Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

Rainy days are my favorite days, because in the rain I can believe in things like a clean start or second chances.

I waited for you in April, but as the rain came and went, you never revealed yourself to me.  I stayed there, and I’m still here, unable to rise up and enjoy the summer sun. And as this autumn fades into blinding snow, you are often the only thing on my mind. I’m still waiting for you, but each new breath saps all the warmth from my bones, and it’s only here, where my time is frozen, that the truth finally sinks in; I may never get to see you again…

~I wanted to see you blossom, but I never gave you the things plants need, like water or sunlight or…I never nurtured you, I just assumed nature would take care of that. Humans aren’t plants though, and we need silly things like words of encouragement and ice cream trucks and hugs that you wish would never end…because the end is a real thing, for everything, and that hurts…it hurts so damn much…~

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics

I want to hurt me, to prove that you were nothing special. I want you to see my scars, so I can scream “See?! I don’t need you to break me! I can do it just fine all alone!”

I’ll hold out for tonight,

The same as every night,

But I swear this time tomorrow

I’ll be better, I’ll be whole.


It’s not that I enjoy lying

But it’s the only thing I own;

My words are still my words,

Even if they have no home.


So while everything is burning

I’ll keep pretending I’m okay.

I swear I was just twenty,

So why am I thirty today?


I don’t want to keep going

Because I can never earn back my love

So I keep on leaning over the edge;

Won’t you give me that final shove?

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics

Years may pass, but the Sun hasn’t changed; It’s the same every May, and so is the pain.

Speak to me, on bended knee!

“O sweet dreams, my dreary queen!”

Sail away on those ships of yours

Past the end, over the floors

Of a raging Ocean, with waves as tall

As my clouds, the love that won’t fall…

~My words on paper mean nothing at all, for in a moment of rage it can all be lost, tossed and torn, gone without a moment’s notice. I would prefer to write my words in the forever sky; my moments saved in a world solely for the heavens…~

Scream at me, the words you’ll never need,

Write them in the sky, so far from your seas.

The ships that you sail lack the wings

To carry you away with all of your things.

“My clouds are mine, the heavens untouched!”

So this love is mine; a pallet waiting on your brush…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“And it’s all the same, just different games… so maybe I am the one to blame…”

How else can I describe this without being redundant? My stomach is tied in knots, spilling out through the holes in my humanity, leaving an empty pit at my center of gravity. The room isn’t spinning, but nothing is stationary. It’s all subtle shifts; light reflecting off curved surfaces, my white wallpaper peeled back to reveal another shade of egg shell, and the soft humming from my dryer that’s slowing driving me insane…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“Etch these words into my skin so I may never forget; I steal my light as a paper moon, only glowing after sunset.”

He creeps into your mind

At the most inopportune times,

Stealing away precious brain cells

And holding in the CO2

That you’ve built up in your veins.


Whatever warmth you had

Seeps out through your open chest,

Replacing the justified anger

With docile tones

And heavy shakes.

You feel leaks, tiny pin pricks,

Along all the spots you kept secret,

The spots that he now owns.


Time erases nothing,

But diminishes

Everything.


His image hasn’t been there

To stroke your senses,

Yet a single glance

Betrays a tingle in your stomach,

And the world melts like chocolate

Left out in the afternoon Sun.


You want to run away,

But the sight of him is

As quick as summer lightning,

And his sound echoes

Like distant thunder,

And you’ve always been a fool

When it comes to storms.


“You will lose yourself in his winds and rain,

And you will claim a home inside that hurricane.

But that home will be nothing more than a dream,

A space where his violence will swallow your screams.”

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Uncategorized

I’m less than garbage, less than dirt. The lowest of the low…I’m truly the definition of a scummy, wasted, worthless existence.

~I’m sorry Mom~

You raised me with nothing but love and care. You were so small, but I haven’t met anybody who can match your strength. A day never went by where I didn’t get at least one hug from you. But I stole something from you. With every hug, I was betraying your trust and wasting your warmth. Everything you gave to me wasn’t enough to fill in the holes I’d already begun to cut from my soul. I can’t remember a single hug, a single moment with you, where my body was whole. I know you hugged me before I began making these scars, but I can’t remember it. There are pictures and stories, eye witnesses and undeniable video evidence, but still… I can’t remember what it felt like… and before I knew it, all I could give you was this half human shell. Everything was gone. I was only 6, but it was all gone. I knew it wasn’t right, cutting myself like that, but I couldn’t resist. I was only 6, and it wasn’t your fault at all, but part of me still wanted to blame anybody other than the monster I share a body with. I stole away the innocence you gave me. I’ve never been able to give you the type of hug you gave me every day. You deserved so much better. Mom, you deserved a child who could appreciate the life you gave them. You didn’t deserve to have me as your child. I’m so, so sorry Mom….

~I’m sorry Dad~

70 hour work weeks are no joke, yet they never seemed to wear you down. I assumed that was just because all adults lived this way. I took you for granted. You drove the night shift at work so you could be home in time to drive me to school. You’d skip sleep to take me to doctor appointments. You would arrive to my softball games in your full work uniform. Most of my games took place in the summer, so it was always hot, yet you never complained. You could only ever catch a few innings before you had to leave, so I would have understood if you just skipped them entirely. But you didn’t. You came and watched and cheered me on. I wasn’t any good at softball, but you never looked away. Now, as I look back, I start to wonder what else you gave up for me, when I couldn’t give you anything in return? How much sleep did you lose because of me? You couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours each day. And your paying for that now. I can see it in how you move, how much even the most basic task hurts you, but you still put everybody else before yourself. You gave up your health to watch this ungrateful brat suck at softball, and you did it all with a smile. You deserved better. Dad, you deserved a child who could appreciate the sacrifices you made for them. You didn’t deserve to have me as your child. I’m so, so sorry Dad….

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., Poetry, The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“My love remains an unfurled bud, a future with a diametric fate; I’ll blossom in the Spring, or else suffer through another winter alone.”

You aren’t here.

But somehow,

Even when I can’t feel you,

I am guided by you.

I know what you are;

Just a false light,

A fleeting sight,

But my eyes

Catch your fire

And my heart takes over;

I can’t move forward

Without you.

My world remains opaque,

Where nothing exists

But the indent of your feet

On a path I can only follow,

Hoping that it leads me

Towards our new beginning,

Or to the end of me.