time, time, time


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as every second passes
I hope the next will come faster
bringing me to “the future” –
where I have found a way to be older
than myself

when will this constant ticking
stop guiding my life?

let me exist, eyes closed
without my heart lurching forward
be still, be calm, be quiet
I don’t think I can take the pressure




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there is a whole world
in this vast, blue sky
yet the emptiness
could swallow you whole

so cross the bridges
find the other side
of these prairie lands
and be free

let your wonder expand
to fill this open space;
explore with dirt-filled shoes,
slow down, be happy

watch the sunset fade-
the skyline turns red
stretching forever
across flattened lands

stories drift
across the settled river
as the moonlight makes the water
come alive

the lights of this city
may be dim
but do not worry
you are not lost

find a different map
look through rose coloured glasses,
and learn a new way to love
a new way to live

let me introduce myself


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I find it hard to let go-
the person I was and the people I’ve met
are kept as trinkets in boxes
scattered around my childhood bedroom.

at every intersection in my life,
I cling to the people I have met
because I know they have changed me
and I don’t want to forget
because, at some point,
the memories are all you have.

there is no space for me to hold on
in my room or in my heart
but that won’t stop me from trying.
that won’t stop me from lying,
and saying I don’t care.
and that won’t stop me from crying
because broken sobs often lull me to sleep
over people who will never know how much I care-
or who knew, and left.

in my old age
of almost-not-a-teen
I have become more open,
existing without a filter
so now people shall know every thought
that passes through this scattered brain.
apparently, in my world
secrets are not meant to be kept
because all I do is share.

it is inevitable
for better or for worse,
so my rambles shall continue:
I have faint scars
on my upper arms
and tear stained cheeks.
I spend too much time perusing my bookshelves
transporting myself backwards
to the person who was transformed by these stories.
a bookworm found friendship in these characters,
happiness in the narratives,
and tucked among this fiction
you can find journal entries of a girl
long grown up
written in gel pen
and poorly sharpened pencils.
I can’t read too much at a time
because I still feel the emotions
and can’t believe that even a second has gone by.

open me up
and you will find unchanging truths:
I have an overflowing heart
and no sense of direction
in road trips or in life-
but in neither case do I hope
for a singular path to follow.
I often forget that I exist
to anyone other than myself
(I’m too busy paying attention to others)
I wish to write a book
and have a pet llama
and live my life wearing a wedding dress
in a house that is only mine.
I have too many worries
and I could waste my life away
just thinking
but I step out the door every day
because life in action makes me smile.

I want to do and I want to be and I want to live.
my experiences have built me and I want to keep growing.

let my room continue to be a mess
of brightly coloured boxes of memories made.
I will hold onto everything I’ve done
because this is who I am,
and what I will pass on
in the things I create,
and the stories I write.

and maybe it’s not so bad,
to have a cluttered room and a cluttered mind
because I have built myself on a pile of memories
a collection of stuff that will continue to grow.

I cannot shed myself of my past
I will never close myself off
and I am perpetually over-attached
because this is what has made me
and this is who I am.


May 13th, 2014


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there are so many things that are worse
than my voice dimming when the world gets too loud
and not knowing what to do in a crowd
or talking to someone without really knowing
where to place my eyes
or how to respond in a way
that will meet their definition of normal

and sometimes it feels like my nerves are gnawing at my insides
then I just can’t get out of my head
for long enough to interact with the world around me
I don’t know how to act normal
I don’t know how to be normal
I just have to be and hope I survive

don’t stare at me like I’m acting this way to annoy you
I know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be
don’t talk to me in that tone because
I don’t know how to fix it
and I care more about my sanity than your comfort
so build up some empathy
and stop treating me like I’m broken



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words impact lives-
tearing apart and reconciling still;
I’m sorry, I’m sorry
there’s a lump in your throat
and butterflies in your gut-
hope for a turn of phrase
maybe some change
and the world will go
your way.

all of this with words and more words
reflecting and connecting
pulling at heartstrings
with invisible lines
of connections we make-
connotation, denotation,
that cannot possible be what
you meant.

so much can be said
and so little purpose
a few words can mean so much
yet so little is taken away-
and so it goes in this world
of emptiness and fullness;
sometimes everything breaks
and we are left
with nothing
but words.

Space Girl


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She dreamed of outer space
of being a Martian or an astronaut
her ambition burned bright
and shone through her eyes

Everybody knew that
she dreamed of outer space
they entertained her determination
but laughed, as if it were just a fantasy

She grew up loving science
working hard to do well
she dreamed of outer space
and would do anything to take off one day

The gravity of the world was her demise
and practicality had won her over
yet looking up at the stars on her walk home from work
she dreamed of outer space