Who can know?

Thought courses as the river, swift, full, fluid, and flowing. Take a sturdy net and catch these elusive broken memories then sew them into the comforting quilt of familiarity. Is there destiny in this modern world? Everything is analyzed magic is nothing but a cheap illusion in the minds of the mob. Dare to believe in something different. Truth, lie, fantasy, who can know?

A heart yearning for more, beyond the veil, a secret world the world refuses to acknowledge. Dream a dream... However, it would seem dreams live only on the sliver screen. Who can know?

Around again... thought this was over. Those eyes look at me at once with a promise of love and honesty and loyalty, as if I'm your world, then look to the floor as if a secret lies hidden there. Tell me, is there something to say to me from you? How can I believe? White lies have painted this room.

Self destruction-- hurt me, I hurt you, hurt me oh oh over again. Sing songs so sweetly to these ears as doubt sours in the pit of this stomach. Want to believe, want to trust, want an excuse to run and leave dust to dust. Take your ring I'll take my life... and yet I stay.

Caught in the act, face frozen like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Pivotal moment... what word will be the first from those lips... excuses fly. Now I know the truth. No acceptance of responsibility, no apologies, make it me, you make it me, it's always me. Look me in the eye and tell me its me! No... to the floor, always. Excuse me while I choose not excuse your excuses this time. Dissemble, fall to pieces again.

I say again... I hope it was worth it. I hope you enjoyed yourself. My trust shattered, why build it again? Just to watch you smash it over and over? No thank you. We talked, I indulged you just to indulge me and now you think we're okay. Oh how little you know. How very little.

Daddy's Girl

Open up this heart of mine--what do I find? A hole as huge as the world. Love is the tiny splash at the bottom of this well as penny wishes cascade into its depths. Words are useless when your ears refuse to hear. Far too much pain to waste my breath to speak them anymore.

All the ribbons on the wall, certificates so neatly framed, those achievements glittering in memory are pictures of you. This mind, these hands, worked solely to build this person into your ideal. Now what? The job is undone the foreman left this builder standing alone hammer in hand. When all you've done your entire life is build how do you move on when it's taken away?

Can't even bear to be in the same building? When did things go so wrong? Devastation... 21 years all gone. Who's daddy's little girl? Better question... who is daddy? I had one once, seems so long ago. Now he's just a picture and a memory of a time gone by.

So tired of being wounded... numb. You'll never read these words, if you do they'll simply fade.

Child's Cry

So strange the emptiness now that you have gone. The heart knows what the mind would choose to forget. Missing you is enough to bring tears to these tired eyes. With your presence so near everything was 'okay' the world stopped spinning so madly for just those few moments you were near.

Everything is a shadow of you. I can still see you here and this foolish heart half expects to see your smile walk through the door any minute. Its time to grow up, this longing is a child's cry. But soothe this babe with your tender voice and warm smile. The scent of your perfume still lingers.

So far away. A mother's tender love remains diluted by crackling phone lines. Jobs, working in this bitter time keeps visits so few. This nervous mind knows that the corporeal will not last forever and watches the moments slip by... second by second. Waste away the minutes, hours, days--years spending time in the distance.

Again... time to grow up. Only a child cries for a mother's touch. Yet, forever I am your daughter, your child. If only the distance could disappear yet luck will never have it so. I love you Mom.

Tick-Time

Tick goes the clock... there's still time. Hurry? What's the rush? There's still time.

Time to be big time time to be small to take center stage or become nothing at all. The future still holds a questioning stare no directions of certainty or even of "what I'd like to be." Why run? Walk -- savor the moment. Yesterday you felt the same way--want to rush the minute, hour, day. Now look back and wish for times reoccurring. Nostalgia eats a painful hole in an already aching heart.

Don't run. Don't rush. Don't look back the past has past. Some things in this world of ours just weren't meant to last. Don't look ahead the future is a fickle temptress, one minute beckoning and the next dismaying. Don't look, don't leap, just start.

Take a breath, suck it up, start. Remember, everyone had to start somewhere your "somewhere" just happens to be here and now. Where will you end up? Only time will tell.... tick-tock

Book Fog

Wake just to fall to sleep once more. Destined to yearn for destiny until old age ravages all hope of tomorrow. Fantasies blend into a mixed hue of reality to be painted over the harsh chill of these white sterile walls. Some are not meant to live in a box as, remember, containment drives sanity crazy sometimes.

Adventure flaunts herself -- sluttish -- from page after page in novel after novel telling of life as it has never existed. Sure her image looks great but, its all been airbrushed! So why dare to dream for the morrow in a bland unexciting world? Nothing can compare to imagined imagery of another's overactive imagination. If only 'friend' existed outside those library scented pages.

However turn the last page of the last chapter in this the most recent of life's distractions. No sense holding on to little letters strewn about on a few hundred pages or so. Besides there are many more lives yet to live... escape anew.

Tired Grind

Too tired to write--
to pick up this pen
think of these thoughts all over again.

I'm too tired to write
to tap on these keys
the words they come slowly
sleep comes with ease.

Worries and worries
worries and woes
Stress keeps on churning
it ebbs and it flows

Still carry on
hoist the main sails at last
no time to tarry
The die has been cast

To tired to write
I say this, "the end"
Tomorrow comes quickly
The grind starts again