Finding my Reasons

Recording my everyday findings in the form of poetry.


I want to fill my head with you 

until your soul seeps out of the edges and stains the carpet

The adult teaches its nonsense.

We open our brains.

The clatter is deafening.

The clutter is frightening.

You find your way with broken bottles and smoldering cigarettes.
A life of smothering emotions with smoke
and pushing down feelings with poison.

I want to draw near you but I’m too afraid I’ll choke.

(Source: allofthesevoices)

I want to fill my head with you 

until your soul seeps out of the edges and stains the carpet

You’re just the sweetest thang


Never thinking
Never pausing
Always moving
Always devouring

You were a frightening, perfect, beautiful monster
that would bare its teeth at the weak.

Your scales would shimmer in the light
but you would shed once in the dark.

Your wings would help you fly higher,
but they’d batter all objects in their way

Your fangs would help you tear into the plumpest carcass
but they wouldn’t falter to pierce the still-living

I wanted to become you.

Always moving.
Always devouring.


I think in stories,
speak in poems,
and dream in the most beautiful of songs.

—Elaine Marie

(via lzlabseesu)

The Noise in my Head, the Sound in our Hearts

Hum softly and mutter meekly,
We don’t need the sound.

We have more than enough noise
when syncopated heart beats pound.

The sun doesn’t stream, it sings!
The air isn’t still, it’s jiving!
The earth doesn’t stop and wait for us.
No, the earth is thriving.

Exam week

Up before daylight
Stomach eroding from black tar coffee
Eyes collapsing- brief dreams of alternate universes
drawing me away 
The quiet is ringing in my ears. 
Insanity approaches

(Source: allofthesevoices)

“Men weren’t really the enemy - they were fellow victims suffering from an outmoded masculine mystique that made them feel unnecessarily inadequate when there were no bears to kill”

—   Friedan, B. 1963. The Feminine Mystique

Fallen stars don’t know of my grief.
My sparkle is a song unsung,
My glow has faded with the mornings