I Promise You Death

Well I've emailed several 'officials' in Ireland about the immigration laws but I haven't heard back yet. My fingers are crossed so tightly they hurt. Past little while I haven't been able to sleep until five in the morning, yesterday/today I didn't go to sleep until 6:30, I'm amazed I can still function. I'm so unfocused and confused lately that this entry is going to be pretty chaotic. I feel like I'm pretty done with romance at the moment, I'm getting to that point where I'm just tired of being put through the same shit every time and expecting a different outcome. There's never going to be a different ending, it'll always be the same heart break because I fell too hard, too fast. Fuck it, I'm an adult, I know life goes on and I know there's someone out there but it still hurts every time I fall.

        It was a sullen type of misery that hung in my heart as I watched him leave. Its dark claws digging into the organ that I had no desire to keep. She'd taken him from me some time ago, maybe he'd never been mine to start with but it had sure seemed like it. It was harder than I thought it would be to turn away, every part of me strained to run after him, to steal him away. Though hesitation pulled at my muscles I crouched down and slipped under the gate. This was the last time I would leave our place, the last moment that I could imagine us in our fevered glory. My leather clad foot collided with the harsh rusted iron of the gate and I bit down on my tongue to hold back the profanities. Digging sharply into my jean pocket and sliding out my lighter. The black coat glistened against the fading sun as I light it, laying its heat against the string I watched as it danced ever closer to its goal. With moments to spare I rose and walked briskly away, the sound was deafening, the heat scorched my skin and burnt my fly away hairs. My heart cried for him, for our place, for the death I had caused. But in the end, if I can't have him, no one can.

Vain is your Heart.

Alright, so I've been having a lot of trouble sleeping the last little while, at least more so than usual. The past four days I've only been able to fall asleep around five and six in the morning. It's wrecking havoc on my system and I'm barely getting anything done through out the day. I've really got to try and sort out the issues, but I have no idea why I can't sleep. It's not like I don't get tired, but I just can't seem to fall asleep. I'm watching Romeo&Juliet and reading up on my Latin, I'm just that awesome, and there is nothing else that I can think to do. I use to always want a love like theirs, something amazing and true and romantically tragic. However I've come to realize that that isn't me. I'm not that girl, I won't be the one to fall madly in love and suffer through a romantic tragedy. At best I'll be comfortable, and I think I can be okay with that. I guess. Maybe moving to Ireland will change things, maybe....hopefully.


     Quips too harsh to bare,
 thrown so careless,
                      so weightless,
     so vain.
         Lies too solid to shake,
  told so freely,
                           so lightly,
        so pained.
   Tears too cold to dismiss,
 trailing so slowly,
                                    so heavily,
    so stained.
 Hearts too broken to hold,
       torn so willingly,
                              so momentarily,
     so vain.

Sinking Sunken Ships.

Well it's 3 a.m. here and I have no desire to sleep, possibly because my heart feels like an anvil. I seem to always be the one to fall to quickly for the people that will never feel the same. It's a sickness, a weakness, a crippiling need to find pain in a way that is not only detrimental to my physical being but also to my mind and my hope. I've been trying for so long to find some way to rid myself of at least a small amount of anxiety, I've looked in to many religions and most thoroughly Buddhism but nothing makes sense to me. No 'diety' could ever give me the reassurance and strength that I need. It's a one ship fleet and this ship is sinking.

Caught up in the wasted hearts,
        the bleeding so easily spent.
Pushed down against the floor,
               your lies just another nail
    in my coffin.
I ought to hope for something sane,
       for a peace in these crimes.
But I find myself still lost,
             in a love that was never
     mine.

Senseless Obessions.

Sorry for the absence, we've been traveling a lot in the past few days but we're finally home. There's been quite the thunder storm going for most of the day, I'm enjoying it so long as I remain inside. Going to the States was pretty great, a lot of the things they had in Seattle and Port Angeles were things I've never seen. I'm beginning to amass quite the collection of British/Irish/Scottish cookbooks and ingredients. Just the other day I purchased my first ever tin of treacle and I can't wait to try and use it! I'm a wee bit fascinated with the food and culture involved and I try my hardest to keep what I make authentic. I'm attempting to bring myself to having black pudding (For those who don't know it's made with sheep's blood and various organs) I seem to be having a little trouble with getting over the inital thought of it.

     Senseless Games

I hear your whispers

through the walls.

Paper thin and vain

you are.

A taunt, a tease

a laughing gaze.

Your flitting hand wraps

longing round my heart.

A bitch, a skank

a senseless whore.

I’m not up for your cold games,

not anymore.

Wish Away my Broken Heart.

Well we've made it to the great expanse of America...Port Angeles to be more precise and it's great! The coolest thing so far is the fact that you can buy alcohol in grocery stores. In Canada that would never happen, though it would be really awesome if it would. It was a very foggy ferry ride from Victoria but I greatly enjoyed the fact that I felt like I was in a Harry Potter movie! My anxiety is still pretty through the roof these days, I've been worrying a lot about others. There's too much pain that people have to go through, it just isn't fair and I wish that I could take it away. All of it.

Bloody Broken Hearts

The blood, in all its rush,

Races over your finger tips.

Dropping to the ground,

And slithering to the drain.

Pulling your teeth out,

Letting your broken fingers cry.

Falling to the ground,

And breaking all those bones.

The blood, in all its rush,

Leaves a stained heart behind.

A Broken Neck, with Love.

Some days I wish I could hunker down far away from the world and never have to return. Some days it just gets to be too much. Everyone arguing, the world turning in on itself, the value of human life decreasing. I find myself hoping that the passions I hold so dear to my heart will survive through this sadistic era we've begun, though there is little chance for them. So much of me wishes that I could change the education system, the health system in the U.S.A. the poverty of humans, the cruelty against animals, the distrust and anger against different lifestyles. But that would take four life times and a voice one million strong. Hopeful as I may be, the chances are slim to none and I've never been one for politics. As corny as this sounds, if there were a little more love in the world maybe it could turn somethings around. Maybe life would be a little easier and people a little happier. I'll gladly wait until that day comes, though in the mean time I will try my best to make the situation a little better. Fingers Crossed.

        He'd left me in an awfully cool sweat, my heart thrumming painfully against the bars of my chest. I gasped at the cool night air, dragging it deeply into my lungs and holding on to it for as long as I could. My hands groped at my neck, long fingers pulling at the rope that clung there. I couldn't move it, couldn't slip my nails under it and free myself. The rope seemed to pull taught, constricting further than it had just moments before. I dropped my hands, letting them brush against my legs. My pinkie caught something warm, a droplet, though I could barely see anymore I raised it to my gaze. Blood. My blood. Running from the angry seeping wounds that covered my torso, falling onto my crooked and broken legs. I tried in vain to free it from my hand, swinging as much as I could. That's what the rope caught, pinned against a railing it sliced into my neck. The most awful noise sounded then, the creaking and severing of my neck. He kissed me then, pressing full lips to mine, breathing non existent life into me. His hand trailed up to my cheek and he wiped away the tear that had caught in my lashes, imprinting it on his tongue he turned away. 'Good luck', He whispered as the doors closed behind them, 'I love you.'

Stop signs in a Broken Life.

You know why single is better when you're 19 (in Canada) because you can have chinese food, drink too much wine and not a single fuck will be given. Sorry for the language, but seriously I wish at this moment I could have all the Noodle Box in the world and enough red wine to fill a lake. Thank goodness for exercise, alcohol and asian inspired foods. Sometimes I find myself asking the most idiotic questions just at the point where everything seems to be going all right. And then it goes to shit. I'm the kind of person who falls for the ones you shouldn't, or the ones you should who don't return the gesture in full. I take my actions for granted and I take the moments I find myself in too seriously. But then again you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

They had stop signs to nowhere. Sectioned off by concrete pillars, grotesque and cold in the lushness that surrounded us. Each breath left a mist hanging in the ocean air, dancing in and out of the leaves we pushed against the sky. Holding back branches covered in the rain from last night’s storm. He slipped his fingers in between mine, pulling me further into the dense brush. A large branch shook loose over us, cold water fell down the back of my coat sending shivers through me. I couldn’t supress the shudder as more rainfall seeped under my collar, his shoulders moved rhythmically with laughter as he watched my frantic hands attempt to dissuade the water from traveling any further. I wrenched my hand from his and thrust it deep into my red pea coat pocket, curling my fingers around and into a tight fist. He chuckled again and stepped lightly off onto a smaller path that would, hopefully, lead us to the ocean.

Oh Doctor, it's only Honesty.

I've been....struggling...with writing lately. Not just with writing, more so with everything. It seems to get to that point every once in a while and I just can't seem to handle it. The writing seems to be the way to deal with it in a more sane manner, though the bursts in which it comes aren't always easy to deal with either. One thing you will always find on and in this blog is honesty, even in the creative writing (Though the piece following is simply a poem with no issue to me behind it). Every piece has something to do with me, with what is going on in my life, with what I just can't seem to work my mind around. These days it seems to be the issue of a heart...my heart to be more accurate. I've struggled for so long trying to find the person who fits, who I'm not shy around, who is more a like me than anyone before them. For a time I'd thought I'd found that, thought I had discovered someone that could put an end to all the searching, all the anxiety, all of the emotional strain. But in finding what I did I also found that the person who you think is the perfect one often is not on the same page. Perhaps there is a desire there to be in someway the person who you hoped they would be, but more so there is the desire to still expand their own life and perhaps at this time you simply don't fit into the plan. It's harder to deal with than I thought it would be, I thought after so many years it would just become a skin that you peeled away and discarded. A skin of sacrafice, of accepting the fate they gave you. However; it was not as easy as I had hoped to be to remove the skin. Somehow it still clings to me and even as I slowly try and pick away at it, I'm finding that I'm just not yet willing to lose it. Not just yet.


   

Oh Doctor, Doctor.

All the doctors in their sterile white coats,

     with the listeners around their necks.

They tell you everything will be fine,

              only a few tests that they need to run.

As the needle grabs at your blood,

      and fills the vial full.

Your heart beats a little faster,

                   and a sheen of sweat shows through.

The results are held gently on their lap,

   your future at their hands.

An incurable disease they tell you,

        with only months to live.

How has it gone from something so simple,

                       to the end of it all.

Oh, the doctors in their sterile white coats,

                                                    with their hearts on their sleeves.

I Want You, I Want it All.

I never wanted the stares. People looking to see whether or not I'm up to no good. Watching the streets I walk along, peeking into my pockets. Just because I look like I do does not mean I'm a vagrant. I simply want to be and look the way I want to, no matter how many tattoos or piercings I get I will not be a different person. Every tattoo means something, every piece of art has a story behind it and I'm sure if you stopped and asked me about it, you would find that I am not at all who you thought. I will never understand the worlds need to hide away everything that doesn't fit into its clean cut view. Why can't we appreciate a little anarchy? I'd rather be a rebel than a sheep anyday. Always.

    I want to hear you scream my name. Though I haven't decided whether in pleasure or pain, I want to see it roll off your tongue. I want to see your lungs clench, breathing the air that hangs cold. I don't want some clean cut Tom, I want you in all of your broken, beautiful glory. Every scar and every mistake, the regrets and the murmurs, I want them all. I want every tear you've cried, every moment you've told a lie, every dreams that's been lost. Everything. I want it all.

Love for Death is a Mere Consequence.

The years passed by faster than I ever thought they would, rushing by in a indistinct blur. I have memories, moments that I've tried to keep somewhere in the mess of myself, but they seem to be slipping away more quickly than ever before. It's as if my mind has encountered so much in the past year that there's just no space left and the memories of my childhood have been removed and stored somewhere I'll never be able to find them. I'm not sure if I mind or not.


     Blood soaked my vision, leaking into my tear ducts and drowning my lungs. I could barely choke back the sobs, barely hold in the breaths that would save my life. Stay, please stay. I don't know whether I shouted it or it was only a fleeting thought. Either way you turned as if you'd never known me. I could see the redness of your neck before you pulled your coat collar around it, tucking your feathered blonde hair into it. Is this what you wanted all along? The satisfaction of knowing you were the one to tear my heart open and make me bleed, knowing that you were the one who broke me? I could feel it then, the darkness creeping into my mind, blocking out the cold evening. I grew warm as if you'd come back and wrapped me in the embrace I'd always loved. Instead it seemed death had finally come for me. He looked an awful lot like you. Feathered blonde hair, startling eyes and that smile, the smile that had captured my doomed heart from the beginning. He embraced me then, just as you had done and for a fleeting moment I forgot. Forgot that you had torn me away, pushed me to the ground and pressed the bullets into my heart. Forgot that you had killed me. In that fleeting moment he was you, in every delicate aspect, and I loved him as I had you.

Worry Breaks all Beauty.

Worried. Worried, worried, worried. That's all I seem to be these days. Perhaps it is because of you, perhaps in is my own anxious, critically impairing self. I can only hope that there will be some sort of assurance in the time to come. Some sort of whispered calm, a quiet moment that you'd be willing to share. Though I'm trying my hardest to keep my thoughts in line, my hopes under the bar I'm finding that it's much too easy to fall for someone as amazing as you. In the moments when the sun graces the sea I find myself alone, losing quickly the battle I've fought for so long. And as the sea laps at my pale skin I begin to lose your heart, perhaps it was never mine in the first place, but I had a hope and a desire I've never had before. I'll fight for your heart just as I'll fight for my own. In the end though, it's you who stand taller, stronger and with my heart and hope on your sleeve.

        The crumble of sand beneath me settles into the briny air. A sullen gull swoops quickly into my gaze and through the splitting pacific ocean. It's moments before the gull breaks the surface again, though it could have been a life time for me. Traveling back into the cool air the gull circles and leaves, it's fresh catch caught in between razor sharp claws. Claws I wish I had to escape these bonds, to rip and pull at the ropes that hold my soul to this earth. A cry split through the air once again and my eyes darted to the plummeting body of the gull. Thick red blood streamed from broken wings as he rocketed into the rock beach. His freedom and life cut down, just as mine would be. His love and life shot through, as my mind was about to be. As the thought entered my head the cold tip of a guns barrel presses against my temple. It's over, I was the gull. Bloody, bruised, broken.