home/less [black out]

[

homes don't really exist

people sleep, knees curled into chest

covered in moonlight and love

in parking lots and meadows and secret camping places

]

i ran away & started writting again

long story short i caught a midnight bus to the west coast and bummed around for a week. and i started writing again so i thought i'd post it before my parents kill me:

aug. 3rd 2016

there's love stories on the lamp posts that line the board walk
at low tide the birds chase the kites
& the kids search for their parents footprints in the sand
not realizing they're making their own

at night the teenagers build fires along the water and burn their death letters but still get too close to the flame

&&

sophomore year i started painting bruises in my notebooks because it just felt right

 i liked the colors; the blues and deep purples, reds and small dark spots, the yellows and greens

junior year my fists clenched more often then not and i spent most of my lunch time accompanying the empty bleachers

senior year i said goodbye to the bleachers and found comfort in my bruises and filled notebooks with words

---

a class room of kids and 1 teacher with enough bruises to paint a city

the blues and deep purples, reds and small dark spots, the yellows and greens and black if it was really bad

a handful of fists and a corner of misfits

i prefer to write in pen but you write in pencil and that is OK

bruises accompanied the podium more often than not

the blues and deep purples, reds and small dark spots, the yellows and greens and black if it was really bad

thank you for sharing your colors

         

unedited

in the 9th grade my friend told me that i walk down the halls like i could beat someone up and right now i'm thinking about what exactly he meant by that.
right now i'm sitting in my room that hasn't been clean since last wednesday and i'm looking at dried flowers from a wedding who's marriage didn't last a year and i'm thinking about how tomorrow is monday
tomorrow is monday
tomorrow is monday and i get to talk to my best friend
and tomorrow is monday
 right now i'm thinking about the way Nelson always says 'thank you' after he reads something and how i love classical music but i never say that when people ask me what kind of music i like
right now i'm thinking about how my mom is stressing out about me graduating and right now i'm thinking about how i just re decorated my room and i'm not even going to be living here 6 months from now i have a plan
i have a plan
 i have a plan but i dont' know what to do in between
in between i get so stuck
it's raining right now and i hope it's still raining when i wake up
should i go to first period tommorow
i'm sorry mom and i'm sorry dad but imma be gone soon
i'm thinking about my dog and how i worry he's going to die sad and about how i bought brand new paints and i haven't had the time to sit down and paint and i just want to paint and do art and draw and let my mind wonder onto paper i want to create i want to create i want to make something new
i have a couch in my room that i never sit on
and my sister is going to be alone in high school next year and right now i'm thinking about how ty sent me a letter all the way from mexico that took a month and a half to get here and all it said was "i love you & i wanted to make sure you got a flower today" and how i just got new sheets and how rilo will reach up and hold my hand and how eddie is less than a month old but she holds your finger so tight and that is such a subtly beautiful thing

i hope it's still raining when i wake up

OK

This last summer a couple friends and I headed out to go camping down south at the hot pots near Filmore. It was a two hour drive on a road that seemed to never end.

These natural hot springs came into a field in the middle of nowhere, and I've been there plenty of times since then but nothing has been quite like this night.

It was us, the water below & the stars above. The air was clear and crisp. Everything was OK. even when it was silent. The sky was empty, there was no moon. You could see the stars perfectly, and they were beautiful. We'd get excited every time we saw a shooting star. It felt as if we were the only ones on earth at that moment.

You could see down in the water for a couple feet but the rest was pure darkness. I would hold my breath and slowly let my body sink down into what seemed like an oblivian. For a few seconds I felt unbound from any earthly thing. It was just me, floating. Almost as if my body was completely lifeless, my thoughts became more tangible than my body. Life paused for a moment, midnight turned into 3 a.m. & 3 a.m. into 4 and before we knew it we were watching the sun rise over the mountains. The light slowly warming the dew coated grass. Time stood still for us, i felt so in tune with my body but sleep never occurred to me. We didn't party all night, we were never too loud or did anything crazy. We just talked and when we weren't talking it was silent and it was OK. Everything was OK

dat dessert

my souls alright, maybe my body's all wrong.
we as humans strive for a better tomorrow
when we can't get over yesterday.

it took me a year and a half to forgive
though my feet kept walking west.
maybe my body's alright but my soul is all wrong.
because the sun will rise in the east
and the first thing it will touch
is whats behind me.

16 & 162 songs old

got a little sentimental and made a playlist of all the music that i listened to sophmore year

162 songs of my days as a 16 year old

 here

take flight to me

darling i've been waiting at the airport for hours now and the man sitting next to me has a watch that stopped ticking two minutes ago
night please turn into day
heaven, walk a little faster
time be on my side
please hold my hand love
please hold my hand love
please hold my hand, love

please don't miss your flight

the:

(the art of her left hand saved him)

i can't shake you

sneak peak

a simple gift to my fellow creative writers :

a piece of Paris - something to write your name on

back space

sunday night

sunday nights

Sunday nights

what seemed to be endless nights of bipolar fingers dancing around my keyboard until 1 or 2 in the morning 

middle finger: "I" 

*space* 

ring finger "remember" 

*space* 

"the way - 

*space* 

"you"  

middle finger: "backspace backspace backspace"

middle finger "i"

"i remember when we hid under the sheeeeeettss....."

*back space*

middle finger: "i"

"i remember the space" 

i remember the space, and how i hated the space between "goodnight" and "good morning" but i loved the space between us because halfway was where our lips met

i remember our book and how there was no space between us because we were both on the same page

or the space of where my stomach was and where it was supposed to be when you kissed me for the first time

or the space between your crooked smile and your ears where i kissed you for the last

the space between your fingers was my favorite because mine fit perfectly in the middle, and i remember how you loved when your hair filled the space between mine.

the space between my head and my hands got my thoughts drunk as they passed through the center of me - which explains why everything i write seems to have your name between eveeeerry......


*backspace backspace backspace*