In Honor Of...

To Write Love On Her Arms Day.

To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement
dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.

If you want to participate, all you have to do is write LOVE on your arm.

I Need A Break.

No one understands how tired I am.

Nothing cuts it anymore.

I feel like I need a clean slate.

A fresh piece of paper.

A new notebook of a life.

I don't have to erase the lessons from my last one.

I just want to move on, be new, with this one.

I'm thinking of either taking a break from all social networks

Or

Creating a new facebook or twitter, etc...

Where I can be a little less uncensored.

Where I can be a little more free.

Where nothing can haunt me.

Where I won't run into anything I don't want to remember or see.

The break sounds good for now.

Because everything is too much.

Everyone annoys me.

Everyone disappoints me.

And it's all in my face!!!!

ARGH!

A bullshit filter would be lovely.

As well as a No Exes Allowed

No Family Allowed

Only Inspiring, Real People

Filter.

I just want to express myself without having to second guess it.

When's the last time you posted something

A Facebook Status, Blog Post, A Tweet

Without thinking about who is going to see it?

Take This To Heart.

Nobody comes back

The same as when they left.

The doorway is no longer a portal

To safety but the yawning gap

Between us.

We lost the keys,

Love, and broke off the knobs

A long, long time ago.

- “Our Feet on the Word Welcome” By Karen Ann Capco

Oh How I Miss Them...

COME BACK PLEASE!!!

Yes.

Here's some advice via my Swedish CupCake Jen.


"When saying goodbye is too much...


Just say I Love You.


And if they love you back,


Then of course they will understand."



So true.


Sometimes you just can't be afraid to be happy.


You can't be afraid that you won't make it through the free fall...


Sometimes we have to be more than a little brave.

Bare.

A lovely Ten to One because the weather is getting cold again.

Don't know what a 10-1 is?

Click HERE

Go.

Somehow you have vanished
Into thin wood.
I fear that if I knock
I might break us.

Some judge growth by Fashion.
As if I could hold all of my life lessons
In such dusty fabric.
You make me afraid to bare all
There is so much harm to be done
To the thickest of skin.
You probably don't wonder anyway...
But if you did
I'd tell you my boots from last year are ruined.
I bought another pair of the same kind.
What does that tell you?

There are many apologies
For what should of beens
Many apologies for what I know now
And what I didn't know then
But apologies
Are only pathways to be built
Or torn down.
London Bridge.

You can dress me up in diamonds.
You can dress me up in dirt.
We are never really sure of who is underneath
Are we?

I give you the last song
And the last lines
You creaking faucet, you
I spit rust flavored nightmares
You just can't recognize that color can you?

Oh how the mighty will fall...

I wonder if you ever knew me
Half as well as you thought you did.
I wonder how your footprints feel
I have a feeling I'm about to find out.

Clocks can show you who you really are
And as Tzitzi Farmer said
"Time is the biggest snitch--
No lie!
It always tells."

I'm sorry
I cannot be one of those women
Staring at stained glass
Praying for the dream to come alive again.
These windows will strip the queen from you
Reduce you only to a prayer in waiting
Body glued to the bathroom floor
Bare kneed and buckled.

When will you be tired
Of snapping the love welts
Inside of your stomach?
Tell me...
So I can know you feel madness also
That I'm not a lost child
Tell me...
Please.

Bare All Cold Weather

Let's get personal and recap for a second.

Around this time last year I was:

1. Kicked out of my home and living with my godmother

2. Hurt and confused that the guy I was talking to kept giving me mixed signals

3. I was still finding myself

4. Heavily depressed and repressing it.


Boy if I knew then what I know now....


I digress.

December and January were my worst months.

Also, they were the first months in which I ever got drunk.

And thus, this freewrite:

I.

Alcohol always tastes like

Women with no strength for teaching

The ones who lost their love in the laundry

Women who stitch their fears to bar glasses

Like mothers

Who never told me to button my jumpy bones

Silently.

II.

Drunk

Is not a good friend of mine

We are about as close as

The quiet grazing an ex lover's mouth

And the thunder lapping tongue between his & mine.

My tonsils don't hold sun storms well.

III.

Sweaty hands can unhook

Even the most strategically placed underwire

I own secrets in that metal

Can you handle the breaths beneath the bra?

IV.

I start to remember

I cannot afford the morning.

Cotton swished aftermath

A sunrise too wooden to make peace with.

V.

I lose the pieces.

I know that this is a new year, and the past is past and all...

But I just can't forget where I came from.

Where I was. It keeps chasing me.

Something about it just won't let me be...