He died, Thursday, May 18th.

And that's really all I have to say.

Back to the old routine. And I already feel like crying ( Read more... )

She is a stranger
a pagan girl, with an angel
with no wings.

And she insists
with pretty little words
into a dark room
that everything will someday
be ok.

She tears her skin like pages
and writes all her worries
on the inside of her skin
and keeps her fears
within within.

But she's starting to fall apart
again.

Today has been horrid.
I saw him, and he is getting better.
But all the tubes, and the way he shivers under the cooling blanket...all the IVs, and his medicated sleep.

I cannot stand to see my father that way. It kills me.

But I don't have anyone to cry to right now ( Read more... )

That is where I am right now, approximately 6 houses away from the fire house that saved my father's life ( Read more... )

And the Rag Doll knows her lines ( Read more... )

Summer comes glancing from ( Read more... )

She inhales as she speaks, swallowing cold air and death past chapped lips. It is more a gasp than a sigh, as if some small part of her is shocked, if unwilling to profess suprise ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

so much so much
i wish upon
the stars
i could spill the whole universe
at your feet past my
tongue

if i wanted to.

and my blood is everything that is
nothing
and in my nothing
he means everything to me
and that
is awfully terrifying.

and my fear ebbs and flows
and i know
oh i know
there's nothing to be
afraid of.