you have fire in your veins and you burn the air as you breathe it in. you are incinerating. creating beauty in the mere form of thoughts, caught behind your eyes, they make them shine like embers. I remember the first time I met you, the tips of your hair were bright red, and you said your father was a hairdresser. I thought that was rad. because my dad just worked for an oil company and I never thought it was interesting. But you looked like you had stories that needed telling. the way you carried yourself was compelling, as if you'd locked so many things in side you you couldn't help but drag your feet as you walked. But they were things you never talked about. I tried to pry them out but you clung to your secrets like a drowning man to a raft in a turbulent flow, afraid to let go. And one day i realized the only way to know, was to dive in with you. So i took off my shoes and swam in to that depth you kept tucked away, hidden beneath your wing like the whole world was hungry prey. But i wasn't just another hunter. For what it was worth I was more of a researcher. documenting a rare breed of woman, a seed fighting to germinate as everything threatened to terminate your determination, exterminate your foundations. and though your roots were resilient it still weakened you. I could see the cracks peeking through. hard as rock but soft as stone, you had grown in the hardest environment. fighting disillusionment in a world full of sinners by screaming from rooftops "listen world, I'm a winner, so don't try and take me down!" you've made a crown of flowers and you wear it like a queen, so much power for a girl of only nineteen

and it doesnt matter if you fell off that roof, because you had the strength to walk again. and its that very fact that makes me proud to call you my best friend.


Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?
'advertising has us chasing cars and clothes. working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.'
I don't want to fall into their traps. All I want from life is a reliable car to take me to far away places; a reliable body, stronger not skinnier, to carry me where cars cannot; a reliable house where I may rest at the end of the day; and a reliable man to be there by my side through and through.
i havent been able to write in forever. i set myself up, on your marks get set go, but I never hear the gunshot. I'm too busy planning what I'll one day write, fighting with myself when i cant get my legs moving properly. I stagger stupidly down the track, attacked by all my feeling of inadequacy. I haven't been able to find that perfect subject. I'm saving my poetic virginity for that ellusive mr right, but in reality im getting fucked in the ass by my pickyness. every subject is only as good as I'll make it, and i hate it. I have no inspiration because I'm holding my breath, waiting for the day something will take it away. I walk with tunnel vision, missing the details, the tidbits of life that happen constantly. I'm ferociously searching in all the wrong places, pursuing the wrong chases. I am running so fast, everything is a blur. I've forgotten how to sit still, patience has evaporated and been replaced with anxiety. I'm fighting a constant battle with my past and future self. My past endeavours hang around my neck like heavy gold medals, and they weigh me down. root me to the spot and I am unable to shed them and walk forward. I am in the shadow of my best, towering over me, taunting me that I wont write anything any better. And I'm tempted to believe their whispers. then i wont constantly force myself to squeeze out written diarrhea. And if I do manage to shit out a gem, then i'll be a welcome surprise and not a hemorrhaging affair.
I just used an extended poop metaphor. That's a first.


There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how

ever since school`s been out i`ve neglected my poetry. I never find the time or the inspiration to write. I feel like I`m saving myself for the perfect theme, but in doing so i just get fucked by the elusiveness of said subject. I need to write about the mundane. about the everyday, keeping my motors running so that when that certain perfect idea comes along my gears will run smoothly and not be clogged by the rust of disuse.
Easier said than done.
But lets give it a whirl.
My head is fuzzy from wine, and my heart tumultuous with emotion after a phone call with my love. I had left the party early because as always, when I drink I am drawn to him, and yearned to talk to him. I called him right as I left, hoping to squeeze in as many precious minutes before sleep ensnared him. In total I was granted 11 minutes and 31 seconds, talking about normal these and that's before he was engulfed in drowsiness and had to hang up. I don't fully understand how my mind works, and I really wish I did. Then maybe I could explain why I teared up as he was telling me he was tired and the conversation was about to terminate. the tears rolled down my cheeks as we said our I love yous and our good-nights, and I managed to feign normalcy until I hung up. Its times like these when I would love to be tough skinned, less sensitive, then I wouldn't break down at the slightest emotional upheaval. It's nothing new to me. I'll find myself unstable even talking with my poetry teacher, or anyone who seems to show genuine support and kindness. I am fraught with complexity. Maybe it's because I was under exposed to any emotional hardship when I was younger; no fights or drama to toughen my skin and teach my feelings how to behave. But it's more than that. I feel so emotionally attached to my lover that when our time is cut shorter than I wanted, or when plans change and I can't see him, it drives a stake through my heart. It's one of the things that can affect me so deeply. And I haven't yet decided if it's good or bad. I've sorta just accepted it as it is.
I'm unsure of if I want to change. It would be nice to have rhino skin, but then I would miss the soft touches that life offers me. the brush of lips against skin, the tug of a breeze through my hair, the slow heat of the sun overhead.


my imperfections have been exploited to fund the police department.


warning: personal stuff :P

Tonight I had my first encounter with the law. I had just made love to my boyfriend and we were relishing in the warm feelings of connection as we held each other close. When a rap on the side of our westfalia, followed by a voice 'city police, open your door.' knocked us from our heavenly perch. we scrambled to redress as inconspicuously as possible, and while scott got fully dressed i only managed to find a sweater to put on, and wrapped the rest up in blankets (how obvious that was.) so we open the door and they don't hesitate to tell us that the park is closed (oops..) and continued to ask if we were having a "shag" (who calls it that anymore?) and if we were smoking weed. They already assumed both these things and were determined to charge us for both. so they asked how much weed we had and we said not that much. They asked for all of it and scott gave them his newly purchased eighth. Luckily they believed that was all, and didnt take my three roaches and pipe other various paraphernalia. they ask us all our personal information, where we live, work, our phone numbers and our IDs. I'm thinkin oh shit, please dont call home. but they didn't, instead they make scott crush up his weed in a puddle then went back to their bikes and wrote up our tickets, leaving me to scramble to find my pants. we waited for them to return, wondering about our fate. they came back in 5 minutes, telling us they wont charge us for the weed or call our parents, but they'll give us both tickets for it, as well as having sex in a park (100$ there) and another fine for being in a park after they close (another 100$!) and we have to pay them in a month or else they go to warrant.
well aint that just greaaaat. We are both trying to save up so we can make expensive repairs to scotts car or possibly buy a new one, not to mention paying security deposit on a house and save money for europe. this couldn't have come at a worse time. and for the stupidest crime. I'm sorry that me and my boyfriend are in love and he has a bed in the back seat. sorry that we had great sex and that the stupid fat po po can't get laid.
Since when is love a crime? obviously it is in a park at night, but i don't think it's worth 100$. we didn't hurt anyone, we weren't vandalizing or selling illicit substances. we were two teenagers in love at midnight in a deserted parking lot.
Goddamn coppers thinking they're better than us.
gah. rant over.


flying away.

The sky was beautiful today. columns of cloud spinning and bending slowly, sun streaming, rain falling, stretching out for further than the eye could see. When i look up i forget myself. losing myself in the sheer vastness, so much space enfolds me, surrounds me. and i am smaller than a speck on this great earth that expands from where i stand for miles and miles and miles and miles. It's a beautiful feeling. that so much exists around us that we can't possibly be that important, and my actions will have no great reactions. my problems send no lasting waves to distant shores, only ripples that fade before spreading too far. we often get caught up in human activity, entrenched in our lives, our duties, our dues, that we take ourselves too seriously. sure it's good to be a functioning role in society, but there's so much more to life. and so much less. life is simple in the wild. you live each day to survive, and humans have taken life for granted because of it's accesability. we have medicine at the ready, we have houses to protect us from the elements, we have fresh water always at hand, food in our fridges. and with these basic needs met we can focus on creating bogus rules and plans to fulfill our lives, getting that high corporate job, buying a big house and living 'the life'. but for me the life is just pure living as close to every other creature that shares the planet with us. life is not separating ourselves from nature, but embracing it. loving the tumultuousness of the seasons, learning about ecosystems and the multilateral cohabitation so that we can live the best we can in balance with all other life; sharing this planet and not hogging the resources. we are not the greatest beings of this earth. every living thing is as equally evolved as us, for they have made it to this present age. everything has its own way of staying alive, and we are not ones to judge what we do not fully understand, but to love it for what it is.


you're living a lie. threading falsehoods into a spindled web, catching your little prey, wrapping them up with your words. you spin us around, convincing us you're the bigger man. when you are nothing but a child trapped in a man's body, young and temperamental. you talk a pretty good game from the stage, but you've just built a castle with your pen, enclosing yourself in a fortress of love poems, happy poems of your conquest and your skill. but at the tallest tower is a boy sitting in a throne too big, wearing an over-sized crown.
You've been bested, and you're wounded, but unlike an injured animal stalking away to preserve your dignity, you wont have it. You lash out with your pride guiding you, aiming to hurt she who has overthrown you. And what a shame. you act in bursts, letting your emotions control you. your ego is engorged and you fight blindly, seeking to make right but all you're doing is digging yourself a grave, until we're all looking down upon you in your pit, and wishing you'd stay down there.


our year and a half :")

I just had the greatest day ever with my lover scott. we went to supertramp high on mushrooms and though it was a rough start (i felt like puking) it got great once they came on stage. the music was so great, and the crowd was trippy, and just being there with scott, all bubbly and smiley in his shrooms high, it was just such great energy all around. then after the freaking amazing set and encore we shuffled out and we were still a high and the night air was so refreshing and just the perfect temperature for a walk, we took the long way home, walking the scenic route back to the car, then rolled a doob whilst reminiscing about how great the music all was. then we went to the ramsay view over downtown and smoked it and had a mind blowing discussion about pretty much everything. i realized in that moment that i could never forgive myself if i settled down in a city. Calgary will not be my home for very much longer, i hope. I need a place with nature, that's for sure! But after the crazy talk, which probably lasted a good 45 minutes, we drove to sandy beach and proceed to have some alone time ;)
but it was just so beautiful
I felt like i had found my second half, and the pure bliss at having him back again, was like filling a hole i never really knew i had. it was an extremely emotional and pure lovely mboment. i felt completely sure that this was the man i would spend my life with, if he left my life it would be a catastrophe. and thanks to the mushrooms i started to cry because of the overwhelming emotion. i went to apologize for my tears, but he told me not to worry, he understood. and it hit me, and i said 'right, i dont need to apologize for this.' and it was a beautiful moment of pure acceptance, feeling safe and free to be our complete selves. we were holding each other and it was hard to tell who's appendages were who because we were one complete being. and when i closed my eyes i could see weird alex grey-esque images about being perfectly connected on so many levels. It was beyond amazing.
Man, i hope we can keep topping our anniversaries and make them as memorable as ever.
Scott if you're reading this, I love you so very much :) <3


Goodbye Groove

I feel that familiar tug of emptiness inside once again.
I can feel it spreading, pulsating through me.
It sits in my ribcage, chewing at my heart.
It corrupts my blood and sends it surging through tired arteries.

The Groove Shack is now empty and mangled. Filled with the debris of crashed-through ceilings and bashed down walls, broken glass from smashed windows. Most of them self inflicted wounds from those who knew the house best, who felt the need to have a part in its destruction before it was out of their hands. The house was scheduled for demolition, to make way for a more profitable abode. Knowing this, the house spiraled into disrepair, wounded by raucous parties and no motivation to clean up the next day damage. The walls were covered in crude but enjoyable drawings and spray paint tags, souvenirs of everyone who'd visited and left their mark. The last few weeks I noted how each room's old charm disintegrated slowly, each gaining unpleasant qualities. Garbage was scattered around; the sink was always full of dirty dishes; the hard wood floors were sticky and the carpeted floors were dank from spilled drinks. Near the end it was hardly liveable.
But before the Shack had descended into filth it was my favorite place to be. It was a place to waste the afternoon playing video games, smoking weed, drinking beer. It was a place to hang out with the crazy roommates and friends, and laugh at their never ending antics. It was a place for romantic homemade meals with my boyfriend. It was a place to get wasted and dance at their epic parties and a place to fall asleep in a warm bed at the end of it all. It was a place to listen to KGB practices or Taylor's solo work. It was just a great place. It stood for everything I loved; freedom, comfort, convenience, amusement and privacy when we needed it.
And now it's gone.

It's left a gaping void in me, because gone with it is my boyfriends home. He's back at his mom's, an acreage 25 kilometers out of the city. Gone are the days of going for a bike ride and ending up at his house twenty minutes later, gone are the days of a 5 minute drive home. Now seeing him means the distance eats an hour out of our time together, and with him working 5 days a week, that time is already so sparse. I suppose I took his closeness for granted. I took the whole house for granted, and now I'm feeling down. I knew the day would come when they'd have to pack up and leave, but I wasn't prepared for it. But I'll have to get used to it that's for sure.


Ive had this reoccurring dream that I'm in a dirty public bathroom and it's crowded with both genders and its huge and the stalls don't fit properly and I have no privacy and I really have to pee. I just though it was about my fear of public bathrooms, but apparently not:

To dream that you are in a public restroom with no stalls or that there are a lot of people around while you are trying to do your business, signifies your frustrations about getting enough privacy. You are always putting others ahead of your own needs. As a result, you are lacking a sense of personal space. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you are having difficulties letting go of old emotions. You are afraid that if you reveal these feelings, then others around you will judge and criticize you. If you dream that you are in a bathroom meant for the opposite sex, then it suggests that you are overstepping your boundaries.You have crossed the line in some situation.