Sleep

You are no friend of mine tonight.

Death

He keeps sneaking up on me. Never quite grazes my skin, but I can smell him all around. I taste him in the morning like he has been lurking overhead all night, pushing into my dreams, the scent of death on my mourning breath.

These recent days have taught me that without life there is no death. And without life, there he is, waiting for my surrender.

Life shakes me out of sleepy spells and counts my blessings for me. I have forgotten to count between the self pity and unwritten the pages so now my swollen fingers lead the way for me. I've spent so much time reading the lives of others that mine went dim in the ever fading background.

Here I stand in the shadows. Waiting for my close up, my chance to touch the world. All the while chanting, all the while meditating in the cool breeze of dawn. My blessings never left me, they just disguised themselves as the clothes on my aching back.

Life

It comes and goes (lately)

Sooner than later for some, but we still all serve a purpose somehow.

Why hesitate?

Tears

No sense in crying when I'm allergic to my own.

Hey Vanessa

Remember when we were kids? You left a trail through my mom's planters so she added some bricks just for you. 15 steps to get you here, 15 to get you back. We got excited when they put the Blockbuster there and Tegan Rd was still a skinny little shit next to a field. We had to psych ourselves out to walk to the drugstore for candy on those blazing summer days, but it was always worth it once we hit that air conditioned dream of a place...whatever it was called back then. The twins know you like a sister now and my mom still kisses your head when she goes to sleep. So many families have come and gone through that same house, but I still refer to it as yours. You'd come over to talk to me about problems at home and sit on Laura's teeny tiny bed. We both had the same routine any time we entered the house; see who's watchin what, say what's up, open the cupboard, open the fridge. Man, you always tried convincing me to make us somethin to eat when you know damn well you could make it yourself, ha! Ass. And now we're both visitors there. It seems like that was a lifetime ago, but then again, I guess it was. A lifetime ago.

Good Morning Construction

To the day I woke up with that feeling in my gut. To the kicks that will carry me through my strut. And to you construction workers who lately have served as my morning wake up call, GAH! Bless you all...

Red Sweater

These days are a lot unlike those ones, at the same time we are all running parallel to ourselves. We dream and eat and live and all the while think we know what it is to ever wake up. What has been defined as dreaming, I'm finding, is quite the opposite, and so it goes for living. All I know are feelings. All I feel is what I'm allowed, or what I allow myself. These days are not unlike the ones I imagined, but where to draw the line between me and you? You are as real in my dreams as in what has been defined as my waking life. As for me, well perhaps it's just as well. Dreams don't end like books. Nor is there an underlying moral or theme. It's all of the in betweens and crosswalks and childhood record books and a mother's touch to bring me back...to sleep.