The night grew hollow with every passing hour. As the black deepened, the air grew colder. The wind and the leaves whispered together, the stars peering down and trying to listen to their hushed conversation. I shuddered, wondering where the moon went.
My friends beside me were loud and boisterous, a shocking disturbance in the otherwise silent world. We smelled of campfire and off bugspray, a delightful combination. The intoxicating atmosphere hindered our awareness, and we were vulnerable victims of whatever predator lurked about us.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Summer Nostalgia
The golden tongues of flame lick the wood, curling underneath the diminishing logs. Heat radiates, expanding ever outward towards the horizon and beyond. The gray smoke spirals around my face, its scent lingering on my shirt and in my hair. I've never smelt anything better.
The marshmallow that alights on my metal prong before me melts, getting gooier that one could have hoped. Quickly, so that it doesn't blacken, I blow away the fire, casting it out of existence. As I slide the marshmallow onto the graham cracker and smother it with chocolate and another cracker, I look up and I catch your eye. You grin at me and throw your arms up to the sky.
The young man sitting beside me is playing a guitar, and I recognize the melody he picks up easily. As the group begins to sing along, the first glowing ball of fire is catapulted, where it explodes into colorful, burning stars that disperse into a black, velvet sky.
The sound of freedom is close at hand, the cacophony thrown about the lake and echoing off the shores, like thunder.
My hunger for summer is strong, and I long for its warm embrace of opportunity.
The marshmallow that alights on my metal prong before me melts, getting gooier that one could have hoped. Quickly, so that it doesn't blacken, I blow away the fire, casting it out of existence. As I slide the marshmallow onto the graham cracker and smother it with chocolate and another cracker, I look up and I catch your eye. You grin at me and throw your arms up to the sky.
The young man sitting beside me is playing a guitar, and I recognize the melody he picks up easily. As the group begins to sing along, the first glowing ball of fire is catapulted, where it explodes into colorful, burning stars that disperse into a black, velvet sky.
The sound of freedom is close at hand, the cacophony thrown about the lake and echoing off the shores, like thunder.
My hunger for summer is strong, and I long for its warm embrace of opportunity.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Wouldn't it be easier to say good bye?
I'm not sitting here, doing nothing. I'm hurtling around a star at 70,000 miles per hour. That, sir, pure brilliance.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Listening Is Harder Than It Looks
When you ask a question, you may not get the answer you were hoping for... and if you don't hear an answer, then you're probably listening wrong.
You can't wait for the answer you WANT to hear, because chances are you won't hear it.
You can't wait for the answer you WANT to hear, because chances are you won't hear it.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Ashes, Ashes
Then we all fall down.
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The taste of each word, the way it rolls off my tongue. That's what makes my world spin 'round.
The sight of each person, the way they all act. That's what drives me insane.
The sound of my thoughts, they way they bounce off the walls. That's what keeps me up at night.
The smell of the rain, the way it entices my nose. That's what puts a smile on my face.
The feel of your skin, the way your hand warms my hand. That's what makes my heart flutter.
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The taste of each word, the way it rolls off my tongue. That's what makes my world spin 'round.
The sight of each person, the way they all act. That's what drives me insane.
The sound of my thoughts, they way they bounce off the walls. That's what keeps me up at night.
The smell of the rain, the way it entices my nose. That's what puts a smile on my face.
The feel of your skin, the way your hand warms my hand. That's what makes my heart flutter.
There's Everything to Say
Her heart rested in her palm. She looked at it with disgust. To her, this bloody lump was a broken play thing, and it expired long ago. She threw it at a gray wall, as hard as she could; painting it with her soul. That was the end of everything.
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The world is just a gray blur. There's no color anywhere. Where did it all go? What happened to that precious rainbow?
It was the only thing pretty, and now it's gone. Strange to think how the string can just snap, and soon enough you're lost in the bottom of an endless pit. No light, no sound, no feeling. In a way, it's blissful. When I'm numb like this, it's easy to pull back, let go, and turn away. Maybe when I climb out again, I'll end up somewhere else...
And then I remember you, and there's no place I'd rather be but up there again. You made me smile for the first time since returning home. Thanks.
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The world is just a gray blur. There's no color anywhere. Where did it all go? What happened to that precious rainbow?
It was the only thing pretty, and now it's gone. Strange to think how the string can just snap, and soon enough you're lost in the bottom of an endless pit. No light, no sound, no feeling. In a way, it's blissful. When I'm numb like this, it's easy to pull back, let go, and turn away. Maybe when I climb out again, I'll end up somewhere else...
And then I remember you, and there's no place I'd rather be but up there again. You made me smile for the first time since returning home. Thanks.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Lack of Importance
And I'll stare out into the distance, wondering how far away the edge of the world really is. We'll wonder what God truly sees and whether he approves.
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If I close my eyes, it's all the same. Darkness, darkness everywhere. You'll never truly understand just what this means to me. The importance, or lack thereof maybe, will never be appreciated.
But you've misunderstood the message here. You can't write in the dark, can you? You can't taste with your toes, can you? Can fire burn without oxygen? No. Don't kid yourself, don't even bother trying to prove this wrong. The facts are the facts, and there's simply no denying that the truth is this: We're not capable of loving people. We just like to love the idea of loving one another.
Even in the twisted shadows that glimmer with a slick blackness that's as inescapable as death, it's easy to see that everything you've ever known... Well, it's a lie.
______________________________________________________________________________
If I close my eyes, it's all the same. Darkness, darkness everywhere. You'll never truly understand just what this means to me. The importance, or lack thereof maybe, will never be appreciated.
But you've misunderstood the message here. You can't write in the dark, can you? You can't taste with your toes, can you? Can fire burn without oxygen? No. Don't kid yourself, don't even bother trying to prove this wrong. The facts are the facts, and there's simply no denying that the truth is this: We're not capable of loving people. We just like to love the idea of loving one another.
Even in the twisted shadows that glimmer with a slick blackness that's as inescapable as death, it's easy to see that everything you've ever known... Well, it's a lie.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
An Infected Society
Hate corrupts and erodes the soul. It's like acid, corroding and eating away at us.
It turns our hearts cold and black, and devours one's sense of what is morally acceptable.
It infects society like a plague of death and illness. Hate is a vile and disgusting thing.
It lurks about in the shadows, waiting to ensnare us in its clammy fingers, a firm grasp on our shaky and weak hearts.
It's the greatest weapon, harboring in the very core of our being.
Only God's strength and light can obliterate the durance of Hate.
It turns our hearts cold and black, and devours one's sense of what is morally acceptable.
It infects society like a plague of death and illness. Hate is a vile and disgusting thing.
It lurks about in the shadows, waiting to ensnare us in its clammy fingers, a firm grasp on our shaky and weak hearts.
It's the greatest weapon, harboring in the very core of our being.
Only God's strength and light can obliterate the durance of Hate.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Broken Wings Equal Broken Dreams
Your wings are broken. What will you do now? Can you fly? Will you survive?
Our time runs low, the sand dripping away one grain at a time. We're running as fast as we can, and running out of options.
We've put our hands up and raised the white flag. You won, game over. I hope your happy, as the world dies. You're the King of Nothing, Ruler of a Desolate and Empty Universe.
Good luck with your forgotten Kingdom. May you rot in whatever hell forms from your destruction.
Our time runs low, the sand dripping away one grain at a time. We're running as fast as we can, and running out of options.
We've put our hands up and raised the white flag. You won, game over. I hope your happy, as the world dies. You're the King of Nothing, Ruler of a Desolate and Empty Universe.
Good luck with your forgotten Kingdom. May you rot in whatever hell forms from your destruction.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
That Fuzzy Living Foot-Warmer
Mmmm... This bed is comfy, and my pup is keeping me feet warm.
Arg, me feels like talkin' like a pirate. Aye, cap'n!
Land ho!
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My friends call me a goober. So what? I'm free to do anything and everything I like. Right? Well, sure, if you believe in that sort of fairy tale.
And I do, believe you me.
Arg, me feels like talkin' like a pirate. Aye, cap'n!
Land ho!
_________________________________________________________________________
My friends call me a goober. So what? I'm free to do anything and everything I like. Right? Well, sure, if you believe in that sort of fairy tale.
And I do, believe you me.
Friday, February 25, 2011
The Light Coming From the Blackhole
You don't seem to get it. The more I push you away, the more you become infatuated with me. It's vile and pathetic, and I'm sick of it. I guess I just don't know how to tell you...
Please, just stop trying. Just leave me alone and get on with your life. You know we're both dying a little on the inside. Stop trying to hang onto something that's disappearing from between our fingers. It's a waste of time and energy.
I'm glad I have you in my life. You're my best and closest friend, and I don't know what I'd do without you. I know you like I know my refrigerator, and I'm blessed to have you in my life.
I know what I could say to destroy you in just a second. But you're too important to me to burn that bridge away. You changed my life with your smile, and I will love you forever.
**Each paragraph is about a different person. You all know who you are, should you ever read this.
Please, just stop trying. Just leave me alone and get on with your life. You know we're both dying a little on the inside. Stop trying to hang onto something that's disappearing from between our fingers. It's a waste of time and energy.
I'm glad I have you in my life. You're my best and closest friend, and I don't know what I'd do without you. I know you like I know my refrigerator, and I'm blessed to have you in my life.
I know what I could say to destroy you in just a second. But you're too important to me to burn that bridge away. You changed my life with your smile, and I will love you forever.
**Each paragraph is about a different person. You all know who you are, should you ever read this.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
The Loveliest Way to Die
I'm that question that keeps you up at night, the depression that forces you to cry yourself to sleep.
I'm the sick feeling you get, the loneliness that consumes your heart.
I'm the anxiety that keeps you from that dream, your lack of courage and strength. I eat up your energy, drain your life, drink your blood.
I'm that feeling that keeps you wondering:
Would they care if I disappeared?
Vanished into thin air?
Would they care if I slit my wrist,
Closed the story with a twist?
Would they care if I flew away,
Off to find a better day?
Would they notice that I'm gone,
Would they realize it by dawn?
I'm Death, beckoning and calling you to me, singing a gentle melody. Come closer, let me touch you. Let me rape your soul and leave you.
I'm the loveliest way to die.
I'm the sick feeling you get, the loneliness that consumes your heart.
I'm the anxiety that keeps you from that dream, your lack of courage and strength. I eat up your energy, drain your life, drink your blood.
I'm that feeling that keeps you wondering:
Would they care if I disappeared?
Vanished into thin air?
Would they care if I slit my wrist,
Closed the story with a twist?
Would they care if I flew away,
Off to find a better day?
Would they notice that I'm gone,
Would they realize it by dawn?
I'm Death, beckoning and calling you to me, singing a gentle melody. Come closer, let me touch you. Let me rape your soul and leave you.
I'm the loveliest way to die.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Because Forever is a Lie
Time is but a thing of the past, a fleeting moment we'll never get back. A question then comes to the table.
Why can't I sleep?
But we both know the asnwer to this: my mind is wakeful because sleep is cold and terrifying.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
When you tell me forever, I question just how long forever really is. Does it mean that your forever is a year, or a lifetime? For I cannot answer this, and thus I have abandoned Forever.
Forever, it seems, is a liar.
Til my death and past, I love you.
Why can't I sleep?
But we both know the asnwer to this: my mind is wakeful because sleep is cold and terrifying.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
When you tell me forever, I question just how long forever really is. Does it mean that your forever is a year, or a lifetime? For I cannot answer this, and thus I have abandoned Forever.
Forever, it seems, is a liar.
Til my death and past, I love you.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Accused of being a Witch
So, let me get this straight... You've been on my couch for the last hour or so, and you didn't think it was important enough to tell me? On my couch? Really?
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Happy Birthday to one of my dear friends. Yeah, you know who you are.
My friend is now over, and has been for an hour or so (according to he and my dad). We're gonna stop by your house, say happy birthday, then terrorize the town.
Angry villagers will run after us with pitch forks and torches, as we dash through the streets laughing.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Happy Birthday to one of my dear friends. Yeah, you know who you are.
My friend is now over, and has been for an hour or so (according to he and my dad). We're gonna stop by your house, say happy birthday, then terrorize the town.
Angry villagers will run after us with pitch forks and torches, as we dash through the streets laughing.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Chalk on the Sidewalk
A small girl in a pink floral dress has blue powder all over her hands. She laughs as she chases her daddy around the yard. After a moment, they settle down and return to the canvas to admire her art. A bright yellow sun, a white fluffy cloud. A blue sky, green grass, and a pink flower.
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I believe in magic, and I believe in fairy tales. I'd like to believe fairies and dragons, griffins, pixies, and gnomes exist. I believe there's more to life than there seems.I want to believe in love at first sight, even if it may not last forever. I believe in an afterlife, and ghosts, and angels.I believe that a higher being exists And I believe that miracles can happen.
I know that magic shouldn't exist, and I know fairy tales are nice, but not real. Science provides no evidence as to the existence of mythological creatures. Sometimes life is as plain and simple as black and white. There's nothing to prove there's an afterlife because no one's lived to tell.
But science doesn't mean shit. Science has no imagination.
I'm fine believing. I like believing. I believe I can believe in whatever I like.
Believe that I believe, and I'll believe everything will be okay.
______________________________________________________________________
I believe in magic, and I believe in fairy tales. I'd like to believe fairies and dragons, griffins, pixies, and gnomes exist. I believe there's more to life than there seems.I want to believe in love at first sight, even if it may not last forever. I believe in an afterlife, and ghosts, and angels.I believe that a higher being exists And I believe that miracles can happen.
I know that magic shouldn't exist, and I know fairy tales are nice, but not real. Science provides no evidence as to the existence of mythological creatures. Sometimes life is as plain and simple as black and white. There's nothing to prove there's an afterlife because no one's lived to tell.
But science doesn't mean shit. Science has no imagination.
I'm fine believing. I like believing. I believe I can believe in whatever I like.
Believe that I believe, and I'll believe everything will be okay.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Construction Paper
Tonight, my mind comes up blank. I have no words. Only a picture. And in this picture, it's a crystal clear night, with stars glittering in the sky like someone took dark blue construction paper and sprinkled glitter everywhere. The moon was pasted on the paper, a glowing hole in the sky in which I can see the other side.
On the other side, I see only possibilities. The could-be's stick out the most. You know, those ones with "What if?" tacked on in the front.
What if the stars were pink?
What if I was just a shadow, a presence you could only feel?
What if time stopped?
What if the sun really did move around the Earth?
But what good are possibilities, when there are no opportunities? There can be no "What if?" but only the "What is,"
The shadow of a paper tree with leafless branches rests on a dark green paper grass. A soft breeze is colored into the scene, and the whisper of the paper can be heard every where.
What if my whole life was just a dream, a distant painting on a once blank canvas, buried under paper soil?
My life is simply what it is...
On the other side, I see only possibilities. The could-be's stick out the most. You know, those ones with "What if?" tacked on in the front.
What if the stars were pink?
What if I was just a shadow, a presence you could only feel?
What if time stopped?
What if the sun really did move around the Earth?
But what good are possibilities, when there are no opportunities? There can be no "What if?" but only the "What is,"
The shadow of a paper tree with leafless branches rests on a dark green paper grass. A soft breeze is colored into the scene, and the whisper of the paper can be heard every where.
What if my whole life was just a dream, a distant painting on a once blank canvas, buried under paper soil?
My life is simply what it is...
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Key Words
I think I've had a change of heart. I think I've had a change of mind. I warned you that this is what happens when those three little words are whispered at last...
I'm beginning to lose all interest.
But I can't bring myself to hurt you... Because I know that everything you say to me is true...
I wish you'd never said any of it...
I'm not sure if it's a fear of commitment, or a fear of love... I couldn't care less though... Because either way, it doesn't matter what you call it... The fact is I've changed my heart's mind.
I feel trapped, strapped down. A tiny cage has been thrown over my head, securing me to this very spot with no room for much more than breathing.
I can't be tied down if I want to fly. Now that the opportunities have passed, I'm trying desperately to get free without hurting anyone. I know it's impossible though.
The lock on my cage is the shape of words. Words are the key. Words got me in here. Words can get me out... but they have to be the right words, the words that fit the lock. Saying them could hurt me, but it could potentially kill you.
So, when I gather the courage, I'll say to you something like, "You can take your three little words back. I don't want them, or how they make me feel..."
I'm beginning to lose all interest.
But I can't bring myself to hurt you... Because I know that everything you say to me is true...
I wish you'd never said any of it...
I'm not sure if it's a fear of commitment, or a fear of love... I couldn't care less though... Because either way, it doesn't matter what you call it... The fact is I've changed my heart's mind.
I feel trapped, strapped down. A tiny cage has been thrown over my head, securing me to this very spot with no room for much more than breathing.
I can't be tied down if I want to fly. Now that the opportunities have passed, I'm trying desperately to get free without hurting anyone. I know it's impossible though.
The lock on my cage is the shape of words. Words are the key. Words got me in here. Words can get me out... but they have to be the right words, the words that fit the lock. Saying them could hurt me, but it could potentially kill you.
So, when I gather the courage, I'll say to you something like, "You can take your three little words back. I don't want them, or how they make me feel..."
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Pocket Watch
The clock ticks, ever ticking off the time passing. My ears ringing, I wonder how much longer of this Hell I must endure. Steam rises from my ears as I listen to her chatter on about something I couldn't possibly give a damn about. I don't hear distinct words, only an overly animated voice.
I don't understand why she does this to me (my mother, I mean). She knows I can't stand the brown haired, blue eyed girl at my side. Sure. I used to believe she was my best friend. But I've been double crossed, stabbed in the back, and put down by her too many times now. Yet she continues to force us together, saying I can't burn this bridge.
Well, mom. This is my decision. I can burn any bridge I want to. I choose my friends, not you! I'm sick of you trying to control me. Sure, you can ground me. You can take my stuff away. You can make me get the mail, do the dishes, or something along those lines. But you can't control what I like and dislike. And you can't control the way I feel.
You need to stop trying to get me to believe and feel the way you do. Just because you drag me to church, that doesn't mean I worship your God. Just because you're comfortable there, it doesn't mean I am. My skin crawls and I wanna vomit.
When you force me into something, I will go out of my way to make things difficult.
It makes me sick that you can't seem to accept me as the way I am. Instead, you're wasting your time and trying to make me feel some feeling that we both know I'm uncapable of feeling.
Good night, mom.
I love you too...
I don't understand why she does this to me (my mother, I mean). She knows I can't stand the brown haired, blue eyed girl at my side. Sure. I used to believe she was my best friend. But I've been double crossed, stabbed in the back, and put down by her too many times now. Yet she continues to force us together, saying I can't burn this bridge.
Well, mom. This is my decision. I can burn any bridge I want to. I choose my friends, not you! I'm sick of you trying to control me. Sure, you can ground me. You can take my stuff away. You can make me get the mail, do the dishes, or something along those lines. But you can't control what I like and dislike. And you can't control the way I feel.
You need to stop trying to get me to believe and feel the way you do. Just because you drag me to church, that doesn't mean I worship your God. Just because you're comfortable there, it doesn't mean I am. My skin crawls and I wanna vomit.
When you force me into something, I will go out of my way to make things difficult.
It makes me sick that you can't seem to accept me as the way I am. Instead, you're wasting your time and trying to make me feel some feeling that we both know I'm uncapable of feeling.
Good night, mom.
I love you too...
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