Scratch Online

I slam down on the brakes. My heart is racing. I can hear the beating in my ears. It’s the only sound, covering everything thing else. Cars are everywhere. Smashing, slamming, breaks skidding. But all I can hear is my heart beat. The front of my car smashes into a window. Broken glass flies everywhere. It hits me, my arms, my face. Thump, thump. My head hurts. People are screaming, rushing towards me. I look down at my lap. It’s dyed red with blood. I wonder who’s it is. The cars in the intersection behind me are stopped now, people…

I don’t even believe in you, but I feel safe here. Safe under your wing, so to speak. Leaning against the stained glass. Jesus Christ stands right in the center, arms open. Are they open to people that don’t believe? Are they open to me? Door’s locked. Does that answer my question? I clasp my hands in a knot anyway, set my eyes on the yellow street lamp illuminating the church in the 1:00 AM darkness. The light somehow makes this November night not so cold anymore. Sitting on the welcome mat I start to pray. A prayer can be…

Charming the world with a smile so innocent, speaking words with a careful voice, walking a path only you can follow; glass road as if you’re the only fragile Heart pumping without compassion, mouth breathing undeserved air, actions hurting lives, eyes watching with a torturer’s stare. Mind rests peacefully in a world unfair. Taking what you want, leaving behind what you’ve destroyed, picking up untainted souls to become your new toys. You play them until they’re worn, you hold on even when they’re falling apart, only when they are broken do you move on to a new naive heart. And…

Flat land spreads before us, white dime in blue sky, no place for darkness; of which doubts and conflict hide. Fingers laced, as passion holds them tight I am awed to find not a shadow in sight. Our carless feet command us forward, infatuation blinding our naive eyes to the uncertainty and obstacles behind the wall of forest trees, awaiting our confused cries. Unprepared we enter, into a vast domain, our laced fingers fall to our sides, as our eyes begin to stray. The dime is lost above treetops; down here doubts and conflicts hide, the darkness is usnsettling and…

it was different than that, but that’s what I got out of it
leave that one
better with all or none
we pause more, they sink into our conscience
rearrange the words
call + response
back + forth
very few words, but every one counts
it just ends like that
I just lost it
not sure how to make that kind of piece hold together
you kind of forget those lines
the ones that make the others matter

s p l i t all that matters
and call it COURAGE
three songs
seven kisses in a row
bring you back to --> me
bring you home

Follow me to the edge of my earth
depth of my Deepest ocean
a broken branch from my family tree
fallen rose petals, deep Red, shallow

How do we overcome who we’re supposed to be?
to find ourselves among our Broken hearts
scarred dreams, burnt fingerprints
embedded beneath my fingernails
dirt of your Smile
like the scum between pond stones
those words only spoken at night

Because to let sunlight in
would be like allowing you
to Kiss me
in front of my parents

There really is never any good reviews for O‘Mally’s Restaurant for the Generally Malasied, and this review is no exception. There is just something about the place that makes you feel uneasy; something that makes you want to get out of there as fast as possible. If you can suppress the urge to flee the premises as soon as you step foot inside and make your way towards the booths, you will find yourself with the sudden, almost irresistible urge to scream. No one knows why. The seats themselves are set at a 75 degree angle, so that you’re forced…

Comfort is not a feeling. It’s a person, a place an object. Comfort is having a best friend, Someone who will make you tea in the middle of the night, An ever present shoulder to cry on. Comfort is the hidden cove, The beach full of perfect pebbles, Water gently lapping at your toes, Always there, never changing. Comfort is a childhood blanket, Old and worn, Softened by years of cuddling and drying your tears, Still embracing you in a warm hug every night. Comfort is found in the small things. It is a scent, a sound, a touch. Comfort…

When we’re little it’s easy, Draw a line in pencil, One black dot to another, If you screw up, it can be fixed by a nub of pink rubber. A little older, still easy, Draw a line in crayon- hand steady One black dot to another If you screw up, it can be fixed with a kiss and a Band-Aid Older still, getting harder Draw a line in pen, creating your own dots, One discovery to another, If you screw up, it can be fixed by a few tears cried on your best friends shoulder Full grown, seems impossible Draw…