cyclical

I cannot say I buy into the whole everything happens for a reason drivel  

and I imagine life would be less painful if we could self-edit; 

there are so many moments and people I would cut. 

One click of the mouse and just like that 

the moment that changed everything can evaporate but alas, 

real life is unedited. 

There are so many pieces of my being that I suppress 

as a defense against everything and anyone. 

Concealing so much of myself can be terribly lonesome 

but after being disappointed so many times, 

why would I want to open my heart. 

The truth is, 

I want to believe in the human race again. 

I am drowning in a sea of ambiguity and each time I reach the surface 

a wave of doubt overcomes me;

I am forever waiting for breath or asphyxiation.

I want so much to survive. 

I have considered reprisal, amongst other acts of malevolence,

but only to realize how cowardly it would be 

and how even the slightest taste of vengeance would never erase the past. 

So, here I am, bleeding for all to see 

and the only thing I ask of you 

is to leave the bag of salt at the door. 

I want so much to open your eyes

                     'Cause I need you to look into mine

                               Tell me that you'll open your eyes

this too shall pass

Deception resides in my past, present, and I cannot help but to think that it will intwine itself into my future. I find myself no longer willing to allow mendacity to control my every thought because alas, we are only human. We never know what is around the corner, yet we continue to keep moving forward because we have faith in life. If I allow this kind of betrayal to constrain my essence, I am doing a disservice to the beautiful life I have been given. The heartache still lingers but each day my smile becomes more absolute, rather than a gesture to suppress the despondency inside. I will keep moving forward because I trust life will lead me to wherever it is that I am going and truth will continually reveal itself on this path.

I never saw it coming, I never thought I would be here. Yet, here I am, still standing.

I'll try to fix you.

I wish it were easier for me to talk. Just inhale, and let words fall.
But it has never and will never be an easy feat to speak so openly. I feel exposed when I allow myself to confess; awaiting the next bullet to penetrate through my taut skin. Writing is different, not easy, but different. If I could not write, I am unsure if anyone would hear me, the real me. I have this love/hate relationship with writing. It allows me to be nothing but honest, without apprehension. It also constrains me to the emotion I so willingly conceal from others. Integrity, something I try so hard to emulate, is intensely arduous for me to reveal aloud.

Just inhale, and let words fall.

Conviction.

I’m trying not to think about you, can’t you just let me be.

Suppression is not an easy feat but it seems I have mastered this ability well.

Head up, smile on, exude some sense of well-being
...rinse and repeat. If I miss a step, I’ll become that vulnerable girl;
I can’t be that girl. There is an overwhelming feeling of numbness permeating through my body; if only tears would come to wash away the hurt I no longer seem to endure. This path is leading me to a destiny of solitude; I need to relinquish the wall that never seems to collapse.

A life full of constant disappointment in humanity has jaded me.

I love but when the slightest taste of love convolutes my life,
I instantaneously evade the affect. How can I feel deserving of something so omnipotent when I continuously afflict the people around me for no reason other than because I am fearful.
I want to be better,
I want to love without apprehension,
I want to become the woman I know I can be but most of all,
I want to believe in life again.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life you were waiting for this moment to arise.

[an exert from my life]

Breathe in, tide out, breathe out, tide in. The beach is where I find quietude; chaos no longer exists. Life moves at a rapid pace but when my feet fall beyond the grains of the sand, everything is still. If ever there were a moment I denounced the essence of God, I can always find his love where the waves crash. But this journey was different from the others because the potency of his love filled my veins, as if I were a drug addict and his adoration was what I needed in order to survive.

To me, I do need God to survive. I cannot imagine waking up without an ounce of faith in my soul. I need to believe that there is an almighty being that loves me unconditionally and will wash away my immorality, as the waves wash away my footprints. There have been times when I can no longer feel my faith and lately I have felt it seethe slowly from my pores. I have started to lose myself in social extremities and having that moment on the beach showed me just how displaced I have become.

I cannot explain the emotion that overcame every vesicle in my body that night. As fast as I could feel the affect weighing my heart down, my knees hit the wet sand without contention. My body was no longer my own in that moment; his love was omnipresent. Every doubt befell and all I could know was his amour. The sin, the hate, and the deception were eradicated but his existence resonates.

Affected Mourning.

Do you ever have one of those days when you feel as if everything is wrong and the consciousness of right seems in a far away land... yeah, I am having one of those days today. There have been many deaths in my family, not concrete deaths but intangible; maybe absolute dissolution would make this easier.


I have searched every indentation for even so much as a glint of hope; it was all but one lie short of truth. I must have been asking for too much when I wanted nothing more than a scent of your love. I have watched myself die a thousand times and again; your abandonment is tormenting every fiber within. I know people, the people that have no idea who I am, will read this and think nothing more than " poor, poor little dramatic girl." These people will never know the affliction this poor little girl harbors every time she comes across a father and his child.


To fight with my father at this point would be better than this, this interminable life of desolation. I could understand if I were his only daughter but I am not; it's as if the day he let me go he started a new family and forgot to tell me I was no longer a part of his heart. I wish someone would have told me how difficult it would be; feeling worthy of anything after a father's denial is an understatement.


Yes, I am that little girl with "daddy issues" and this is a battle I fight every day of my life. Countless times over, I have pushed family and friends away; the fear of closeness without dissolution fuses in my veins. I know how far I have come, I know how far I have gone and one day my scars will perish, that will be the day I realize the heartache was all worth it. The past is said to be left without afterthought,but this cannot withhold veracity when our past haunts the streets we walk unrelentingly.

End of the Beginning.

I feel like I am breaking; glass imploding through my taut skin.
There are things I want to say without suppressing in adamancy
But the pride I wallow in seems to asphyxiate the words I long to hear.

Hush, don't cry now.
Tears soaked through my blue eyes,
While I felt the damage you had done pulsating in my veins.
You know how people always phrase " how do you sleep at night?"
Really, how do you sleep at night; i'd like to know.

I am not conditioned to express my emotion in a conducive manner.
My past permeates without an ounce of absolution; please just leave.
Five years have come and gone but the wounds of your desertion are fresh;
Reopening every time you decide to play make believe.

I have to make a choice and this will change me infinitely.
Too many windows have opened and closing all of them will bring serenity.
But disclosing a door could bring a sense of love I have longed for since you left.
I refuse to become who you are regardless of the decision;
Living a life of silent desolation without heartache is alarmingly erroneous.




Contempt loves the silence
It thrives in the dark
With fine winding tendrils
That strangle the heart