I remember the day Alice arrived. A blue dress painted her thighs. She wore a bright smile, but much sadder eyes. In the back of my mind, I knew it was the night that she’d finally try. A glass of water, and a seventy dollar tip. All for seven little sips. I look back and ponder the harshest of truths. Would she have lived if she had something to lose?

Connection is key, When a soul is weak. Remember to sew, never to weep. One for the heavens, and two before you speak. For a single syllable, May set you free

It’s crazy the things we tell ourselves when the monsters rise up against every barrier you’ve built for yourself.

Autumn nights slither through Spring mornings, Waiting for Summer to awaken from Winter’s encompassing slumber.

Autumn nights slither through Spring mornings, Waiting for Summer to awaken from Winter’s encompassing slumber.

Clean. I want to be clean. The kind of clean that squeaks with ease. The kind of clean that never knew a speck of dirt. The kind of clean that replenishes an old shirt. A clean that has me feeling a semblance of peace. What a dream it is to be clean. Rid of all the built up grease inside of me. The shine that would appear, it would make men weep. If only life would let me be.

He brought out the sun on her darkest day. Hung it in the sky and molded its rays. All so that she could finally rest. And when it came to the final test, The moon did what it does best. It covered the sun in the thickest of clouds. And drowned her sobs with thunderous sounds. When the water began to cover their knees, he built them a boat. He didn’t give up, but removed his coat. He sat next to her, covered her in leather, And told her that they would face the storm hand in hand; together.

A young girl wanders over to the vintage mirror. A mahogany so old. She casts a glance into her elated soul. One so fresh, so crisp, and she doesn’t know. How many days, how many nights, how many tortuous seconds she’ll have to fight through. Her pigtails, they bounce as she skips away. One last look, and her smile fades. For in the mirror, tall and true; Shows the picture of a woman whose soul Emanates a deep, dark blue.

Dusk brings to others what the sun cannot. A peaceful darkness to cocoon one’s thoughts. She’ll coddle and cuddle an insecure mind, and erase the brightness that hurts to shine. She’s not cruel, not of malice, she’s here for you. To shield you, hide you, from such painful truths. Dawn will return, and they will shy away, but Dusk, She’ll nudge them towards her blinding rays. She knows her sister, and what to do. So, at the strike of midnight, She’ll return to you

Crippling anguish released from my soul, Hides the light I’d once come to know. Howls from memories haunt my mind; they suck and suck my essence dry. Only two words can save me now, they hang off your tongue. You don’t make a sound. It’s my hope that hangs on to the last bit of you. In my broken mind you’d spoken the truth. Yet, reality can’t bend, it’s honesty you lack. Because words unspoken, can’t be taken back.

Harsh breaths fell from Adora’s lips. They echoed across the dark alley, smacking into the chipped bricks. She knew it was the liquor stirring the rabid thoughts in her brain, but she couldn’t will them to disappear. She knew it was dangerous, to want him that is. But she did, and as she drew the smoke from lit cigarette, she began to let her thoughts sink into the darker parts of her mind. Would there be fun, in a sick, twisted game of love?

A cobblestone pathway beneath your feet, It crumbles under some invisible weight. One unseen by such vulnerable states. There comes a time when a person must be appeased, By the cobblestone’s ability, To withstand such immeasurable, insurmountable defeat.

Alice gazed beyond the roaring waves, a dull ache gnawed at her heart. She didn’t know, couldn’t comprehend that it was all in the name of art. For it was an accomplishment, one of great honor, that her world fell apart. She sobbed, she wept, and disappeared into the rain. Careful drops of sodium chloride melted her cheeks with a somber stain. She called to the sky with an anguished howl. The sea had been soaked. Alice became the towel.

Egeo: (Latin) to need, lack, want, be without What is it that you lack? Is it a feeling, a person, a thing? When you speak the words you regret, Do you backtrack? How can one truly understand what they need, When what they need, they’ve never even seen? How can one know what they’re without, who they’re without, When they’ve never been with?

Aphthito: imperishable, unfailing, unwitting (Greek) What is imperishable to you, may crumble under someone else’s touch. To one, love may be such… To another, a fatal crutch. Be weary of the things that gains one’s trust. Though they may wither in your fingers, In another’s, they’ll surely linger.

Can a feeling be so strong, That is whisks you from reality? Can an emotion be so intoxicating, That it enhances your favorite song? Can you hear them calling, From your own mezzanine? A wonderland brandishing all your favorite things. A nightmare, destined to bring you to your knees. What can they do, But infect every piece of you?

Water towers, they were constant. Each town, city, or suburb had one. I admired them, and their ability to be so important, yet so camouflaged. A normal person would walk past one, and not even give it a second glance. I ventured to the top of them, everywhere I went. Sometimes I made them a second home. I also envied them. As they were something, everything I could never achieve in this life. Stable. Important. Rooted.

Autumn nights slither through Spring mornings. Waiting for Summer to awaken from Winter’s snuggly slumber. He craves her, is desperate for a taste. Though her days are spent with one filled with hate. His use of Spring, a damning hypocrisy, He knows his morals halter. Though he knows that his sultry Summer, will never falter. Winter’s wicked schemes know no end. Spring’s naivety, however, will be her detriment.

Who sets the colors of the morning sky? Do they understand the gradients of the night, Mimic your musty eyes? How the softness of the clouds precedes your luscious hair? Will they sculpt future mountains by the design of your peak fitness? For all above must be true, Then they’ve obtusely created the world from my point of view.

The northern winds call my name. She speaks the harsh words I know to be true. Freedom will ring, when the fallen blood begins to sing. The crimson will coat her translucent skin, and allow those on their feet to embrace their win. Hope will saunter over, and caress her stained cheek. Two sisters with eyes that understand. The world is not one to hold your hand. I whistle my response: The ghost of the fallen, will inevitably haunt.

Thick tar coats my soul, My eyes shuts I’ve no idea where to go Mind poisoned by endless bliss Can’t make this staggered thought, Feels endless Can’t move through space and time, I’m stuck I can feel anything, I’m fucked Bring me to the light I wish to see joy It’s seems like a ploy Free me from my entrapment, Through these prison chains I’ll never understand my pain

When the air whistles through the trees, Do you think of what could be? A summer breeze? A winter’s frozen sneeze? How does the tree sway? How does the leaf stay? Where do you go, When the air begins to blow?

Shades of green coat the forest preserve, a place of peace, a place so honest and pure. Dingy lights flicker about the gas station, a place of necessity, a place so ordinary. Cars, they line the lots of the stores we frequent, places of commodities, places that form community. What do they have in common? How do they intertwine? For those that vanish, they’re places that give the first sign.

Dripping in crimson, basking in grey, How did you allow yourself to end up this way? Battered and bruising the blemished skin of the present, While producing vibrations that are levels below pleasant. You’ve succumb to the past and it’s daunting depictions, Painting the picture of your suffocating addiction. Be warned that tasting the blood and numbing the pain, Will only prolong what you’ve worked a lifetime to obtain

Step by step, we fall in line. We fall to the crippling power of time. It’s suffocating grip, the intricate tics. Each passing moment we are in its palm. Sucking the salty fingers, to keep it calm. Sleep can only destroy what you’ve worked for. Yet, it’s need is as deep seeded as time is, To mother earth’s core.

Whispers slither up your spine, caressing your ear with thoughtless lies. They hover above your head with flashing lights. They shroud your night with neon signs. Your body gravitates towards them. In the dead of night, their light is protection Though they have the advantage of showing directions, Only you can harness the power to deflect them

Lights flicker from the lamppost’s bulb. They taunt, tease, so relentlessly. A mockery of what used to be. Something once perfect, turned faulty. How do I resume to what doesn’t exist? A place where my mind hasn’t gone to shit. Where is the place that feels safe? Simple thoughts dissolve to the pain. The searing anguish from my darkest days. How can I articulate the emotions I was never allowed to feel? Do I start in the mirror? They say to confront those who betray. I’ve done so: to my own name

Alice sat upon the front steps. Cracked, grey concrete under her frail toes. The summer air curled around her face, embracing her amber curls. Nothing felt more free. Nothing smelled so pure. After years of searching, all she’d yearned for was in front of her. Right at her fingertips. The ones that dripped with fresh blood, crimson proof of the freedom she’d obtained…so pure, so free. Finally, Alice was at peace.

When they tell you to cast your light, You cast a shadow. When they tell you to speak your mind, You stitch your mouth closed. When they tell you to act with insight, You attack the unknown. When they tell you to prepare to fight, You crawl into a hole. Every step you take, is one they cannot control.

The steady flow of a summer stream, Can carry you through the toughest of dreams. A caring smile from a warm stranger, Can frost over a hellfire’s anger. The sweetest of smells from a mother’s pie, Can bring upon the faintest of memories, You thought had died.

Steam curls around your nostrils. The scent of hazelnut embraces your senses. Warmth surrounds your fragile aura. Cold ice crystals about your feet. The mug, near empty, you crave more of, The liquid courage, filled with everything sweet. What is life? What is death? When all that surrounds your senses, Is beautiful, magnificent, coffee.

Do you ever feel like when your writing a story, it’s like different levels of it unlock at different times in your mind? Anything can unlock the levels at any time. As if you get bits and pieces of the world you want to create, and you have to piece them together outside of your mind. A puzzle only you know the picture of?

He gazed into the sapphire jewels embedded into her sockets. They shone with a glint, and he wanted them in his pocket. He was swift in his course of action, and she knew exactly then, what he wanted. As soon as his amble fingers swiped her cheeks, she’d decided to haunt him. A chaste kiss upon his lips, and a simple wave goodbye. She’d left only one question tumbling through his mind: “Why?”

Linger in the forest, just a moment longer. Stare into her abyss, the darkness grows fonder. Fear is inevitable, emerging stronger. Words do not speak, when it clutches at your throat. The ink will spill, and erase what you have wrote. A tear or two, that’s all you may do, When the forest has got you, In the palm of her roots.

Clouds of misty emotions circle through the night. They blanket your sky with a chilling sight. The darkest of them hide you from the moon’s light. The sweetest of them sprinkle you with glittery dust from a star’s shine. Smiles and crinkled brows erupt from the thoughts they rain. Mixing and mingling euphoria and pain. Remind yourself when the sun rises again, That all those clouds just want to be your friend.

Why do I flourish in the deepest pain? Why have I never accepted that there was nothing to gain? Knives penetrate the shallow wounds. I revel in what they have the potential to do. Eggshells of a robin, become the size of a boulder. Stepping on them, cracking them under my brittle feet. I glance over my shoulder. A sinister smile lays upon my ashen face. The agony I feel, the constant ache, beckons me to stay. For with the devil, there is no better place. For with you, I say, “Come what may.”

Silk as smooth as the summer air, Wind that curls around feathery hair Too much bliss for hatred’s ignorance, She frolics through, not one bit hesitant For no one will ever truly know, Her anxiety, her fears, her deepest sins, Are wrapped tightly, in a neat little bow.

Cruel words sink deeper than soft whispers. They catch your veins with their barbed wire. Sinister smiles slice through, more so than caring eyes. One lone feeling can suffocate you, more so than a compliment will placate you. Where the harsh words even true? No, they were spoken before they knew you. Why ignore the deepest love? It can sew the dripping wounds…if you allow it to. Crane your neck, extend your shattered faith, to the one emotion that can keep you safe.

I gaze into my bleeding soul for just a moment. It screams at me, tearing at the wound, begging me to hold it. “Embrace the shattered remains, and it will splinter into your skin.” A warning. Let it encompass me, let the dark words and it’s harsh breath…let it win.

Breathe. Just breathe. Relax. Give it some time to brew. One more day, you’ll be brand new. Hope you don’t ponder it for too long. Because no matter how it’s spun you’ll be in the wrong. Smile. Just smile. Relax. Give it a rest. They’ll tell you it’s for the best. Not because you’ve broke, or cried, or closed off. Because the moment you speak, they’ll drown you in a scoff. Scream. Just fucking scream. Give it your all. One more day, means one more…one more will fall. Make them hear your call

Clouds form shapes, and hang in the sky to just be. They whisper to each other, “What do they see when they look at me?” How could one mound of fluff be just under a million things? To a child, a puppy. To an adult, a rabid being. Possibilities become endless when the human eyes gaze. Though when society crumbles, and is set in inevitable flames, The clouds will then wonder, “Would we have been the same?” “Maybe, but look at the moon. It was a wonderful day.”

Tendrils of golden locks fan about a feathered pillow. Emerald eyes imagine a world of blistering color. What an anomaly. The sky a heavenly blue, the sun, a warm yellow. She wonders when the colors faded. Where the memories she made, she evaded. Time had never been so wobbly. She’d never given much thought to its chronology. Yet, now as she rests, she ponders a guess. Was it the first time she’d experienced distress? No, she’d barely turned ten. It was the first time she’d ever felt hopeless.

Gravitate to what is known Speak only of what is shown For what is stowed within the dark Shall never escape the barriers Of a concrete heart A chisel and hammer may chip away What deepest desires are kept at bay Though caution echoes in your brain Brewing emotions will cause you to stay The quickest end to what lies in wait? Take the tempting, delectable bait

Caress me in the dead of night Hold me in the seductive moonlight Feather kisses down my spine Ignite in me the deepest pleasure, And tangle yourself within my vines All is blissful, all is good, all is forever well Give, take, breath in this beautiful treasure Until the sunlight’s emergence becomes a bitter hell

A phone rings, you hurry over, and answer on the third Out the window, sits a small blue bird It’s wings are spread, you gaze in awe Bubbly laughter disrupts your call Two small children, in the front-room Playing, smiling, try not to hover “Hello, is this ‘so and so’s’ mother?” “Yes, it’s she. Who is this?” “The chief of the Fire Department.” “Oh, yes, how is he?” “I’m afraid you won’t see him this evening.” “What do you mean.” “Ma’am, it’s best if you arrive at your earliest convenience.”

Air as fresh as ice is cold Grass as soft as anger is bold One small victory amidst defeat Can feel like a championship player Who’s won their ring Yet, you must heed the call from former foes For your biggest fears, were their greatest woes One small twist, from a blindsiding knife Could cost much more, Than a cherished life

The melting pot of emotions inside Of me, boil, and boil, and boil, Until I bleed The crimson soaks what’s nearest, to me. It stains and stains, and stains, Until all that’s left is pain The coming day, the memory fades And the pot is served to my remains

Made with love Made from scratch Made from chickens Made from a can Either way, I know the truth My love for you, does not top soup

A sunny hike through the trees, An alluring scent fills the air, Then a comforting breeze. All is well, the clouds are present. You’ve drunk the wind of the day What else is there to say? The door opens, welcome home. Lunch time. YouTube, history of the catacombs. A normal day, what a shame…What? Why are you so confused? Is this normal? Why is it so uncomfortable? Panic. It was once…all you knew.

When one dreams of love, they see it in their mind. Clear as day, like a picture in a fragile frame A sun on a cloudless day, timeless in face of time. Painters, they paint it, writers they write it. You can see it, paint it, write it, but to feel it? Feeling it, the raw pain, the elation of one’s heart? Needs no description, just presence

I try, and I try, day in and day out, To be a better person, to erase your doubt There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done, Nothing I would refuse, for what I thought Was the one A perfect image, one of a little doll In your mind was all you wanted From me So in turn, from me, you’ll receive An all too familiar apology I’m sorry for the pain that you’ve caused yourself In assuming that all was well Because while I played the part For your fragile ego I’m sorry to only my shattered heart.

Shouts echo throughout the halls Glass, splintered and wedged in walls How many times do they cry for you? How many times have their shrinking souls Flown from the room? Forget. A relationship failed, mirrors their own How many times he was there, But you were alone? How many times did he remind you Of… Forget Third time’s the charm, here’s to loving The touches, the whispers, Their gentle tone’s so unsettling Why do you feel suffocated, in a room so pure? How does one truly heal? Remember

One, the first of many Two, the one that brings memory Three, a challenge, a demand, a group Four, the confidence of one has grown Five, the times I’ve cried for you Six, the center of the clock, it tics Seven, a lucky time to be shown Eight, Nine, Ten, How many emotions at once can you brew?

Quiet eyes wander far, Lean in close, you’ll not hear Silent mouths wage a war Furrowed brows tell all, Back away, you’ll need not confront Questions will make them small Lips locked up tight, waiting, You’ll be gone by now The scream, yearns to be heard

Chartreuse eyes greet me in the morning My whole world, all in one One large stretch, and the first is done Waking Hunger grows fond of emotions turmoiling Cries swallow me whole, anxiety sets in The pan on the stove, the second commences Making When the moon’s glow in the sky’s gleaming There’s one thing that seems to be constant The love, the labor, all that’s left of me Taken