The Night Will Go As Follows

There’s a dim light in the clearing

And fog expanding at my feet

I see not what lies in front of me

I dare not look back.

My memory is fading

As swiftly as the fog is spreading

Nothing can hold back what’s yet to come.

This frightening feeling

Is intoxicating to my mere soul

Adventurous blood

Courageous bones

You make a blink seem spontaneous.

I crave for this city

To transform into a jungle

So we could feel free

And completely alone.

It may sound crazy

To thrive off of a structure-less life

But it’s simply beautiful

To be surrounded by people

But yet feel completely alone.

And, truly, I say

There’s nothing better

Than being abandoned

When you least expect it.

Mellow Mood

Everything I know

Everything I believe

Burns like a candle in the wind

Gone in a second

Easily relit.

Focusing on the future

Is my present passion

But my past’s biggest regret.

Dirty habits brush my shoulder

Never close enough to push me down

But enough to make me trip.

Riding the same rollercoaster

Creates constant delusion but

Sweet and beautiful sickness.

When this is all over,

I can continue to run

Or I can go for a walk

It all depends

On that damn incline.

Put those rotten pears in the fridge.

I’m not sure my destiny exists

But I realize there has to be something more.

Something more under our skin

Your skin, my skin

Not everything is what it seems.

There’s a core to every apple

A seed to all fruit

A leaf on every stem

That breaks away and fails to fly.

I don’t want to fail a dream

Be a fearful coward

Or simply turn into a bag of bones

What a waste.

Do some people need to be a waste

To pave the way for others’ greatness?

Do some people need to be a stumbling block

To challenge the dreamer?

Do some people need to be the stable spouse

Waiting at home with fresh laundry

And a battery-loaded remote?

I’m not sure if we have different size destinies

Or a destiny at all.

But the biggest waste of life,

Would be to not have one at all.

Right?

And if I Stumble

Peace rests between your hard-stricken eyes

Softness curves the bones in your jaw

Harmony relaxes the strenuous blood flow

That keeps the rest of your senses alive.

Fingerprint swirls and lines

Leave shivers on my back

When you trace them at midnight

Spelling words I cannot read

Drawing pictures I cannot see.

Steady paced breathing

Is my challenge to become one with you

You test me without knowing it

But I live for these moments.

The smoothest velvet skin

Warm to the touch

But weary of treachery

You’re not the only one searching.

Lucky for us

We’re all searching together

And that will never change.

This is how we are fading.

Sometimes I think the only things that make sense in this world are God, music and writing. Heck, even God can be confusing at times. Amazing, but confusing. Us mere mortals can barely grasp his intentions and commands. We have mice ears. He has eagle eyes. Anyways, I've always stuck to strictly poetry in this handy little blog. But I figure since I'm a journalism major and plan on writing a few books in my day, I'll let you see a little more into my mind. A little, not a lot.

Music: What speaks to our hearts better than this? High school was hell for me, and music kept me in one piece. Hell as in Mean Girls hell...Matilda hell....the beginning scene of "He's just not that into you" kind of hell...think of all those movies that bring you back to your dread some adolescent years. Remember 13 Going on 30? Before she was cool, of course. Remember Never Been Kissed? That's a little bit too far. It was more that I was the one girl in my school who didn't have mile-high pageant hair, ed hardy on my chest, and MEKs straddling my legs. I was stuck to my huge Bose headphones. They were too intimidating....nobody wants to get near a girl with Bose on..trust me. But thanks to Joshua Radin, Bon Iver, and Lovedrug...I made those years much happier. Thank you music.

Poetry: You're quite a beautiful thing. Even if I'm not that great at it, it makes sense to me. I love to write...to keeping writing...to not stop writing. Even if it leaves people face down in the dust from confusion, it was well worth it. There are so many great stories to tell, so many emotions to explore and so many words to combine. It would be pointless to stop. Thank you poetry.

Hereafter

I wish a literary journal would publish one of my little poems. Rejection sucks.

Frankenstein

Tall, green and muscular

I wish I could be like that.

How about that one. Think it's journal worthy?

Love, Love, Love.

Love is a crime of passion
Denial, Acceptance, Retreat
Emotional spin of long-term feelings
Even if short lived.

I hope to experience this “love” some day
I pray it’s for real
For if I die a lonely woman
I will surely have plenty cats.