but for now we are young, let us lay in the sun

what was, a cosmic love.

2011-09-20T00:12:00.000-07:00

and so it seems

that the crisp autumn nights

are when i’ll miss you the most,

and just when i thought i’d forgotten you

i realize,

that the seconds i spend thinking of you

likely outnumber

all the stars in the sky,

and even the biggest planet

could never fill

the black hole

you’ve left

in my

chest.

what it means to be free

2010-12-26T22:35:00.000-08:00

You are free the moment you realize
you are enslaved by your own mind.
no one can save you,
but you.

A Winter Walk

2010-11-12T00:15:00.000-08:00

We walk farther into the forest,

your cold hands touching the bare skin on my wrist.

I didn't ask you to join me but you came along

in that same proud way you always do.

Snow covers the forest floor, hiding all of the life that once

existed in this place.

I look at you,

again,

and again.

You gaze over at me and admire my pink flesh,

my sad gray eyes, and

the freckles you had never noticed before that day.

We walk farther still,

into the depths of snow and pine,

silence and ice

you whisper to me,

"I want to show you something, let me cover your eyes".

So I let you.

"Just a little farther now..."

Trustingly, I walk blindly forward.

"Its here."

Before us is the most curious tree, baring an array of red leaves

and offering only one lone fruit.

Standing side by side for a moment, we watch the harsh winds tear leaves from the tree;

leaving the ground covered in a blanket of crimson.

You hold my hand.

We pick the fruit from the tangled limbs,

then lay, sleepily, in the snow.

"Its falling harder now" I whisper

as you take the first bite.

red juice spilling from your mouth and onto the

frosty snow.

you look at me for a moment

and i glance timidly back at you

"it tastes sweet" you say.

I nod my head.

We position ourselves as if we were making snow angels,

hands touching hands, feet touching feet

and

our eyes slowly close,

then our mouths.

I peeked at you, again

just one last time,

though I could barely see you

beneath the snow that began to cover our

small bodies like a winter blanket.

I never loved you so much as I did that day.

And how badly I wish I would have told you.

An owl hovers above us

as we forget to breathe;

falling asleep beneath

the crimson tree.

waiting

2010-09-29T22:40:00.001-07:00

Head against the wall

wishing for some tea or a cigarette

trying to think of anything but you,

miles away, talking cheerfully with friends

as i wander through this solemn place

uncomfortable and unable to speak any word but your name.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair, over my pale face

and I’m certain of only one thing now;

that loving a person is a lot like

hanging yourself.

But just before you jump

you look down at the ground,

back at the door.

You wait to see if someone

will come and rescue you.

But he doesn’t come.

No one comes.

He is settled beneath his sheets

probably dreaming

of a girl with softer skin and greener eyes,

a calmer voice.

But for what its worth,

all I really wanted

was for you to wrap your arms around me

and kiss me on the neck,

offer to make me an egg, some toast,

and maybe some tea.

That would be nice.

Night

2010-05-31T04:04:00.000-07:00

So you say you want to sleep?

Well sleep then, and be off!

The radiant brightness of the crescent moon

and the clusters of golden stars which freckle

the face of the dark sky

will reveal themselves once more,

I'm sure of it.

Do not fret,

she will be back again tomorrow.

For the burning beauty

of the universe,

is eternal--

The golden sacred marks

speckled across the pale cheeks

of God's fiery red haired mistress.

He was always a sucker for those.

a letter to you.

2010-04-22T16:38:00.000-07:00

I saw your truth

with a child’s eyes

each plate thrown

a bomb

an explosion

we were only civilians.

But all these years

This remains unquestioned:

How a mother,

If that’s what you would like to call it,

Could allow her children

To watch her

Attempt

To meet death.

The reapers black eyes

Staring back at them

In pill form.

Perhaps you have just had enough.

Please forgive me if this is true

But as the war raged on

In this poor home

You’d forgotten

The casualties

You had taken with you.

Nipomo: for Donna-Lee

2010-04-02T22:37:00.000-07:00

I still often sigh
as I think of our long gone, younger days--
where we'd play amongst the eucalyptus leaves
two sisters, untouched and unafraid.

We would jump off the moon--
pink umbrellas in hand
and back on the ground
safely we land.

Buried shoes
and porcelain dolls,
rainforest whispers and
high heels, much too tall.

This season is gone
and summer has lost its charm.
If I could turn back the clocks
I'd go back to the start-
a time where my sister
held my hand and
my heart.
Oh, sweet Nipomo.

simple.

2010-04-02T16:34:00.000-07:00

Rainy day-
wasting away.
Seashells on the beach
have never sung so sweet.
Pressed against your ear
passing cars are all you hear.

The Invitation

2010-04-01T22:26:00.000-07:00

As the state lines grow farther

I think of you still--

Like how we walked

Amongst Autumn's dusty gravestones

Not noticing

The soft reminders

Of Winter's inevitable chill.

where the trees lean: written 12-28-08

2009-12-23T18:28:00.000-08:00

It's eerie how you can be a main part of someones life for such a long time, and by being a part I mean like being a part of the group that the said person defines themselves by, to almost being a stranger- an acquaintance.
For me, High School was very easy because I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I was a "part" of this weird relationship between my class, we had each other and that was all really. Now, we've all gone our separate ways and met new people. We are no longer this group of one, but a group torn at the seams, split apart and shared with the rest of the world.

Our society pressures change so much, pressures traveling, moving, leaving.
But whats so wrong with staying put?
What is life without a place that I can call "my place."
Where do I turn when I no longer know who "my people" are?

One thing that I've been thinking about lately is energy.
Every person gives off energy, but whats really interesting is when one persons energy interacts with another.
What makes a person more attracted to person A than person B? Sure, looks come into play, obviously- but theres more. Its how their energy relates and responds. Its how they connect.
I believe that when it comes to friendships, love and all other relationships- its all a give and take of energy.

I remember walking through the Deerfield fair one year, keeping to myself, but simply watching. People are so intriguing. I always want to know more.
Anyways, as I was walking through a crowd of people, I look up and lock eyes with this boy. In that moment, our "energies" reacted, we connected, we had a spiritual interaction. It was such a short moment, but its something i'll always remember.

You're probably thinking "he probably just thought you were hot" or something similar. But I'll tell you all something really creepy that you'll probably never believe.
On the drive home from the fair, I stared into outer space from behind the dirty glass window and hoped that I would see that boy again. A little more than a month later, he found me on myspace. (weird, right?)
Turns out, he was a good friend of an ex-boyfriend of mine.
He asked me who I was and brought up that moment we locked eyes.
After a short conversation about who we both were, where we came from, etc. We never spoke again. I can't even remember his name, truthfully.
But thats how life goes, I guess.
One moment makes such a difference, and can alter so much.

Its all about moments, these chunks of time.

I think that this is why I was drawn to photography so much.
I want to capture these fleeting moments so desperately.
Each experience I have, is once in a lifetime.
With my camera, I, in essence, trap a piece of time.
You can travel back in time with a photograph.

I don't really know where I'm going with this- and I've been trying to spit this out for so long.

I'm just ready to move on, I'm ready to be happy, I'm ready for the new year. I'd like to find a place to bury my roots, I'd like to rediscover these lost relationships with friends.

Who am I, really?

written: 1-27-09

2009-12-23T18:17:00.000-08:00

I often find myself wishing that my family from the past (my ancestors, basically) would have left behind journals, pictures, letters or anything that I could discover.

I have over five journals dating from seventh grade to the present. I've had a (well, numerous ones)livejournal for the last five years, and have posted at least a thousand entries of me pouring my heart out. One thing that bothers me, however, is the barrier between my thoughts and the computer screen. Writing is natural. There is no space between your mind and the page. With a computer on the other hand, its like there's a filter between the thoughts in your head and what comes out onto the screen. I'm not sure if that even makes any sense. Whatever.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, right? Well in my belief, neither can words or thoughts. My words are the only things that I truly own, the same goes for you and yours. When we ~think~ of something, our thoughts become energy. This energy joins one big pool of consciousness and minds. Like when scientists make a discovery and soon after many other scientists end up discovering the same thing. The discovery, the thought, created an energy that leaked into the collective consciousness and other people tapped into that.

When we die, do our thoughts die with us? Or do they remain in the "thought pool" for eternity. Say there was no written record of, for example, Plato's thoughts. Would the energy those thoughts gave off in the past still exist in the present or would they have needed to be ~re thought~ by someone else.

I dont really know what I'm saying, this is just a ramble I guess. But all I know is, I do not want my thoughts to lie in the grave with me. So here and now, I pass them onto you. Do with them what you will.

But, really, who am I to believe that my thoughts or my words or anything about me should live on after I die? I don't KNOW anything. All I have are some simple beliefs, thoughts and ideas.

Tis all.

I've always had a hard time letting go.

2009-11-15T11:43:00.000-08:00

There's something insanely beautiful about pure human emotion.

2009-11-10T20:36:00.000-08:00

...sometimes I wonder if my mother feels the same way about the wind as I do.

silly, silly.

2009-11-10T20:25:00.001-08:00

Everything was still. Everything was still. Everything is still.
My hair is warm and it heats my face
As the yellow sun shines down and blankets my pale skin.
A puddle of water at the bottom of the hill I rest on is illuminated;
Mirrors in the grass.

The leaves on the trees dance contently with the wind.
The branches, wanting not to feel left out, join in on the dance.
Its a tango.
The world is so big and I am so small.
I'd dance with the trees, but they're far too tall.

that party last night was awfully crazy~

2009-11-05T21:11:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I regret coming to Green Mountain. I see pictures and hear stories of my friends from home going out and spending time in the city, going to huge parties with lots of beautiful people, going shopping, going out to dinner at fancy restaraunts, and out to the clubs at night. I'll admit that part of me is jealous of that lifestyle. I could go for some nightlife! Sometimes I like to get dressed up and go out! I like wearing heels and cute dresses. I love fashion! Why can't I experience this aspect of college life? Should I? Should I even care?
I really don't know what's appealing about frat parties, cheap beer and snobby, fake tanned state-school girls: but something is. There is some allure in this lifestyle that I can never be a part of.

Every time I think about leaving Green Mountain, I have to remind myself of all of the reasons that I love it here. The people are wonderful, insane, different. We're all outsiders in some aspect. We came here because we don't feel like everyone else. We find importance in things that most other young people do not. That's why I came here, at least. I love the warm nights at the river and the unforgettable walks (stumbles) back, I love our small but beautiful campus, and believe it or not... I love the food! We're surrounded by the mountains-- we're enveloped by the leaves, the foliage, the dirt, the snow. The air is fresh and crisp, the students are kind and eclectic. This world is amazing, this beautiful life is more than I could ever ask for and I'm so happy to be here. This is my story, at this green place.

on the road

2009-10-04T11:26:00.000-07:00

I'd like to pack up and leave again- I'd take an old road map, some paper and a pen. I'll explore the world and its every bend, the whistling wind as my only friend.

2009-08-10T19:54:00.000-07:00

So, I'm working on turning back the clock
trying to pause the old tick and tock
and the time rewinds to yesterday
I just wish I had more to say.

2009-08-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

la la la la la worms in my brain again.

2009-08-03T22:22:00.001-07:00

Nothing I say really matters.

old father time

2009-08-02T16:20:00.000-07:00

"The light had the quality of water. It was moving through a conscious element. Time is a player. Time is a part of today, not simply a measure of its passing."
-The World & Other Places

Most people don't realize that time is a part of every single thing we do. Time, to us, is some ambiguous force that we can dissect and slice into tiny pieces, rather than acknowledging time as a whole. The sand in the hour glass means so much more than just sand.

We use time simply as a means of measurement, not fully appreciating the fleeting beauty of what time really means. Time. Hours. These hours are all we have, and they will not last for ever. We will run out of time.

I have been so reflective lately. I keep looking back, wishing to leave this life and return to what once was. I'm just now realizing that what was, is no more. The past does not exist. All of those minutes are gone forever, lost in an abyss of nothingness. Those are seconds I will never get back.

Time. How quickly it seems to pass by. How long the last twenty years has seemed, but how quickly the next twenty will disappear right in front of me. Time is a part of everything I do.

I've never been one to plan out my day, week, life. I'd rather take things as they come. So many of my friends are so busy planning that they are not taking advantage of time as it is. Life as it is, today.

I want to dance my way through life. I do not want to spend my years never really having lived. The day to day bores me. I'd like something fresh, please.

I don't enjoy thinking about time which has passed. Hours and moments which I will never get back. After something is over, all that is left is our perception of said event. We'll never again own it, we'll never again feel it. Its gone. Nonexistent. That scares me. THAT hurts. Just think about what it means for something to just NOT exist.

I wish I had listened when people told me to enjoy being a kid because someday I'll wish I could go back to childhood. I never believed them. And here I am, looking back fondly on minutes passed. I can't go back. Even as I write this, time is falling through the hourglass and becoming nothing but history.

I'm currently staying at a cottage along the beach. Its raining and the sand is wet. The water is vast and immeasurable.

I feel bad for _____.I just want her to realize that her time with _______ WILL run out. Whether its months, years, or an entire lifetime away. Nothing lasts forever. The darkness will consume them.
She is rarely happy, and even when she is-she only focuses on that which digs at her inside. I don't know his side of the story, and I don't want to. All I know is that someday, she will look back on these times with sadness and regret. That is, unless she begins to take advantage of and truly dive into the beauty of their love. People don't last forever, and tomorrow has been promised to no one. I wish she would realize this now so that it doesn't haunt her later. She is beautiful and so is what they have. But when strife and anger is all that is ever focused on, strife and anger is what will continue to show its face over and over and over again.

I know that time is something that I cannot ignore, control or create. Time is everything around me. It is here. It is now. Then its gone.

badbad free man

2009-07-19T15:14:00.000-07:00

We are worth so much more than money
we are worth so much more than gold
This reality means nothing
until you have stepped foot in the cold

He dipped his feet in the water
he decided, feeling bold;
"I'll live up to the dream
of my father.
I will give it all up
and I'll never grow old."

The sun beamed against the river
leaving it looking like glass,
while the most gentle breeze,
softly did pass.

He spoke to himself in this mirror,
he needed no more help.
"I want to feel with the sky and the grass."
Coins were pulled from his pocket-
this means more than any class;
he threw them into the river
and is leaving the past in the past.

Before he submerged himself in the water,
swiftly he revealed an old map.
"No border or boundary can stop me.
This is more like a trap,
to try and restrict my soul from moving-
how human is that?"

He stepped deeper into the water,
picks up two handful's of wet sand-
and as it runs through his hands
with a sorry sigh, and a tear in his eye
finally, we have found truth.

And there he lay still to this day,
in the river beneath the rocks-
or so they say.
You can still hear the sound of his voice some days,
floating with the breeze.

He says:
We are worth far more than money,
we are worth far more than that.
Once your heart finds itself open-
you must leave the past in the past.

2009-07-14T11:57:00.000-07:00

Just before I fall asleep
do the most beautiful words
begin to seep
from inside my mind &
between the spine;

These pretty things
keep me dangling
they mean nothing
you mean something.

These words have shown-
You're not alone,
I've made a home inside the marrow of your bones.

Uninspired: writers block.

2009-06-03T23:19:00.000-07:00

Poetry no longer flows from my lips,
Only useless words fall from my fingertips.
I let it all go,
I've let myself slip.

2009-05-07T12:14:00.001-07:00

I have worms in my brain.

Written for a class in HS

2009-05-07T10:31:00.000-07:00

“Freedom!”

“Finally, I’m eighteen.” I thought. Today marked my independence, no longer would I legally have a guardian to keep me caged in, no more oppression. Finally, Freedom! The very next day, November 8th, 2007, I would embark on my first journey without an adult supervisor. My first real step as an “adult.”
I stood in front of my messy, twin sized bed. Unfolded clothes completely covering the surface. I thought, “What do you wear in college?” “How can I make my self seem more “collegic” and less “I’m-so-excited-to-be-at-a-real-college-when-I-should-be-back-at-PMHS.”” I realized that nothing I owned could possibly make me look any older than sixteen. So I packed up my hoodies and Bob Marley T’s and went on my way. When we arrived at the airport, it hit me. “I’m going all the way across the country…ON MY OWN!” I noticed that Kelsey’s face was filled with just as much excitement as mine was. We looked each other straight in the eyes, we knew… this was it. A defining moment in our youth. We both laughed and gave each other full-tooth grins. Our first step into the real world.
We went to check in at the security gate and I realized…”Wow, I don’t even have an ID.” I showed the woman my school ID and birth certificate, hoping that it would be enough to get me onto that plane and out of this state without a hassle. It wasn’t enough. They took me into a separate area away from the rest of the airport population, a small glass “room.” Every person in the waiting area was staring at me as I got frisked and patted down like I was some sort of terrorist. I almost started to feel like one. I laughed at the awkward situation. The woman in the fancy security suit looked at me with a very stern expression of disapproval. Eventually, I was released with a friendly reminder to bring an ID next time.
Kelsey and I waited for about an hour for the plane to arrive. As passengers began to board the plane, the rush of excitement surged through my body. I sat in my cramped window seat and stared at the ground outside. I thought about all of the possible catastrophic things that could occur upon lift off. Things such as a bomb going off… or just crashing straight back into the ground once we take off. Neither of those things happened, obviously. I gripped my seat tightly and nervously, I closed my eyes. The plane took off into the bright blue sky. “Freedom.” I thought.

notes from 11-16-08, acid, cabin, alone

2009-05-03T21:07:00.000-07:00

I noticed so many different things about people, and life in general, tonight.

From the way this blonde Frisbee player clenches his jaw furiously as he observes the actions of his drunken friends

to the way this lonely looking guy in an orange jacket anxiously lifts his eyebrows when he speaks to people

Everything is just different.

I am really in love. I am.
Its an "empty" or...scary feeling sometimes. Not knowing whether the intensity of your feelings is mutual.
But for me, its there. I mean what else is there- but love?
Sometimes when I'm feeling my absolute worst, when I'm at my most broken, I pick myself up off of the ground... because in the back of my mind is this reassurance that the person I love is there- somewhere.

This all might seem crazy and immature but it's not. I'm just being real.

About Kristen: Her passion for people and her passion for every day romance warms my heart. Shes in love with love. I never noticed that before, she has such a kind soul.

Her two friends are here doing exactly what I can only dream of doing. Dropping everything and traveling, experiencing, feeling.
Experiencing life with bare feet rather than just trudging through it like you're stuck in the mud.

Its weird, you know, how people come in and out of your life just like that.
I don't think I'll ever see or speak to her friends again.

On the car ride back we were all just laughing, smoking, and enjoying ourselves. For one split second I looked up at one of her friends and we shared this really awkward eye contact. I think it was kind of a mutual hello and goodbye. We didn't talk much throughout the night, but we didn't need to... I just watched and listened and learned. These people. They come and go, they come and they go and its hard to keep track of them. All the people I've met...

At the cabin there was love everywhere. At times I felt like I was intruding upon intimate, personal moments that I maybe shouldn't have even noticed in the first place.
Like this couple, one that I'm assuming is a new couple, and their obvious ... LOVE for each other. Their passion. They couldn't get their hands off of each other, it was like that earlier in the day too. It wasn't anything dirty, obviously- it was public. It doesn't even have to be, these small things that you wouldn't think people would ever care about are the ones that matter more than anything.

The insignificant embrace of soft hands, the kiss on the temple, the deep emotionally charged eye contact. Life, life, life.

I never imagined how much enchantment could surround one small party at a cabin.

The warm feeling of the air
this hazy, mystic fog that swirled and billowed around us
the intensity of the pouring rain.

I don't even know, I shouldn't even be awake right now. Its almost 4:30am.

I have so much more to say, and there was so much I wanted to say to people in person but couldn't and blah blah blah here I am, not in an okay state of mind, alone and burning up on my tiny twin bed.

In this moment I am all that I have.

Life as a spider

2009-05-03T20:39:00.000-07:00

Flowing water has for a long time been used as a meditative device.
Small fountains and ponds are often placed in areas designated for a tranquil retreat.
Here, as I sit placidly upon this wooden bridge, the ebb and flow of the river is doing just that. The smooth, billowing ripples, as well as the ambient sounds of the water flowing downstream provide perfect refuge from the chaotic outside world; A peaceful seclusion.
The bell in the clock tower chimes as it is now 3 O'clock. Each lonely water molecule carries on- undisturbed, transcending further and further down the sinuate stream.

In between the two wooden planks before me, a small spider drops down maybe an inch or so- only to take a quick peek outside, before he once again retreats to his woody home. What was he looking for? I wonder if this small arachnid ever experiences thoughts like my own- I wonder if he has time to reflect before he picks up his work boots and hard hat, and carries on constructing his intricately created home. Life as a spider.

invisible threads are the strongest ties

2009-05-03T20:33:00.000-07:00

As a large gaggle of geese fly by, I stare. Envious.
If only I could fly south with them- to spend my winter alongside a great percentage of the elderly population.
While I remain in the cold Vermont atmosphere, these feathered fellows transcend to a paradise of sunscreen, flip flops and retired New Englanders-looking for an escape.
Well, geese, I too am looking for an escape.
If only I had wings
... and a beak.

I wonder how these birds remain so perfectly aligned as they soar at a considerable speed in the distance above. Its as if there is some magnetic force at each end of the line holding them together. Or, maybe, an invisible thread ties them together-like a kite. Some young earth child having control of the string, pulling them along.

Just as I began to expect that the row of winged marching-men would forever fly in unison, one lone soldier drops just below the line, then another,
and another.
Has the gaggle adopted three new leaders to guide them on their way to warmth?
Two lines now exist. Each row still flying perfectly aligned.
As the large gaggle of geese fly by, I stare. Envious.

which is worse

2009-04-25T08:25:00.000-07:00

I can hardly speak
of the hurt my soul keeps
hidden in the closet
like an old winter coat,
a worn out pair of boots.

you.

2009-04-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

At long last we stand,
face to face-
and I can finally say
I am content in this place.
No longer am I lonely,
I am simply
alone.

2009-04-17T13:55:00.000-07:00

Through the dark, summer nights we crept
whilst through the warm glowing daylight , we slept.

The birds song.

2009-04-13T18:56:00.000-07:00

The birds could be our saviours-
If only we would listen.

They know.

They know.

They know.

If only we would listen.

Ode to a Willow tree

2009-04-13T18:32:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear Willow,
I wonder why you must weep
So passionless
and effortless
Through the daytime do you
sleep.

too much rhyme

2009-03-29T21:35:00.000-07:00

Two youthful lovers,
both eager hearted and free-
dove into the ocean
and swam swiftly
through the sea.

Fingers locked like seaweed
tightly intertwined-
their hands broke through the water,
illuminated by
sun beams.
and the soft light floated upon the surface,
like an aquatic
divinity.

Blissful and uncaring-
sunlit faces rise
from the depths of
the ocean
where confessing lovers cry.

Emerging from the water,
they begin gasping for air-
while in thy lovers eyes they see
one reflection is not there.

Breezy and weightless, through the sea foam
they do drift,
the heart is the only guiding factor
on this crushing trip.

They swam, they twirled and they raced
as "we shall never die" failed to slip
from the flesh of the lovers rosy, sunkissed lips
for heartless lovers cannot speak
and illusions are all
they may kiss.

The waves moved gently past them
as he pushed her father into the sea-
for his heart could not be kept forever
and together they would no longer be.

Her eyes intensely stared into the portal of his own,
there was nothing she could understand,
everything seemed unknown.
Despairingly her eyes did cry,
and gently did she weep as
He left their love floating in the sea,
unfinished and in too deep.

He turned from a distance, as he watched her slowly sink
As he continues on his life's journey, and nothing of this will he ever think...

Now say goodbye to your loved ones, for their hearts may quickly change-
And floating in the waters they'll likely leave you; abandoned and estranged.

It finds me again, love

2009-03-27T23:07:00.000-07:00

It finds me again, love
in a gray knit hat, dark eyed, smiling.
It'll be worth the ride, he tells me,
warmer this time. Soft pale lips
and skin. There are shaking leaves
and pin wheels, and either
we'll sleep, or we'll lie awake exchanging
stale breaths.
I sit in the shadows
and from that lonely spot on your bed
watch you comb your hair. Its beautiful,
he says, wiping dust from clocks on the walls,
when you sleep, beneath these sheets.

never finished

2009-03-01T22:12:00.000-08:00

When your tainted nipple served no good for my hungry, suckling lips
I knew you would never fail to disappoint.
I knew emptiness as a babe just as well as I do now.
Yes, I know what it is like to feel hollow,
Barren as the crucified witches cauldron.
This is an ode to motherhood.

an epilogue

2009-03-01T22:11:00.001-08:00

I have saved no sorry soul;
I have resurrected no broken, lingering spirit;
I have ignited no revolution;
Nor have I written a single meaningful word.
But I have loved.
And will continue to love
For the rest of my dwindling days-
For it is all i know-
and all I have ever known.

2009-03-01T22:06:00.001-08:00

Have you ever looked at a picture and seen a stranger in the background. It makes you wonder, how many strangers have pictures of you? How many moments of other peoples lives have we been in? Were we a part of someones life when their dream came true? Or were we there when their dreams died. Did we keep trying to get in, as if we were somehow destined to be there. Or did the shot take us by surprise. Just think, you could be a big part of someone's life, and not even know it.

the fall of a kingdom

2009-03-01T21:57:00.000-08:00

What if the earth crashed down upon us, trapping our bodies in our beds while we are curled up next to the one we love? Head on their chest, legs intertwined. What if the ashes came falling down on us; keeping our body preserved in the moment for the rest of eternity like two insects trapped in amber?

Think of a moment that you think is worthy of being trapped in time forever.
Think of who you were with.
Think of what you were doing.
and never let that go.

To be found [part two]

2009-03-01T21:50:00.000-08:00

Like the early natives, traveling across the plain
I see those five young bodies,
quiet and un named.
Heads held high like mountains
they walk strong and tall

and I found them, I found them all.

Trees crowd the surface
of this majestic wood,
silent and stiff-
with muddy boots they stood.

Trudging down the riverside,
they just want to get it right.
Carrying their heavy hearts
well into the night.
Stepping above the water,
they try not to fall

and I found them, I found them all.

Holding onto their secrets,
they do not tell a soul
and onward into the forest-
they walk tall and bold.

...aren't we all just looking for a reason to feel whole?

To be found [part one]

2009-03-01T21:48:00.000-08:00

They navigated through the forest like a tribe of northern settlers;

paving their way towards "home."
Five men-
youthful and strong,
carry wood upon their shoulders
through the trees.

beneath your skin

2009-03-01T21:45:00.000-08:00

Where does the soul take sanctuary?
I have searched far and wide.
I return from my pilgrimage
empty handed-
every time.

I have asked my doctor,
who told me it was somewhere beneath the skin.
But after peeling back the epidermal layers
I've realized-
I cannot win.

old and gone

2008-01-01T22:14:00.000-08:00

Standing in front of the gleaming, milky moon-
I wish for loving limbs to coil and clench my palace
of skin and bones like an anaconda
Constricting these lonely airways.

I do not need to breathe now.
Lungs so filled with lust
I'm coughing out orgasms like shooting stars.

Sweat pours from our bodies like ocean tides,
making waves and sinking ships.
You bow down on your knees to pray-
and you dive into me.
Fully immersed-
you swim within my veins.

The bittersweet autumn wind
entangles our collapsing cadavers
like city smashing tornadoes-
Making even the deepest of roots quiver.

We fall onto the lawn-
grasping our grassy sheets
as if we were each other's saving grace;
rescuing our hearts from that faithful fall.

Like treetops our heads were held-
So proud of what we had accomplished.
Heavy hearts pulsating, throbbing
Pounding against our wind-whipped chests.

As I lay beneath the gleaming milky moon
I wish for you-
only for you.