"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Smiles in the hallway

Her paper thin mask is getting old and worn
and the painted smile is faded and torn.
She asks herself, "why lie?"
Because its so much easier to lie and put on the mask than be asked twenty times a day
if you're okay.
And it's so much easier to pretend and act than to tell the truth
because the truth is made of serrated edges and tears.
And no one wants to tell the truth because their salty tears make the wounds hurt that much more.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


I will no longer be explaining posts to people. I don't name names for a reason and if you don't understand a post, sucks for you.
Peanut Butter

Monday, February 22, 2010

Tiffany Boxes filled with lies.

Pretty little lies, wrapped up in satin bows
dropped on doorsteps, filled with crap.
This is the legacy and this is the truth.
Lies that taste like arsenic and lipstick
filled with glitter and dust
set to explode when the light turns green.
And they're off, destroying with their pretty little stilettos.


Have you ever been in a hall of mirrors? Nothing makes sense
Up is down and down is to the left.
My head is spinning and I reach to steady myself
but I'm grasping at air and can't catch my breath
Like Alice down the rabbit hole, down I go.
falling, dying, failing


Pages torn from a fractured novel
How can I construct a romanticized reality when the reality I'm romanticizing has come tumbling down around me?
Cracks in the glass, only seen by me. The crazy glue I put on only makes it okay for everybody else.
I'm backed into a corner by lies and deceit and nothing has the strength to pull me out.
I'm walking through a dream, my head is filled with a haze and I have no hope for myself.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

let the fire burn

let's leave this place
drop everything
i'm lost in dreams and reality
i feel like im dead but breathing
i'm scared i will die inside
i'm giving up...so catch me.


my heart becomes heavier
and my throat becomes a little bit tighter.
my hands get cold
and my breathing quickens.
i ache to regain that
lost civility. chivalry is dead...but it wasn't.
it was golden and as alive as you and i
and now it's gone, dusty, dead.
no one wants to return to the land of the prigs
but me.
A new connection was being formed, sparking and lighting up; golden
old memories, sharp scissors of my mind came back to snip snip
cut us off.
who's to blame? blame the sky
blame the moon
blame whomever you want
just don't blame me.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


Since when are flesh and blood invisible?
When you see me do you see the wall behind me?
What color shirt am I wearing?
Or are you too busy walking away?
There are more words in the sentence I'm conveying to you right now...
do you want to hear them?

Monday, February 15, 2010

I now know what a punching bag feels like
and I must remind myself to breathe.
I wait for numbness to relieve me of this
sadness and aching.
Sticks and stones may break my bones...
but why are your words hurting me?

Who Killed Gatsby?

Nothing is clear until the tears fall
making way for everything to make sense
Revenge would be sweeter than honeysuckle, but at what cost?
Talking and shutting up are two very different options
neither which are kind
but acid on my tongue would be soft next to the pain
your betrayal has caused.
I have no more words to say, no more looks to give
if you want answers, ask the tears shed when you aren't looking.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

It's times like these that I wish I could grow fins and swim away from all of this.

It's not okay.

I can't breathe
and I can't think
and all that comes to mind is the immense emptiness what will consume me like a black hole
when you leave.
So I ignore and lie to myself
telling myself that it's okay
and that I can be okay if I just smile
and go on with my life like nothing's going to happen.
Like it's not going to tear me apart
Like it's not going to mean my whole life coming to a stop.
Like it's okay.
It's not.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

the tears I cry offer no comfort

Once again I'm the third branch. You make up so much of my life and you are a pillar of sanity in my life of unsteadiness but to you I'm...what? A back up singer to her?? Is that all I'll ever be?? Will I ever be more than second fiddle to her? I know she's amazing but so am I!! I'm right here YELLING AT YOU to please, PLEASE treat me with a little more respect. PLEASE!