Thursday, September 15, 2011

Rest Until Night

Insanity starts slowly and creeps in on you, drip by drip, drop by drop, like coffee in a coffee pot, or chinese water torture, filling your mind a little at a time. At first, no one notices, or at the most they think you're a bit eccentric, but eventually it becomes harder and harder to hide. Then you might become a writer or an artist and you can change the name of insanity to imagination or creativity and that makes it okay, even makes it cool. Your mind can overflow onto paper or canvas and others who are happy to know there are those in the world who have thoughts crazier than they do, might even pay money for those thoughts, for that feeling, or idea, or image. They write to let you know how creative or artistic they think you are and thank you for that poem or painting or image that made them feel just a little less insane than you. You feel better because something in your story or your art resonated with them and so you're not alone in this world after all.

writing is a lonely battle. One person, one mind, one pen against a blank page. You don't know where the pen will take you next, but you're pretty sure it's going to be painful, and so you begin the trudge uphill, whacking away at a never-ending tangle of thoughts and metaphors, trying to make sense of the senseless. Love and Death and the Universe. You've decided they make no sense, but you have to try anyway, because to give up would be to lose the battle, and the battle is what keeps you going. The thing can be terrifying and at the same time exhilirating. You try to explain that to someone else, but those who understand, who truly understand, are few and far between. After all, who would be afraid of letters on a page? Twenty-six letters. Twenty-six letters and variations of those letters come together and from the same twenty-six letters come stories of kittens and killers and that's where things get scary.

Insanity, starts out slowly, a thought or two, nothing to be concerned about. Insanity sleeps during the day and is up all night. Poking, prodding at you, like the moments before Christmas morning. Pushing and pulling, throwing your thoughts around like a puppy with its favorite toy. Tearing at your psyche until you're left rumpled up in a pile in the corner of your room. You wake in the morning, and escape the thoughts for a while, caught up in breakfast, and dishes and learning and work, a thought or two might peek over the edge of your day, shadows in the corner, to remind you of what nighttime will bring - but mostly insanity rests until night.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Dungeon

Studied words that make no sense
ashamed of my own ignorance
I cried into my pillow quietly

Locked myself in tight
and held on
just trying to get through those teenage years

Wondered what would become of me
locked myself in tight and lost the key

Grey walls, broken window, crack down the wall,
if I didn't call it home, wouldnt call it much of anything at all.

Train tracks going by
take me anywhere but here
If I just start running
maybe wind will take away the tears

Locked myself in tight
and held on
just trying to get through those teenage years

Those days come back to haunt me
Those days come back to haunt me

Laughs were few and far between
the dungeon was my personal pit of despair
but I grew stronger, pushing through,
and eventually got out of there.

There are tracks down the street now,
but they're just not the same.

Miss the tracks alongside our street
that said if you start walking,
just start running,
there ain't no telling who you'll meet.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010


I held you last night,
but not for long enough.
I kissed you today,
but not for long enough.


We told you
not to go around
telling everyone
you're smart.

I don't know why,
we'd try to hold
you back.

I ask you questions,
you answer
and start to say
"I'm so smart"
but stop yourself.

Instead you say,
"Mom, you're so smart.
Don't you want to tell me
that I'm smart too?"

Sometimes, I think
you're too smart
for your own good,
and the apple doesn't
fall far from the tree.


You drift
into sleep
hand clutching my side
as though you'll never
need a teddy bear,
you have everything
necessary for
a good night's sleep.

During the day,
if I stray too far
from your sight
you come look for me,
reach up
and wait
You know,
I'll always
pick you up.

At night,
you stir a little
reach for me,
if I'm there
you settle back in
to sleep again,
if not
you seek me out
snuggle into
the crook of my arm
and drift away.

These are the moments
I don't want to lose.
These are the moments
I etch in stone.

To You

I know I didn't say it often enough, but I always thought you were cool. I appreciate now, things that you said to me then, even if I didn't know enough then to thank you for caring. I wish Christel and Amy got the chance to be raised around you. I wish they could hear you on the guitar. There's a lot that I wish had been different and now it never will be.

I hope that I can do enough in my lifetime to know that you would have been proud of what I have/will become. I should have thanked you for coming into my life and trying to be there for me in any way that I would allow, instead I just said that you weren't my dad and I didn't have to listen to what you said. I hope you understood that I was just a stupid kid when I said those things.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Glitter Girls

There's something about glitter. Christel bought a little set from dollar general. Lip Gloss and glitter. So now we're all three glittery. Fun Fun. :)