|"Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." ― Basil King|
The Girl Who Brings Ink To Life
Flowers pressed upon the pages of her poetry. Flowers now as dead as the trees upon which she writes. Her mind hears noise and transforms each random ruffle of a feather, each bark of a dog or wind through trees into music in her ears. Her own little world, oblivious to the passing light and the world around her. She writes with each breathe closer, like contractions. Like labor, like the finished writing, her child, will be here soon. Each breath is a stepping stone higher to the moon and stars. A dance in the moonlit room, a lamp, paper and pen; she dances.
The winding road ahead is dark and unknown
And I’m both excited and afraid.
Sometimes I wonder who you think I am, who you take me for as you read the words I l’ve written... the ones that you say are good or powerful. Whose words are those? They seem so unrecognizable.
They broke me down like pottery.
But I mastered the art of Kintsugi and
put myself back together, better than ever.
— a piece from a piece I was working on today
Currently writing a second poetry collection book on Wattpad. Hoping to find inspiration for the themes and organization. For the content. Wish me luck!
I’m the glass menagerie,
My tongue a double edged sword.
I cut, I shine, I reflect.
I build myself up to higher heavens.
Dreaming of victory, I’ve yet to taste.
“I’m a glass sword, and I feel myself beginning to shatter.”
— Glass Sword, Red Queen Series
She’s so confident in her entirety, like a goddess, that she makes hating yourself look stupid.
"Others have it worse"
Is a bandage some put on your wounds to shut you up from seeking help when it's bad. To simply put it they mean to say that others have it worse, so I don't want to hear you complaining to me about your problems because I do not care. It's a sugar coated poison that traumatized people tend to swallowing not realizing that they have a right to feel bad about the bad things that have happened to them. Teaching us to mask emotions.
Sometimes this keeps us from getting help, from talking at all even. Sometimes this drives us mad in our pain because it is so bad we can't really hide it, we don't know how. And we still feel that bad regardless of whether others have it wor...
There are some who want to watch the world burn. They get off on destroying others and even themselves. They get mad at others for feeling anything. Maybe because they don't feel anything. Nothing but hate. Not for the sake of anything important but for the sole purpose to hate, to go against the grain. For the sake of irritation and creating chaos, inciting more hate. Those people will die out not by murder or violence but by educating. By creating a society that holds you accountable for your hate for the sake of hate. By standing up to bad people and not condoning any behavior that causes others pain. Like men do with rape culture. Like women being taught how evil men are. So that we can ...
Thoughts gravitate like planets around her head. An entire universe smothered inside, forced to keep silent. Idea's shriveling away, muscles atrophying at the lack of use. Ignorance surrounding her every breath. Stuck in the same four walls that used to feel like home, but since has lost its meaning. The light rays warming up her little blue bedroom no longer comforts her. Only the cold crisp air and cold sharp rain like knives can do that. There is no home here, she thinks. Or maybe there was never a home her, maybe I just wanted to hope and dream for one. Maybe it never existed.
Things You'll Never Know:
I love camera's! I love photography! I love trying to act and write poetry! I love to read. I love to just write, write about anything. Just words on paper with endless possibilities for meanings. I love the sunrise, sunsets are overrated like dating.
I love sun rays and I love everything about full moons. They do have a certain magic, makes you feel like confessing. Not confessing love, but everything you're too afraid to admit when you're alone to yourself... let alone anyone else. To write, to read, to dream, to capture!
I love stickers!! I'm obsessed with washi tape and old handwritten letters. But I hardly know what to say through text, let alone on paper. ...
"The only lies for which we are truly punished are those we tell ourselves."
– V.S. Naipaul
"Either you deal with what is the reality, or you can be sure that the reality is going to deal with you."
– Alex Haley
"Life is like a prism. What you see depends on how you turn the glass."
– Jonathan Kellerman
"Melancholy is sadness that has taken on lightness."
– Italo Calvino
"The library is inhabited by spirits that come out of the pages at night."
– Isabel Allende
"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."
– Robert Frost
She's not quite here,
She's not quite there.
Candles melt on top the cake,
Smoke filling the air.
They sing, they chant
And grin from ear to ear.
She stands there still,
Year to year, still fearful of the day.
About the wishing that led her here, the dreams now gone astray.
Unlike the rest, her only wish is still
To not exist at all.
To be a figment of someone else's imagination.
Perhaps a character in a book.
"You’re wishin’ too much, baby. You gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughtta be."
– Elizabeth Gilbert
The wind blows through the trees,
I shut my eyes and listen closely.
Feeling the warmth of few escaped rays.
And nothing else matters.
"Ultimately, your theme will find you. You don't have to go looking for it."
– Richard Russo
Dear Nobody In Particular,
There is this grand moment when you first decide to leave a negative place. You feel this terrible weight lifted from your shoulders, you can breathe better, you can see clearer, you feel like you are super girl strong.
But then there comes the aftermath of that decision. You start to wonder if you're ready enough to leave. Because this place might be bad in every way it is still free... do I have enough to leave and not go broke? You start to wonder how the people there will react.
You start to imagine your life in that terrible place and it's so bad you unknowingly hold your breath till you pass out.
But then in your dizzy state of being you think...
First they break you into a thousand little pieces.
Then they tell you are crazy
So often you start to believe it.
And just as you fight back all the demons, make it out alive
They come whispering closer,
And closer... drowning you
in the memories of the life and love lost.
"In secret we met
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive."
– George Gordon Byron
If a house is a prison, why would I limit myself to one of its rooms?
Wind howls, the floors creak. The branches scratch the walls and doors. Then there's a split second of silence or two and you wonder if you are alone. You feel that you most likely are so you conclude your mind is paranoid. Just then, as you turn to shake your head and laugh, you see the slightest bit of a glowing white fabric. A gown perhaps. Perhaps, you conclude, in bioluminescent algae. But at the back of your mind, and option crawls to the front. A simple five letter word. Ghost. But you don't let it get you. It couldn't me, you chant in you mind. Hoping that if you say it long enough, it will make it so. But then you see her once more... and you realize you know her. Knew her. That sh...
"You swam in a river of chance and coincidence. You clung to the happiest accidents—the rest you let float by."
– David Wroblewski
Sometimes the dust settles
Amidst all the truth.
And all the lies you've heard
Goes down along with them.
Everything becomes so crystal,
Magnetized in weight of its existence.
You feel your heart give way,
But its truth keeps you afloat.
Ready to go down with it,
You give it your whole.