I'm not a girl who bargains
I take it and run
I give it up for none
i dont care about possibly better offers
or options
i refuse to end up with nothing
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
SunGlass
We lived in a glass house with rotting wooden frames.
I saw the sun everywhere
so distracted that I couldnt see that you were trapped within another room, wondering how to reach me.
The rot spread, buckling the wood, and everything started to crash and collapse.
You wanted to warn me but I was too dazzled by the all encompassing light to hear you yell my name.
I had gotten so used to your cajoling, soft footfalls and low voice that lightly vibrated across the glass panes.
You crashed through my glass fortress and pulled me out as it all rained down, shattering the sun into thousands of razors.
I cried at the pain, too distracted by it and my loss to realize you saved me.
You walked away.
I saw the sun everywhere
so distracted that I couldnt see that you were trapped within another room, wondering how to reach me.
The rot spread, buckling the wood, and everything started to crash and collapse.
You wanted to warn me but I was too dazzled by the all encompassing light to hear you yell my name.
I had gotten so used to your cajoling, soft footfalls and low voice that lightly vibrated across the glass panes.
You crashed through my glass fortress and pulled me out as it all rained down, shattering the sun into thousands of razors.
I cried at the pain, too distracted by it and my loss to realize you saved me.
You walked away.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
The Making of White Room
Your lips possessed a fire pressed lightly
Gentle and warm, with no reason to fight
myself
I was the beheaded lily, attempting to regrow.
My foundation already shaken
I revealed to you, my friend,
a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer,
with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace
but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That were set aflame and burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling,
tinged with a fear that I tried to overlook and bury,
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground.
I shattered.
My anger died and was reborn into a monster
that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white window,
sitting on this white bed,
Looking out at a world that I won’t rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.
My poem "White Room" was written about and partially in the psychiatric inpatient ward. I was there for around 5 days, partially because i had no medication to stem the tide of mental feedback i was having. looking back, it still hurts, but probably because the place i am in now still sympathizes with the girl who ended up in that hospital bed. Even if it's true, that I've gotten better, something in me cant say for certain that I truly have, although I have parents and friends that would say differently. Right now, my interests rarely lie in getting better. They more rely on BEING better. As for being better, I havent really managed it quite well.
In addition, one would think with all my boy problems that stem from my own mental unhealthiness, that I would give them up all together for awhile. Yet, everytime I think about doing that, I remember how unfair it was that the trauma from my years in middle school kept me from maturing socially in high school and college, especially when it came to dealing with sex and romance. It's not fair that I missed out on so much time and I dont want to miss out on any more. But god, I still feel like I'll tear myself apart from this because what I really want in my social life isnt within my reach. I want something different for myself. Most of all I want my brain to operate differently and function as if it still wishes to be alive and the person I am. No meds will fix that either.
Gentle and warm, with no reason to fight
myself
I was the beheaded lily, attempting to regrow.
My foundation already shaken
I revealed to you, my friend,
a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer,
with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace
but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That were set aflame and burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling,
tinged with a fear that I tried to overlook and bury,
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground.
I shattered.
My anger died and was reborn into a monster
that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white window,
sitting on this white bed,
Looking out at a world that I won’t rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.
My poem "White Room" was written about and partially in the psychiatric inpatient ward. I was there for around 5 days, partially because i had no medication to stem the tide of mental feedback i was having. looking back, it still hurts, but probably because the place i am in now still sympathizes with the girl who ended up in that hospital bed. Even if it's true, that I've gotten better, something in me cant say for certain that I truly have, although I have parents and friends that would say differently. Right now, my interests rarely lie in getting better. They more rely on BEING better. As for being better, I havent really managed it quite well.
In addition, one would think with all my boy problems that stem from my own mental unhealthiness, that I would give them up all together for awhile. Yet, everytime I think about doing that, I remember how unfair it was that the trauma from my years in middle school kept me from maturing socially in high school and college, especially when it came to dealing with sex and romance. It's not fair that I missed out on so much time and I dont want to miss out on any more. But god, I still feel like I'll tear myself apart from this because what I really want in my social life isnt within my reach. I want something different for myself. Most of all I want my brain to operate differently and function as if it still wishes to be alive and the person I am. No meds will fix that either.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
White Room
Your lips possessed a fire pressed lightly
Gentle and warm, with no reason to fight
myself
I was the beheaded lily, attempting to regrow.
My foundation already shaken
I revealed to you, my friend,
a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer,
with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace
but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That were set aflame and burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling,
tinged with a fear that I tried to overlook and bury,
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground.
I shattered.
My anger died and was reborn into a monster
that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white window,
sitting on this white bed,
Looking out at a world that I won’t rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.
Gentle and warm, with no reason to fight
myself
I was the beheaded lily, attempting to regrow.
My foundation already shaken
I revealed to you, my friend,
a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer,
with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace
but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That were set aflame and burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling,
tinged with a fear that I tried to overlook and bury,
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground.
I shattered.
My anger died and was reborn into a monster
that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white window,
sitting on this white bed,
Looking out at a world that I won’t rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.
Some New Cinquains
I fell.
From a distance
they saw, but I just kept
falling
-------------------------
Somebody
Please find my mind
oh god it's been three years
without
-------------------------
Goodbye
I loved you all
and I love me with you
I loved
dedicated to my graduating classmates at ISU
From a distance
they saw, but I just kept
falling
-------------------------
Somebody
Please find my mind
oh god it's been three years
without
-------------------------
Goodbye
I loved you all
and I love me with you
I loved
dedicated to my graduating classmates at ISU
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Come Winter Rewrite
It’s very cold
The endless Winter surrounds her as her moth bitten ash coat keeps her clothed, but never warm. The key to her survival lies within her frozen entirety: the icicles driven through her heart. These bloodless sacrifices keep her from needing warmth because the chill is already within her. There’s no defeat for there is no pain, only numbness
She walks from home to home to beg, absorbing those few sporadic bursts of warmth. She feels treated with human compassion just as rarely. Doors open for short period until they see what has come. One short blast of body warming heat later and they shut the door
It’s ok though. Empathy is not something that she expected, but those memories of the fleeting warmth cling to her. They intrigue her, embrace her, and give her reasons to keep walking forward.
Every once in awhile, someone wavers on indecision and their door remains open for longer than expected. In those bittersweet times, heat surrounds her being, letting her imagine what being completely warm might feel like. At those times, the icicles within her reveal their curse as they begin to thaw.
Pain suddenly pierces through her enjoyment of the freeing warmth and her numbness begins to drains away.
But it’s ok. She doesn’t expect friendliness for too long. She never hopes for her heart to truly heal by finding a safe and permanent place that would give her time to fully thaw completely. She doesn’t believe in the outside help that would be needed to stitch the fully thawed ripping remains of what froze her. Her faith is as cold as the rest of her
So she fed on the fleeting heat, never believing that she could want for more.
One night she knocked on a door. It was a door that wasn’t different from any of the others she’s knocked on. When he eased the door open, wondering who could bear to be in this bitter environment, he looked upon her and stared in shock and horror. Although she was used to horror at her image, she had never seen a compassionate expression like this be for her ice covered and thoroughly chilled self. She stared at him, dazed by his sympathy. She stumbled with shock when he ushered her inside his home. She stood in the hall awkwardly and he guided her to his fireplace, gathering blankets around her.
She warned him that her cold went deep and her pain once thawed would need a great amount of attention and care. That she could die if his warmth unfroze too much of her only to be kicked back into the cold.
They talked as she began to reveal her inner scars and he wasn’t frightened away. Even though he never said the words, he seemed to indicate that he would sing her into sleep and patch her scars. So, she fell asleep to his voice filled with promise.
She thawed. Her numbness gave way as the deep scars within her chest opened fresh and bleeding from the warmth around her. At first, he tended to her while she was sleeping but the scars were deep and so much more serious than he could ever have expected. The pain that should have awakened her was blocked by her belief that she had found somewhere safe and that she was going to be ok. She bled.
She woke from her slumber with bone quaking shivers and searing hot pains coming from within her. She realized she was outside again, the winter now even colder because her wounds suffered the agony of being open to the air.
She tried to move on like she had previously, home to home but never staying long. However, her heart wouldn’t heal and the blood kept the icicles that would have given her familiar relief from forming again. More and more she bled as she tried to keep going. She wasn’t ok anymore
Finally, she collapsed into the snow. Strangers walked by promising that eventually she would get help but she only lay dying, regretful of the false hope that had gotten her here. As she sunk further into the snow, she was filled with a dread that told her
“You’ll never be ok again”
The endless Winter surrounds her as her moth bitten ash coat keeps her clothed, but never warm. The key to her survival lies within her frozen entirety: the icicles driven through her heart. These bloodless sacrifices keep her from needing warmth because the chill is already within her. There’s no defeat for there is no pain, only numbness
She walks from home to home to beg, absorbing those few sporadic bursts of warmth. She feels treated with human compassion just as rarely. Doors open for short period until they see what has come. One short blast of body warming heat later and they shut the door
It’s ok though. Empathy is not something that she expected, but those memories of the fleeting warmth cling to her. They intrigue her, embrace her, and give her reasons to keep walking forward.
Every once in awhile, someone wavers on indecision and their door remains open for longer than expected. In those bittersweet times, heat surrounds her being, letting her imagine what being completely warm might feel like. At those times, the icicles within her reveal their curse as they begin to thaw.
Pain suddenly pierces through her enjoyment of the freeing warmth and her numbness begins to drains away.
But it’s ok. She doesn’t expect friendliness for too long. She never hopes for her heart to truly heal by finding a safe and permanent place that would give her time to fully thaw completely. She doesn’t believe in the outside help that would be needed to stitch the fully thawed ripping remains of what froze her. Her faith is as cold as the rest of her
So she fed on the fleeting heat, never believing that she could want for more.
One night she knocked on a door. It was a door that wasn’t different from any of the others she’s knocked on. When he eased the door open, wondering who could bear to be in this bitter environment, he looked upon her and stared in shock and horror. Although she was used to horror at her image, she had never seen a compassionate expression like this be for her ice covered and thoroughly chilled self. She stared at him, dazed by his sympathy. She stumbled with shock when he ushered her inside his home. She stood in the hall awkwardly and he guided her to his fireplace, gathering blankets around her.
She warned him that her cold went deep and her pain once thawed would need a great amount of attention and care. That she could die if his warmth unfroze too much of her only to be kicked back into the cold.
They talked as she began to reveal her inner scars and he wasn’t frightened away. Even though he never said the words, he seemed to indicate that he would sing her into sleep and patch her scars. So, she fell asleep to his voice filled with promise.
She thawed. Her numbness gave way as the deep scars within her chest opened fresh and bleeding from the warmth around her. At first, he tended to her while she was sleeping but the scars were deep and so much more serious than he could ever have expected. The pain that should have awakened her was blocked by her belief that she had found somewhere safe and that she was going to be ok. She bled.
She woke from her slumber with bone quaking shivers and searing hot pains coming from within her. She realized she was outside again, the winter now even colder because her wounds suffered the agony of being open to the air.
She tried to move on like she had previously, home to home but never staying long. However, her heart wouldn’t heal and the blood kept the icicles that would have given her familiar relief from forming again. More and more she bled as she tried to keep going. She wasn’t ok anymore
Finally, she collapsed into the snow. Strangers walked by promising that eventually she would get help but she only lay dying, regretful of the false hope that had gotten her here. As she sunk further into the snow, she was filled with a dread that told her
“You’ll never be ok again”
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Fight Agony Fighting
My chest is heaving painfully
Dry air bellows from my super sensitive lungs as I run
And run
There’s pain behind me
A indistinct rising mass
So I fight to run
And run
But my legs are so weak
They shake and spasm from exhaustion
But I still force myself to run
Except now i only crawl
Finally something whispers in my head
“what happens if you stop fighting”
the whisper trips me and I go down
I stay down
And the pain washes through me sharp
But as I am whisked away
My poor body is relieved
Dry air bellows from my super sensitive lungs as I run
And run
There’s pain behind me
A indistinct rising mass
So I fight to run
And run
But my legs are so weak
They shake and spasm from exhaustion
But I still force myself to run
Except now i only crawl
Finally something whispers in my head
“what happens if you stop fighting”
the whisper trips me and I go down
I stay down
And the pain washes through me sharp
But as I am whisked away
My poor body is relieved
Thursday, September 15, 2011
White Room with a 24-hour Sitter
Your lips possessed a fire pressed lightly
Gentle and warm, with no room to fight myself
I was the anemone,
something fragile.
Some of my swaying fronds discolored or frayed.
I revealed to you, my friend, a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer, with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling, with the fear I had tried to overlook and bury
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground. I shattered. My anger died and was reborn into a monster that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white room, sitting on this white medical bed,
Looking out at a world that I wont rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.
Gentle and warm, with no room to fight myself
I was the anemone,
something fragile.
Some of my swaying fronds discolored or frayed.
I revealed to you, my friend, a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer, with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling, with the fear I had tried to overlook and bury
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground. I shattered. My anger died and was reborn into a monster that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white room, sitting on this white medical bed,
Looking out at a world that I wont rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
New Things
Coffee Break
Her hand tipped the coffee haltingly towards her mouth
As if the closer she lifted the cup
The more her heart crumbled
Her hand tipped the coffee haltingly towards her mouth
As if the closer she lifted the cup
The more her heart crumbled
Friday, March 11, 2011
Her Frigid Heart (short story)
It’s very cold
The endless Winter surrounds her
Her moth bitten ash coat keeps her alive
But not warm
But she is kept alive
In her frozen entirety
By the icicles driven through her heart
Bloodless sacrifices keep her from needing warmth
The chill is already within her
And it’s not a defeat
For there is no pain
Only numbness
She walks
Home to home to beg
For the few sporadic bursts of warmth
Sporadic as human compassion
Doors open for short period until they see what has come
One short blast of body warming heat later and they shut the door
It’s ok
Empathy is not something that was expected
But the memories of the fleeting warmth cling to her
And sustain her
Sometimes, wavering on indecision
The door stay open for longer than expected
In those bittersweet times, heat surrounds her being
Letting her imagine what it would be like to be
Submerged in heat for more than quick moments
But as the fires thaw her body, they thaw the icicles in her heart
Pain pierces her relief as her numbness becomes slightly undone
But it’s ok
She doesn’t expect friendliness for too long
She never hopes for her heart to truly heal
By the way of thawing the cold within her
And the stitches that would be needed for her heart if finally it could escape the cold
Because the scars in her heart caused by the ripping remains of what froze her
Would need an outsider’s aid to keep her alive
And her faith in human compassion is as cold as the rest of her
It’s ok
She was used to the fleeting heat
And the endless cold that followed her
Until one night
She knocked on a door
A door that wasn’t different from any of the others she’s knocked on
But when he opened the door
He stared at her in shock and horror
Not the horror she expected though
It was horror at the cold within her
The ice that had encased her
She felt dazed by his compassion and sympathy
Especially when he ushered her in
Still in shock
She stood in the hall awkwardly
He guided her to his fireplace
Gathered blankets around her
She warned him
That her cold went deep
That her pain once freed would need
A great amount of attention
And that she could die if his warmth unfroze too much of her
Only to be kicked back into the cold
They talked
She revealed her inner scars
And he wasn’t frightened away
Even though he never said the words
He seemed to indicate that he would sing her into sleep
patch her scars
and she fell asleep to his voice filled with promise
So she thawed
Her numbness gave way as the deep scars within her chest
Opened fresh and bleeding from the warmth around her
At first he tended to her while she was sleeping
But the scars were deep
So much more serious than he could ever have expected
And the pain that should have awaken her
Was blocked by her belief that she had found somewhere safe
That she was going to be ok
So she bled
She woke from her slumber with bone quaking shivers
And searing hot pains coming from within her
She realized she was outside again
Then winter just as cold as before
In fact
It was colder because her open wounds no longer possessed numbness
Only the pain of being open to the air
She tried to move on like she had previously
Home to home but not staying long
But her heart wouldn’t heal
The blood kept the icicles that would provide her numbness
From forming again
More and more she bled as she tried to keep going
She wasn’t ok anymore
Finally she collapsed into the snow
Strangers walked by promising that eventually she would get help
But she only lay dying in the snow
Regretful of the hope that had gotten her here
And haunted by the dread the filled her
A dread that told her
You’ll never be ok again
The endless Winter surrounds her
Her moth bitten ash coat keeps her alive
But not warm
But she is kept alive
In her frozen entirety
By the icicles driven through her heart
Bloodless sacrifices keep her from needing warmth
The chill is already within her
And it’s not a defeat
For there is no pain
Only numbness
She walks
Home to home to beg
For the few sporadic bursts of warmth
Sporadic as human compassion
Doors open for short period until they see what has come
One short blast of body warming heat later and they shut the door
It’s ok
Empathy is not something that was expected
But the memories of the fleeting warmth cling to her
And sustain her
Sometimes, wavering on indecision
The door stay open for longer than expected
In those bittersweet times, heat surrounds her being
Letting her imagine what it would be like to be
Submerged in heat for more than quick moments
But as the fires thaw her body, they thaw the icicles in her heart
Pain pierces her relief as her numbness becomes slightly undone
But it’s ok
She doesn’t expect friendliness for too long
She never hopes for her heart to truly heal
By the way of thawing the cold within her
And the stitches that would be needed for her heart if finally it could escape the cold
Because the scars in her heart caused by the ripping remains of what froze her
Would need an outsider’s aid to keep her alive
And her faith in human compassion is as cold as the rest of her
It’s ok
She was used to the fleeting heat
And the endless cold that followed her
Until one night
She knocked on a door
A door that wasn’t different from any of the others she’s knocked on
But when he opened the door
He stared at her in shock and horror
Not the horror she expected though
It was horror at the cold within her
The ice that had encased her
She felt dazed by his compassion and sympathy
Especially when he ushered her in
Still in shock
She stood in the hall awkwardly
He guided her to his fireplace
Gathered blankets around her
She warned him
That her cold went deep
That her pain once freed would need
A great amount of attention
And that she could die if his warmth unfroze too much of her
Only to be kicked back into the cold
They talked
She revealed her inner scars
And he wasn’t frightened away
Even though he never said the words
He seemed to indicate that he would sing her into sleep
patch her scars
and she fell asleep to his voice filled with promise
So she thawed
Her numbness gave way as the deep scars within her chest
Opened fresh and bleeding from the warmth around her
At first he tended to her while she was sleeping
But the scars were deep
So much more serious than he could ever have expected
And the pain that should have awaken her
Was blocked by her belief that she had found somewhere safe
That she was going to be ok
So she bled
She woke from her slumber with bone quaking shivers
And searing hot pains coming from within her
She realized she was outside again
Then winter just as cold as before
In fact
It was colder because her open wounds no longer possessed numbness
Only the pain of being open to the air
She tried to move on like she had previously
Home to home but not staying long
But her heart wouldn’t heal
The blood kept the icicles that would provide her numbness
From forming again
More and more she bled as she tried to keep going
She wasn’t ok anymore
Finally she collapsed into the snow
Strangers walked by promising that eventually she would get help
But she only lay dying in the snow
Regretful of the hope that had gotten her here
And haunted by the dread the filled her
A dread that told her
You’ll never be ok again
Friday, February 18, 2011
Poems from a Sick Mind
Letting My Light Shine
I believed I possessed my own light. Maybe it wouldnt be seen by everyone, but it would be seen. I displayed this light proudly, sure to be recognized by someone... but the years passed. Any notice that my shine garnered were either scathing looks or temporary interest. And so im left wondering, did i ever have a light at all? was it just something I made up in my head as a defensive shield to blind me of the fact that i possess no light and i am worth nothing. I mean how can a light be there, if no one notices?
Black Sheep
I used to believe that I was just special and unique... but I am passed by, and shut out. In a flock im not the black sheep... in fact, im not a sheep at all. im just a worthless mess shitted out and left behind.
I believed I possessed my own light. Maybe it wouldnt be seen by everyone, but it would be seen. I displayed this light proudly, sure to be recognized by someone... but the years passed. Any notice that my shine garnered were either scathing looks or temporary interest. And so im left wondering, did i ever have a light at all? was it just something I made up in my head as a defensive shield to blind me of the fact that i possess no light and i am worth nothing. I mean how can a light be there, if no one notices?
Black Sheep
I used to believe that I was just special and unique... but I am passed by, and shut out. In a flock im not the black sheep... in fact, im not a sheep at all. im just a worthless mess shitted out and left behind.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Podcasts and Craziness
I let my crazy run free for a few hours and the Blacking It Up Podcast has proof lol. yes twitter-flirting is awesome
Thursday, January 6, 2011
New Year, New Beginning, New Day
2010 can go jump off a bridge... seriously... but just like the song Your Ex-Lover is Dead, I just need to "live through this, and you wont look back". So I'm taking another semester off and staying home... but that doesnt mean that I'm going to be inside all the time. As a matter of fact, I'm taking some community college courses (REALLY excited about that... I miss school SO much. Because I'm weird :D )... I'm also going to continue my volunteer job with my elementary school library. I am planning on doing a modern dance class at my local Ballet studio as well... not to mention the parties, jazz clubs, and shennanigans I'm going to get into once I've turned 21. For this semester, I hope I can get to the point that I'm not crying about the fact that my entire life has been messed up by this depression. I want to be able to see this as a new beginning and not just an abrupt ending. So hold on to your hat 2011, we're starting fresh!
Friday, November 19, 2010
I Cant Pray Anymore
I cant pray anymore
the light has left my body
and instead, I am filled with a hollowed and
oppressive darkness that wont lift
I cant pray anymore
my cries to the sky fall upon the clouds
and seem too weak to rise any higher
I cant pray anymore
The words of the book seem emptied of their
significance and promise and I am left with
only words
I cant pray anymore
I only cry out, lost and alone, choked with
my own sorrow and without any aid
to save me
I cant pray anymore
dhut out of a house that I called home
told to open doors that one locked and bolted
and here's me, without a key
I keep waiting hoping something will change
but I'm locked out and freezing in the cold
crying slowly
dying slowly
People say Amen
and my reply is "Whatever"
Because I get no answers
I am hurt instead of helped
I cant pray anymore
I can sing anymore
I cant love anymore
My faith has been broken and dissapated
I know if I could hear something or someone call to me, things would be ok again...
but I cant
the light has left my body
and instead, I am filled with a hollowed and
oppressive darkness that wont lift
I cant pray anymore
my cries to the sky fall upon the clouds
and seem too weak to rise any higher
I cant pray anymore
The words of the book seem emptied of their
significance and promise and I am left with
only words
I cant pray anymore
I only cry out, lost and alone, choked with
my own sorrow and without any aid
to save me
I cant pray anymore
dhut out of a house that I called home
told to open doors that one locked and bolted
and here's me, without a key
I keep waiting hoping something will change
but I'm locked out and freezing in the cold
crying slowly
dying slowly
People say Amen
and my reply is "Whatever"
Because I get no answers
I am hurt instead of helped
I cant pray anymore
I can sing anymore
I cant love anymore
My faith has been broken and dissapated
I know if I could hear something or someone call to me, things would be ok again...
but I cant
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Mirror, mirror
I have an addiction that’s more like an affliction because I’m sick of my reflection, staring back at me glaring at my body, finding fault with every heartbeat that escapes me
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Weird SciFi Dream
So I was on this huge ship/planet with the rest of humanity. we were paired with aliens trying to genetically mix with humans. We had to adjust to the aliens being there so we put in wider doors and fewer walls because these aliens had a large centipede like body with a centaur like head. It looks as if they were made out of glass. So we're all transformed into human-alien hybrids which made us have to adjust more to new room arrangements(there was a carnival for some odd reason)
Then some of the aliens wanted humans to turn fully alien and get rid of human individuality. They tried to force our bodies to become all alien by eliminated human invention and human requirements in buildings. but other aliens and humans didnt want that including myself so we stopped the aliens and put back human individuality and evolved into better forms than human or alien.
i've been reading too much octavia butlers, obviously lol
Then some of the aliens wanted humans to turn fully alien and get rid of human individuality. They tried to force our bodies to become all alien by eliminated human invention and human requirements in buildings. but other aliens and humans didnt want that including myself so we stopped the aliens and put back human individuality and evolved into better forms than human or alien.
i've been reading too much octavia butlers, obviously lol
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Homegoing
This semester I returned to a semi-known status, one that was boosted with my false confidence. I say false because I didn’t know how much had change. I didn’t know that my previous snugly fit position had turned on me, effectively shutting me out of the well-oiled machine that is college life. Without my place, my reserved throne, I was tossed from remembrance by my peers and left wondering where else could I go?
Thursday, September 30, 2010
8 Real Reasons That I Date Outside My Race
1. The more open my mind is in general, the more likely that my expectations wont crowd out potential matches.
2. Percentage wise, there would be more people that will compliment my personality than if you just stick with one race
3. I start to see how privilege works when not just applied to whiteness.
4. Different exposure to how folks unlike my usual normal work and live.
5. In the pool of potential dating opportunities that I have in my community, the kind of guy I'm looking for is more about maturity and open-mindedness than about finding "a man".
6. I see how inter-racism works and how more than just blacks are negatively affected by it
7. So many more hot guys lol.
8. It's always been about who compliments me on the inside, not on the outside. race does matter but so does compatibility.
2. Percentage wise, there would be more people that will compliment my personality than if you just stick with one race
3. I start to see how privilege works when not just applied to whiteness.
4. Different exposure to how folks unlike my usual normal work and live.
5. In the pool of potential dating opportunities that I have in my community, the kind of guy I'm looking for is more about maturity and open-mindedness than about finding "a man".
6. I see how inter-racism works and how more than just blacks are negatively affected by it
7. So many more hot guys lol.
8. It's always been about who compliments me on the inside, not on the outside. race does matter but so does compatibility.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Similes
i really love Lupe Fiasco and N.E.R.D... they were the mango smoothie to my kool-aid, the baked catfish to my fried chicken.
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