I was a heavy heart to carry but he never let me down

long ago it must be, I have a photograph
preserve your memories, they're all that's left.
Been thinking a lot about that next step. About finding a place to call a home of my own. To be able to fall asleep only saying goodnight and not goodbye.
Our one year is coming up soon. Two weeks away. It's been an incredible year, and I've grown substantially in these past 12 months. But I'm still that shy little girl, timid and afraid. I have my anxieties, my fears. I know he's mine as much as I'm entitled to him, and I am his as much as he is willing to have me. But the smallest of things sends tears down my cheeks, and I often don't know why. I suppose, having so much of my heart on the line, if something were to cut that line, a large percentage of myself would be gone forever, fallen to the bottom of the lake. But it's not even that. It's that I think I've found the right one. the right key to unlock me.
Every day spent by his side he opens another door inside. I've developed a strong attachment to him, to say the least. And I don't want anything to ruin that. The smallest of things that sends tremors through our tough foundations will unsettle me. and the floodgates dissolve in the acidic fear that sets in. I get anxiety attacks, and I cry for such silly reasons. But in the end everything gets resolved, the flood banks patched up, and life goes on.
I know that our love is stronger than any earthquake, any flood or any natural disaster. I'd brave a hurricane for him.
Oh no, I'm getting horribly cliche.

Let's wrap this up, shall we?
If I ever have to say goodbye, I want it to be with my last breath.


just a dream,

I had this dream. infact I've had many dreams like it. There is always water. Usually a lake, surrounded by forested hills. Similar to a lake in the Shushwap. But smaller, and the water is always warm. I usually find myself swimming in this lake. Last night I swam out, and it appeared to be peter hope lake. I was swimming with a guy that I had feelings for. Not scott, yet he seemed to turn into scott later. We were swimming, frolicking, having fun, then something changed. We had to get out right away. We swam extremely fast across the lake and got out and found ourselves at a dirt road leading up from the shore. We followed it and it took us to a hotel that overlooked the lake. It was packed, with all my friends and some odd movie characters. Erin had befriended the leader of the mean girls, and they were all sitting pompously in the hall. I can't remember what happened, but I'd lost scott, and I was extremely angry at that mean girl. I lashed out at her, grabbing her and showing her no mercy as I slapped her. I was torn off her by someone, and I procceded to run down the hall into a room. Into a dining room, and I somehow sat upon the wall on a little outcrop and watched the people eat, unnoticed. Scott was in the room and he saw me, but I told him not to come to me, and I recoiled into myself, a little depressed. Then Petra came out of nowhere and took my hand and led me away. I was angry at her, I remember saying 'You've been here all this time and you didn't bother to talk to me once?' But she led me away and calmed me down and we sat together and talked. Then things get hazy, but I remember feeling the faintest brush of lips upon mine. Some mumbled words, I may have told her I loved her.
and then I woke up.


I am learning how to cook.
I am learning how to forget
I am learning how to dance
I am learning how to cut hair
I am learning how to write
I am learning how to work
I am learning how to love
I am learning how to live
I am learning how to photograph
I am learning how to draw
I am learning how to theorize
I am learning how to be assertive
I am learning how to make friends
I am learning how to regret nothing
I am learning how to knit
I am learning how to listen
I am learning how to be receptive
I am learning how to learn



I looked back at blog entries, and even though the subject matter was less than pleasant to be reminded of, it was still good, I'm glad I have written reminders so I have points of reference to gauge my growth. And I've come far. I often feel like I've had three stages in my life. The first was with Brent, and though I was a newborn in love's eyes, I soon grew to an extremely old age. My heart was always cracked and my spirit became dulled. I became clogged with darkness, became tired and dragged myself through the days. But I never stopped. I stubbornly sacrificed myself each day for someone whom I thought it was going to help. I was wrong. The first day of my second stage was the day I stopped caring about him and finally focused on myself. I was free, and I was drunk with it. Too drunk. I dove into something that made me happy, too quick. I soon realized there were other ways to get hurt. this stage wasn't that defining, though I began to learn to take things as they come. The third and present stage began the day I met Scott.

it was also the day my best friend moved away. It taught me that there's always an opportunity to find new love. It taught me I can be happy, without someone else being unhappy because of it. That day was 11 months ago exactly. So much has changed in my life since then. So much change for the better. Every day I am reminded of this. Even something is simple as getting a drive from school. Or going over to Scott's house in my break. Stability and reassurance are things I've been craving my whole life. I've found them. Here is someone who has their feet on the ground. Who has a car, can hold down a job, is renting a house and going to school. Being responsible. This may sound weird but it's a big turn on. I crave for security. I know this man of mine has a head on his shoulders, and I can count on him, but more so he can count on himself. I don't have to watch over him like I've had to in the past with others. It's a beautiful, freeing feeling. There's so much I don't need to worry about, and I can finally relax. I don't need to worry about finding my way home, or having a place to hang out, because Scott is there for me.

I'm really excited for growing up, becoming responsible.
I'm no longer afraid of the future, because I realize it wont dump itself on me all at once. I've noticed small changes. I can make decisions for myself without seeking others help. My parents are letting me do more, and I'm not taking advantage of it. With Scott and his roommates having their house, I get a heartwarming feeling of self reliance. That even though these guys are incredibly immature, they're growing up as well and faring well. They're almost a family, a family which I'm slowly working my way into. Finding a new older group of friends is exciting. Being accepted is even better. I feel welcome with them. I feel relaxed. I used to be so anxious when I was out of my comfort zone. When I was up in the North East with Brent walking long distances stoned to train stations and bus stops. Or finding myself in Ogden at a high school party, not sure how I would get home. I would panic, but most of it had to do with my parents, when they wanted me home. Now, I can stay out till 3, and as long as Scott's with me I can do what ever I want. It comes back to stability. My parents trust him, they see he's responsible.

I've finally found the right one. I've found that person who makes me happy. Who makes me feel safe, beautiful, and in love. He's the one who makes me want to be a better person. He makes me want to do all that I can for him, not because he needs it or wants it, but because it's the least I can do. It's because I want to. Because making him happy fills me with simple joy. This is a love I see going far, and going places. I can see myself slowly making a home. Not a physical one, but a mental one. He is my roof and my four walls. Our love is the foundation. Our love is a catalyst, the wind in our sails. I don't know where it will take me, but I know it will take me somewhere good. Because the future doesn't hit you hard. it comes one day at a time, and as long as I always stay in places that make me happy, the future can be nothing but bright.


the tower

lightning strikes as the tides swell.
engulfing the tower in a plague of uncertainty.
she bears down upon the querent
in the outcome position, betraying no insight.
The night is dark, the only illumination from sporadic lightening
licking the tower with impending disaster.


disclaimer: sex related :P

last night I had a most amazing theory (or a few) come fully formed into my mind.

The meaning of life, in scientist terms, is to reproduce. And despite the cold clinical feel to it, it's true. Why else would sex feel so good? why, after wards, do we feel inexplicably attached to our partner? The climax, the orgasm, is an incredible amount of sexual energy, but energy none the less. It's the activation energy needed in creating life. That energy fuels the sperm and the egg to join, and that energy of the two parts is manifested in the newly formed being, and helps drive cellular division and growth. The child feeds of the raw emotion felt between the mother and father at the moment of conception. This energy, this emotion, is alive in each cell of the new creature, and becomes their soul. It is the spiritual energetic side to the physical life. Unable to be separated from each other because they're fused down to the microscopic level.

The formation of new life is something we share with every single sexual organism on this planet. It is not something reserved for intelligent life, sex feels good for every living being. The only separation humans have made is removing the reproductive aspect and making it solely an act for pleasure. But the act of intercourse is over a billion years old. It is a universal act and therefore a universal uniter. In humans, we associate reproduction with love, with a life-long partner. Though our social habits are by far more complex than other animals, love is not exclusive to us. Animal mates share a bond between them, and I can only assume it is a form of love. It is a feeling of being connected through their young, having a physical being as a product of their love. And since love is such a universal emotion, I deem it God. God is a uniting force, something relate-able that brings life together.

Religion is an insanely complex version of parental instincts. When talking about animals that raise their young, they teach them right and wrong, in the sense of "do this because you will survive," and "don't do that because you'll die." In modern society, most risks have been abolished, but the instinct to teach our young what is "right" and "wrong" still remains. Due to the social nature of humans, a universal code of conduct was created, warped and complicated throughout the centuries. It became mass produced and very particular, and many people chose to do without it. But because people (me included) don't follow a religion does not mean they're not religious. I have a strong tie to the earth, to life and to love. Religion is an instinctual feeling, an aid to through life the best way possible.



Sometimes, when I hear your poetry,
I don't hear the words.

I just listen to the rhythm of your speech.
Like waves upon a beach
I let them wash over me.
Not getting me wet because I forget each word the moment you've spoken it.
Yet you've awoken me with the strength in your voice.
If I had a choice I would play in your waves for days.
watching your tone pull my tides closer to your shore
And I'd explore the forests you've created with your rhymes
following your heartbeat, keeping time.
Let me be carried with your flow.
I don't need to know what you're saying
just let me keep playing with the sounds
of your machine-gun-mouth firing rounds,
like an attentive warrior on the battle grounds where words meet ears.
let the rhythm still ring through me when the silence reappears

Though I won't remember the words,
an image remains like ink blurred by rain.
Your poetry leaves an intricate design painted in my mind.

though I won't remember the words, I remember everything else.


The sheets he wore as his toga were the sheets on which I'd lain by his side all those Wednesday mornings all those months ago. A secret understanding only me and him knew. The softness hadn't changed, and it brought it all tumbling back. All those mornings where we hung like statues in the dark. I don't miss it. I don't regret it. I only wish we'd had more courage to acknowledge what was there for what it was, without trepidation. But life lept on, we both found the people we were looking for. We were an intermediary stage. Caught in lifeless limbo and then cut off with a sleek blade the day he left. Clean cut that left no rough edges that couldn't be softened by the passing time and the finding of true love not two months later. It's all over now, baby blue.


The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles,
forget all your cares and go
Downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown, no finer place for sure,
Downtown, everything's waiting for you

I thought I saw the moon but it was just an empty penthouse suite, an eye wedged into the form of a silent sentinel, cloaked in the dark.
An out of service train slides by, a slain serpent dragged through the streets to be ridiculed.
Gutted matchbooks lay ravaged , sprawled in stagnant dissaray.
Police siren rips night's skin, painting it's path in red and blue as it screams down the street and around the corner.
Empty store fronts stare out with Moloch's thousand blind windows.
And people walk on, hollow chambers of shuffling feet and dead eyes.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn.
you're mean. you're selfish. yes you are you're selfish. you cant think about anyone but yourself. thats why we should get a divorce. inconsolable differences. you're not cut out, you're not cut out to do a man's job.

and then she laughs, after he's retreated with his tail beneath his legs, at a tv show. As if she had no remorse for the heart she'd just cracked yet again.


You dont realize how much I need you. Sometimes neither do I. Not until I'm left swaying in the shockwaves left by the closing of your door, and the silence and the loneliness consume me, devour me in greed as I crumble. You hit each one of my fault lines with that one vibration, the hum of your voice speaking those two syllables. Opening the road to destruction, my shelter caved and became my tomb. A safe place only for that which has died.

I've been waiting ha;f the night

I've been waiting half my life away


imagine this

We are all pebbles. When we are born we are thrust into the air by the hand of fate, landing where we may into an ocean of time. We all create ripples, and they all fade with time. And on the journey to the bottom we may encounter other stones, just passing by at different angles or at paths similar to ours. They become lovers, friends, or just acquaintances on our journey to the depths. You'd think that life ends when we hit the bottom. But life ends only when our rise of mud settles around us, when all the stones you passed have also been covered up by the sludge the bottom offers us and by other pebbles who fall upon us, after us.


empty. That's how my inspirational drives feel.

Nothing is ever completely empty. Only filled with something other than what we want. We rarely realize that we are surrounded, because we cannot see the air surrounding us.


Your body heat
and my body heat
makes me melt.
And as my edges soften they cling to yours,
melding to your curves
pooling in your depressions.
Until there is no going back;
there is no separating me, warm pools of melted chocolate,
from you.
the lines of definition have blurred
There is no more
or me
there is only us.
Two solids turned homogeneous liquid
Through the slow heat of an embrace
we fall into each other.

White swirls through the rich brown, until only faint traces mark their existence as two seperate beings, a past life.


Good night.

The kitchen lights hung red it and glowing, as if I sat in the glare of two taillights, always reminding me of what was receding. The cars where tired lovers leave you perched on the empty front steps steeped in the red light of a departure, until they turn a corner and the swollen dark consumes you. And you turn keys into ever blacker halls that blind you,
until you flick on the red glowing lights and sit.

Silence crawls through me and settles in my mind as I bathe in the glow of the burning goodbye that burns me to ash when the light fades.
And I sit.
No matter how bright the day had been, the nights are always dark, no light from your sun to guide me; only a sliver of moon peeking out from behind the solid distance between us.
In the hum of the taillights I can still hear your laughter. Like liquor dancing through my veins, like wildflowers, wildfires, live wires. Infecting me with the electricity of the sound, scraping mortar into the cracks where I broke down under the impossible weight of separation, pouring cement to rebuild my foundation after your earthquake hit. And I'm not saying that we shook cities to the ground. Those rumbles were just the sound of two solid masses moving farther apart. And though the distance was nothing more than a week, it weakened me. Ripped the seams I'd sewn tight between us and I fell apart. But above all, I missed your laughter. A lullaby that lays my weary heart to rest. The way the corners of your eyes crease at the corners as you try to hold it in, before you tilt your head back and let it loose. Bathes me in a rich flow of contentment

And I can still hear it echoing through my emptiness and I sit in the red glow of my kitchen.
the sounds: the hum and groan of the tired laptop, the obedient ticking of the mounted clock above the muted television, and the desperate silent begging of the two goldfish in the large glass bowl on the cluttered table; making trickling noises as they open and close their mouths on the surface of their water though there is nothing there to eat, anymore.
The smells: stale sweat from the old teeshirt hanging limply on my frame, the traces of yet another left over dinner, old vegetable soup. A bouquet of night sented stock attempting feebly to elbow its way to the front of the crowd, but I only catch a glimpse of her sweet and soothing perfume.
The sights: An empty kitchen at night time. orange peels litter the counter by the sink, two pots of soup sit on a dirty stove, the ladles resting on their rims. dirty cups and slowly rotting fruit sit on the cutting board, a fruit fly their only company. Four cupboard doors open, my mother's pet peeve. (Good thing she isn't here.) The tv, muted, on the family channel after an unsuccessful surf through the hundred something possibilities. Two hanging lights cased in red glass give the room an eerie glow remminiscent to the glare of taillights, reminding me that everyone I loved was off on the road, and I was left here.
The feelings: arms resting on the cold granite counter, goosebumps raised on my arms. the heels of my hands on the silver laptop keyboard, slightly warm and humming from the day's work. Something had my stomach in a knot, and it wasn't hunger, but I felt that too. A fatigue headache had set in as the clock continued to tick on and on into the night.
The emotions: Dead and empty as the house I was in, I was unable to lift myself from the sludge I myself had created. Call it what you want, bipolar, depression, or just spineless self wallowing, I was as hollow and alone as a pumpkin on the first of november. And I couldn't take it. Mind numbing silence and time stretching loneliness were my poisons, and I drink them almost greedily. I can't help it, I'm addicted.


Lets make love.
Let's make the dark night shine
let's make bliss and happiness,
and I will make you mine.

Turn our scabbed hearts into rubies;
our tears into diamond skies.
burn our fears to embers
and watch the ashes rise.

We'll complete the circle,
fill in all the cracks
with our heads held high,
never looking back.


an excerpt from the book I'll never write.

The sun had set and a golden haze hung in the air, as if each airborne particle of dust and pollen was illuminated with the summer sun while the ground I walked on was bathed in shadow. The sky was still a persistent blue, streaked with a large swath of watercolour pink and the air was thick with the scents from various white flowers growing throughout the field in which I was walking. The wind spread its wings and gained speed, leaving the young poplars to dance in its wake, their leaves creating a faint rush of musical sound. I lost myself in it momentarily, almost able to drown out the sounds of nameless faces driving countless cars on the distant freeway. I breathed deep the perfumed breeze, so deliciously different from the smog and exhaust of the inner city, and relaxed. How could one exist day to day beneath the thick layer of grime, when such beautiful pockets of wilderness existed? They don't want to, but they need to. Need...right. Their perceptions of wanting and needing were quite contrary. They need to breathe the unclogged air once and a while. But they want to make money so they submit their body to a thin layer of pollution each and every day.
I laughed inwardly. Here I go again, making my social and political commentaries to no one but the birds and bees. It was a silly thing to do, but I found comfort in it. I figured, if I could see the bigger picture of our stay on earth, that it would make me above it all. That I could not be counted as a statistic in the hapless crowd of billions.
Billions. A number so big I could never relate to it. An adjective to explain away our breadth, as if the fact that we'd copulated ourselves into twelve digits made us any more illustrious. I could never fathom it, so I disregarded it. I cared not about the goings on, the minor details that got other people so entwined, so fixated. It tired me, to be honest. I preferred the slower pace of nature. How a tree could stay rooted for centuries and never cause a war, never murder another being from jealousy or spite or pure hatred. There was no drama and no tough life altering decisions, which university to attend to, where to get a job and whom to marry. Life comes to the trees invariably. They age with no concern and no control; they are peaceful.
In that moment, I craved their peace so emphatically that I stopped my endless walk to nowhere and sat down and closed my eyes. I focused on perfect nothingness, felt the sweet breeze back again, and let it push through me. In that moment, I felt one with nature.
In that moment and that moment only. A siren's cry sliced through the stillness and I was pulled back to my reality and with a sigh I stood up. I will never be one with nature. Not when I wear shoes that protect me from the grass, clothes to protect me from the wind, glasses to help me see as if I wasn't flawed. Every innovation humans have made in order to bring them closer to ease has brought us further from where we started.
In that moment, I felt staggeringly alienated. Not only from my peers, my family and friends, but from everything else. I belonged not in nature, I belonged not in civilization. Though my mind escaped the traps men had set to reel in the new docile candidates to take on the jobs of the older generations, it was hard to escape the habits. The human mind is so impressionable, and I could not live without these frustratingly important amenities. Spoiled, is what I was, whether I liked it or not. All wishings and hopings were futile. I was not different. I was not one with nature nor would I ever be, until I'm naked and dirty and free dancing on a wild hilltop miles away from any human civilization, freed from mortal quarrels and grief-causers, blissfuly light and alive.
But until that day comes, I'm just another nameless face walking the streets on summer nights, simply enjoying the weather.


There are ants all over my counter. Climbed out from the crack between the dishwasher and the wall. up the lip of the granite counter top and strait to a lid of sugar water where twenty or so ants have drowned. but these ants are smarter. They perch on the lip, their feelers moving frantically as they slowly lower down and drink. Drink till their abdomens are swollen and golden when the light passes through. they depart in a line the way they came, their heavy bodies only making it slightly more difficult to descend the sheer vertical edge of the countertop. More and more come, seeking this oasis to bring back to their colony, but little do they know it will soon be the end of them. They taste the sweetness, not the sharpness of borax, the stench of death they're carying back to their children and their lovers, assuming the dosage isn't to high and they die before they make their way back, having travelled many ant miles only to be burned from the inside with the harsh chemicals of human creation.


I need you to need me.

I want you to want me to be the me you see when I'm free to be the me that got you next to me.

I kissed your forehead as we fell back down to earth.
purged in the fire of a pheonix's rebirth.

I opened your third eye and drank your dripping energy
held you so close I felt your heart clammoring behind your bones
I let it's rhythm and it's tones run ripples right through me,
your energies renew me.
And as our hearts beat against our ribcages
it gauges the incitement of excitement we're making,
taking the time to find the beauty behind each caress
we posess the capacity to escape, in reckless audacity.
See I've got a pretty decent cape in my closet.
we can don our suits in the noble pursuit of preserving this world
we're endlessly creating, shaping it with our minds
when we take the time to find the beauty behind each caress.
We've been blessed with an amazing connection,
an undying affection, a corporeal reflection
of a divine creation, a sacred collaboration,
condensing energies into constructive vibrations
a manifistation of the love that we share,
together on oneness with the bond that we share.


just call me when you need me.

Do you need me?
I am here.
Slipped into your pocket with your car keys
my breath staining the fabric of your thoughts.

I've never been more sure of something and yet so utterly confused.

Why must you be so easy, and be so perplexing too. Everytime I sit down to write about you I cannot get it right. You're grey area. You're everything-white and nothing-black, mixed and mingled. You're a walking contradiction, living breathing paradox. Catch-22 and I'm caught in your web.


Now that I've seen you
Stripped to the very core
I know that I need you
More than I did before.

I steal their phrases
snatching ideas like they were pliable
concrete and holdable
My mind can''t string the words together.
Today is all we see.
So tomorrow
-it seems to me-
is only an illusion we believe.



Saw an awful commercial. New Kleenex hand towels.
"Why use the same dirty hand towel over and over?
Now you can forget about the bacteria, with a new towel every time!
With new Kleenex disposable hand towels."

GAH! if you don't want dirty towels, it's called washing them.
You don't need to fill the landfills with needless trash,
just because it's convenient.
As if there's no repercussion to becoming a waste producing clone.
But we've been lead to believe that there is no downside
Why would anyone buy something environmentally unfriendly?
If we knew it was damaging, it would be way harder to sell.
[even though this is so blatantly unfriendly of a product.]
So the businesses simply sweep that part under the rug
attempting to catch us on the hook of convenience.
It's been the same thing, time and time again,
for the past seventy years.
We've slowy been turned into consumer drones,
through the driving force of convenience.
Not caring about our impact from our dependancy on materialism.


Same old song and dance

You never notice how we've changed until we're placed into the same situation of time's past. We always grapple for a chance to redo, to press the back button on our lives and do it all again. What people don't realize is that the opportunity is handed to us on a silver platter. because we've lead ourselves inevitably back to what we know, what we've already known. History repeats itself more times than I'd like to admit, both in my life and in the collective experience. And now I stand where I once did, many times, from grade 11 to grade 12. on again and off again. You wanted to hang out. I delayed, but my conscience got the best of me. A hopeless pleaser of others. But something's changed. I could not look at your face ever again and be perfectly content. I've become privy to it all. See, you run in circles too. You hate me and then you inevitably love me again. You hurt me, because I hurt you. But you've always got that sickly smile on your face, somehow forgetting the past and we're back where we started. truth is, I don't want to run another lap in that world of yours. I forfeit.


Dream me

I've been living a dream.
As if the moment your lips met mine
you pushed me into a deep slumber.
Where the trees are made of sugar
and nothing matters.
I walk on a bed of moss with bare feet
not needing to fear the cuts of unpleasant circumstance
no worries of disease or danger.
I slipped into the glistening pools of your presence
conjuring only ripples that faded before they reached your distant shore.
We were so alive in eachother
but so softly, as an angel's breath,
that none of us noticed.
You are the western winds,
dancing with my hair
leaving nothing but goosebumps.
Intangible dreams of a sacred place
mossy stone archways leading to a silver lit pool.
I asked you if I was dreaming,
once upon a time.
You held me close and said this was real,
discarding my question,
an apple core in the Garden of Eden.
But I couldn't shake it so easily.
The surface too clear,
begging for something to destroy its slumber,
for a western wind to pull it toward some distant shore.
I never told you about my fears.
About a sickly forboding,
an impending falter.
In the beginning, when this newness was too new,
like fingernails cut too short,
it consumed me.
Curling about my fingertips like smoke
staining my skin with it's intangibility.
But now, when your breath is my own
and our heartbeats march in tandem,
your winds blew the grey tendrils far away.
But the scent of confusion still lingers in my hair.
And I still don't know, is this a dream?
Everything seems made of pillars of sand
faltering with the flicker of an eyelid
awakening from some deep slumber.


You came up to me so easily, took my crown of thorns.

I had a most spiritual weekend.
three days, two nights in tunnel mountain village 2 campsite with Scott.
Fresh air, peace and quiet, good food and endless possibilities.

I put everything to rest as we entered the park.
Alive in the energy of each new possibility.
Fog on the ground and lightening in our hearts, we came together.
As our bodies melted I felt your mind among my brain cell synapses.
The air escaped, bringing us inexplicably closer, unable to draw ourselves up.
We conversed with no words
and flowed in each other's footsteps as if it was always this simple.
And as the snow fell through the sunny skies,
I climbed more than mountains,
discovered more than trails.
I felt more than the rain on my cheeks and the heat of burning coals.
We laid each other down to rest on a bed of mosses and
watched the trees dance to the rhythm of our heartbeats.
We smoked the earth and steeped our laughter in waters that flowed through our lungs.
Found shelter from the storm in each others eyes,
breathing the heart connection,
speaking in tongues about electrons and Plato,
uniting science of the brain with the beauty of the mind.
We roasted our inhibitions to a fine crisp on the flames of easy existence.
threw away the shreds
cut away the threads
sipped on the dregs of tea made from juniper.
Loved in the early sunshine
Lived in the evening mist
created more than just fires
chased away more than just squirrels.
Smiled till it hurt and held each other close
as the world turned, had our fortunes told.
Loved life and lived love.
Hypothesized and prophesied
realized, and, energized, stained our souls together.
forged paths that could last forever.

Take my hand and come with me?


This would be so hilarious if it wasn't so devastating.

The past little while I've noticed as I grow up I become more like you. Your logical mind, your intricate brain. In some ways I enjoy it, excites me. Other times it freaks the hell out of me. I don't want to inherit your anger, your convoluted logic and your chemically imbalanced brain.
I was privvy to one of your lovely arguments with my father, as he came through the kitchen door I heard you scream, as if you were scolding our dogs for something. My dad, possibly trying to ignore it, continues walking. You storm in, slamming the door in a fit of rage and, stomping your feet, signal to my dad to stop walking. You ask what's wrong, and he says "I guess i just can't do anything right." "You know that's not true! I'm not trying to make you feel that way." My dad walks away, down the stairs, and you follow, the convorsation becoming muffled by the drywall between us. I laugh despairingly, as bits and pieces float up. "Yes, it's alll my fault is it?!" I don't even bother to continue listening, I've heard it all before, time and time again. Truth is, it is your fault. But you refuse to see what your bursts of uncontrollable anger do to us. Or maybe you do see you just refuse to acknowledge it. You make him feel like crap, plain out. You nag at him like he's an incompetant infant, a blubbering fool, and then complain about his depression not being as serious as yours. You criticize his weight, tell him to excersize more and to stop eating, without realizing he can barely stand because of his bad back. And when any one of us tries to shed some light on your clearly askew logic, you think we're attacking you, try and turn it all on us, making us the bad guys for wrongfully accusing you. "I'm always the bad guy, I'm a terrible person!" I think you believe it, atleast halfheartedly. But I've given up on trying to decipher the twisty turns of your inner brain. Mainly because I think you've given up too.
"Hear the point! but you can't. And that's the problem."



it feels so good to feel so bad. it boils over like a pot of rice set on too high heat, and before you can stop it it's made a huge mess all over. But , it feels so good. You know it will pass quickly, maybe that's why you relish in it, let it take over you for those few moments like an emotional demon. You relinquish all good thoughts and respect for cheap emotional highs, how it shakes your foundations. And suddenly, it flies away as quickly as ash on the wind, in the absense of the earlier flames. And you feel foolish and weak, and empty, and life goes on as it did before, as you set about cleaning up the mess of the rice water all over the stove.

to me atleast

How do you write a good poem?
There is no manual, no how-to for dummies.
Poetry has a million forms. It is intangible, it is beautiful.
It has existed since the beginning of civilization, in each culture.
There may be rhyme schemes, iambic pentameter and strict rhythms,
but the true poetry is what fills these lines, the words.
There are 171,476 words in the Second Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary.
Countless ways to twist them to your will.
There are thesauruses, rhyming dictionaries and grammar books to aid you in your quest.
But true poetry is what fills those words, the emotion.
Happiness fear, surprise, sadness, anger, disgust.
Countless ways to combine them, twist them to your will.
And when the emotion is strong enough you don't need thesauruses, dictionaries or guidelines.

The words melt their way onto the page
as you break down the flood banks of your inner core.
words bend around the powder blue lines,
ink seeps through the fibers
and before you know it,
a spew of words lay breathing softly on thin sheets.

This, for me at least, is poetry.



Time has stolen you away from me. You left me at the begining of the new year, it hasn't even been five months yet but I miss you like nothing else. You are my soul mate, I'm still convinced. But you've been gone for such a long time. Making new friends and not able to even send me a message, let me know how you're doing.
But now you're coming back and I can't even express my excitement.
It won't be long, yea!
The mind works in mysterious ways. Today two things threw rocks in my pond that I'd finally gotten smooth. Crazy, how the past can just creep up on you, tap you on the shoulder and rear its ugly face. Because no matter how much you've progressed, the past still happened the way it did. It's been six months since I've seen you and I haven't thought of you in much of a way since then. But I hate how it all changes. I get that nervous butterfly feeling all over again. I'd much rather ignore your very existence; but that's not possible. Lets see how well I can keep my stupid stupid heart at bay. I know I can do it, I'd never do anything. Never have and never will. I stay true to the ones that I've given my heart to, and it is now taken by the most amazing man I've ever met. There's no fear. It's that silly crush feeling that never amounts to anything, yet my brain seems to think it's something worth attention. I hate it. It's the feeling that got me into his mess in the first place.
Why do I fall in love with every man I see who shows me the least bit of attention?
You weren't right. I memorized the contours of your face as you laid beside me with your eyes seamed shut. Your skin reflected the light, a pale statue lain in marble, immovable. I wondered if I could feel your pulse if I tried, but I let you be, and I laid you to rest for good as you laid your feet in the south eastern hemisphere.
But now that you're back the memories keep flooding back as well, memories I'd rather forget.

I don't even know why I wrote this blog entry. Guess I just had to get it out of my head. Well, it's gone now, but you're not. I guess the real test is seeing you in person to return you what you lent me, I'm just hoping it'll be in a big crowd of people so I don't have to talk to you that much.


Blue stingrays

This week has been an emotional rollercoaster with the breaks disengaged. But I can't tell which emotion is the incline, which is the decline. There's no final destination either. No goal to complete, no markers telling me I'm going in the wrong direction. I climb and climb to get to the top. The top of what? Of nothing. I climb to fall down again. Or do I fall to get the momentum to climb up again? I could make a million different scenarios, mapping out each possibility like there was a point to it all. That's all we're searching for in life; a point. No one knows the meaning of life, no one knows the point. Because there is no point. We exist because we do. We exist because we've made it so, or something else has made it so.
I'm having a very hard time following this routine life without hesitation. Something in my mind is placing resistance on these feet that walk the empty miles. The ability to see the larger picture? Or the refusal to see the smaller one. Once again, mapping out endless possibilities. I've had these moods where I've seen the error in our ways (in my eyes) and could not even take the bus without wondering why the hell we have buses. Why the hell do we have streets, houses, manicured lawns, dead end jobs, money, time, music, school, technology, the list continues forever, since everything man made is on it. The best way I can explain it is I had the thought process of an outsider, a wise animal for instance, looking at the human race and laughing because of their ridiculousness, striving and slaving for nothing, thinking they're so great. I felt stupid, to but it bluntly. How we've gotten so tied up in what we've decided to call life, the point of life being making money, buying a house, settling down, having a family, popping out one of two children, settling down into retirement in Florida or somewhere nice. And the cycle continues again. with every turn we become more and more entrenched in it, drenched with the notion that this is what needs to be done. And I cannot follow it. I can't get a job, I'm going to university, but only so I can learn more about this planet, and eventually save it. I'm thirsty for knowledge because it's something the streets can't give me. Not the knowledge I want at least. I guess what I'm searching for is the meaning of life, but this is a fruitless battle, because, as I stated before, I don't even think there is one. I guess I'm just on an endless loop of a roller coaster, running tracks in my mind, becoming entrenched deeper and deeper with each turn of the clock, each turn of the seasons. But once again, I'm mapping out a world that has no borders, no coastlines for reference, just a chunk of grey area. But I guess it's my human nature to continue searching, regardless.


the last summer of youth's abandon

This is going to be a summer to remember. I refuse for it to be anything less.
I am filled with such fervor and determination, prodded to achieve something great while I still have the chance. The world is out there waiting for me to discover it, and in turn discover myself. I only feel alive when I'm running through a pathless forest, or wading ankle deep in a cool flowing river. I need the sun in my face and the wind carrying my laughter and pushing my hair around. And most of all I need you beside me. I need you within me, all around me. How can it not be fate, when we were made this way? We fit like two lost puzzle pieces found under the couch. I feel alive in your skin, inebriated at your very touch of nakedness beneath fingertips. I want to wade ankle deep in the oceans of your eyes, explore the wilderness of your limbs, feel your laughter pushing through me, echoing in the caverns of my soul. You are beautiful in everyway, especially in the way that you make me clean and new. Like a tarnished lucky penny, you picked me up and shined me down. I have found a new life in your arms, I have found a new me. And every moment with you I discover something with the help of your gentle touch. I want to discover everything with you, both inside and outside my casings. I have four months to make the most of what's left of my youth, and I am going to absolutely take life by the reigns and reign my own little world in the midst of this big big world, with you at my side.
take my hand and come with me?


sadness is nothing more than the cost of being able to smile once and a while

I feel disillusioned. Unsure. Afraid. I guess the mask is slipping. The chemical imbalances are strong and they pull me under with greedy fingers. And I greedily comply. I hate how I'm so complicated. I hate confusing myself, and having no one to untie the knots of complexity. Just a neat little blanket to cover it all up. A beautiful distraction. I thought it would all go away. That I had found the cure. A vaccine instead of mere painkillers that make me turn a blind eye to something that continues regardless. But it was merely a speed bump. You are a rumble strip causing the vehicle of my mental unravelling to slow. The gas pedal pressure was relieved but the brake was left lonely. There is never any abrupt stop. Just transitions from one state of mind to the other. I played blissfully in your gardens but the rain is coming yet again as the foot comes back down crushing the pedal. And I'm frantically searching for some shelter. I want to crawl inside you and wrap myself in your skin next to the furnace of your heart that beats out a sweet lullaby and eases me into rest. But if I do that I'm afraid I'll need you too much. The fabric of my being will grow into the pores of your skin and when distances drive a wedge in the cracks of space between us I'll be ripped to pieces, torn between staying and leaving.
But let's not talk about faretheewells now, the night is a starry dome.
Lets just lay on the roof of your car and stare up from the ocean floor. waiting for the angler fish, who's light is the moon, to devour us. Maybe we'll end up like Jonas in the whale. Able to crawl out of this sludge that ,the world has laid upon us.
The vibrations of your energy cracks my foundation wrought in iron and falls away in rust. I'm left raw and skeletal yet light as a feather as the weight of my past is devoured in the light of your love. I think I'm delving too deep, diving in the shallows when the sign told me not to. I ram head first into you, trying to find something I don't have reason to believe is really there. It's not your fault, It's all mine. I don't know what makes me act the way I do. I wish to god I did. then I wouldn't have to run tracks in my mind writing things that gleam no conclusions.

I'm sorry for this. I'm sorry I keep saying I'm sorry. Dropping the word at every trivial and meaningless turn on the road.
Apology should grow like trees. only able to bear fruit if it's roots are planted in the soil of genuine sincerity.
But I am sorry.
I love you.


hey blue

I wonder where he is, where he will be, where we stand.

We leave our past behind so we can create our future.

The piano puts fourth its trickling voice, amazing how ten fingers and eighty eight keys can create something that pierces my soul so. White, black, white.

White, I love you.
You mix with anything. You are everything. You are undifferentiated and pure.
Your fields of pristine melt against my gentle hips.
You illuminate each dark corner of mine.
Once I thought I was darkness
Now I know I was only waiting for a light to show me the way inside.
I am an empty shell. Hold me close and you'll hear the song.
Really, it's all you and there is no ocean inside.
A mere blush of blood coursing with no way out.
And yet,
It sings to you, tells you what you want to hear
because you made it believe.
You picked it up, ground worn and empty,
And filled it with the rush of what it is to fly.
with the elation of the safety in your hands.

The subtle push of blood beneath your gentle skin
creates vibrations of energy
penetrating the gallery of my soul
and reverberates, multiplies and mixes me
constructive interference that grows,
each heartbeat a footstep
carrying you closer
Each breath perfecting the pitch
to the soundtrack of the wind
Until we are filled with it
Until I am seeping with a haunting melody
rolling like the sea.
Each breath drawing the waters up


Second season I am to know

You are my phantom limb.
You're there in an awkward limbo, a not-quite-memory. I wish I wasn't too weak to help. Nowadays my life is disconcertingly simple. I can't get used to it. The simplicity is so complicated, so confusing that I can't comprehend it. My brain is subconsciously searching for faults, grown accustomed to cracked sidewalks and leaky faucets. Finding none, I almost feel empty. I feel there is something missing, but it's probably for the best.
I'm still keeping my secrets, the way I always do, only for the sake the of safety in routine. They've decreased in size, in importance, mere flesh wounds, nothing fatal that would fester the tissues of my mind. My mind is less cluttered, more emotionally sound than it's ever been. I feel I have been healed of these wounds of the past, but the scars remain, sometimes they itch, just begging for me to reopen them. Bring the memories back.
What happened happened and couldn't have happened any other way.
It's like looking at the sun for too long. It's imprinted on your eyelids, burnt into your retina long after the fact. It will fade only with time. As does everything. I'm afraid of the sun. I've been blinded by it's glare. I long for a cool calm night, with the moon to bathe me in silver dipped stars so I can finally be whole again.


Had the best night last night. I convinced my parents to let me sleep over at scott's band member's party, and Ihada blast. All dressed in 80's best, both men and women wearing tight clothes and bright make up. Me and scott had three quarters of a two six of gin between ourselves, smoked some double apple sheesha, then I made him accompany me to the washroom where I proceded to puke. Feeling better afterwards and refusing to stay sick, we went back to the party and hung out for a few more minutes until I made him accompany me back to the washroom again to puke. After that I felt much better and we all went out to the park nearby and played drunk grounders. Then a few of us went and hot boxed scott's car while, in absolute perfect timing, bohemian rapsody came on the radio and we rocked out wayne's world style extremely blitzed. After that we went back to the party, hung out, a few of the guys were on chatroulette which quickly turned too awkward to watch. eventually we turned in at 3am, me and scott slept extremely uncomfortably in their rehearsal room, between drums and amps on a small foamy and under a sleeping bag, but I didn't care because it felt amazing being able to stay in his arms. my head in his chest, I was rolling peacefully on an ocean, riding the cresting waves each time he inhaled a deep and sleeping breath. Although some parts of the evening area little hazy, that memory contrasts vividly.
So good.


I'm working on a new idea.
It will be great fun.
mixing science with philosophy.

best part about it?
I though it up laying naked
beside my love
in the late hours of the night.

He tells me I have elloquence
that I can perfectly find the words
for the feelings we both feel


I cant shake the feeling that this is going to be so incredibly hard.
And I'm afraid of the potency of the things I'm feeling.
Emotion is such a trippy thing.
Able to make or break us.
I want to flourish in the sunshine of your love
but I feel like I'll be crushed by the boot heel of the world
before my leaves start to grow.
Before I can turn your light into the sweetest sugar.
Before my roots can anchor me in the rocky ground of life
to help me keep composure in a flash flood of difficult circumstance.

I want to grow tall despite all odds.
I want to bear the fruit of my efforts,
showing it off to those who are hungry,
inticing them to eat,
and letting the seeds of inspiration grow within them
so that they can continue the life cycle


You know what I want?
I want “true love” and “marriage” and “soulmates”
to stop being just words,
ideas with no relation to my life.
I want to realize that I’m coming to the end of one chapter
and turning the page to the next.
And with the new beggining it’s more about the future
in regards to ’right now’.
And less about the past.
This is a transition where it’s acceptable to start thinking about
“5 years down the road”
and thinking about you still there beside me.
But I’m having hard relating the check list
that the adults in my life have completed, to my life.
Settling down happens. Marriage happens.
People find people perfect for them.
It’s not an unusual occurance.
And no matter how much I want to think about my future,
I can’t seem to let go of my past.
It’s catching up to me just when I thought I was home free.
Sometimes I feel your arms around me
and I want to push you away with all my force
But I remember that you’re not here.
That someone much better is in your place.
And I don’t want to push him away.
I want to love him, with every peice of me.
I want him like you wanted me
but how I could never want you.
I am happy, with him.
and I want to stay with him.
But I’ve had too many bad experiences,
with “too good to be true”
where the saying was frustratingly precise,
for me to be fully relaxed.

I’m getting better, though.
I’m breaking down these walls of scar tissue
each stone upon stone that you helped pile high
they’re coming tumbling down.

Let these walls come tumbling down”

I said it like I finally found the way
To keep the good feelings alive
I said it like it was something to strive for

This is a love I’ve never felt before
And I love it.

I want to kiss you like a traffic jam.
I want to move slow.

I don’t mind the stop and go
as long as I know
I’m moving towards you.
Moving towards an unknown final destination
of unimportance, because
it’s the journey that’s the masterpeice.

I want you to come with me
You can ride shot gun and nap in the early mist
while the scent of hot coffee sloshes in the cup holder.
But it’s not caffeine that will keep me awake.
It’s the electrifying nearness of you
And the excitement of the future
with you by my side.


show me love

Do you still have doubts that us having faith make any sense?

[I hope this brings me lots of controversy]

I lost my faith years ago.
I thought I was broken.
I believed hell would burn me
because God turned his back on me
Because I turned my back on Him.

Even at a young age, when my friend took me to her church,
and we sang lovely ditties about how this God was wondrous;
'Our god is an awesome God. "
"Our god of peace will soon crush Satan'"

No, your god is a hypocritical god.
even at age 10 I could see the stupidity in it all.

And I left that church and never went back.

But they did succeed by planting that seed of fear.
The 'what if' of the existence of this all powerful, judging God
but more importantly the 'what if' of hell.
That's how they hook you.

I Swear there ain't no heaven and I pray there ain't no hell,

Living in fear of hell instead of living for the love of God.

Now I know it's not a problem with my ability to believe,
the fault lied in the things I was lead to believe in.

I couldn't comprehend why we would bother honouring such a judgemental God
such a humanoid, conditionally-loving God.
He is a manifestation of the human condition.
Not holy, besides being 'all-powerful'
but then what stops God being translated into money?
or being a multinationalmultibilliondollar company?

I don't believe that we are all created in the image of God
but that God was created in the image of us.

No, religion is not for me.
scratch that
A tangible God is not for me.
I believe in the religion of love.
In the power of energy.
In the God and Goddess within.
John Lennon said it best;

"I just believe in me, Yoko and me."

I just believe in me, too.
Scott, and me.



I want to write a poem that embodies you.
That can appease what's long overdue.
Finally let out all this pent up emotion and feeling
a clamouring commotion that leaves me reeling.
I’ll transform it into phrases
I'll be writing words that daze and amaze us.

It will translate your smile
with words so versatile,

that the hours trying to sew the words into a patchwork perfectly fit to cover you
Able to soothe you,
and transform the coldness you've let seep into your bones
into the warmth of a kiss,
telling you you're stronger than this,

Will be worthwhile.

But you know it's starting slow.

Like the birth of this very earth
from primordial stew,
And I can’t sit through
the millions of years it took in which microbes grew.
To think, it took 3.9 billion years to build something as beautiful as you.

And when I only have the attention span of a few hours
I don't have the power
to create an immaculate portrait of you.
my vocabulary is too limited
even with words like mellifluous,
I just sound loquacious, tenuous.

Finding a rhythm that flows is frustratingly strenuous.

I want to write without having to find inspiration
in other people's words, in other people's creations.
I want this poem to be all my own,
inspired by you alone.

The poem will spell out that look in your eyes that the shine adorns
when your eyes open each time, as if you've just been born.
Blinkingly amazed by everything in its youth and vitality
the realness of this reality.

I want to pause this moment and put it on replay.
I want to watch it, over and over, a little bit each day
until I've memorized each pore of your skin
each blemish and imperfection,
it's beautiful. formidable
and you are a reflection
of the god and goddess within.

I want to see you see me,
see your eyes gleam
like I'm the first thing you've ever seen.
I want you to praise me like I'm a goddess without a name, no fame.
Existing in a wild beauty that only you can tame
I want to be this country before it was charted
Like the few seconds of silence of a song before it's started.

I want you to discover me like Jacques Cartier.
I want to rewind and press replay.
I want to pause this moment, rewind and ride this endless loop into eternity.
riding the wave of bliss in an endless sea,

I want to write a poem that embodies you,
even though it's a big mission to pursue.

I want it to be beautiful.
I want it to be the best I've ever written
I want you to be smitten.
I'll hand pick every word so it fits perfectly,
like an immaculate apple off a tree
and if I have to crane

my neck and strain

my back to reach it, then so be it.
I want it to be worth it for each person who'll see it.
And if I wake up sore the next day
at least I'll have the patchwork quilt of words to soothe the pain away.

But in the end
when I've finished my masterpiece,

when I've released the last of this emotion,

When I've prevailed, settled the commotion
added the finest last detail….

I'll just delete it all.

But you know the he words will remain
half burned into my brain
Alive only as a notion
feeding the emotion.

…but wait...

that's not right.
the emotion feeds the words.
And every time I see you
the emotion is renewed
the phrases I construed
last time, are outdated.
they don't work as well as when they were first created.
They’ve got an expiry date,
Only able to create
The intended response for a little while,
Can only inspire a smile,
Can only be sublime
for a limited time.
But the emotion never dies
Always growing,
never showing signs of slowing,
as long as there’s a shine in your eyes.



Age is just a number, and I know I'm young but I believe I feel what you feel. "Ain't so hard to recognize - These things are clear to all from time to time"
I feel like this is a seed, this is the everything-we-need, and through every waking hour the leaves uncurl and the roots of something bigger than ourselves unfurl, making their way through my veins, my heart beats like a speeding train, feeding this creation that flowers in my brain, creating a scent that only you can smell. Because its perfume is built on the love we know so well. And branches escape through every pore of my skin, reaching to let you in, searching for your grin. I want your heart to beat in time with mine, want the shine in your eyes to sing the harmony that words can't define. I want my empty flowers to be met with the lonely bees searching for their lovers, carried on the breeze on the chance that they'll bring a part of you on their wings. And that I can bear the fruit of this union built on such a rocky shore.
You are the sunlight in my growing. So little warmth I've felt before.
Romance built on a frail chance, but after that first dance, first glance, I knew, I know, that you, could make this seed inside grow. And I know, that I love you so.

We are built for the creation of the next generation. To keep this nation alive with the formation of one, from the combination of two. It's the goal that every living creature pursues. All that I've learnt from biology are these physical theologies, well thought out scientific verities, but with no sincerity. No explanation for the love behind each creation. For the elation between two lovers. But they only explain the mechanical workings of what happens beneath the covers. "we're shipwrecked on the idea that everything needs to make sense." That we can condense millions of years into textbooks and classes, into exams for the masses. I want to be educated in the subject of your smile, on the little things that make life worthwhile. I want to learn about this emotional seedling, I wont mind doing the reading for this feeling unheeding the textbook definitions. I want to learn about the omissions from those pages, the feelings free from those cages. speak to me with only your eyes. And I will learn the language. I want to study each pore of your skin, I want to learn the theories of your limbs. The stories from within. Teach me this love, I want to know, I need to know what to do to help this seed grow.

this love is ours

the beauty words I feel beneath your skin,
the sheets of music, lucid and thin
your eyes and all the phrases that appear
with no sound or movement, yet I can hear.
The heat that exudes, your fire feeding mine
the blood that flows, the energy that intertwines
creates these threadbare tapistries
covering the walls of gurantees
of this room we built on feelings
with strong walls but no ceilings
so we may sleep beneath the stars
alive in each moment because it's ours.


sugar coated

your smile fizzes inside me
as your words dissolve
entering my bloodstream,
bursts of bubbly energy
liquid sugar high.


sing me a song

You make me real.
Breathing into this hollow body the life of a melody.
My body snug next to yours, your fingers along my neck.
My curves crafted to fit you perfectly.
Permeating warmth through these silver strung veins.
I want your touch to wear my varnish thin
I want to feel your breath melting the frost of my skin.


I'm so disillusioned

I know what I should be doing. What I'm not doing. Of the teetering pile of faceless obligations, the assignments and reports, the time needed to succeed, this does not belong. I'm stretched thin, covering too many bases half heartedly with the fear of failure instead of from a love of success. I told myself, mindlessly, that I could do this. I tell myself, emotionless, that I can do this. It's not a matter of wanting and not wanting, but of can and cannot. Life does not revolve around silly wants, of dreams and fairy tales. No life is wound with filaments of rigid to do lists. A checklist bored into our eyes and seared into our very mind frames. So much so that we put up with it. Day in and day out, on the hope and the belief that there will be solace at the end of this ride. But this is not a road to a new destination. This is an elevator, going down down down. Just pushing you farther into that cold cold ground, and with each meter you pass the chance of getting back up decreases, the whole picture broken into pieces, that you can't keep. maybe you'll grasp to a corner, only a shadow, a faint idea of that life you had before, the carefree child like life of yours. Do you remember? We blow it off as nothing. Of course a child's life needs to be happy, they need to have an imagination and live in their own fantasies. But that's not what the real world is like. We can't expose them to the harsh world outside their mind's eye too soon! But why are we exposed to it? Why does age make a difference? It's a stupid question. No way around it. But I'm always left longing for peaceful abandon. And I'll continue to long, for as long as I live.

I don't want to do what I need to do, I need to do what I want to do.

shadow of the heart I-III

Looking back I was always afraid of my imperfections. Afraid of the conditional love I lived under, I squirmed in my ragged skin. Pockmarked on the outside, blemished on the inside. Predisposed for chemical imbalances, in accepting my fate I made it a reality. I felt skewed and broken, a cloud of darkness wrapped in layers of pale olive skin. I took silence as a bad thing, afraid of the thoughts formulating in the observer's eye. I kept half of me hidden in shadow, afrad what the light would reveal. Afraid to be myself because I'd be lonely. No one would stay once they knew how I could really be. And what was that? I was no devil, no schemer. I had no dark thoughts that merited scorn. I was nothing that needed hiding. Yet I was concealed; I was living a masquerade of generic precedences. I can't remember the reasons I convinced myself with. Looking back, it all seems so silly. Hidden in a caccoon of my own trepidations, I was waiting for someone to break me open, unfurl these sleeping wings woven with hidden gems and crystlized beauty.
My advice to you all: find someone that you can be 100% yourself with. It is the greatest feeling in the world.

Write one leaf about rockets.

(via writeoneleaf)

You can sky rocket away from me,
And never come back if you find another galaxy
far from here, with more room to fly,
just leave me your stardust to remember you by.

The song played in the background as your words took mainstage. You took my hands in yours. “This song describes how I feel perfectly.” I smiled at the sweet nothings, a sucker for romantic antics. But the meaning of them never made it’s way fully to my brain, the words were never digested by nerve pathways and stored in the memory bank of understanding. To me it was just another phrase, another one of your statements I didn’t believe. But you believed it to be true, only because you knew I wasn’t going anywhere, you knew you didn’t need to worry about letting me skyrocket away. I saw the way you coveted my warmth, grasped with your fingers to keepe me close. Acting in a way that betrayed your words, you spoke an unknowingly hypocritical statement. You had no imagination, couldn’t fathom that I would one day change my mind. You said you’d live to let me shine, but the darkness of your skies blotted out my star and I suffocated beneath the emptiness. You kept me in a box, your personal light source to illuminate and warm the hollow caverns of your heart. So one day, I filled my fuel tank and I flew. Out of your skies into a new galaxy, where I could stretch my wings and fly comfortably. I looked back, only once, and wished I hadn’t. As I catched your eye I saw the truth come forth, the fact that you could never be ok with this. My stride faltered as I saw your world come crashing down. But I was too far away, and the freedom was intoxicating, and soon you were just a dot on the horizon. But in the box you made for me I left some stardust, it’s all you said you needed.


school is making my head explode.
my social life imploding,
battery acid calculators corroding
burning holes in broken skies
burning tears in hollow cries
stiffled sighs.
thinned out over too much space
thinned out till I leave no trace
too quick of a race
I can't win if I don't get stronger.
I can't keep up at all
-not for very much longer-
watch me faalll


deds to shane koyczan

Listening to the speedway words, a thousand amazing metaphors spewing forth at a speed faster than my own formulations, attempting to find inspiration in your recitations but all I find is frustration because your creations are more than I could ever create. And though your rhythm is stuck in my mind, it's too small, too confined, the words get backed up, I've got too slow of a flow rate.
You seem so in tune with everything that's wrong with this world, and turning every emotion into a slew of words more beautiful than anything you can mass produce, you break loose from the abuse of this modern society, with no variety, Britney spears on MTV, singing if you seek Amy...while thousands suffer in Haiti, as we wander blindly, the city's heart beats unkindly beneath the gold plated streets, the vileness hidden behind thin sheets, hiding the intolerance and the moral defeats behind a veil, so frail, but well crafted in every detail. And this blindfold, wrapped neatly, indiscreetly around everyone's eyes, makes it easy to drown out those cries, to ignore every time a child in Africa dies, we're all so immune, so desensitized. Fed on a diet of lies from the fat cats, making life materialized, selling us everything, from basic supplies to fast cars and big TVs, to destruction and disease to the latest technologies. This life is so screwed, our priorities are skewed, but everyone acts so calm, so subdued, living happily in the life we've construed. Based on the almighty dollar, Armani suits, white collar, briefcases and leather shoes, we all know the who's who, follow the 9 o'clock news, but we never really listen, we must never really see, what's really going on on our 30" plasma screen TV.

Owner of a broken heart, much better than an owner of a lonely heart

Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? This question has been asked so many times, by poets and cynics alike. Often there will be two groups with very different opinions which are based on their past experiences. For someone disillusioned by the subject of love, it is more than likely that they’ve had unfavourable experiences influencing their opinion. Broken hearts are quick to judge, hesitant to continue on that path of love because of a bump in the road. But in pulling off to the side and cutting their trip short they’ve put a premature end to all the things they could have experienced. We as people grow from the situations we are placed in based on our reactions to said situations. When placed into the circumstance of love, if we risk the broken hearts we have the opportunity to grow so much more than if we take the safe way out.

The cynics who’ve been hurt and broken by love’s throes would disagree. They are perfectly content, living in peaceful oblivion, safe from the danger of such a fallacious emotion as this. They portray love as a cunning enemy, luring them in like a siren’s call, releasing its havoc on its unsuspecting victims; a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment, destroying the foundations meticulously built from a million dreams and memories. Why put so much effort into such an erratic situation? Heartbreak is surely inescapable and when it’s all said and done we’d come out the other end less of a person, having invested so much of ourselves only to lose it all. But what they don’t realize is in remaining a closed system for fear of loss, they’re really preventing gain.

Not having loved, we miss out on a whole new world, a whole new bond created with someone. And, illuminated in the glow of love’s light, we discover bits and pieces of ourselves that were hidden in the darkness of solitude. We become a more complete person. In the end, even if we’re left broken, incomplete, having given half our hearts away, we’ve still gained so much understanding. We’ve gained knowledge, not only about ourselves, but about the world around us. In life there are two choices: To take the treacherous mountain path or the safe and gentle valley trail. The mountainous road is for the adventurous and strong willed, for those who don’t mind danger when there’s a suitable reward. Once we’ve overcome the steep hills and the dangerous precipices, expended energy in climbing steep cliffs, risking a thousand ways to fall, all the effort is worth it on account of the view. As we stand on the peak of happiness, the world stretches out below us and we have been given a whole new perspective of life, with views never seen by those who were taken in by the safety of the valley path.

I believe that love is such a valuable and multifaceted emotion that everyone should experience it at one point in time. By that token you could say "Well, you're only so positive because you're obviously in love" And you'd only be half right. It's of no importance whether I am in love or not, my opinions are based on the past as well as the present, and engrained with a hope for the future. Being a poet I have works spanning over the years, spanning through many a good time as well as many a bad time. In my repertoire of poems you'll find both cynical and romantic outlooks on this subject, depending on where I stood, relationship-wise. But having looked at love from both sides now, I don't regret a thing. Although I've been burnt by love I wouldn't wish the sun to disappear because of a sunburn, because it sheds such a wondrous light, without it I'd be unaware of so much. Eventually the burn will turn into a tan; the pain from a broken heart will grow into strength and wisdom. We all grow through adversity, becoming stronger people because of it.

In conclusion, it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved before. Because though by having lost the love we feel emptier than we did before it started, the truth is we’ve gained an incredible amount. We’ve gained a whole new perspective, a whole new outlook on the relationships we share. But there are still those who refuse, unable to let the muck of heartbreak to settle to the bottom of the clear pool or understanding. I hope for their sake they realize that even if, in the end, the love is lost, it doesn’t mean that hope is too.



mhmm. So happy. Don't my eyes say it all?


and I need you now....

We pretend to work because they pretend to pay us.

This quote blew my mind, and just stirred up all the muck that is modern society from the bottom of the clear pool that is this world. 9-5, in out in out, clocking in, zoning out. working endless dead end jobs to scrape by with the measly slips of paper they (and who are they, anyways?) give us in return for being the hamsters in the wheel, the rowers in a slave ship making their slow progression to nowhere.

I am so disillusioned with our society. It may be in part by my disappointment in myself at my stupid mistakes made in university. Life just seems so difficult at times, and I feel stuck in an uncomfortable limbo, knowing I've made a mistake but having to wait a month to right it. I'm so hard on myself. I always challenge myself, probably because if I fail I still know I succeeded more than other people I know. But I've set my self up for surmisable failure. I'm putting the pressure of so much weight onto my shoulders, which already hurt so much. I always set these goals but get distracted or tired and never fulfill them. Last year my plan was to force myself through the pain of a bachelor of science degree, then to relax once it's over. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm a little ways into my second semester and I feel godawful. I was unsure of my decision for the first time yesterday. People go to university for what they love. I love the arts, and I love nature. I've been discouraged from the arts so I thought it would be cool to do sciences. Learn about the earth. But I have to put up with calculus chemistry and physics before I can get to anything interesting. and who's to say it will even be interesting? I am filling my head with so much information that will never be retained. My strained mind is a sieve, only holding onto the big concepts, the ones that hold on to the tissues of my brain with ropes of enticement and strong emotion. If only the butterflies I get could count for credits, if that rush of elation I feel at his closeness could go on my resume, if only. If only, if only.

I'm at such a loss. I'm afraid of how much you've become a part of me. Sometimes I almost forget. I take it for granted, built up an immunity to the amazement of the situation. But when I'm next to you I never want to leave. You make me feel beautiful. You make me believe. I want you like nothing else. It scares me to think what would have happened in my life if I'd decided to just go to krista's new year's party. Where I would be right now.

We all want to believe in meant-to-be,
to make sense of life's difficulty,
to add meaning to calamity.
to decipher the chaotic mess
soothe the uncertainty and distress
believing there's a secret for success.
or that it's all just fate,
that there's such thing as a soul-mate
and that it will all turn out great,
that our life's already all planned,
because it makes life easier to understand.


rusted from the elbow to the finger

it's a battle of two noises.
Each one moving up in scale to be seen above the other
trying to drown the other out.
until they're both s loud as they can go
and no one has won.
All that's left is aching eardrums,
no more room for thoughts
no where to run to find that silence.

I dreamt we were all going to die.
And I was the only one who knew.
I was so afraid, in the beginning,
but near the end I'd come to grips with it.
There's freedom in acceptance.

I don't know what I'm saying anymore.
I'm in one of those moods.
you’re somethin special babe.
Lets run in reckless abandon to somewhere.
Make the snow melt and bring the sunshine back.
Bring warmth back into my bones.
Do you know what I’m afraid of?
Of placing too much faith in you.
Of forgetting what makes me happy without regards to you.
Of giving you my heart and feeling odd and empty again.
I always fall too hard, to fast.
But I can’t shake the feeling that this is something different.
A Fresh of breath air


It's only been two weeks but;

You make time disappear.
Making the hours fall and the seconds evaporate.
Disintegrating these chains, this trepidation is crumbling,
leaving in its path lucid calmness.
Your skin shines nakedly
liquid bliss in your eyes
and heat beneath fingertips.
You've taken my inhibitions off the shelf
tore out the pages and burned them with your smile
and I am ripped clean,
washed in the smoke that makes everything clear
washed in the pool of your love.
Shedding the grime of the past,
soothing the wounds of yesterday
anointed with your touch.
We mix perfectly in acquiescent currents
green and golden coming together
I'm caught in the oscillating whirlpool beneath your veins
entangled with your every move
Lovely and beautifully.
when I am with you I never want to leave.
I could live on the sustanance of your laugh
I found and island in your eyes
country in your arms.
where I could live athousand years

This shirt sums up my new year's resolution; to have a perfect balance. :P


I'm in an awful mood.
School is depressing me, I'm only 8 days in
All I want is to see your smile again.

I decided to reread all my blogs. bad idea.

I hate how I want you, long for you to be near,
when you're with me I'm excstatic but I hurt when you're not here.
you're like a drug; I'm addicted, you alter my mind.
not illegal, but still of the deadliest kind.

This is old. But if fits with the drug theme of the song I'd tried to write. He was a different drug. He was my heroine, my cocaine. You're some new type of drug. like chocolate, or music. He was caffeine and you are matcha. Such a subtle relaxed high, with no withdrawal. There's no track marked love on my arms, only a flush in my cheeks and a smile on my lips.

It's not in love that we are made

But in Love we disappear.

I can't finish that song. The rhythm isn't right. I have no structure anymore. This is where sea and sky meet. In a holy joining of ended worlds.

I am the water. Able to take the shape of any mould I choose, Having no real shape but only that which my surroundings provide. I can live everywhere. Invisibly in heat, harshly in winter, but beautifully in the middle. Wonderfully when I can stretch out, lying between earth and air, in indescribable quantities. There is so much going on beneath these layers but often it is unseen; hidden beneath a rippled surface, dazzled by cut fire of the sun, moved by running air. I move effortlessly, I am staying still in one place yet I am everywhere in my path, the future and the past. Beautiful in my delicacy when I am calm, beautiful in my fierceness in the wake of a sudden storm.


Write one leaf about holding hands.

(via writeoneleaf)

Your hand,
calluced guitar-string worn fingers
-so warm and safe-
finds mine,
-so small and soft and timid-
so easily.
The way your fingers lace within mine,
how your thumb strums the back of my hand
as though I was your instrument
singing a simple song of happiness
in absent minded thought.
One day we’ll find the lyrics


White gold

I was always in search for some silly recognition.
digging deep to their inner crevices
hoping I'd be discovered as "amazing"
So I could see myself as beautiful
only if they thought so too.
It was a complicated web of vicious circles
Leaving me nauseated and disoriented
but the habit had formed, running tracks in my mind.
Yet suddenly the wheel has stopped spinning.
And in wake of my new calmness,
the mud has settled
and there's a new world to discover.
Take my hand and come with me?
I am simple when I'm with you.
And my waters are still.
I've been pulled from shore to shore
by the tides of infatuation and emptiness,
my toes barely grazing the sands of safety.
never allowing myself to be rooted in one place,
for fear of upheaval in the end.
But now I find myself on the warm beaches,
I've been washed up on an island
lazing with my feet planted in the white sand
I've found myself with a new and wondrous world to explore
Take my hand and walk with me?


You have the music at your fingertips
and I have the words on my tongue.
Let's make something beautiful.
We are always searching for the moments that leave us speechless.
Those times when words escape us and in their place is only raw emotion.
Your eyes speak with more words that language holds.
And I should revel in those feelings,
in their rawest forms, and embrace the silence.
But this is where I'm always hoping to find the words.
Universal sentiments are not made real with phrases
but the other way round.
My tired sentences search for new light.
And when I put the lyrics to this soundtrack,
capturing this energy,
my words are revived and revitalised
for they are filled with you
With that look in your eyes.

We exist in perfect balance.
No longer afraid of the incongruity of the past.
Your eyes mirror my mind.
No longer living an effigy,
this is the real thing.
What makes me act is not an obligation
Not selfish and not obscured by my insecurities.
My head is no longer controlling my movements
I am pulled forward with a naked desire to be with you.
Simply and beautifully.
My heart at the wheel and my head in tow
not objecting nor guiding me.

we are two lone souls in the wounded dark.
with clouded breath and goosebumps,
irised magnets of intrigue
pulling the seams in tight.
and when the edges meet up
the closeness makes my head spin.

When I am with you I want to stay with you
just to be with you.
When I kiss you I want to stay kissing you.
but when the kiss ends, I'm not left longing for it.
This physical and emotional satisfaction in perfect balance,
This is something I have never experienced.
You take my breath away.
You steel my ability to use words in elloquence.
But when the words return they're better than before
And I have a new appreciation for them.

Je t'aime, tellement.
Je t'aime, tout simplement.


The new year is littered with silly words strait from the part of my brain you've squarely targeted. You're in my blood like holy wine. Making me stumbly and silly. Under your influence. I apologize.
This is what I tend to do when I have nothing else to occupy myself with.

sing you like the dawn sings the sunrise

you fill my pores with an incomprehensible feeling.
This is too quick isn't it..
It's the shivers of a new feeling
slipping into the comfort of your smile.

I've been afraid of eyes all along
they'd look at me with emotions I couldn't mirror back.
I hid from them feeling invisible If I looked away
feeling safe.
the searchlights in their pupils boring into the emptiness in mine.
I squirmed like a frog on a disection table
crawled away from it all
feeling like a stranger in a strange land.
But your eyes allure me.
beckoning with some strange magic.
But it did not feel magical.
It felt real.
And I felt undressed with your eyes
not violated,
remaining fully clothed,
you peeled off the layers of false securities.
A pureness, amazement,
oh I wish I could write better
It's nothing too incredible.
I said I wouldn't do this.
And here I go.

"..I'm sure that one day
true love will come my way
and i can put all this cynicism behind.
But if that day comes
you wont see me become
another flowery love-struck youth.
Proclaiming my love
from the rooftops above
such behavior to me seems uncouth..."

The rooftops are too high and slippery
covered in a veil of winter's frozen tears.
And though I feel something,
intangible and irresolute,
incomprehensible and beautiful,
for you at this time and hour
I won't risk climbing all the way up there.
I wont make any presumptions.
No assumptions and no predictions.
I take each day as it comes
but waking with a smile to the thought of you.
My goal this year is to be a better writer
to be able to successfully write about this queer emotion
Which we call "love".
With no cliches and tired phrases
I want to be the Shakespeare in response to Petrarch.

Show me the emotion and I'll channel the words.


New year.
another mile in this endless road of time, mindlessly winding.
The promise of a 'new start' is fashioned from disillusioned hearts.
Feeble minds need the push of fresh beginnings.
I never made any resolutions,
no losing those last 5 pounds,
no eating better,
Yet something has been handed to me an a silver fucking platter.
uncannily, easily, perfectly.
I'm still wrapping my head around it all.
My best friend moved away,
but in her place they left an amazing person
[though no one can replace by p-tree]

I'm going to learn from this.
Take life in all it's love and glory
and take nothing for granted.
New people are everywhere
waiting to change your life.
You just gotta open your eyes.
Open your mind.
and that's my 'new year's resolution'

can I just have one more moon dance with you?

I had no reason to be over optimistic,
but somehow in your smile I could brave bad weather

How does this sort of thing happen? It's the sort of event that makes you believe in miracles. If I thought there was a God, that there was fate and all that lovely mush, I'd be inclined to think this has been set up divinely. But I don't, so it must all be serendipity, if you believe in that either. I don't know what I believe in, only that I want to believe in this. In you.


a follow up for allion

We hung out, had a few awkward silent moments cuz we're both really shy and shit,
then we went our seperate ways. Mr vincent is pretty cool, but only a friend. Plus he was hot for my other friend, but everyone loves Petra. :P


I want to thank you, for everything you've done

The cut of your jawbone
the scratch of stubble on my finger tips
the wild look in that smile of yours
genuine feeling.
And how did this happen?
Please don't let it end.
You had a look of completion
of an incomprehensible blissfulness
and a thirst behind your gorgeous eyes
You told me I was beautiful
and somehow I believed you.
Please let there be something to this.
Something with enough substance
to last in sobriety
and not only in a drunken-new-years-daze.