Thursday, April 21, 2011


I want to tell you that I am angry, that I hate you but its not true. I hate myself, for letting you make me feel this blue. Why am I so weak? Why do I believe? That when I speak, you will see everything in me?

I want to say that I am sorry, for making you believe that I wouldn't break but I am a fool. I thought it was brave to parade myself before you, bleeding and broken, but these words you've spoken burn through.

I want to say goodbye, to break the bonds and burn the bridges to that place called you. I am through, tis true, you broke me and now I shall forget you.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


I can feel the words tumbling in a distant place in my head. Whispers, echoes, engine revving up up up the hill. It carries, the sound across the valleys, mingled with the birds, the wind it brings delight in the promise of a sight.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Why I haven't written in a long while

"So I made up my mind not to come to you again to make you sad. For if I were to make you sad, who would be left to cheer me up? Only the very persons I had made sad. That is why I wrote that letter to you. I did not want to come to you and be made sad by the very people who should make me glad. For I am convinced that when I am happy, then all of you are happy too. I wrote you with a greatly troubled and distressed heart and with many tears; my purpose was not to make you sad, but to make you realize how much I love you all."
-------------------------------------------------------2 Corinthians 2:2

When I made up my mind to write, I decided that I would simply do it for myself and those that love words. I told myself it would not matter if I never made a cent off my writing (even though that is my dream) and that I would do it for the love of it. Then I became so sad and I didn't have the heart to tell you how much, though I probably did :-) somewhere somehow. I stopped writing, but never in my head, in the ether, screaming words and more often making unintelligible sounds.  I could not come to you, I could not tell you, I could not move myself to show you. There was nothing, no trust and no hope.

You shall never truly know me nor I you. We are but two specks of dust blown by the eternal wind and I must go across the desert, all alone, for that is my path, home.

I am okay, I am happy, I am here.