I sit here waiting unable to start, in fear I may crumble and perhaps fall apart. I wanna sit still, breathe, and think less, but my mind it keeps going I must try n confess. Satisfaction is here but exhaustion comes with it. Anxiety is present and I’m not sure what to do with it. I wanna hold hands and call something love but know it’s not right and it’s only a glove. Perhaps it’ll warm me for a second or two. As soon as it’s off, the bone chilling cold comes right back so soon. Its to the point where you leap, lurch, and jump at anything that might do.

It’s been nearly two years since I raced out those doors. They are finally not swinging and no longer revolving. This time just broken and only one hinge is left. Sure I look back at the barren wasteland that’s been kept. It’s like some kind of museum of untouched history. I can only seem to remember what can only really resemble extreme difficulty. All of the shouting, heartache, and pain, has kinda left me in ruins that still certainly remains. It’s like an ancient town that once was thriving. What once was vibrant and bustling, is now bleak and empty. The cement is cracked and the paint is chipped in this hollow habitat of mine. The brave few that wander through Main Street are perhaps wayward themselves and seeking some form of solitude in this hideout.

Things have started blossoming and growing once again. So much has moved in that towns expanded within. We’ve got blossoms, colors, sounds galore. Come in and leave plenty. Sit for awhile and gaze at nothing other than the simplicity’s of life going in strife.

Thank you

I have a bone to pick with you. I am not stoked on my reflections. What a traumatized individual needs from a caretaker is acceptance and grace. Two things I didn’t feel I received as an adolescent teenager with an inability to voice my needs, wants, desires. To be abandoned by my parents was certainly the cake but you were the icing. The moment I felt maybe I was safe enough to live my life, you left me behind. Maybe it was finding out in juvenile hall that you were packing my stuff and I have nowhere to go and no one to be released to. All on the account of “tough love” I find that heartless and something you wouldn’t of done to your own child. Or maybe it was hearing my full name being called by my arresting officer outside a Starbucks while i waited for you to come pick me up. I want to scream in your face the amount of pain you caused me by just slamming so many doors in mine. You are hypercritical and impossible to please. Your judgements made me painstakingly aware of my “imperfections”. I let you go and accept you for being you. I love you. I forgive you for the pain you caused to my heart and I’m moving so far forward you can’t even jump to the destination.

Lose it

Earth shattering chills is what I received while making my tea. A moment I had to embrace with an audible a screech as the feeling consumed me. Up my spine it traveled divine. Through my fingertips the intensity flew. I found my self having to stop everything and just taking a heart palpitating breath to let the feelings keep washing over me. I feel refreshed, rejuvenated, and relaxed after my repurposing ignites. I used to be afraid that nothing mattered and now I just laugh at it. Searching for answers is futile when you can just look within and find a comfortable cottage with a window seat at all times. Thanks for the nook and the moment of clarity. I understand it’s all temporary but knowing that holding onto my mind is optional is a very reassuring feeling.


There’s a certain moment within each that you can find if you simply reach. Yes I can speak in riddles and rhymes without ever fully giving out any piece of me or I can start something of uncertainty. The outcome is a mystery while I jump on this rooftop waving my hands, spinning my feet, and screaming “I’m free”. I get chills as I sit in a silent gratitude for existing. I’d like to say that I’ve seen things and been to a dark place. Truth is, I feel lucky to have known a book with no pages and a story with no chapters. It was the blank canvas I needed to write myself something whimsical I’ll tell ya. so let’s clap our hands for no reason other than now. Applaud at those blowing leaves in the breeze, the fallen trees past your knees, and everything beyond your feet. Look up with a smile because you too are free.


I wake up for the countless time thinking of a nothing much. I pull on my usual Jean, the ones that are worn in all the right places. My puffy jacket is next. It is an outfit that isn’t trying whilst my hair is unkempt and my slippers slide back on. Last is the scarf and leash I wrap around both me and my little hounds neck. We walk out our second story apartment and down the stoop into the busy street. We cross the street to find the usual park just waiting for me. Our shortcut to the local coffee bean where a cappuccino is served just right and overpriced. It’s worth it on this blustery fall day. The leaves are ripe with the perfect crunch. Our pace is leisurely as we walk with subtle intention. I dive into the moment with very little contention. I hear the cars pass, the birds chirp, the breeze blow, and the world wake. It is the exact moment I needed to just let go and take. As I approach my coffee shop with little intention of staying long, the little bistro tables seem to have my name on them this morning. Particularly the one with streaks of sunshine beaming through the cloudy sky. What a beautiful day to be alive. I sit and ponder nothing other than my sips of coffee and the presence of my surroundings. The hustle of life is all around me and while some may call it a nightmare, I consider it blissful to have the still observational moment. Just as a man on his bike slides right up and for an instant we share a glimpse of light.


Hmm what is this unlimited place that you speak of in seeking? I cannot seem to place a finger hold on any reality worth keeping. They say I’m and open book but I feel I have no pages. I have nothing to write nor nothing to keep. Just a blah of eternity waiting for nothing. I love the magic of life that springs in spontaneity. It really only seems to join when my comfort zone is about a hundred miles away. I become uncomfortable, untainted, and unlimited. I wish for a perpetual excitement and zest for life but that is simply not obtainable in any permanent manner. It comes and goes like the tide. I feel like the every day is simply pointless if not just a waste of time. I ask what’s the use and people just seem to stare blankly at me in a rather peculiar way. Either they are worried about me or for me. One way or another I just keep my futile mouth shut.


I’m afraid to create because of what might come out. So I’m silent and and tongue bit whilst holding down shout. I am like an overstuffed suitcase that I’m trying to force shut. The zipper will break it’s only a matter of when. I can’t help it anymore it’s trapping to keep everything swirling inside. Letting it permeate and loop around. Truth is I’m stuck in the same feelings I’ve been in for a very long time. I may have thought they were gone but truthfully just pushed under the rug. I have a hole that no amount of activity, social gathering, beverage, nor date will fill. I am out of distractions and it’s gaping wide open. I am standing on the ledge of this deep black abyss and gazing inside. I worry I won’t be able to hide if I jump on in. I’d have to be real, raw, and vulnerable. I can’t keep up with this charade anymore, it’s too fast and I’m tired. I’m afraid of what’s really beneath the surface of who I really am. I think they could make good company but I also think they might just be real sad, tired, and lonely. Maybe just need a hug and know it’s ok to feel stuck and suck. Last time you came here you ran far away. Maybe this time it’s different even if your afraid.


Since when did lost become permanent? Since when did found become unheard of?All is not quiet in the thoughts of tomorrow yet you’re still crying and I hear it with sorrow. Who is “you” but a permeating me. Why can’t I unsee the reflection you seek? I worry about anything with absentminded anxiety. It is all consuming whilst the knowledge of bliss lurks somewhere within. That something is somewhere worth digging my friend. Now you might forget and may even regret but please just remember, don’t trust the end.


I wish I could only cry out of one eye so you only had to see my good side. Lately the sadness encapsulates me in all the wrong moments. It’s like a wave of emotional vomit. Why must I consistently feel lost in a contemplative confusion? Lately I have been so very reminiscent of the good times that the bad seem to have faded off into some non existent background. I miss the way you looked at me. I feel like no ones ever fully understood or accepted me the way you do. You believed in me when I trusted that no one could. I feel more lost than ever with these confusing thoughts. What I want and need has never been more unclear. I’d like to say the answer is just a self reliant me, but it’s untrue. I want a you,


The collapse of the roof was the first indication of any issue other than not. She ran towards the attic to determine the thunderous culprit. The all too narrow stairs cracked under each footstep. As she approached the top of the steps she froze. The dark space around her consuming her thoughts. A space that always haunted her nighttime self that she now voluntarily sits. She slowly reaches for the old brass handle. The door reluctantly squeaks of old age. As the door opens she is greeted with so much raw sunlight her eyes have yet to adjust. The outside world she is now apart of and the roof is no longer present. A long banquet table replaces all of the usual attic dwellings. Only two places are set at each end. A man with a peculiar tall hat sits on one and sips his tea as he waits for me. After a long sip and my frozen doorway stare he begins with “your late” in a cracked old voice.