Wednesday, November 19, 2014

journal entry

laying on that bed, i felt as though my entire being  was flowing like the influx of the ocean. half aware by the pull of the tide, yet drifting off with each passing swell. short jolts of semi-consciousness would drown me in the feeling of utter hopelessness. and then just as swiftly with the waves, i was swept back into pure, black, nothingness again.

i remember waking to the sound of rain. at first, i felt like i was just a little girl, wide-eyed and curious, like i was all those years ago, half riddled with sleep after a night of terrors. i pulled the dark red sheet up to my chin and only then did i realize i was not in my own bed... shadows of tears stained my rosy cheeks... the smell of blood and abandonment filled the unfamiliar room.

back then, i didn't realize the ransom that night would hold over me for many years to come. i was but a girl, 14 years old – bourbon in a teacup, soul full of vinegar and glitter. but my woman was stolen from me in a haze of starry sky whiskey and a boy in a leather jacket.

i was so full to the brim in shame i couldn't face myself... i faded away behind a constant veil i draped before me... those sharp corners of my mind became desolate gardens planted with prickly rose bushes and intimidatingly vast meadows i never dared enter.  i would go on to make my own mistakes, plenty of them. each one seemingly worse than the last... but never would i allow another human to make one for me again. though, i wonder... if the stars were not so intoxicating that night... would i have never fallen in love with the moon?

now as i enter a chapter of my life where i am ready to explore the depths of myself, i find it still scares me to death to scratch my pale skin on the stone walls of my mind. when will i stop being frightened? when will the acquaintance with old ghosts stop agonizing me? where do i find the strength to voyage beyond the shadows of my mind and straight into the fucking abyss of it?

photo : tumblr.

Monday, November 17, 2014

just cause you're clean don't mean you don't miss it

and it seeps; greedily deep
my blood is a boiling aqueduct
when suddenly i am flowing
free like the Caspian Sea
my edges are soft — lips numb
i'm spinning around in circles
like i did as a kid, wide eyed
rosy cheeked, heart beating wildly
there's nothing like not knowing
your own limbs each step an adventure
warm belly and cloudless melancholia
floating from thought to quiet thought
in a world of black and white
i feel like i am screaming in color
i'm like a junkie for this novelty
but what i want is his hands in my hair
not even this can dissipate the thought
of his fingerprints everywhere
i'm afraid i've gone mad
cause i found wonderland in his eyes
and now i am lost there

photo : tumblr.

Thursday, November 13, 2014


a friend of mine asked me today "who are you, what makes you... you?" 

it surprises, and intrigues me, these kinds of questions. the ones where i have to kinda step back for a moment and think about the answer instead of just blurting something inconsequential out. i thought for a minute and i told her that if i was being honest, i don't really know who i am... but i'm beginning to, and i like her... she scares me yet excites me all at once. but getting to know myself has been and will continue to be an adventure that, i think, will be ever-present. 

after the conversation spilled into other topics and things got quiet again, i really began to mull it over.

 who am i? 

i have been struggling with this question for a very long time. 

these past few months have worn me out. once the frenzy of summer is over and the beautiful commotion we all make of October has expired... i am left with a lesser known November, callous and barren. the layers begin to peel away to reveal the bones that have been there all along but i habitually tend to cover up. 

i'm trying very hard to confront myself. to look at my heart and my face and my body and love her as i would love a friend. i see she is ruthlessly fidgety and hopelessly foolish. but i am working to sit and find beauty in what i can no longer hide. pondering the things i both love and hate about myself. she's unpredictable and stubborn. fierce and fiery... but really, at the end of the day, she's all i've got. so rather than lamenting over these things, i want to begin to look at her, to study these layers without flinching – without turning away. i want to be able to sit with myself, free of distractions and penetrate every facet that has been carved out these last 27 years... 

but, do you think that one can ever be entirely comfortable with oneself? 

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

i tried to love you less. i couldn't.


i'm burning, my dear –
in the decadent flame of my existence 
 in the fury of choices i made
and my fingers tremble with uncertainty
yet my heart remains steady
pulsing gently at every thought of you
for you are the dawn i am chasing
after all these days of darkness 

Friday, November 07, 2014

this morning, having coffee

eastward, the sun arises painting my view 
with the colors of fiery hell – emerald and caramel
the sky phosphorescent, a deep cerulean blue 
frothy cirrus spilling from the horizon 
unto the dawn of the day, seething gray
a precursor for what is yet to come 
please stay with me; take my hand
for our love is an eternal storm 
 and i'm so damn tired
of suffering alone

photo : mine

Wednesday, November 05, 2014

a thousand lifetimes ago

journal entry april 4

it happened. i was just sitting here on the couch, wearing my light pink tank top and listening to Phillip Phillips, minding my own god damn business. if i'm being honest, i felt it happening the last few days. this burning desire, a ball of fire lodged underneath my rib-cage... a profound pressure building. every touch, every sound.... my skin is made of electricity, pulsing in massive waves of static. i jump easily, but i smile easier at the same time. he says "hey beautiful" and i'm grinning, panting, utterly breathless for every single word that comes dancing from his lips. because everything he says to me is meaningful... and all i can think is... why? why on gods earth did he pick me?


"what are we gonna do when we're completely used to talking to one another all day every day? although, i think i already am.  i miss you every night before i let you go, and then i missed you this morning until you let me know it was ok...

i go to work and i'm thinking of you.   you would think doing this job in between talking to you might occupy my mind with something else but its unsuccessful. you've already taken me over.  you could pretty much ask me to do anything for you right now and i would.

my body has been numb for days because the tingling doesn't stop and my heart is off the charts.

my head is in the clouds, and not only from the marijuana smoke, but from the buzz you've given me all over.  the one you're feeling now.

can i continue?  i'm on a roll..

i want to infuse my poetry into your soul just to know what it feels like to be one with an angel.

nothing you do is going to peel me away from you, you've got me.

you've got me, baby,  i'm helplessly in love with everything about you and i don't regret saying it. and i don't regret letting it happen.

you are utterly amazing."

Friday, October 31, 2014


"you should have seen what she was wearing the other day."

"yeah, she's just wicked weird, did you see that picture she posted?"

i'm sitting on a high stool, one leg tucked underneath me, my back against the wall. sipping on quite the splendid glass of pinot noir – just listening, observing this idle talk. i swirl the crimson liquid in the glass like my mother taught me, and watch as the thin legs of the wine creep down the side of it. lost more in my own thought than this mundane talk. but i have a sudden urge to speak something and perhaps it's the wine but i do.

"isn't this all kind of frivolous?" i don't divert my eyes, i look at each of them.

one chuckles and asks what the word means. another looks blank-eyed back at me. the other one makes a harmless yet snide remark about me. "how do you know these words?" in the tenor of someone who feels threatened. not by someone who is intrigued. assholes. 

"i read." that's all i say.

 they brush me off. which, i have come to accept as a gift rather than punishment at this point. i just smile and nod my head almost as if to say "yeah, i'll shut up now." yet inside i am screeching! but, it's futile... i hold onto it, but let it go. 

there are times, and this has been occurring more often than not, when i sit in my head and i cannot, for the life of me, fathom why these are the kinds of people i associate myself with.

please do not misinterpret. i do not think i am smarter than anyone simply because i may have a more diverse vocabulary. nor do i think i am a better person because i choose not to participate in simple-minded gossip. i do however  feel compelled to have thoughtful conversations. i am an intellectual for fucks sake... and i shouldn't feel abashed by that.... because, god damn, i am proud of my intelligence – i earned it. 

let's talk about life, lets talk about death, literature, art, music, poetry, film. give me the ingredients to what makes your heart come to life, tell me how you want to leave your mark on this world. lets discuss religion and ideas of the afterlife, of this world, tell me what your stance is on anything with relevance. and sure, lets drink wine and giggle and be the silly girls we always will be – but hell, give me substance. give me more than empty words and shallow thought-processes. 

i need more, is that too much to ask? 

i'm beginning to think it is.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

because, you are lovely

i thought if i painted you
with vicious words
the venom would
muddle my memory of
how gentle you truly are

but rather than hating you,
i only come to realize
how damn hopeless
it is to do so

Friday, October 24, 2014

since that night on my couch

and so
i lick my fingers and turn the page
forbidding myself from thinking about
how the color of the moon
reminds me of how long it has been
since i have held in my hands
a heart that was not
my own

photo : tumblr.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

and then you came

i taste like midnight and bergamot
ok no, more like booze and perhaps a little pot
you taste like coffee and the phases of the moon
and so i lick my lips when the sky turns maroon

and i kick against clean sheets and rush through hushed trees
past vanilla flavored houses where no one dares to speak
where lovers sell each other their phony lies
and the night marquee is their singular disguise

what i want is the desolation of the night
what i really want is a rare and lovely life

photo : tumblr.

Monday, October 13, 2014

the others

it started with your lips
just your lips
and then your eyes
those god damn eyes 
will fuck me eternally 

then came the nights
where we disappeared
within the darkness of one another
out of mind, out of touch
a mosaic of truth

but now you lock yourself
behind doors of a cold room alone
and you tell yourself
you're creating something
worth my wasted while

and your pen ink drips
down your fingertips like blood
using metaphors for your mother
in a desperate attempt to
cipher a canvas of abstract art

you can whisper words and write similes
but there aren't enough for me—
a sullen paradox of a girl
you cannot fathom all the pain
that lives beneath my rib-cage
but you say it's your skin 
you must live in...

still, when did you stop being you
and become one of them?