lie to me

There are the lies you tell to make yourself feel better,
The ones that don’t hurt anyone,
That makes you laugh at life instead of cry.

There are the lies you tell to avoid the truth,
It’s not something you can face,
And the poison that spills from your mouth sounds better than it tastes,

And then,
Then there are the lies you tell so well you begin to think they are the truth.
(And most days you lie and tell yourself they are
Who’s gonna tell you otherwise?)

These are the lies that are most dangerous,
I tell them and listen as you repeat them back,
And that taste is back in my mouth, bitter, but swallowing gets easier each time,
Lies, the fabric of our reality,
Mine and yours,
And I’m not sure I’m ready to change that.


blurred keys

Some days the keyboard blurs,
The same stories the same words come to life,
Sometimes in new ways,
Sometimes in the same old tired ways,
But you still type away,
Out of habit, out of a rhyme only you understand,
And for now, that’s enough,
But what happens when it won’t be enough?

When the words don’t make sense to you?
When you write them down in hopes to please everyone but you?
That’s when you it’s done,
Put the pen down,
Remove your hands from the keys,
And take a breath,
Because there is more to come,
More words, more inspiration, more heartbreak.
I promise.

diving (questions)

Tell me who do you owe this love to?
What is your version of love?
Who tells you what is right?
Who is wrong, how to love in the way they deem worthy?
Is there a guidance system?
Or is it a free fall, like jumping into the depths of the ocean,
Eager, excited, yet purposefully avoiding the obvious…
What happens when it all goes wrong?
How can you dive when you can’t see the bottom?
Were you pushed, did you trip?
Or did you pray, hope; take that leap of faith,
Letting something guide you down and down and down,
Until you hit the waters so hard you can’t even gasp in pain and awe,Too caught on not
sinking and drifting to the bottom’
Using everything you have to rise to the surface,And that you float up, up and higher,
But never enough to forget what it felt like to freefall…
Tell me,

How do we love with no way of knowing for sure?

alien of mine

            The first time you see him, he looks likes an alien. He’s red in the face, no bigger than the stuffed bear grasped tightly in your palm and crying so loud you think you’ll be deaf for three days. You understand why he’s crying, though (if everyone was crowding you like that you’d scream too). You still don’t understand what the big deal was about a tiny little thing that screams so hard he turns purple.

You tug the coat of the person next to you, hoping they can make sense of this strange event. You hate to admit it, but you’re too curious—you need answers (and you’re very impatient). The person next to you reaches down to grab your hand and smiles, pulling you towards the bed. You see your mother like you’ve never seen her before—red eyes, crazy hair, crying and laughing. You’re told you kept asking if the alien was contagious. Your mother laughs softly through her tears and reaches to pull you up on to the bed. As you climb next to her, the alien ceases his screeching, looking about as curious as you feel. He reaches his small hand towards you, and you reach back, for reasons you can’t explain. The alien’s hands feel soft against your own—sweaty, warm, alive—as they gently grip yours, you know you have fallen in love with this bizarre creature.

The last time you see him, he looks like an alien. This…man before you has no resemblance to the man you once knew. With tubes coming out of parts of his body, and bandages covering the rest, he is like a foreign object. You sit beside him on the bed, stroking your thumb over the only part of his hand not trapped by the white cloths. You whisper your prayers to him; afraid if you spoke to loudly he would hear.

[Someone has to be listening…right?]

The hand you’ve been stroking shifts as he softly clenches your fingers between his weakened ones. He turns his head to smile at you, and you remember holding your breath. He exhales dramatically, and the relief you feel is enough to make you sag and drop your head lightly unto his chest. He tells you to stop worrying so much, that this was the best place for him to be now. He tells you all that worrying will give you gray hair. You tearfully laugh, telling him you’d rock that style, and that it would allow you to finally become a street-suave rapper named GrimStone. You both laugh at the stupid joke, and some of the tension eases. You remember talking about anything and everything, so long as it kept him talking with you. He tells you he’ll be okay, that what is meant to happen will. You scoff, not wanting to hear such bullshit philosophy when all you can think about is all that could go wrong.

A woman in blue tells you to clear the room, “it’s time to go”. You remember watching his goofy grin disappear behind the double doors. In that moment, you believe what is meant to happen will, just like he said.

You remember the days—or was it hours? —that pass. You think the room could use a new paint job; the white walls were really beginning to hurt your eyes. You remember picking up the crying girl, smiling mournfully as she clutches that same stuffed bear you once held. Hand me downs are meant to be kept the family, he once said. And all you can see are his eyes tearfully staring back at you, because she looks so much like him. The two of you wait for what seems like forever, until the double doors open again. Your heart swells with hope.

You remember the anguished cry torn from your throat and the feel of the cold floor against your fists. “What was meant to be will happen,” he had said, “everything will be okay,” he told you. You remember thinking that he had never lied to you before.

He sure picked a hell of a time to start.

toxic waters

Its hard to swallow,
The lengths I would go for you,
Only to find out I was left in the shallows,
Drifting in the coldest water,
Washed away by the memories she replaced.

It’s hard to breath,
Drowning in the aftermath,
The one that you let me sink in,
With constant reminders,
Waters too bitter and salty to handle,
She was a better swimmer than I apparently,
Able to handle your shifting tides and murky depths…

Why couldn’t I be her?
Why wasn’t I enough to keep you happy?

Why, why, why…

The questions fade away the current,
They’re no longer relevant, no longer worth asking,
But I will always remember how it hurt to breathe underwater,
How I struggled and gasped,
Only for you to push me further down.

It’s hard to swallow,
All the bullshit I’d been dealt and force to believe,
And it’s even harder to swim, through this toxic waste,
That you hoped the waters would wash away.

i liked it (the way you numbed my reality)

I was getting used to the way things could have been,
Love and loved in return
Safety in your arms and wanted,
What a feeling,
To never doubt or question the reality you live in,
But than you went and pull the rug from under me,
Left me blinded by the light that shown form you,
A false sense of love and protection,
Tied to you in the best and worst ways,
I was getting too used to the way things could have been,
And karma didn’t let me forget.

Going under and no one is there to safe me,
And I still blindly reach for your hands,
Somebody hear me,
Find me,

I liked the way you helped me escape,
But you aren’t here when my shit hit the fan,
Closed our door in favor of a convenient façade,
And I still make excuses as to why you never gave me a key to my own lock….

Don’t let my guard down,
There’s cruelty in this world,
And who better to show you than those closest to you,
With words to hurt and actions to make you bleed,
You were my redemption,
But how was I to know this redemption came with a price tag?
Too much, you were too much on my heart,
I’m going under, with no one to pull me out,
I guess I kinda liked the way you helped to numb my reality of you…

Tales of The Bent & Broken

We met again at the bottom of the ocean,
Doom and gloom,
All that romantic bullshit waiting for us in those murky waters,
Because what’s love with adversity?
Without hate and torture and beautiful endings from all that pain?
I’ll tell you,
Its life,
Not a movie with a happy ending,
Not a romantic story you pass down generation to generations,
It’s a mess.
Wrecking balls and demolition,
Catastrophes and misfortune
With moments of joy and laughter in between,
But don’t let me stop you from sinking,
We all love the fall.

We met again, at the bottom of some abyss,
Filled with death and heartbreak
But it’s only fitting for lovers like us,
Brought together by ill timing and poor judgments,
Caught in the lust and the forbidden,
Afflictions of temptation I suppose…
What is it this time?
What purpose do we serve at the bottom of this glass?
Of this dark, endless, façade…
I can’t keep meeting you here,
Life has grown far too daunting to continue this game,
And this curse of love lost its appeal that third time around long ago.

So here we are,
Not knowing where to surface,
How to break this sick go around,
But I know someone will give,
It’s only a matter of time until the last heart shatters,
Leaving pieces to jagged and scattered to scrap back together,
So meet me that last time,
And we’ll see who comes out bent, (and so close to breaking).