I have nothing clever left to say

This is my attempt at a sestina, written for my writers craft class -- it drained my mind, but I'm really happy with how it turned out

I have nothing to say, so I’ll speak
of the absurd silence in my mind
That becomes A temporary loss of sanity
Because The drive to write is no longer there
For words replace actions, and without these
There is nothing to put onto paper

The lines remain blank, the paper
Revealing no thoughts I’d wish to speak
On days like this, in times like these
I hope for a fresh start, perhaps a new mind
That will allow the words to be there
Helping me reform a new sense of sanity

But it is insanity I crave for, sanity
Leads to a just as blank piece of paper
revealing the lack of creativity that is already there
in the failure to find the proper words to speak
because a safe and sane mind
leads no where on days like these

I become vulnerable to society when these
Words fail to maintain the sense of sanity
Or insanity that resides in my mind
And as I stare down at my blank piece of paper
I struggle to find the right way to speak
In order to prove that the ability is still there

And as I realise again the words still aren’t there
I begin to wonder if even these
Inabilities to tear my mind apart and speak
The thoughts that portray my level of sanity
Are worth putting onto this paper
Because it shows even in the dead times, my mind

Is still so full of thoughts, is still my mind
I realise then, that the potential is still there
That even nothing can be put onto paper
For poems such as this, such as these
Ones that lower my sense of sanity
Are still words I can so beautifully speak

So in the times my paper remains blanks and my mind
Can’t find the words to speak I know they are still there
And that times like these are just temporary losses of sanity

my smile radiates from within

strive to the easiest and cheapest.

Dearest SDHS,

Let me just take the time to remind you of how thankful I am for your fucking up my senior year. I really appreciate being forced to take a class I had no intentions of taking in the first place and ruining my entire first semester of senior year - and potentially even second semester - all because you guys fucked up. I can honestly say I really am excited to graduate highschool, not even because of the drama with social groups, but because of the failure of adminstrative staff members to organise their students successfully. The school's moto may be "Strive to the Highest" but we certainly do not demenstrate that. The students, well, most students, for sure do, some of the teachers? Ehh . Not so much. So here's a big middle finger right to you Saltfleet, take my final essay for my grade 12 u level english class and shove it somewhere deep.

Couch Potato

(Picture source: tvaffects.blogspot.com)

the coolest thing I've ever read - thank you Mr.Shea for introducing the WC class to this talented Hamiltonian.

Everyone, meet Jeff Griffiths via @TVAFFECTS

As a wise man once said ...

Hard to press on when the memories remember me
And they always find the perfect moment
High speed. I'm a minimal slum.
Lost in the wind, I've lost all my friends
Maybe they were never meant to be acquainted
Money seems to make everything tainted
Everybody mad cause they stuck.
One less.

- KiD CuDi

faith,

"i am proud of you."

- linda diamanti

a war of your own .

"Reload, cover me!"
a one bullet kill
bonus points for the head shot
square to respawn
square again
reload the gun.
running through nuketown
hiding behind the truck
ducking for cover
start the RC car up.

creeping behind enemies
bullets flyin over head
the car bursts into flames
target status: dead
thirty seconds to play
move as quick as you can
the round ends
the score board pops up
where do you stand?
fightin the black ops battle
playstation controller
stuck to your hand

Tommy's and AK47's

Splat!
it flew across the room
and landed square in the middle
of the window
and was followed
by thirty more
they whizzed past chairs
and tables
and framless doors
they whizzed past our heads
and pictures
and presentless trees
we dodged and we ducked
avoiding being struck
the four of us laughed
and aimed right at each other
our eyes glazed with joy
and then it all stopped;
"no ammo!" he yelled
and jumped behind the bed
a second of silence
followed by rejoicing chaos
one man down
but we still hadn't lost
the guns whirred and clicked
as the battle went on
our fallen soldier we found
had since taken off
our battle soon ended
the basement torn to shreds
then a single nerf bullet
got the game winning kill
as it fell from above
struck me in the head.

just a poetry bin

I realize I haven't updated in a while due to a personal, undesirable level of chaos. Here's a small collection of some of my favorite writings recently.

Unamed Eyes Poem
Shining in the light
Glazed over with a layer of wonder
A doorway into her soul
All of her thoughts revealed
The deepest secrets, most passionate goals
A mirror of her life.
Legible but not fully understood
Leaving you with questions
And no hint of any answer
A life time of secrecy
A tale that is only hers to tell
Her eyes beam with beauty
And convey her surreal emotions

Ice/Heat
Its a frigid breeze on a winter morning
A heat flash in summer that leaves you glowing
From one extreme to the other
A feeling so displeasing it leaves you to shutter

No chance of calm weather
You leave dressed for summer and turn back for a sweater
Utter confusion, what is going on above?
T-Shirt or sweater, bikini or gloves?

The sun comes up, but may as well go back down
No matter the weather, beware of the ground
The ice of the winter
The heat of the summer

Unamed
Reputation is itself from being too loud
Shotgun, the middle back seat
The Fresh oppurtunity to look bad
At a perfect leve of need for pride in
The pounding anticipation to be
Middle of the day
Will be black as the night sky

Diving into the Wreck
The bouncing echo,
That creates a significant boom
Leaving all passerby in awe
But quiet enough to prevent
Being heard from afar;

Travels in the Night
I fell in love with every curve of the
Sleek and beautiful heart pumping with
The pounding speakers
It will be heard from miles away
In the light of the crumbling mess

This is a Photograph of Me
My baby and I beamed in the dusty
Saturday morning. It shines brightly
My perfume will smell of those glorious times
Standing at the cars back door
I was promised pure bliss
No matter where we go
I picture the one poorly lit room
It's comfortable, my property
My house.
Waiting to be broken in
It has become the subtle thud of us-
Bouncing off every wall
- just like me.
Fought for to the death
It's small, but it does the job
Accesible and just enough
Because this shines even in the headlights.

She Herself is a Bad Trip
As it nears
The recognisable rattling of the stereo
Tells us that the low rumble echoing,
Heard from as far as I ever went in to track it
Became the underground
It was strong, even the ugliest will want to take control
But I always win.
Know the Italian.

Morning Glory
It is the sweet smell of Chai tea
The words running down my throat
Escaping my body and being set free.

It is the cigarette in hand
The lines lingering on the paper
Being held in place, taking a stand

As the morning sun glows
And the birds sing their song
I feel the power radiate from my head to my toes

The steam from the cup floats through the air
Mixing with the cigarette as it tumbles
The final draft awaits being shared

And as I smile at my mom
Who rests beside me enjoying the days start
The words come to me, as naturally as the beat of my heart.

Explosions in the Sky
Explosions in the sky
A chaos of words
A mess of lies

Gunshots in the air
A panick of thousands
A crowd of despair

Rumbles through the streets
A worry of surviving
A sweeping rush of defeat

Paralysing thoughts flood our minds
A chance to break free
A doorway with no sign

Where are you going
What will you be; how will you get there
With no directions showing.

Spilling over the Edge
Words linger like the stale scent of cigarettes
Clinging to my mind
Like a shy child
Clinging to its mother for protection

They burrow into the deepest corners
Invading my thoughts
Like a robber
Invading a strangers house for objects

They seep through my body
Filling me with inspiration
Like a bath tub
Filling with water for utter relaxtion

They spill onto the paper
Creating a pattern of rhymes
Like a care free artist
Creating an artwork to fill his time

High School Hookers
Generic to the very last bone
Sitting on their plastic thrones
They pull their shirts low
It's the second lunch variety show
As the thongs come out
And they show off their pout
They sell their bodies to the eager crowd
Sales only being made to those who are loud
You stare at them with rich green eyes
and decide; this is your demise
But this is nothing more than high school hookers
Their lives amount to less than their grimey corners

It Might Be ...
It might be the fact that your eyes sparkle in the light
And it might also be because your laugh brings joy to my ears
It could also be how I fit perfectly into your arms
And it could also be your velvet soft skin

It might be because you make me feel beautiful
And it might also be the fact that youre the only person I trust
It could also be your ability to brighten my day with a simple smile
And it could also be how I feel safer around you

It might be the fact that every moment with you is so full of joy
And it might also be because you feed your talent through me
It could also be how I pride in being by your side
And it could also be your dedication radiating through your words

There's no knowing just every reason I love you as much as I do
But know that I love you, and know this is true

Until the Day I Die

Never let the idea of love scare you. Never let the pain that is guaranteed to come with love push you away from someone. Love is all we've got, love is the most surreal, rewarding feeling in the world. If you don't have love, you don't have anything at all. I have been blessed by something, somewhere, with such an amazing boyfriend. Kevin, if you are reading this, please know how much I love you and cherish your being in my life. You have turned an insecure, anti social, emotionally dead girl, into a living, happy, strong young woman. I realise that things have been incredibly hard for us lately, for many contributing reasons, and I know the light of hope has faded for us as individuals, but if there is one thing I am absolutley sure of it is that the relationship we have, and are building upon is the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. We may be losing people left and right in our lives right now, and everything we've managed to build for us, and ourselves as two seperate people has come crashing down, but having you by my side through it all - having your arms wrapped around me, hearing your voice tell me its going to be okay has been the best help I could ask for. Never ask yourself how much of a good person you are, just know that you are in fact that. You hold so much intelligence, so much passion, so much depth. You are physically and mentally attractive to the most incredible of extremes, you make my entire do things no one has ever done for me before. You make me feel on top of the world.

Call me out for posting this here, rather than sending this to him directly, but my baby, my life, my very reason to smile and trudge on deserves to be showed off to the world.

If you ever, ever, ever fuck with this kid, you can expect you'll have to deal with me personally. It has been shown time and time again, and will continue to be shown that I will do anything for him. I will fight to my death for him, I will drive myself crazy making sure it is he that is okay at the end of the night.

Forever and always. I promised it, and I have every intention of living that out until my dying day.

BANKSY - repost

Banksy Allegedly 2010

Banksy came travelling,
Invade he did on exit through the gift shop.
Wanderin' TO from dirty London or LA
To the city he prayed and sprayed
He illusioned for the disillusioned,
Hidden in the forest and a tree
Amongst photo real graffiti
Etching rats and cats and elephants
And sure as you know,
You'll never know
Who graces spadina or west on dundas
The man, the mad man, brief cased
And declaring the truth about
Interest and idiots
Or the promotional self-interest
Come see the emphemera
Come quick, it disappears
Painted over by angry landlords
See it before
You get painted over too.

R Tyrie 2010

--- Via Daily Stream

Vienna Richelle Laura Sonier (if I'm not mistaken!)

I spent some time with my six week old god daughter last week while in possesion of my schools DSLR and I took the oppurtunity to snap some pics of baby Vienna and mommy Wendy (lll) Welcome to the world baby girl, you are one highly loved little bundle of life.

freestyle #1

i sit in class spittin back facts. ha, who am i kiddin i do nothin but sit on my ass. teacher ask me "katie pay attention" but my mind wont let them facts in. i tune the noobs out, and im nowhere to be found. you can find me at that corner on stoner avenue im flyin so high i do nothin but laughin at you. stupid fool, i dont need school. i know all i need i learn it when i smoke the green. step back hoe youre invadin my space. i dont need that textbox get the fuck outta my face. third period gon be rollin round soon, time for a smoke under the day moon. freezin cold no one can feel they hands, i grab my spot on the curb im too fly to stand. i smoke wit swagga ya you know dis true, when dem boys roll by bitch the hankin for me, hell yeah you know it aint fo you

The Anchor Eyes

Prologue:

A father has gone through a rehabilitation program and is close to starting the last level. Having been traumatised by the loss of his only daughter he sub-consciously separated himself from the other patients at the centre. This changes when another patient sparks up conversation with him asking him about his “story”. As they progress through a conversation David didn’t even feel comfortable having he grows tied to this mans eyes. Something about them is hitting a spot in his heart, but he cant figure out what. He continues his conversation in hopes to figure out why this is happening but is interrupted by a mandatory appointment with his psychologist. It isn’t until she allows him to sign release papers that he realises why this mans eyes anchored him down.

------------------------------------------

He sat down beside me on the bench that evening. No introduction, no forced greeting – he just sat down beside me and looked on at the other patients mingling in the courtyard behind the beautiful Victorian building.

"What's your story of doom and gloom?"

I hesitated, not sure if I was ready to shed light on that part of my life to someone other than doctor fields. I hadn’t said a word to anyone but her and the other doctors since arriving. I didn’t speak in group, I didn’t associate with the other patients during free time.

I coldly replied; hinting that I wanted this conversation to end immediately,

"An accident."

He looked confused when he spoke,

"What kind? Everyone’s here for that reason. We all have our demons."

He replied, insinuating that despite my efforts this discussion wasn't near finished. I looked around trying to find an excuse to get up and walk away; to avoid this conversation completely, but to my misfortune, there was none. I was stuck again.

"I watched my daughter get shot by my drug dealer."

He looked at me with a mix of shock and terror in his eyes. I could tell this was going to be a long night. I never understood why people were so interested in the lives of others. I always said it was none of their business, that it had no direct effect on their own pathway.

He finally murmured,

"That's it?"

"That's it?" I thought to myself. What does he mean "that's it?" Watching my only daughter have her life taken because of me wasn't a big deal? He was starting to get on my nerves, I didn’t want the conversation to continue but I also found myself unable to depart from it, I didn’t know why.

"Have you ever watched your child die? Have you ever seen the life in your child's eyes fade in front of yours?"

I cracked. I hadn't shown emotion in years, decades even. Why now? After three months of nit picking my mind with Doctor Fields - the only person I could trust - now my emotions drowned my mind? I didn't understand, and I couldn't stop it.

He looked at me again, sensing he had hit a tender bruise on my soul. He knew he had just caused me to lose her all over again. His eyes glazed over in such a familiar manner. Where had I seen this before? Why were they putting an unbearable weight on my heart?

He spoke quietly when he responded,

"I'm sorry. I’ve never had family to lose, been on my own since I was a kid"

He avoided eye contact, attempting to hide the pain that now resided in his eyes too. Again, such a familiar sight, yet no concrete image in my mind to compare to. My heart grew heavier, it knew what it was seeing but the connection failed to spark in my mind. I grew steadily irritated.

"She's all I had. The mother, my first love disappeared after Julia was born. She was my world. She kept me alive."

I closed my eyes tightly. I could feel them burning from the salt of tears. It was a completely new feeling. Tears didn't exist in my world. The only burning I had felt since I was a teenager was the burn of the drugs in my system. Burning away my insides; corroding my mind, destroying my soul.

But those days were over. Sobriety was weird; it was like a whole new life. My daily routine didn't include meeting "Big D" at the corner of (Insert street names here) every day to get my fix. I miss the warn and faded streets of lower East Side. Communities left behind; people forgotten. I miss the graffiti; the sign of home. The local artists who claimed their territory with their art. She wanted to be an artist, she studied every wall in the neighbourhood, trying to understand how they did it. Now it's just white walls and shiny hardwood floors. It's clean, tidy, and perfect. Just like they want us to be. I craved to be back there, in the grimy city; back where her memory lives on, she’s only a ghost here.

He finally mustered up,

"How old was she?"

His eyes, again, filled with so much curiosity – pulling me further and further in. I couldn’t figure out why his eyes kept catching my attention. I was killing my mind trying to figure it out,

"Eighteen, just graduated. The kid had her whole life ahead of her. So many hopes and dreams. So many things she wanted to do. Now it's gone ... just like that. Gone like a flash of lighting on a peaceful night. There one second, gone the next."

I was curious to see his reaction, but he spoke on,

"Why her?"

Total disregard. I should have walked away then, but the eyes and the way they shined in the setting sun, the way they filled with curiosity and wonder. They kept me bolted down.

"She was doin' her job. I told ya, the kid kept me alive, did everything for me ... she came with me to meet my dealer. He was actin' weird that day ... He wasn't someone she felt comfortable around. She was timid, probably from a life of a drug addict father who had always been too numb to deal with life.. anyway ..."

I paused to take a drag of my cigarette and embraced the sudden kick of nicotine in my body. Nothing like heroin, but it would have to do. It was all I had now, I promised myself this was the end. The end of that part of my life, the beginning of my new one. My life without her, without her eyes and her smile.

I missed her laugh the most. I didn’t hear it often for life was depressing in New York, but when I did the numbness I felt temporarily faded. My heart would become warm as I heard her signature sound and watched her beautiful eyes light up like the sun peaking through clouds after a rainstorm.

"He didn't like how quiet she was. Thought she was up to something ... I don't know what but there was a lot of tension. It got ugly fast, he started accusing me of trying to get him busted. He grabbed her - arm around the neck, gun held in hand at the head."

That look of familiar terror again,

"He shot her, just like that?"

He seemed intrigued with my demise so I continued on,

"Nah... we fought back and forth. Kept trying to get her out of his grasp but he just kept pushing me away and accusing me of betraying him. He was on something new, this wasn't how he normally acted when he was using. I knew I'd be getting something from that batch, so I refused to take the package. This hit a nerve, he snapped. I get it though, he had just lost a two hundred dollar drug deal that he had grown to rely on every day for the past fifteen years. I could see the rage rising in his body; blood shot eyes, red face, pressure building in his veins. Watching him in his crazed anger holding my daughter in his arms set something off in me. I suddenly understood why she wanted me to rid the drugs from my life. He was a mirror image of me. We had grown to be exactly alike without even noticing.”

I took another drag of my smoke, the ashes had gathered, a sign I wasn't paying attention. I knew the slightest move of my wrist or hand would cause them to break and fall off, leaving a pile on my worn out jeans. Just a pile, a pile of life come and gone, just like a memory of her lying in my mind. I continued on,

"The next few minutes are a blur - Lots of screaming, lots of chaos. The fear grew in my babies eyes. She cried, I watched as the tears drowned the beautiful blue sparkle away. She tried breaking free and all I heard was a loud bang followed by nothing but dead silence. It was too quiet for ten in the morning in the heart of ghetto New York. It was as if the whole city had shut down in an instant. The only sound to be heard was the bullet casings hit the ground. Two shots fired, and the sound of a guilty man vanishing. "

Stunned, he shook his head and spoke low,

"He shot her, right there?"

He continued after a few seconds of silence,

"I've known people who have gotten killed because of a deal, but nothing like this..."

I didn't really know what to say, I could tell my single person audience in the courtyard was doing his best to be sympathetic and also try to push the information out of me. But how do you give sympathy to a man like me? I surely don't deserve it, this whole situation is my fault. It's all on me.

"She died right there. The silence hovered like a thick, black rain cloud. The storm was coming. I waited for the laugh to bring the sun, but the silence, the cloud, lingered. I grabbed her and just started into her eyes, trying to apologise with mine. Her whole face went blank. No emotion, no sign of pain felt. I held her in my arms and sat on the corner of the street. Not able to move. I looked up at the sky, hoping to find an answer in the clouds, but life had failed me again. The life literally drained from her body; like someone had pulled the plug in a sink and let the water flow away."

"What happened to "Big D"?"

I froze at the sound of his name coming out of his mouth. No one else had spoken it to me since the trial. It took me a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I went on, hoping this weird feeling in my heart would soon be explained,

"Took off... The cops got him a few hours later." The tears were welling up in my eyes - just as they did in hers during the last few moments of her life - Ready to pour over my face like a violent waterfall after a treacherous storm - the kind that last for days. Chaotic panic - I fought them back, or at least tried to. I managed to choke one more thing out through my hysterics,

"They took her away. I refused to move from my spot. I was numb again, but to such a higher extent than before. I sat on that corner for hours, until a cop showed up."

His face flooded with question. He found my eyes and asked,

"Conviction?"

I kept the connection strong, strong enough to burn his eyes with mine. Our sun-dilated pupils connecting like an appliance being plugged in and turning on for the first time,

"life."

I won, he looked away and tried his best to sound sincere when he spoke,

"That's what he deserves, what a sick person..."

I knew he was at a loss for words, just as any other human being would be. I could have easily left it at that, but again, his eyes were anchoring me down.

"He deserves so much more. This isn't just about a bad drug deal. I trusted this guy, he had been dealing to me since Julia was a toddler. He took her life, my reason to live, my constant reminder that life was liveable..."

I had a sudden flashback of Julia as a child. I watched from across the street as I waited for him. I was mad because he was late, I wanted my fix, but my baby girl swinging freely on the tree in the park kept me calm.

I snapped back to reality, hoping this conversation would stir up more memories, more clues, more answers. I eagerly listened to his words,

"I can only imagine. I'm sorry to have stirred up painful memories, I just wanted to know your story. Your silence around here pulled me in, intrigued me a little."

I looked at him, curious as to why he was so interested in my story. He had a look of wonder in his eyes, a look that continued on deep into the dark corners of his mind. No one has ever cared. No one has ever shown interest or concern, except her. My baby girl, my angel.

"It's life, it happens..."

I tried to pretend I could just push it away, like a paper cut or a small sliver. Just a quick tinge of pain, but the fact of the matter was this was a gun shot wound hidden behind the bandages that now protected it. No one can see how bad it is, all they can do is assume. The bandages are here; they are Rolling Acres. This place has helped heal me, not fully, but just so that the unbearable pain, is now a healing wound. It has become a tight scab, so tight that when I move I can feel the skin being pushed to its limit. I’m being pushed to my limit – craving my fix, craving my daughter, craving his life.

My watch started beeping, breaking the air and all the emotion that had filled in it.

He asked,

"Fields?"

One last glance to his eyes, I was hoping for a break through but the mystery of them remained exactly that. I spoke quickly, doing my best to conceal my irritation,

"Yep. I'll see you around."

I got up and took one last drag of my smoke before throwing it into a puddle that gleamed in the late evening sun. Sizzle. Silence. Another life gone.

I walked into the doctors office, sceptical that she would know I had just been crying. She would call it a break through, and would tell me I was ready to start my last level of rehabilitation, but the fact of the matter is I was ready for so much more. As I entered she looked up from her desk and her melodic voice filled the air with her routine greeting,

"Good evening, David, have a seat."

She threw me a smile, but today I didn't return it.

"I'm ready to visit her. I'm ready to say goodbye."

Another smile, paid in return with another flood of tears. Her eyes dropped a little, the cheer flooding out. I assumed it was a bad thing, unsure what to do. It was as if she was disappointed in me. Was it too early for me to be saying this? Was I really ready to leave Rolling Acres? My face fell, only just showing my severe level of self doubt. I was about to take it back when I heard her clear her throat and look up at me,

"I'll get the release forms. You can check out tomorrow and get your life back on track."

She started rustling through papers. I walked to the door and opened it. Before I walked out of the room I turned back to the doctor preparing my freedom,

"Doctor Fields?"

She looked up at me again and spoke softly,

"Yes, David?"

I whispered,

"Will you come with me?"

I asked just as I glanced out the window at the man I had just poured my life to. It hit me then, why I had opened to him so easily;

he had her eyes.

theres no anchors here.

strange not to know that youre alive

or even that youre about to die

life goes on without you

youre going to be left behind

stuck in someones thoughts

trapped inside there; forever caught

no one is going to miss you

no one will think of you and mourn

another day finishes,

a new one is born

its a never ending cycle

a no turning back lifestyle

just live and let go

be in charge of your life,

your show

take control of all that happens

defeat your enemies with your weapons

be all that you can be

live for today,

keep your heart free.

one week till this magazine is mine.

"its like the high fashion, stoner.. version of monsters inc. i fuckin love it"

today, on this day of thanks.

Today on this day of thanks, let us not look at all that we have gained in life, but what we can put into it. Let us not remind ourselves of all our successes, but let us re-shed light onto our dreams. Let us use all that we have as inspiration and drive to continue living. Let us continue to grow, and continue to be as selfless, caring beings. Let us thank the people in our lives who stand by us, behind us and for us. Let us thank those who have helped shape who we are, who we’ve been, and who we will become. Do not take in granted for life, everything we can achieve personally and as a collective. Appreciate all that we have and all the opportunities we have been given in life. Whether it be a successful educational career, a new hope of employment, or a collective success sought out by loved ones. Be thankful for these, and all hope that comes out of life’s situations. Never look at the bad as bad, look at it as a way to find a new beginning, an opportunity for change. On this day of thanks, let us be thankful for all who have blessed our lives. Let us remember those we have lost, and let us celebrate with them today. Let us keep them in our hearts and minds, feeding warmth to us through our thoughts. Let us appreciate all they have given us; a fond memory to hold onto, a chance for growth, a reason to celebrate. Whether big or small, always give thanks to all that you have in life; not just on this day. Live every day to its fullest, never give up the journey, and always keep your head up. We all have our loops of ups and downs, but let us never let the bad outweigh the good. Look at each face around this table, and picture the absent in your mind. Take a photograph of every single person and store it in your mind. Remember these people as the people you can be thankful for. Family, friend, loved one. On this day of thanks, let us enjoy a dinner stuffed with love and seasoned with care. Let us sit together and breathe in the sweet scent of human relationship at its finest.

to be loved. but

living is a

beautiful, free-spirited poet.

life, though unusual,

is satisfying until

love murders.

prison for life,

foster home after foster home.

forbidden love,

drugs, starvation

to be loved. but

with the power

to survive love.

this is why the english have such a bad rep

my friday morning has been made.

surely this is a sign

I never thought id fall

for you as hard as I did

im here standin 10 feet tall

raisin my hands in the air

because for once in my life

I actually win

Its been a long road comin

Been through a lot of rain and shine

But every second of pain is worth

Being able to call you mine

My love for you

It grows each day

I know from experience

I don’t wanna live my life

Any other way

Your body close to mine

The warmth of your skin

The chills you give me

Surely this is a sign

No amount of words can ever describe this

No amount of actions will ever show it enough

Being with you, being a part of your life

Its something I simply cannot resist

“blatant power will put their faith into a single foolish name. a lie where god will forgive you”

fake.

A blatant lie!

Controlling you to a single name,

a single brainwashed theory.

Summon your mistakes.

Because you cannot obey someone.

A myth, a lie,

a tale.

A washed out fable, a burnt out flame.

To hell we will go.

A masochistic fool.

Don’t anchor yourself.

neverland (via recycledlullabies)

wrap yourself in a tightly woven web of lies

a quilt of flawlessly fabricated fiction.

you hide beneath it.

at least it’s warm there.

live in story books transcribed upon chalkboards.

erase your fears.

you are safe, and nothing can touch you.

because your mind is a locked briefcase.

your dreams are solely yours.

you live in a reality of your own design.

you see it all through innocent eyes.

hear only what you want to hear.

the sound of shotgun shells and breaking glass drowned out by birdsong and peepers in the night.

upon a spinning wheel you mend a broken world.

you here them whisper softly,

“where is she?”

“Neverland.“

-- Written by my dear friend Jes @recycledlullabies

her rag doll heart

All that’s left is the rag doll heart
And the stitches tearing at the seam
Her eyes are black, plasticized and hard
Her soul has been taking, shes no longer free

She sits on the shelf, waiting to be found
Waiting for someone to pick her up and
Keep her body of the damp and cold ground
Waiting for a reason, something to help her stand

beats with anger

i'd kill to be with you
but at the same time
it's you i'd like to kill
you make me feel dead inside
yet you also keep me alive
my heart beats with anger
and pauses with pride
i do my best to wear a smile
but the pain can be seen in my eyes

gone are the days.

a crisp blank page,
a fresh new start.
gone are the days
when there was a heaviness
to your heart.

you put your pen to the paper,
and your emotions begin to flow.
dont look back on it later
just continue to write
and let it all go.

come back to life,
always remember to smile.
never give up the fight
just pick up your pen
and write it all down for a while.

R U N . A W A Y

this is endless
and enlessly felt
the death of my heart
my inability to melt
im cold and numb
my minds telling me to

R

U

N

theres no hope left
not in today, tomorrow, yesterday
its all come crashing down
the settling debry
now lies here encasing me
my mind is pushing you

A

W

A

Y

yet here lies my heart
frantically begging you to stay
whats left of it,
the last blood pumping pulses
they pump for you
they fight for my life, your love

the ragged truth

lock her up,
prevent the transformation
of the world in her mind

crimes that folded and
seduced the ragged truth
an elegant lie

slipped from your grasp
a fiesta of greed
penetrated and stained

bright wounds warned me
and reached for another
cradling liability

another person
playing with grenades

safe in jail,
alive.

here forever,
forget you.

parachuting into nothingess

You said you’d never let me fall,
But here I am falling a thousand feet per second
Im flying solo, heading faster and faster towards the ground
Plumetting to the ground, I wonder how I got here in the first place
You said you’d always be by my side
But here I am alone in the sky with nothing and no one to hold onto
I can see my end coming faster and faster,
Closer and closer.
Wheres my emergency break when I need it
All my hopes of surviving this are quickly deteriorating
Vanishing, flying away with the closing distance between my face and the ground

the walls have come down. this city of safety and comfort has come crashing down around me. i've opened myself up to every fear i've ever had. i'm risking everything i am, everything i've built, just to see you smile. Because, to see your smile, knowing i'm the reason it shines so bright, is worth every dust particle in the settling debry of my life. Together, we can build a brand new city, a one where our hearts collide, and long lived dream comes true. The city will fill with light, with love, with passion. It will shine brighter than any other clutter of city lights at night, it will be of the purest, most breathable air - it will make us live years, decades even, longer. This city will be the life and death of us. This city will be the best thing that's ever happened in our lives. We can be comfortable here, we can be happy. We can be anything we desire to be, we can do anything we've ever wanted to do. This city, our city, will forever and always remain solely ours.

I'll make this perfect again

Only you can mend my broken heart. You're the only one I trust enough with the fragile, shattered pieces of my soul.

shelter

there's nothing like the love of a father for his daughter

broken lines

I'm picking up my pieces, so that I can help you pick up yours

and their name was treason

You have infinitely changed who I am, you have left your marks and scars on my body and soul. And I hope those scars never fade, because they're all I've got left of you.