Memory Lane,

Through Blinds:

Another cold night alone,

listening to the sounds of the city,

blinded by the lights,

watching yellow checkered cars go by.

The world is fading fast,

as i close my eyes and listen,

to noises fading away,

and the lights begin to dim.

Sleep finally consumes me,

but does not bring me peace,

the vision of your face,

still fresh on my mind.

This loneliness i feel,

will never leave me be,

until you're here with me,

and you're all i hear and see.

Back to Life:

Bring me back to life,

hit me with waves of forever

let them take me out to sea.

I lie on the warm sands of your soul,

listening to the sweet sounds of words you've left unsaid.

I skate on thin ice of deceiving eyes,

admiring the clever lies that hide beneath.

why have i fallen so hard?

why have i been so stupid to believe your lies?

Bring me back to life,

so i can once again be free.

Rain:

I find myself alone again,

listening to the rain outside my window.

i love the sound of rain.

its steady, unchanging beat.

why cant we be like rain?

i sit next to the phone,

awaiting a call that will never come.

i see a flash of lightning,

and hear the banging thunder.

Then i realize we arent rain,

we're a thunderstorm

intro

this is a lil snippet (a very lil snippet) of a short story im working on.

hopefully the rest will make it on here,

this is mostly just to see if ive managed to peak anyone's interest.

a thesis you could say:

it was spring,

the last of winters chill melting away,

turning into flowers.

lavenders and gardenias,

spread across the meadows that circled our home.

it was spring,

when my mother put that 9 mm to her temple and pulled the trigger.

i remember the sound of the gun.

my father and i were sitting on the porch,

covered in a thin layer of sweat from hiking back from our private lake after our annual fishing trip.

i had always been daddy's little girl,

that made concrete when i followed my father inside to find my mothers brains splattered artistically on the linoleum floor of our kitchen.

after that everything became a blur.

a phone call.

red and blue lights.

a stretcher.

and then silence.

one.

Adam was a collector of beautiful things. We loved beautiful things, because Adam loved beautiful things. This could be one of the reasons why he chose dallas and i as companions. Despite coloration, dallas and i looked basically the same. Same medium height, same boyish limbs, anorexic thin, our bones protruding in our cheeks and hips and collars. We are the proof and negative of the same picture. Skin, blood, and bone. Light, dark, and film. This could also explain Adam's other interests, photography and fighting. nothing was ever coincidence with him. Even Lily had to have a purpose in our little universe, though we never figured out exactly what that was. We settled with her endless connections to the drugs. Though nothing with Adam was ever that simple. However, Adam himself seemed to be just that. He wore the same clothes as any boy his age, had the same hair cut, had the same look of extreme boredom and teenage angst. He was handsome, but nothing special. He completely blended in. Just another pawn of the universe. This is exactly the way he wanted it. To him the only way to truly rebel against society was to give it what it wants. Be in the crowd. Back away from the blood running towards your feet. Pretend you are the slave of the world, and suddenly the world is your slave. Attack from the inside. If dallas and i were the outer, picture beauty, Adam was a masterpiece in mind. Maybe thats why we loved him and he loved us.We were the final piece of Adam's collection.

Light, dark, and film. Skin, blood, and bones.

the state of things.

i believe i am wasting,

wasting away.

i feel as though my life has become slave to routine,

the unsteady thump thump of lifes heartbeat,

has taken over my own.

i am burning from the inside,

whats left of my soul aflame.

i hope that it amounts to something.

there wasnt much left to begin with,

the breaking of my heart, no matter how severe,

could never compare to the destruction of my soul.

even though now its all a nightmare.

i am a ghost of myself,

an impostor,

a puppet on the string of another.

what happened to me? where did i go?

perhaps i am hiding in the land of the sleeping,

the place we go when our bodies are no longer ours.

i hope i am happy there.

or maybe this is the land of the sleeping,

it certainly seems like so.

perhaps one day i will finally wake up and this dream will be just that,

a dream.

when did life become the enemy?

if only i had known.

if only i had known,
that this would be the end,
i would have done a lot of things different.
if i had known, that would be the last night we slept together,
i would have given you more room.
if i had known, that would be the last night we were intimate,
i would have made it last longer.
if i had known, that would be our last kiss,
i would have let the world watch.
if i had known, that was the last smile i'd see,
i would have tried harder to make it stay.
if i had known, that was the last movie we'd watch,
i would have sat in your lap.
if i had known, that was the last time id hear you laugh,
i would have memorized the sound.
if i had known, that be the last time i could comfort you,
i would have held you all night.
if i had known, that would be the last time you said i love you,
i would have said it back.

there are a lot of things i wish i had done,
wish i hadnt,
wish i still could.

i knew eventually this would come,
and yet i was still too prideful to care.
i always assumed if this happened,
it would be easier.
its not. not at all.

i said i wouldnt cry this time,
but saying and doing are two different things,
cause tears come anyway.

when im mad i dont like to say things,
which is why i dont,
but that doesnt mean it isnt true.
i dont want tomorrow to come,
and you think that i dont love you.
because i dont know what will happen tomorrow,
so you should know what i do know now,
and that is that i do love you,
and i always have,
and i always will.
and that i still think you are beautiful,
and you should know that too.

im glad you care about me,
and i hope that maybe you will for awhile.

you cant erase the bad,
without altering the good,
and id like to hold onto the good for as long as i can.
to keep me warm and safe,
in the place of where your body used to lay.

shadow.

i dont know where it came from,
or why it likes to come around at all.
why it feels invited to stay for so long,
an unexpected guest of the worst kind.

Blood on the ground,

my mind buzzes like a swarm of hornets having angry sex.
ive lost all sense of the way things were.

lately ive been contemplating the state of my soul,
surveying more for the highest bidder than for myself.
because in the end we dont own a damn thing,
not this house we call our bodies,
or the junk that lays askew inside.

To be blunt id rather pull out all my teeth
than listen to you speak one more word.
but ive never been too forward,
so ill just sit back and grin,
and grind them slowly hoping that you'll get the picture before they're nothing but bloody nubs.

i cant help but find it a little funny,
when you're crawling on your knees,
spitting blood on my feet.
i admire the color of the crimson meeting the asphalt.
oh things will work out like they always do,
me on my back,
and you sky high before your face first onto the pillow.
i find it so charming that "Fuck" is always your last word,
before your down and out.

i could spend hours talking about how things should be,
but i keep my mouth shut,
and hide away in the corners of my thoughts where you havent dared to go,
and whisper to even myself,
"This is what you wanted."