NineHundred&Eleven

NineHundred&Eleven Miles until I am where I want to be.
NineHundred&Eleven Miles until fate gets the best of me.

NineHundred&Eleven Miles until I hope to see what I yearn to see...
only NineHundred&Eleven Miles to make unforgetful memories.

NineHundred&Eleven Miles until I completely let myself be free.
only NineHundred&Eleven Miles until I let myself hit reality.
For something, so close, yet so far seems to be in reach,
When deep down I know NineHundred&Eleven Miles is just a fantasy.

The things I hope to happen in these NineHundred&Eleven Miles- seem a bit far fetched,
the faces I hope to see in these endless NineHundred&Eleven Miles-
-simply a mirrage in the summer heat.

But I still have a glimpse of hope for those NineHundred&Eleven Miles,
those 14.5 hours down and 14.5 back.
Those FourDays, NineHundred&Eleven Miles away,
From Four/7/TwentyTwelve - 4/Ten/2012

I hope to see the face of the moon from NineHundred&Eleven Miles away,
while Kissing the Sun.

Drink Me*

Caught myself doing it again,
thinking.
dreaming.
scolding myself.

I can only wonder,
I can only hope-
do you see me through the looking glass?
Can you see my scars, my life, my hopes and dreams?

A bottle reads "drink me"
so do you take a sip?
A sip of me?  A sip of life?
Would you take a sip again, from this beautiful crystal bottle of poison?

A pill says "eat me"
So do you eat it?
To remember? to forget...
Do you ingest all that you once were
all that we once had?

Will you grow or shrink in this world of Alice?
have you learned from the Mad Hatter, or fallen to the stain in Alice's eyes?

Have you tripped in this game of Hearts,
or won in the game of cards?

Alice is crazy, mad and lost.
...but "We are all mad here."

Would you do it all again?
Drink the poison, eat the pill?

Do you dream of it like Alice?
Hoping to fall back into Wonderland?

I really miss my Wonderland...

Overwhelmed

It's this feeling that I cannot grasp, something I cannot shake...
It's tomorrow- and I can't really admit that it's happening.
How can he do this? How is he OK?
Does he still think of her?
I'm sure... or I want to be sure...

Giving his love to somebody else- like my mother was just an object left on a dusty shelf.

I am angry, timid, scared-
I won't get attached to his new love.
I refuse.
I still won't even allow myself to reattach myself to him.
My own father.

My heart aches-
my eyes tear,
my body is physically sick over it.

Sure everybody deserves second chances-
Hell,
I've given out 101
and been given too many- more than I deserve.
But, I know one day, I too will ask for a second chance.

But part of me has not forgiven him,
for the pain,
the suffering,
the storm he brought upon our family.
Part of me thinks he doesn't deserve this.
God forbid he does it again.
Part of me doesn't doubt it,
while watching his new "wife" live in naivety.

Naivety.
What a simple, yet powerful word.
We all live in it, soak in in, breathe it.

I'm just not ready for it-
and by saying so I am selfish.
At least I admit my self yearning desires
...when it comes to this matter.

It's just not right.
I'm not happy for him.
I still catch myself resenting him...
My own Father.
How sick does that make me?

Somebody I used to look up to,
somebody whose approval I always yearned...
it's just not the same with him anymore.
He is different...
and I am different.

Because, now, I realize, that my daddy that I had as a little girl is not perfect,
and he is NOT who I want to become anymore.
I won't become him.

I need to find myself, be true to myself, and love myself and my family.

I cry- often, because I resent him.
I don't want to ... but I do.
He did this to himself.
It's nobody's fault but his.

Keniving.
Lying.
Cheating.

And here I am...
crying again,
writing this bullshit.

Feeling overwhelmed.

Patience....

Teaching myself how to play guitar....
this is taking a lot more patience than I expected...
and my fingers are numb. Go me.

One By One

I lie there,
bare back facing the ceiling,
bare chest on the cool sheets below me.
Face burried, in a pillow, only warmed by my breathing.

Numb.

Bruises on my arms, my legs, my shoulders...
small- sometimes not even visible- but there.
Bruising on my heart-

"Here I go again,"
feeling bad for myself is so pathetic;
I try to convince myself that I feel bad for myself though...
When in all reality, I stopped pitting myself ages ago.
I do this to myself.

As I inhale I feel each lingering breath expand my lungs,
and as my lungs expand I feel my ribs separate.
One, by, One.

It's here where I find my sick sense of peace.

I close my eyes,
salty tears are pressed to roll down my face.
I think of the past.
I smile, in hopes that my future can only be as good as my past was.

The past three years I have fucked up my pathetic excuse of a life.
While others have aided me in the process.

Only three people, all of whom I let down, tried saving me.
Those three saw right through me...
Two I lost for lifetimes,
One still a friend.

Drugged.
Up.
On.
FuckingUp.

Xanax, Codeine,
Liquor.
Bones, ProAnna.

What my life has become.

So there I lie.
Hollow breaths, simply bones,
beautiful emptiness.

Just thinking.
And thinking, now that, that's where I get in trouble.
That's where my thoughts become words on blank paper.
Like here,
rainbow blood trickling down stupid fucking pages.

Naivety, in my own damn words.
Hatred for what I've become.
Who my family has become, and who they've undone.

Only hoping for a brighter future.

I know who I want to be...
I do. Believe it or not.

I want to give someone by all, to give them my love, my willingness to live, to breathe, to do.
I want to smile every day, and not have to worry about shedding a tear.
I want people to fall in love with my smile, each day, over and over again, like a contagious disease that I once use to give off.
I want somebody to feel blessed in my light.
I want to be appreciated when I do small things, and when I bend over backwards for the one that I love.
I want to fulfill my potential without restrictions, I want to have fun, and be twenty one without having to babysit.
I want to be Me.
I want somebody who likes my hippie skirts, my curly hair, my rosy cheeks in the summertime.
Somebody who loves my free spirit, for I Am A Free Spirit.

I want to give myself the credit I deserve, while reaching for the stars and kissing the moon.
I want my writing to be appreciated.
I want my love to be accepted.
I want to love everyone, and accept everyone and be proud of it.
I want to make people feel safe, in my arms, or in my presence.

I want to be barefoot dancing in the rain on a warm summer night while the steam from the blacktop slips through my toes.
And I don't want to be put down... anymore.

But here I am.
Laying,
bare skin only being kissed by the moonlight,
because my love is not enough.

Smell of Summer

I can smell it now,
the endless days of working, and enjoying my life... all entangeled into one!
Summer.
Pure chaos... pure bliss.

sick..to...my...stomach

I might slightly want to vomit...
....ok maybe more than slightly...
FuckYouNerves.