There are things I need to say and it’s as if the world is pulling me apart, tearing the seams of my mind and soul. I can hear the ripping of my thoughts, turning what once were worlds into fragments, nonsensical comments, and shattered memories. I struggle, I strain, my knuckles turn white as I fight to keep it together, keep it all together. But I can’t and I can see the light seeping out through the gashes. I can feel myself, whatever it is that I am slipping away. I can feel my sanity rotting as it is exposed to the poison of the ether. I can’t keep holding on. I can’t keep it together.
It is all torn apart, torn to shreds, torn and mangled.
Read more "Torn"
If there’s not much to say why bother speaking? If there is nothing left, why bother breathing? Not much of anything matters if there is no you.
Read more "Not Much"
What if the soul were colors swirling together in a plane of utter darkness? What if the colors of the soul show its nature? Its will? How it’s feeling? What would we do if we could see each other’s souls with a cursory glance? Would you notice my faded colors? Would you even care? Would you stand back and watch as the darkness bleeds into the amber light of my heart? Would you watch until my light got snuffed out? Would you enjoy the show?
Read more "Colors"
Sometimes the sky is like cotton candy; soft hues of pink, white, and blue. Even during a storm the sky can seem like the sweetest thing, like a better place than the hard and unrelenting ground of Earth. Here beneath the endless celestial dome everything is crushing, the puffs of clouds are constant taunts of what will always be out of reach. I’d rather be consumed by the tempest than remain in this daydream.
Read more "Cotton Candy"
If I have to constantly step forward to meet you, does it mean you will do nothing but wait? And what if I don’t move? What if I stay here? Away from you? Will you ever come to me? Why am I always the first one to reach out and touch you? To run my fingers through your hair? Why do you look away from me?
Why do you push me away? I look away because I cannot stand to see the hurt I’ve caused you. I cannot stand to look into your eyes and see what I’ve done. I wait for you because you are strong and brave. I wait for you because I know you’ll always come.
I push you away to see if you’ll come, to see if I can get you to move.
What am I, a Frisbee?
You are my insanity.
Well, you are my sanity.
Photo Credit: Jamie McCaffrey
Read more "Are we anything?"
Oh how nice of you! How nice of you to visit me and come bearing gifts. An old T.V., one of those fat and round ones, and even food for my scarcely filled fridge. Let’s have a look, some bread, not the whole bag, I guess this is one of those situations, a bag half full I guess would be an appropriate adaptation of that other stupid phrase. And some fruit. I could go for some apples. Let’s cut it open and nope, nope, not fresh. I know I’m poor but damn! I ain’t no dumpster.
Read more "Christmas Gone Wrong"
When you are not here and I am powerless to do anything about it, I can do nothing but miss you. Don’t hate me for my weakness, for my crippling want. Don’t deny me dreams of you. I can do nothing but sit here drowning in thoughts of you. And I hate it, this frozen shell I become when you’re gone. So when there is nothing else but memories of faded moments between us, I can only reach for you through the shifting masses of thoughts and feelings and hope that I reach you somehow.
Read more "When There’s Nothing Else"
I prefer the night, the darkness and its anonymity, and walking into the world of a book, slowly watching the shadows of its reality become illuminated as the pages turn.
Photo Credit: Guiseppe Milo
Read more "Preference"
I feel like I’m floating through the universe, tethered not by gravity or anything else. And I am just drifting away. How to get back to the ground? I have lost my footing. I don’t know how to get back. Things used to feel so…stable.
Read more "How?"
If I don’t say anything don’t think it is because I am a cowardly person. I hole myself up in these bleak surroundings, I sit in front of a window that displays the sun, and I sit here, compressed and small, not because I cannot say something, but because I know I shouldn’t. I compress […]
Read more "Meek"
Though I don’t have pigtails, though I hate pink, though my face is no longer round and innocent, I still catch myself saying, “When I grow up, I want to be like her.”
Read more "Even Now"