me with a disease I still cannot rid. The One, you taught me that when the rain is pouring things are not at its worse, but hail and wind can fall and break things already broken.

                My J’s, through all of your brave and selfless volunteering to teach me the cruelness of relationships, I have come out not only scared to once again show myself to a possibly judging eye, but am incapable to give what I gave to you; love. My heart continues to beat, ooze from the wounds you all have left me. With this, I don’t know whether to thank or hate you for tainting me so beautifully. My eyes may be open, my heart may be closed, but my mind is left to decide what lessons to believe and hold dear, like I once held each of you.

"Jo, Short for Josephine"

The lights stay dimmed while
a simple stage is lit. In a four
seat row I find myself

alone;

a vacancy sign propped above
my bushy head, till a lady
walks beside offering warm

conversation

and years of scenes played
over and over again—
with a family repeating

my name;

Just as Romeo and Juliet’s
family name gets passed,
repeated, over again in plays.

We

speak of teaching as I
am aspiring and she once
was, giving me tips and praise

                for what I haven’t yet done.

When the lights turn up
we walk each other
down stairwells and hope

one day

we’ll run into each other at
another play, and I can tell her
how she inspired me on my way. 

Secrets of a Tainted Heart

My words so sour as milk months old, forgotten, and spill so slowly from my oozing mouth of a wound through fingers typing away not knowing what they say. I spill, like fallen glasses breaking and shattering upon the dirty wooden floor they didn’t see coming while enjoying the bliss of freedom before they reached their final place. On paper this ink sticks and stays and I can’t delete the feelings that reside within me, though gruesome and sick as they may be, sunlight, eyesight, they must see, be read by those willing to believe that I am only human and I cannot help but feel and say these things that upset me. My mouth moves so quickly like the vibrations through the air as I speak this to you, stumbling over my own words. They cannot explain, never will show what it is that I’m really trying to say. In my stumbling maybe you will feel what I feel and understand that I do not mean to hurt or lie, I do not mean to let myself cry but I don’t know how to express what is inside this lying and filthy mind that plays tricks and trades and wants things to stay the same and change all in one breath. I go right than left and find myself in the same spot as when I first thought I left, realizing I haven’t learned how to move but think that I’m so smart, know it all, I’ll give you advice on things that I continue to fail at. I fail, over and over again and I can tell you the things I learned and help teach you but I can’t take these lessons and apply them and know what the new outcome may be because I have not graduated from stupidity, foolishness, thinking that people are decent and I can trust them. Where do I find the answers for how to be mindful and have compassion for those who continuously step on my fingers and toes and smile while they break and I’ll let this happen and smile in return and help them until finally one day I snap and ramble in this messy form of a poem or reading and I let it all out, show my bruises and scars and how angry I can be from the things they have done to me. I have self-pity, I do not understand because I move forward in my mind while my heart stays behind holding grudges and reminding me that I should never again let her go into the dark alone and experience the unkindness of my own kind. But I do believe that out there somewhere is a group of people who care so deeply as I and understand this message I’m trying to say, understand this confusion that continuously haunts at bay.

The "Big" Show

Of all the acts I’ve played,
maybe but three were worth
a memory; worth counting.

You my dear, are forgotten;
lost to my denial that we
may have acted as one.

A glorious pit fills my empty
stomach when a scene of you
on top of me begins

to unfold so disastrously,
much like the actual events;

You lasted but only a minute.

Proven Fool, Round 22

How angering, frustrating,
foolish, better yet,

disappointing

to have believed You
were a better man than

You really are

just like those other
boys—believing Your

a big, burly man

because You can grow
a beard and pubic hair.

20 something years, You
still haven’t learned

a woman’s worth

is something You should
not take for granted, though

                time and time again

You do.  Your mind and heart
may never grow, but Your

penis surely will

become infected with
uneducated diseases
while You wonder

Why did I let that one go…

Excuses Are For Boys, Not Men

I must have been bored, settled
for a boy with the name of a 5 year old,
height of a 12 year old. I should have
known you wouldn’t be much more.

Mr. CENSOR “Danger” CENSOR,
pfft, danger please.
I’ll show you what danger
is; soon you will see.

It’s no wonder you’re fiancé left
and you’re living at 28 with a cat—
Iron Man, Bruins, doesn’t make you
a man, just a dud who can’t find
a women foolish enough to stay.

Everything was quite lame:
amateur screenplays,
the way you’d say my name,
tell me stories while I
would listen patiently in pain.

I put on quite the face, don’t I?

You never would have expected

the things I am capable to do; how
my mind can figure ways to truly
screw with a boy like you.

You’ll have no chance now
finding anyone but a paid whore–
well you couldn’t even manage that,
you’re far too poor, pathetic.
I was most definitely bored.

So feed me your excuses; plead
you didn’t know, you’re sorry
and whatever other bullshit
falls out your useless mouth
and watch while I peal pieces
of you away, stripping you down–

you can't be saved.

My Heart Knows Dates (17 Months in Healing)

I sit amongst a burning flame, remembering
how you are the only one to have seen
my bare skin by candlelight, the way my hair
would fall and I’d smile at you with love.

Remembering moments of joy between
us two undeniable lovers that were meant

to one day break, leaving scars and memories

like the smoke rising from those burnt
out wicks after they had been blown out
by your sweet, sweet breath. I remember

the nights by moonlight, where fireworks
lit up the August sky and you held me,
promising it’d be better this time. I

believed and you tried. We walked
down paths just for the sake of walking,
exploring and seeing where dead end

streets may lead—to broken hearts we’d see.
I remember your face in the night, how you

seemed to light up my lonely life. Yes, you

were once my white knight and I’d
come to you to cry, back when I could
shed a tear and feel. Those days revealed

a softer side to me; a side I may never
again see. We’re too broken now
from one another’s love to believe

another love is waiting for me.

You are but a distant memory, coming
to life only in the night when I wonder
if you’re thinking of me in this moment too;

Wondering if our love was really through,
what might happen if I spoke to you, or
you read this poem one day and saw

my undying pain that I cannot love.
My heart stays dormant, beating slowly,
waiting for something to blow out this flame.

The Marathon

The distance seems so far away.
Dreams lie waiting there, watching
while she runs towards them― slowly.

Her stride holds strong though many,
many miles lie ahead on the path
leading to the end. She hopes

to find new dreams forming
from the seeds of those accomplished.

This is what she lives
for— to accomplish.

She pushes, fueled by the possible
outcomes or her boundless ambitions.

Happiness begins there.

But happiness ends there. Where
there is nothing to be reached
but fruits on tall trees or ancient,
dusty books waiting atop a broken,

rotting, wooden shelf filled
with pictures of the life she led;
the moments that passed by

while she continued running.

A Motherly Snake

Stabs of pain

from ghostly knives―

Reopened scares

on starry nights.

Dead silence,

(sounds of cries.)

Hear her whisper;

never goodbyes.

I beg, just leave,

slash these ties;

this umbilical cord

of deceit and lies.

I’d die to help.

(I’ve already died.)

I tremble― afraid

to let you inside.

You will not leave;

stuck by my side.

Echoes…                                             

Echoes…                             

Echoes…

I fall behind

into the past―

                my corrupted mind.

Knee Deep in the (K)night

This feeling is nothing
more than that of a fool;
longing and desiring what
I deeply do not want.

But you are near now; I plot
how to make you nearer―
cure my lonesome boredom.

I feel cold beneath my skin.
That awkward question settles
in; would he even…

I am a woman. He can-
not deny my advances,
should I make myself
a desirable, reckless fool.

The Miss-Mate Shoe

It’s not that I’m sad; it’s just
the feelings I have when

I look deep in my past—

(Remember the times)

We had a blast
or all the things you
happened to smash.

Everything went by too fast.

Now, I sit here watching time
pass, thinking of how

to get that feeling back.

I don’t honestly fear
that no man will ever

love me,

but that no man

will I ever love(?)

An anxiety I’ll only ever be

just

one.

The Angel (2002)

There's an angel shining high above

that's only in my mind

she guides me through my life with no twists or turns

it's a one way street

and at the end we'll meet

there's no knowing when the end will come

but when it does

she'll be right there by my side

but only in my mind

A Dehydrated Heart

These blank pages stare

at me, begging to be let in.
Express— pent up emotions

I fear may have disappeared
into the atmosphere
inside my—

The uncertainty, did I let
this pain go, does it rage
inside; slowly it grows

while I hold the smile
of a statues face,

believing everything
is okay till the day
these emotional dams break,
suddenly finding my lost

self, my vulnerable side;
seeing the unhappiness
that persists.

Thousands of pictures, snapshots
of my broken heart, though now
my heart is only lost to the dark
abyss I’ve let grow so deeply.

Gone…

Though I’ve wondered why
I could not love. Thought
it was you all this time.

In reality, the problem
was solely mine.

I couldn’t let you inside,
see my battle wounds.
I’d lost the key to unlock
scenes I’d forced to die.

I have been blind
to the face in the mirror,
my lying eyes that refuse
to cry. Why. I realize

when the water of love
stopped pouring my drink,

I think…

I fell thirsty and dead— even my lotuses wept.

Trying to find something
deep, a buried vision I chose
to lose. My only buried
visions are pictures of

         

            You.

72-Hours of Silence

I wait. And continue.

Frustration begins to build
quicker than the walls
you build between us.

Teacher to student,
I’m finding no respect,
no sense of caring.
Neglect. But why?

To all others you have
spoken, complimented
and guided as if your sheep.

I find myself black.

I do not take lightly,
questions without
answers. I have asked
you for simple guidance.
You denied with silence.

I wait. And continue. 

Those Who Suffer at the Hands of My Retched Kind

My heart beats for you;
stings when you feel pain.

I hate to watch you suffer.

There are so many to save,
help, make happy. I am only
a single soul but I want, no,
I will, dedicate myself to you;

forever a slave to your needs.

You have been a slave
to my kinds’ since—

It’s been too long, you
wouldn’t remember a day
where freedom was
flowing through your blood,
coming through your nostrils.

I can picture you there.

Never can those days be
restored, something you’ll see.
But, with people thinking
someday we can see you
happy, as you should be—

Roaming with a smile,
a heart set free.

Let Me Love You

Lyrics:

I know I may not be perfect
but I could be perfect for you,
should you let your walls come down.
Just let me love you.

Open your heart, darling,
‘cause I’m opening mine,
and it’s only for you.

Oh just let me love you,
every night beneath the stars.
Just let me love you,
help you fade away those scars.
Oh, if you’d let me love you…

I can see your frightened heart.
Baby, mine’s scared too,
but don’t let that keep us apart.
Just let me love you

Open your heart, darling,
‘cause I’m opening mine,
and it’s only for you.

Oh just let me love you,
every night beneath the stars.
Just let me love you,
help you fade away those scars.
Oh, if you’d let me love you…
Oh, if you’d let me love you… 

Hello

Lyrics:

It was a rainy night beneath the moonlight
and I saw you there between the flashing lights.
Your hair let loose and you smiled at me.
For a moment I was living a fantasy

but you're so far away.
I don't even know your name,
but you're on my mind,
wishing I could turn back time
and say "Hello"
and say "Hello"

We locked our eyes from across the crowd.
I could hear your heart though everything was loud.
Then it was time to leave, to walk away.
Left me wishing we had one more day.


but you're so far away.
I don't even know your name,
but you're on my mind,
wishing I could turn back time
and say "Hello"
and say "Hello"

Now I'm thinking of ways
I can see you again.
Wondering if you'll remember me,
remember when.


but you're so far away.
I don't even know your name,
but you're on my mind,
wishing I could turn back time
and say "Hello"
and say "Hello"

...Un-Foreseeing Eyes

believed her lies and fake
cries. Why… Why… Why
did she choose to manipulate
my naïve mind— left
confusion inside.

A dead end road
my shepherd led me,

planning…

A stray, I walked back
to where I came.

How many years have I lost?

A mindless sheep
I became from those
unforeseen days.

I wonder, do you know
the pain that persists;
my sorrow and regret,
the nights I’ve wept.

Could I have been more wise,
seen my mother, my shepherd,
through untainted eyes.

I envisioned my innocent father
from only those lies. I betrayed
though I did not realize—why…

How many years have we lost?

My vet in disguise forgave
my wounded, sheep-like
eyes. No request needed. No
need to explain. He knew—

I could not see
with my...

And After...

Have you watched the trees
as the wind manipulates
their bending branches;
the rain causing them to dance
to its music composed of silence.

A beautiful symphony unfolds
when the thunder crashes,
symbols now in play, the lighting
like a performer on stage,
demanding you watch, see
the ways of this mysterious―Earth.

Have you noticed how the trees
come out greener upon the end
of a perceived horrific storm,
though they dance amid―

dancing faster as the wind
asks them to with stronger blows.
Swaying to her breeze, she keeps
a steady beat, becoming their heart.

The animals scurry for cover
and those aged wait without scare
for the angry sky to pass.
Beside me sits an aged cat.

A mirror of what lies inside me
reflects outside glass windows
covered in droplets of life.
Her fury and mine intertwined,
I welcome her in me. We create.

The thunder shakes that beneath
my shoeless feet, leading me
to question my foundation.

The soil soaked to ancient roots,
feeding ancient hunger. A smell
of wet wood, drown grass penetrates 
my senses. I breathe it in while watching

darkened skies float away, sun breaking
through lighter clouds― goodbye
hard thunder, commanding lightning.

And after...

Oh Love

Lyrics:

Oh love, where have you been?
I’ve been waiting for you, pick me up again.

Oh love, it’s been so long
since you’ve shown your face here.

Come home to my heart.
Without you here it’s quite dark.

Oh love, where have you been?
I’ve been waiting for you, pick me up again.

Oh love, the sun shines a little brighter
when you here beside me

And the stars light up my darkest skies

Oh love, I’ve been missing you.

Oh love, where have you been?
Come home, pick me up again.

Discovering My Place in Deep Breaths

One cannot deny the beauty that in each breathe surrounds us. In each breath, I breathe it in, fully allowing it to seep into my bones. The beauty not only visible, but in sounds of an exhale like flowing water, pure; In smells of a deep breath, lilacs and rose bushes, my salty skin; In feelings of my breath upon my lip, wind upon my cheek, grass beneath my toes; feeling of my heart beat, sound of my heart beat, vision of my heart beat among the tree tops. My body does not end at my fingertips, my painted toes. I extend into all beings, into the belly of the Earth, the eyes of animals, the heart of the sky, the ear of the human. Everywhere is where I reside, space and time.

Mixed Emotions on Guitar

You want to know what’s in my heart,
well hate and love and all the above.
Right now I’m a sweetheart
but I can’t guarantee that tomorrow.
Tomorrow I may be feeling dark
and sing songs of exes I don’t want to remember.
‘Cause I love them and I hate them.
I’m thankful and regretful.
Wish they were here and that’d I’d never see them again.
‘Cause in this heart I just don’t know.
It’s like a rollercoaster rainbow.

And these are just my mixed emotions on guitar.
Yeah, it’s just mixed emotions on guitar.

Sure, one day I want to fall in love
the next I can’t imagine being bound,
tied down, my dreams are all I want
until it gets dark and in my bed I lay
alone, feeling that cold. But hell,
I don’t need a man to make me feel
any sort of happiness or smile
so who really knows what I want,
‘cause I sure as hell don’t.

And these are just my mixed emotions on guitar.
Yeah, it’s just mixed emotions on guitar.

Appreciating a Freedom Fought For

How fortunate I am to be–
to be a lady
held in a position
of making hard decisions.

My life I lead–my own direction.

Nothing to tie me down,
Nothing to hold me back,
just me and my visions

on the search for the right path.

There is a freedom in my mind,
something I can’t describe, when
I know no matter which way
I go, happiness I will find,

Because my options are unlimited.

You Might Be

Lyrics:

I want to feel the love
that comes from that only one.
I do.
He could make me feel so good
like the summer breeze in my hair, yeah

But in the moment, I’ll just dream,
think of the man you might be.
And I’ll picture myself held in your arms,
kissing your lips beneath those stars,
every night.

Yeah, you’d taste so good to me
treat me like the angel I try to be.
And I’d rub your feet for you every night
sing you songs under that full moon light.
I swear I would.

But in the moment, I’ll just dream,
think of the man you might be.
And I’ll picture myself held in your arms,
kissing your lips beneath those stars,
every night.

Yeah, I know I was given two hands
so I could hold my own, and
being with you won’t make me feel
any less alone,
but darling, oh sweet darling
I want you.

So I’ll just continue to dream,
think of the man you might be.
I’ll just continue to dream,
think of the man you might be.
I wonder who you’ll be.
Who will you be.