Love with an expiration date

I broke you open and drank the fire within that you kept so under control. Licking the flames as they singed my soul but I didn't care, because I had found you. In half shadows you speak in velvet caressing my cheek. I gather you up beneath my fingers, observing how the light dances on every thread of mellifluous skin and marble. Afraid to let go and leave you to the wind. I grasp and the knuckles turning white yet I refuse to be alone again. Every time we meet you offer up your warmth as I fill you with ice. You are fire and I melt in your presence, left as a puddle on a sidewalk and the feet of trepidation scatter me and thin me out. I become the air you breathe and for those few euphoric moments I am within you in every vein and capillary, stretching to each finger tip and moving at the whim of your heart. To be trapped within that frame, if for only an instant, would make my trodden fame worthwhile. I squeeze the moments dry of each possibility because soon you will be gone, with the world at your side, and I will be left with the hollow memory of you, an image conjured with each song I hear. I've fallen too deep, fallen at the foolhardy temptation of your smile. Each moment away I'm reminded of your touch with a twinge of longing, now diluted with promise, soon distilled by my inability to feel you beside me. You'll be thousands of miles away, adding countries to your resume as I drone on in a draining routine. Running around circles, running myself a trench among the stale memories of you, elexir turned poison. A trap I laid clearly before myself, not realizing the pain I'd set up for my future. I knew the implications yet I let myself fall. Falling fast and I dont know what will come of it. But there's there's only one way to find out.
But you'll never once hear me say, I need you, I don't need you. I need you. I don't need you. And all of that jiving around.


Constant Craving. Left Longing for the lack of inhibitions every time we let the spaces grow. Don't want no help, wanna do it on my own.
But I know what I'll be doing Wednesday morning
before I make your stairs creek.
Shame on me.


Very mild super-powers

Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Only converted to other forms. No conversion is ever completely efficient
I try and create poetry. But I am not. Poetry is not a complete break, only converting my mind's-eye-visions onto paper. And there is an inevitable loss at hand. Every time, there's fractions and filaments of this broken down feeling that get lost in the wind. Lost through hesitations, however momentary. The inspiration dissipating in the heat expended as my hand lingers, fingers hover. And my works are never whole. Never a complete transition.
It's a matter of minimizing the loss, trying to capture as much energy of the mind in the binding paper and phrases. The key lies in keeping the transition quick. It takes an adept soul to channel it easily, efficiently. But no one is ever perfect. And the atmosphere is full of forgotten thoughts that escaped word's vices. Sometimes, when I find myself thick in the cloud of another's lost sentiments, I can pick them up, reuse them. Borrowing their style for a little while. I slip into their idiosyncrasies, their form and their rhythm. I use it to my advantage, steeling phrases pulled from thin air, words steeped in a stranger's voice. It's dead handy. When all my inspiration's lost and hung stiff in the air, archaic and aloof, I can draw off the lost feelings of others, and use them as my own.
But I lose myself in it all. Lost my perception of identity. Who am I when I find my writing betrays no ideas of my own?


things we cant untie

I'm longing for that warmth I left beside you.
A holy consumation, Unlike anything.
I'm just glad it was all I'd imagined

I still have the purple ribbon

I loved you in the worning, our kisses deep and warm, my hair upon your pillow, like a sleepy golden storm. Yes many loved before us, I know that we're not new, in city and in forest, they smiled like me an you..But lets not talk of love or chains, or things we can't untie. Your eyes are soft with sorrow, hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
A new page has been turned. A bright new seedling has sprouted through the ashes of an old mistake. A new dawn, a new begining. The beautiful bliss when walls are broken down. I can't say too much, can't place these feelings of euphoria into suitable molds that will carry them to poetry. I can't convey the feelings living deep inside. I'm confortable beside you. Doing thing's I've never done, with ease. But there was something lacking. I can't explain it. Always searching too hard, I smother the budding emotion. But I was content regardless. I can't understand why I was so afraid. Why it was so easy. I can't say much more. Just that this is the start of something new, and I coudln't be happier.
Even if it is just before the end..


Passion pitch at balance

Just got back from a poetry reading at balance lounge here in Calgary, and man it was great! I love the wide array of styles and genres and everything at these things, and I love the atmosphere or kind acceptance, it sure helped when I got up to read two of my poems. At first I was so afraid, being a rather shy reserved young lady. But soon I relaxed and got into the depth and safety of my poem, and gained confidence as everything seemed to hush around me as the crowd fell silent and still, as if entranced by my words. I slipped up, messed a word or two around, and my mouth was dry as cotton. I was shaking, but not as much as I had the first time. my voice was stronger, more confidence behind my works. And as that hush lowered down on my audience, I was filled with a curious emotion. They could love me or they could hate me, it didn't really matter, because I'd gathered the confidence and courage to get up and pour my heart out through that mic, and if nothing else I pleased myself. I got an ooh when i was finished, which made me feel good. And once the show was over i got many taps on the shoulder, many good-jobs, many i-loved-your-poems, many smiles and warmth. And I walked out of that lounge with a grin on my face and a newly hightened confidence in myself. It was excellent :)


A poem inspired by me

Silly girls are found amongst the leaves
For they must be closer to the green
Than other girls

And where they hide amid the trees
Only reality do they see
The lucky ones

And if you find one, twiced blessed are you
Because with that girl you can be silly too
The longing's gone

Silly girls are found amongst the leaves
How can i ever tire of being in the trees with you?
Heavens closer

-senor badass


Fuck with the stars

I wonder if you'd ever write a poem about me
If I'd ever be your muse
Do I have the power strong enough
to create, destroy and confuse?

Will I leave a lasting impression
An image of me trapped in your mind?
Will you dream of me, as I of you
When you've left me far behind?

I often wonder what you are thinking
what the hell goes on in your head
I'd work up the courage to ask you
but I cant, so i'll cry instead

I'm so afraid of what'll happen
when you're a million miles away
a knife in the twisting hand of fate
that'll cut me but leave you ok

I'm climbing too high the ladder of infatuation
the higher you fly the harder you fall
I've given my heart for you to borrow
And I'm afraid I'll lose it all.

It's ok if you love me,
if you don't, then that's fine too
It doesn't change how I feel inside,
the confusions I have about you

Your face is so hard to read
I can't tell how you really feel
Behind all your silly jokes
is there emotion true and real?

I think I know you want me
I think you know I want you too
But we're stuck in sinking trepidation
I'm trying, but I can't get through

I am the light at the edge of dawn,
the pale companion to the more compelling.
The almost-grey backdrop of beginings,
yeilding the canvas for the brighter shades
I am in everthing but only as a shadow.
I seek not the attention of the clouds,
nor give a siliver lining
I exist for others,
offering my spine to the footsteps and smiles.
I am the frame of the picture
Just caught along the edges
when focus is upon the centre.
I am there before the brightness,
pushed out of the way with no complains.
I am there for those who chose to listen
beyond the edges of the flourished lines.
For those who look beyond the mainstage.
I don't mind obscurity.
I know my worth.
I know my place.

po po

check it! passion pitch at balance lounge
my first time sharing poetry at a reading,
totally nerve-wracked.


Long over due: the monster.

We're stuck in stiff air that suffocates and sustains is simultaneously. Equivocal. And I've only just remembered. The lessons from those classes where the teachers are dead or living the same old way, never changing from all those years ago when you stumble upon them in crowded places with blurring faces. Yet it pulls at you, those years are the years that shaped you, they're all you have to look back on. The juvenile smiles, simple living where protection was a mother's arms and her love was all that mattered. Now we're growing up and going out, carving the next chapters in the stonework of our lives. We fly on freedom and feel we're invincible, too big for our bottles we want to break free, flee, be, we want to see the world in undiscovered corners, quickly curling up beneath us and we scramble to smooth it out but it's all rearranging and we grasp to those memories but the faces are all changing and we see it in our eyes that even we are changing. And we're slowly dying through every day of living so we take something out of everything we're giving. Trying to piece together past present and tomorrow, and we brace ourselves for every fall that's sure to follow. As we scrape our knees and skin our hearts, we know it and yet we still start. Every adventure every day not really knowing what will come our way. And we get caught up in the words and the rhymes, the cheap thrills and good times. And we're flying ever faster wanting things we've never had and we're needing silly rings like those of mom and dad, yet we want to be loud and we want to be wild and we want to be older but at heart we're still a child, finding comfort in a hug and the happiness it brings, the simplicity of things. And the mind is torn between a million different things. The shadow of the heart, the sunshine of your love, the fires down below and the fires up above. And soon you lose yourself in the rhythms of another finding comfort in the style like a child to a mother. And it's all an endless circle you never live if you never die and I can never say those things that I've hidden deep inside. Like how I get a rush from your simple affection or how I get so panicked when I think there's no connection. And how the stiff air catches us apart and how I feel I need you to mend my broken heart. But I don't know what I need I don't know why I care I don't know why it matters which way I style my hair. I remember we'd stay up until 11:11 every night, I tried to stay awake, I tried with all my might. But now I'm pushing 2:22, texting someone who's not you. I feel the ghost of our love that we left behind, but now that you're gone a feel that I can shine. but I'm weak and I’m needy, I'm stubborn and I'm vain, and each new distraction can take me so far away. The chiming of incoming calls pulls me out of this weird daze, where all I do is pour it out in an endless blurry haze. These words don't feel like mine, I don't know who I am, sometime's too caring, sometimes too weak to stand. And it seems it's all a circle, spinning wild and fast, I try to find my future but instead I find my past.
It's all an endless search for the pieces that'll fit inside, and looking for the secrets that the future likes to hide. I'm never full with anything, there could always be much more, I have the key within me, but I can't find the door. Hesitation's a deadly poison, a metaphysical conceit; a dream of carpe diem, a philosophy unbeat. But I'm caught behind a cage I've fashioned with my fears, with chains of trepidations that I've collected through the years. I'm looking for the depth I thought I saw beneath your eyes, but you cover yourself up with a layer of compromise. Hiding behind a sheet of your sardonic wit, you can't help but feel safe with it and only it. I tried to peel away the armour of your smile but you've let it intertwine for too long a while. I don't know why I do this, I don't know why I try, but I want to know there's more to you than just a silly guy. I've tasted a depth and now I want more, I have the motivation but I can’t reach your shore. I'm needing your help, please throw me a rope, pull me to your core, and see if I can cope.
I don't know how to stop this, I don't know where to end, I don't know what to say, or what to say again. It's all an endless cycle, we live and then we die, I've countless unanswered questions but the main one's only why.

River People.

I'm drawn to that somber side. It weakens me with emotional commotion. I want to touch a fragment of your being that none has witnessed. I want too much. An all or none response. An intrinsic desire of perfection, immaculate design. Brought up on a diet of the impecancy of love. I almost know it exists. I'll find you one day. Until I do I'll try and shape the unwary. Fool's errands, but I will pull them as far as they'll stretch to flawlessness. Sanding their edges until they fit as well as they could in that gaping darkness in my soul. I don't know why. So much falls beneath that category. I discover who I am through each soul I have loved. What they bring to me, happiness or scorn, and how I fare.



I hold a disdain but a debt to that distilled drink.
The loosener of tongues, the bringer of closeness.
Dissolving the barriers of acceptable behavior,
the walls I threw around my core have crumbled.
I'd never had that experience in quite that way.
dont judge me for it. I was broken.
I'd had it before, 2 or three strangers, I'll admit.
But with you it was better.
a blending of two happy worlds. i miss it.
Something stewed in anticipation,
fermented in the moment of precipice.
A mere step towards an ultimate finale but a step none the less.
Rum soaked movements, an inebriated magnetism,
a pull of carpe diem.
The contact was simple, the kisses were ripe with the present.
An easy interaction, there was no fear. I loved you in that short fraction of contiguity.
Congruous feelings and sentiment.
The surroundings fell below us in a cloud of forgotten dust.
I glimpsed a sliver of the world beneath your eyes. I'll admit I searched too hard before
I found a weakness in your composure that brought you to my level.
You made yourself real to me.
I love the broken and the lost.
The cracked and the forgotten.
You cracked beneath my fingers
and I basked in the light that shone through.
But I was glued to you, rooted with the fear of the ephemeral.
im sorry for my grasp on you .i was afraid it would die
I dreamt of you.
I slept walked trying to reach you, I had to help you.
I had to be with you.
The nights I don't regret at all are so precious and rare,
and this one shines brightly.
I can't forget it. I have an affinity for poets. A weakness, you could say. Their shining souls attract me like a moth to a flame. I wont be happy with anything less.


pressed against the limits of the sea

The pain pushes out a pulsating beat, incapacitating me. I sit, getting lost in this hopeless little screen. Nothing to do but procrastination, delaying, with no real reason for it. My mind turns to a default image of you. I can't explain it. I write endless phrases, a metaphysical conceit I'm not even sure of myself. Unfullfilled dreams, the wish of carpe diem but there's a chain of trepidation around my ankle. I'm accustomed to a different love, a different meaning, joining, dialogue. I'm just another tourist in your bed, looking at the view. I suppose I write to try and decipher it. Telling you in phrases thick with distractions and song, ideas I understand only fractions of. I want to talk to you. But the words find no escape, the pathway's broken from mind to lip, spirit to finger tip. I'm in tumultuous indecision, a feeling of inadequacy. If I push too much my inner darkness upon you, searching for a deeper connection, I'm afraid I'll get a response of distance growing. I'm left longing for your touch but I'm too afraid to touch you. An etched image of perfection and simplicity, and here I lie, broken. Ambiguous desires I read from your eyes, a disdainful demureness. Half of me wants you to find these stupid words. The adept side tells me to hide them away. A skill I've learnt well. Words of impulse find scorn and regret when change is innevitable.



It's always cold here, never enough heat
never enough light.
We're always squinting, our palms running along our arms.
We tried to stave the bitterness with hot liquids and closeness
but it's all momentary.
Constant clanging and crashing, trying to keep these surfaces clean
but we're so tired, all the time.
Can you feel those arms of dying, they're wrapped around this home
comprised of walls and hollow desperation.
There's a nagging comfort of solitude tied around my waist
the pictures all taunting, past frozen behind glass, hung with wire
on nails of time
always subjective to gentle torture.
It's days like these when I know I've gone nowhere.
How can I
This establishment, devoted to staying still
staying ill, pallid, lacking the sustenance of bliss
This is all I've ever known and it's got me
knots tied to my fingers,
string round my feet, legs, arms, head,
strung like a puppet.
I can't find happiness. Nobodies fault but mine.


The words mean half of what I'm saying
a great tip-toeing among the rows, between the lines
you may fill in the cracks if you wish


You're always there. A grin on your face, a retort fresh off your lips
Your lips, your eyes, your fingers, sweeping the scraps of yesterday away
A way of forgetting, a new way of remembering reused feelings

Feeling safe here but I last felt safe in danger. It lead me to another end but I never thought I'd see it coming nor did I ever think. The lion fell in love with the lamb. Only question is, who held each role? It's all over now baby blue. I don't know what I want. Let me know. Tell me. Speak with a softer tone. I'm so afraid. Most things I worry 'bout, never happen anyways. I'm afraid to show you too deep. Maybe you'll back away. The words are thick and fall heavily, hard to move once they've slipped between these lips. I haven't decided where I'll put this. I'm too afraid, and I don't know why. I feel I'm below you. I'm used to difficulties and now that there are none I try to keep it that way. Sweep these characters beneath a rug, Silly notions. It's not worth it. What's worth and how do I label and distinguish? I do regardless of knowing the reasons. I don't know anything.
This is a mess. I'm a mess. apparently.