I know your speaking
But I just can't seem to hear
Echoing silence is all that I feel
Withdraw deeper, pulling away
Distancing you from me
Please? Don't let me leave.
Destiny - Chapter FourOver the next few months I started to explore my "gift" as I had taken to calling it. It was getting stronger, becoming overwhelming most of the time. I would walk into a room simply to be bombarded with other people's emotions; I didn't know which ones were mine and which ones weren't. I could control myself well enough that I never had a breakdown in front of anyone but Tempest, my little sister, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide. After several weeks of being on an emotional roller coaster, she finally suggested that we work together to help me control the emotions and try to block them out.
It wasn't an easy process in the least. During this exploration I began to research. I needed to know if this was an anomaly or not, and if not, I need to know how to contain it, how to act and why I even had it.
I devoured every resource I could on the old Celtic religions, the era in which the earth and nature was worshiped; where the Mother Goddess and the Horned One rule
Love in a Hopeless Place
As I sit on my couch with my beer and my shot of whiskey in front of me, the sounds of music thumping through my speakers and my blood, I start to think about the past. It's been a year, and it's hard to believe but it has been. I wish I could take all of my memories and filter them out and play them over again to the sounds of my song, just so you could see them. See what I went through, hear what I heard.
I see them all just flashing over and over: the day we first met, the smile and the hug I was greeted with. The smell of my cigarettes and the dirty city streets as we walked to the movie theater the bitter taste of the whiskey on my tongue and the burn as it slid down my throat.
You found me in a bad time, the stress, the drinking, the drugs, the cutting even the abusive boyfriend. I had all the marks of a girl spiraling out of control. I wish I could put my memories into words just for once, to let someone else see it from my eyes: the times we drove around at 1 in
Destiny - Chapter ThreeThe fire flickered and sputtered in the fireplace. It was Thanksgiving and I was trying my hardest not to go crazy. The church had rented a hall for the meal and there were people everywhere. I still did not have a very good grip on controlling my gift and all the thoughts flowing around me were giving me a migraine. It was difficult sifting through all the thoughts swirling around. But when I was by the fire, it almost deadened the sense a little bit.
I looked up when I "heard" a thought from a person I knew well. Why hasn't he answered yet? Oh god, I hope nothing happened.... My sister was pacing nearby. She sighed and walked over to me. She sat down next to me and ran a hand through her hair.
"He's fine." I told her, without moving my gaze from the fire.
She visibly started. "W-who?"
"Jake." I responded, referring to her 'secret' boyfriend. Neither of us were technically supposed to date. She was going through some special classes at church. And I was still in high-school. Ap
Destiny - Chapter TwoMy life wasn't particularly charmed; I was a regular baby, and then an average child. My baby sister was born when I was two and I didn't understand the fuss and hubbub about her. She cried and screamed and slept and that was about it. Rather boring. In fact my cat was more interesting than she was.
My story starts with my eleventh birthday, actually the story starts long before then, but for it mainly started once I hit puberty. Up until then I had been carefree, the only distress in my world being whether or not I could get my math homework completed and still have time to play outside. It was then that the nightmares started. Oh I had always had bad dreams for as long as I could remember, only now, instead of being chased by dinosaurs and drowning in huge vats of chocolate, I was being chased by skeletons and rotten corpses, drowning in seas of blood and seeing my family and friends killed while I watched, unable to close my eyes. I dealt with these dreams by myself, even now, fifte
Destiny - Chapter OneI wasn't supposed to be alive. They called me the Miracle Child. Born more than a month before I was supposed to, I didn't even have lungs that worked. My heart? It had a hole in it. My own mother wasn't even able to hold me after I was born. As soon as I was born, the only arms I felt were those of doctors.
I never knew why I didn't die then. More than that, besides the occasional sickness that almost every child suffered, I was incredibly healthy.
For as long as I could remember, there was a painting that hung over the doorway to my room in my family's small apartment. A picture of three angels. My mother said that they reminded me of her and my older sister and my younger brother. I didn't know about all that. What I knew was that those nights that even as a young child that I couldn't sleep for whatever reason, I was able to find elusive sleep as I looked at that painting.
As a child, I had a vivid imagination. My imagination that had me writing stories in my notebook when I was su
Destiny - Prologue"She wasn't supposed to live!" came the hissed, angry voice from the shadows.
"No, she wasn't. But what is done is done. There was no reason for her death. He did what he saw fit in the time of difficulty."
"There was a reason you ignorant fool! There is always a reason. Her death was for the strength and trial of the eldest. It would have made her into a formidable opponent, changed the future of this world and theirs for good! It was ordained."
"This too was written in the stars. Her life and that of her sister has been etched in the stars since the beginning of time itself. Her life will strengthen the eldest and the destiny of the eldest will form the life and strength of the younger."
"SILENCE!" came a firm voice from the edge of the forest. "Silence, both of you. There is a reason behind everything. The destiny of these two was changed the second the child took breath. She was not supposed to but she has, and thus it has changed the future. They
kissMake a wish on a kiss and blow it to the wind
Hope it finds the one in mind and brightly shines
With the deep love with which it was given.
Fragile Memories - ProlougeIt was black as pitch that night as I lay down to sleep. The only sounds in the house were that of the heater and the steady slow beating of my heart. I lay beneath my blankets in a cozy cocoon of blissful warmth and closed my tired eyes. As I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt. Very much in the manner of Alice down the rabbit hole. A dream, but yet a vague, cloudy memory of the past within the dream. And as I fell further down the rabbit hole into Wonderland, my memory returned to me....
I opened my eyes to the world around me, a world so familiar yet so foreign to me at the same time. The trees were large and ancient, gnarled in their wisdom and the length of their memories. silken images fluttered before my eyes in the forms of gauzy butterflies and glistening spiders webs, shiny with the smallest of dew drops clinging to their delicate strands. The wind whispered playfully through the fern fronds and stirred up the leaves of the highest of the tree tops.The sun filtered quietly
UnawareWhen you are two and five and ten
you are unaware ––
of the cactus in the windowsill,
how, fragile, each quill bends
and breaks and falls apart.––
Twelve years later, on a Tuesday,
you dream about a boy
who bumps his head
on an iron slate and you wake
in a cold sweat.
You are twelve when you are
always bumping shoulders.
Twenty-two years of Thursday.
There is nothing at all.
And you wonder (and
you wonder why)
each time you wake.
The cactus in the window bleeds
with you when you bump it.
No one ever mentioned
frightened things bite.
So you have always been unaware.
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
A Somber NightA Somber Night 1/1/07
The times we spent together weigh
heavily on my mind.
Red was your flowing dress
on our second date.
Yellow, the tulips I gave
you on our six month anniversary.
Our life before the incident is a blur.
Green was the grass we laid in
as we gazed at the brilliant stars all night.
What are you thinking now?
Are you thinking at all?
We were as one, our bodies intertwined.
Remember how we would interpret
the shining ones as our imaginations wandered?
I stayed up all night when you got sick.
When I view the stars now...
I die a little inside.
Black is the color I wear.
Blue is the feeling I am fighting.
You were the one I wanted to
drink coffee with every morning.
You left without explanation.
You left too soon.
Orange shined down on your tousled
hair at dawn - the waves remind of pain.
Yellow is the sunrise we can't share anymore.
I envision your last breath.
Anger engulfs my eyes with
The Silver stars never lie,
their light continues to shine,
SaturdayWe slept on the floor when you drank.
– Like worried puppies
too small to reach the bed,
and sat with our backs to the wall
by the bathroom while you showered,
we hid car keys,
Peering over ledges,
I watched your listless eyes
wander to windows
thinking of your mother and marriage,
toes curled around the coffee table corner,
and we begged you to sleep.
Zach cleaned the sinks,
the rugs and the ashtrays,
capped the bottles and placed them
high on the shelves.
You woke to cartoons,
a headache, a fresh
pack of cigarettes. –
We never talked on Sunday mornings.
each one of us carries cemeteries beneath our skinyou are not the only one
to walk like there are
who looks both ways
before crossing the road
"knew a girl who";
you are alive
and you will experience
hurt, and you will
be so thankful
for every painful breath you take
because it's better than when
everything goes quiet
and all you feel is exhaustion.
there is more than just
one cold snap
before you enter
the winter of your life.
there are spells
of sadness and rage,
hate and denial
of all that you know
and all that you deserve;
and you are not the only one
to fight for everyday you are here,
alive and breathing
and striving to thrive
on such an unforgiving planet,
in such a world
that births emotional deserts
in its people;
you are not the only one
SurrenderI remember the colors
that night on the porch
when the fireflies claimed
the air around us -
the bright blue
blazing between your fingers
as you said
breathing was a trick
of the night.
I raised your hand
to touch my face,
feeling the pink trail
of the morning
yet to come
humming on your palm
and the deep pulse
of orchid staining my mouth
in soft surrender.
love letters to introvertsi.
To the boy who prefers spending Friday nights at home:
the world does not understand how beautiful silence sounds
As you crack open that book you've been waiting to read,
or plug in your computer,
or listen to music,
or just maybe stare at the night sky from your bedroom window-
(please) remember what everyone else seems to forget;
that being alone does not always equal lonely--
and that sometimes no company is the best company there is.
To the girl who does not speak up in class:
I was once you.
You are not deficient, I promise, despite everyone telling you otherwise.
You might be the only one who will ever know the universes
tucked inside your head,
because they are beautiful secrets you cannot bring yourself to share,
for fear that they might be vandalized.
When you speak,
you can't have it allBut you can have eating wild grapes and their skin like beetle wings
cocooned in bruises. You can have swings that go so high you kick
a hole in the clouds. You can have chickens following you through the front door
and the cat’s gift to say, Look, I am taking care of you.
You can have happiness, but tempered as
your first taste of wine when you hid your puckering face
because you were eight years old and dangerous.
You can have a touch you blush for, ferret hands dancing,
small and terrifying and knowledgable.
You can have an aspiration of “us” held on one stool leg, darting breaths but
never admitting to dreams, to a stew of practicality.
You can talk to her, sometimes,
and even mean something.
You can have the book you stole after she stumbled,
and “that” word sank into your hands. You can’t cure cancer,
but you can have two sets of spoons in the same sink
although she’s only touched the one you lent her,
the one you didn’t expe