Thunder Storms

I find comfort in the space between the floorboards, that something so sturdy, so solid, has cracks. I find comfort hiding in your arms. I can hear thunder. I can hear rain.I can hear the world falling apart outside, the world tumbling down, landing on the roof, threatening to break in and steal everything we struggled for so long to obtain. I am at ease. I am in a moment. I am in a now and you allowed me to breathe. I can feel the sheets twisted around me, bunching up, coming apart. This bed was not built for two, but I moved over and made room for you. You keep me safe in this storm. God turns on his flashlight for a moment. The batteries fail. He tries over and over again. I can hear His frustrations. You calm me as a I cringe away from His wrath.

I never believed that I was afraid until I knew what it was like to feel safe. Wrapped up in bed sheets, the world is my oyster and I'm taking small bites. I want to savor each moment before the pearl. It always passes too soon.

You breathe in, out, in, out, you sigh. I am a child within your arms. I am at ease.

People never change, do they? I'll never change, will I? I will always be this absolutely insane, self-conscious, messy little girl. I don't have a chance. This world is going to eat me up, take me over, suck me in, consume me, and I don't have a chance, not a hope against it. What am I to do? I'll be here wearing these jeans on this computer on this blanket in this yard for the rest of eternity, as least as long as I can live. All I'll ever hear is voices that make me never want to hear again, I'll see things that make me uncomfortable, make me want to be consumed. I will be forever unsatisfied, and what am I to do?

I will be different, staying exactly the same. I will look the same be the same act the same.SAY THE SAME THINGS over and over until I lose my voice. It does not take enough to put me over the edge.

I found you, you don't have to find me.


Breathe repeatedly.


Continue to be.

cherry blossom weekend

swallow my identity. humanity. serenity.

eternity isn't so far away.

remind me of my memories. discoveries. enemies.

the mind is only a machine.

if everything was framed, held solid, and tamed

movement wouldn't hold our attention.

dance would be a moment, constant stable, torment

a never ending, almost-embrace.

grace would be a possible, improbable, idea of history.

change would be a fable for the kids.

if i believed in forever, constant, together

i wouldn't focus on the past.

i would never shut my eyes, imagine, disguise

desire as simply looking back.

i wouldn't have to pretend, memorize, defend

as everything would be just as it was.

i can not identify

with anything

other than the ink on your clothing,

the ink on your skin.

i was the authority,

i found happiness within.

I won't stop talking about myself, but I won't stop listening when you need a little bitchin time. Isn't that what friends are for?