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It is interesting to me that in most cases it takes a death to revive a life, that it takes pain to remind of pleasure, and that it takes loss to show what is had. We go through life so wrapped up in trivial matters, that we take the most important things for granted. Don't we realize that our breath is not our own? Can't we see that we are living not on our own time? It frustrates me that I only stop to re-evaluate my life when I'm met with devastating situations.…

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Your words are puppets. They dance before my eyes and mimick the movements of your body.

I've always been afraid of puppets, the way they twist and bend and hide what is inside.



Your words are the roots of a rosebush. They puncture and strangle, manipulating the soil that is my perception.

I've always hated roses, the way they wither and die despite honor and care.



Your words are ice. They turn cold those that draw near, and melt when exposed.

I've always… Continue

I saw a crow 

in the middle of the road,

hopping and skipping and jumping.

A car drove by,

I told the bird to "fly!"

but all that it did was nothing. 

It fluttered there,

A little unaware, it's

feathers untamed and wild.

The crow didn't budge

so I figured I'd trudge

Back to my house like a child.

Have you ever been so far gone that when you finally look up from your poorly drawn map, you realize you have no idea where you are?

Have you ever been so deep underground that the pressure alone makes it hard to breathe?

Have you ever been so wrapped up in somebody's presence that when they leave, you feel as though they took the most important parts of you?

Have you ever loathed these feelings? Have you ever loved them?

I am in what you might call uncharted…

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