you are a miracle;

you are a miracle
a tiny living being
birthed from nothing
but a single cell.

welcome to the world.

wave hello
and face the wonders
with a brave front.

times may be tough for you
but remember, you are strong.
you were born to live through the hardships
and overcome the obstacles
so that you can appreciate
the things that matter most.

home, love, and family
never take these for granted
and live to the fullest
because life is a precious gift
that you can live through only once.

goodbye 2009;

goodbye two thousand and nine
it was great to have you around
but it is now time to let you go.
less than twenty-four hours
you have to live
before you die forever.
i hope the memories you created
will hold dear to your heart
and never be forgotten.
remember the days
that we took for granted
and let them live on
in our souls
even after we depart this earth.
so, two thousand and nine
i salute you
and wish you the best of luck
on the journey into the books of history
and into the past.

afterwards;

She laid on her white bed, in her white room, with white walls. She tried to focus her eyes, but found it very difficult to do so. All she could see was not reality, but the world she could only ever dream about. She rolled over onto her side, staring at the clock at her bedside. Four in the afternoon. Ugh. Time did move by so very slow. How much longer?

As always her mind betrayed her, sending her into another world, the place that she held dear to her heart. How many years has it been? Five? Ten? She began to lose count after the first couple. Maybe it was seven. No, it was thirteen. Thirteen long years since that beautiful time. And she longed so dearly to return.

She could still smell the sweet grass, the ocean surrounding the place blue and clear as diamonds. She could still feel the steam on her face as she scrubbed the bathhouse, a novice, but hardworking. And she could still remember, oh how could she ever forget, his beautiful face, the warmth of his palms in her own. The heartbreaking separation necessary for the both of them.

Has he forgotten her? The promise they made to one day meet again? It felt like it, after all of these years. She couldn't remember why she had to leave in the first place. All she knew was that it was essential to her survival. And look where it got her - in a mental institute, courtesy of her parents because they believed she had finally lost it. Years of lounging in her room, staring out into the sky for hours, endless hours. She became withdrawn after that trip down the tunnel. They thought her changed for the better, but it instead became steadily worse, taking a 180-degree turn.

She closed her eyes for what seemed the millionth time, hoping to see a glance of him. She saw nothing but darkness behind her closed eyelids. She sighed for the millionth time. So instead, she lulled herself to sleep, for it was only in her dreams was she truly happy. Because she would be in the world she truly belonged. With him.

[inspiration: spirited away and love]

another long and sleepless night;

another long and sleepless night
that has graced me once again
uninvitingly invading the patterns of my brain
my circadian rhythms and cycles.
i am tired of these lonesome nights
and i wish instead to enter
the world of dreams
where my fantasies can play out.
sleep gods, where are you?
why are you ignoring my pleas
of much needed sleep?
i miss the rise of the morning sun
because i am knocked out
finally catching my sleep
at four in the morning.
i seem to waste half of my day
because i wake in the afternoon
or at least late morning.
i am tired of playing this game
i forfeit, i am far too old to compete
so can we please go to bed?

ugh, not again;

ugh, not again
i can feel it
another headache
waging war on my person
again.
painful aches pulsate relentlessly.
acetaminophen, ibuprofen
somebody, something
free me fro my agony.
i cannot bear it much longer
please
bring me to my sweet release
and let me sleep in peace.

i can hear the sweet lullabies;

i can hear the sweet lullabies
you whisper in my ears
so very softly.
i can feel your arms wrapped around me
your fingers dancing a symphony
spider-like on my palms.
i can see your closed eyes
at peace with the world
as i gently kiss your lips.
and i can still remember
when we were young and in love
so many years ago
a fire that never died.

aha;

aha!
like a light bulb switching on
realization has dawned
on her once again.
how could she have forgotten
all that was most important
in her life?
stupid and naive she was
but now has a new outlook
on the future.

on growing older;

older, i am becoming. it is hard to believe how fast these last few years has gone by. the end of the year is near, in only three more days. 2010 will mark the year i turn twenty-three. my god. i feel an ache deep in my chest when i think about birthdays and another year gone by. i sometimes wish to go back in time, start over, or at least stay forever young. if i could chose any one power, immortality would be mine. of course, there the people who i love will pass on without me, while i am stuck in limbo between life and death. but the wonders i could see, as i am quite interested in what the future holds. will we live in space, inhabit other worlds, conquer new galaxies? or will the thread of time be discovered and i could go back again and again to the point of origin?

but back to the topic at hand, the bane of humanity's existence: aging. growing older mentally and physically. childhood games we once played hold no significant meaning to us, any longer. we grow to enter the world of working men and women, to contribute to society. i don't wish to think about aging. i don't wish to think about the day i turn forty-five, for it frightens me a great deal. and i don't wish to think about the day when the ones i love most deeply succumb to the sweet darkness and release of death.

i am both excited and scared of growing older. maybe i am just missing a few screws in my head?

brrrr;

brrrr!
it is quite chilly outside
even if there is no snow
or icicles hanging from shingles.
but the breath becomes visible
as we laugh with friends
in the winter weather.
mittens and thick overcoats
become our signature look
to battle shivering bodies.
and when the snow does begin to fall
it will cast a white blanket on the world
creating a beautiful winter wonderland.

religion;

religion is a very touchy subject
many have been persecuted
martyrs in their own rights
for not following the beliefs
of their so-called superiors.
they all claim their faith is true
and redemption can only be achieved
through their path alone.
but is that so?
what if they all pray
to the same higher force, being?
does that not make them all true believers
or possibly all heretics
depending on the spectrum?
we are all people
with two arms, two legs
and one beating heart.
we are one of the most intellectually
and mental advanced species
that inhabit the earth today.
yet, we allow little thing called religion
stand before us
as a barrier to great things to come.

i am a literary warrior;

i am a literary warrior
armed only with my pen, paper
and imagination.

i can change the course of history
by manipulating a set of words.

it is my skill
with which i was proclaimed general
of my army of soldiers:
the genres battalion.

it is they who do my bidding
the ones who caress the minds
of the people who read them.

they bring up the feelings in my audience
of love lost
or angered betrayal
fueled by sarcasm or witty phrases.

we can control the thoughts and feelings
of our unsuspecting audience
because when they begin to read
they release a Pandora's box
and instigate a war on words.

cha cha cha;

cha cha cha
dance a tango
or a rondo with me.
the rhythm of our love
balanced
in perfect harmony.

torment me;

why do you continue to torment me?
it is getting quite old
and i am tired of it.
hah, although i cannot speak
about you and how you haunt me
because you are unaware
that you are even doing it.
whoops, i suppose it is all
in my head
my very own fantasy.

i want a unique name;

i want a unique name
something different
and beautiful.
quite unnerving
to have the same name
as many others out there
unoriginal.
and frustrating to never come first
in search engines.
who is this other girl?
that one, in alaska.
or the other one across
the other side of the world
in australia.
but i rest assured
that even if my name
is not unique
my person is.

call me;

call me
i'm on the other line
waiting to hear your voice
again and again.

i am a listening ear
a vessel for your troubles
and jubilant happenings.

you aren't going to call
are you?
it figures
as you never called
before.

conversation takes two
but this was always
a one-line call.

reckless;

reckless
and stupid i once was.
never again will i make
that mistake
again.

simply not worth it.

money brings headache;

i wish i could be a child again
or at least a few years younger
where i didn't know the troubles
that money could bring
or lack of.
maybe it's selfish of me
to want to forget it
but i have never felt as stressed
as i am now.
i hate the fact that money
is the central point of life
without it
we starve
with it
we cannot appreciate what we have.
having to look into the u.s. military
to fund my schooling
and alleviate the stress
of day-to-day living.
i pray for a miracle
megamillions, anyone?
not to buy the fancy house
and the sleek cars
with designer commodities.
no, to know that i have a place to live
without having to worry
if we will lose everything
we have worked so hard for.

i am afraid of you sometimes, you know;

i am afraid you sometimes, you know
you are the epitome of perfect
something that i can never be.
but maybe that is a good thing
for while i have my faults
i can grow
while you are stuck in space
neither moving backward nor forward.

do you remember the last time;

do you remember the last time
that we held hands
and kissed passionately?
wherever did those days disappear
days spent basking the sun
deciphering the pictures in the clouds
wishing for the sunset to never come.
have you purged those memories from your mind
abandoned on a greyhound to nowhere
a train with no destination.
it seems only yesterday
we were caught in a fervent embrace
and like a jigsaw puzzle
we fit perfectly.
but it is evident that all good things
must come to an end
as love is never
forever.

let us throw our troubles;

let us throw our troubles
to the wind
and escape to a world
that fulfills our fantasies.

there can be another reality
that awaits us
if we only learn to let go
and leave the past behind.

have you forgotten your imagination
have you forgotten them all?

close your eyes
hold your breath
and with a leap of faith
dive into the adventure
of the unknown.

scribbles #4

she flushed a bright pink
like a fever that coursed
through her body.
the beginnings of sweet
puppy love.

i have dreamed about you;

i have dreamed about you
on several occasions
and i feel like a school girl
all over again
experiencing teenage crushes.
i already know that we will never be
simply because we are probably
incompatible.
so all i can do
is keep my composure
and interact with you normally
wanting you from afar
as i have always done.

love;

i remember the days of childhood
of being immersed in fairy tales
fantastical worlds of knights and dragons
and of course prince and princesses.

and like every other girl
i have dreamed of my prince charming
the man who would sweep me off my feet
and carry me away to his kingdom
far, far away, once upon a time.

but i know that fairy tale dreams
rarely come true
or at least not like stories.
but there is love out there
that although it is not how we dreamed of
but still surpasses our wildest imaginations.

relationships i have had
here and there
but nothing of substantial meaning.
and i hope to one day find that love
a love like no other
that was meant just for me.

sometimes, i just want to let go;

sometimes, i just want to let go
leave everything i know behind
and embark on a new journey
with no limitations or inhibitions.

we are born with the greatest gift of all
and we spend it slaving away laboriously
to obtain that perfect future
of a career, family, and a home
with a white picket fence.

i want to die with the memories
of all the adventures and places
i have yet to see.

i am ready for a change
i am ready to disappear
to the dense amazon rainforest
or to the arctic glaciers of the poles.

life is lived only once
and i want to make worthwhile
and the best.

human trafficking;

she sat on the hard, cold ground
feet close together
her arms wrapped around her shivering legs.
the sound of fear cloaked her body
the screams and landing punches
reverberating in her ears.

she whispered a mantra
over and over again
trying to block out the horrible reality
hoping to wake up from a dream.

a carefree trip this was supposed to be
but instead she was coerced to another world.
the things she would see, they said
if she would only join their tour.

the biggest mistake of her life.

the cries of unreciprocated sex
seeped from the other room
into her own.
involuntary muscle twitches
shook her figure violently
as she knew it would not be long
before she was next
an unwilling prostitute.

it was something that never crossed her thought
human trafficking.
she never believed this form of slavery existed
in the world today
an underground criminal franchise
where profit exceeds millions
as do captives.

all she could do now
was close her eyes
accept her fate
and hope someone would come
and rescue her.

why should i bother with you;

why should i bother with you
it's over, it's done
i'm through.

i tried, i really did
but you didn't see it
and i'm tired of playing games
with you, over and over.

call me a bitch
but you started it.
i did all i could
but you seemed to not even care
at all.

every morning she squints her eyes;

every morning she squints her eyes
against the harsh morning light
and drags herself out of bed
to her vanity table.

with dark circles under her eyes
she beings to put on her face
painting a portrait she does not recognize
anymore.

when did this all begin, again
and again she wonders
for the umpteenth time it seems.

she combs the long blonde hair
illuminated with imaginary luster
that was never hers to begin with.

she stares at the perfect, smiling face
beaming before her
her unknown reflection.

this beautiful stranger in the mirror
was the masterpiece of many years, many dollars
and many surgeries
all for the desire to be perfect.

and perfect she did become
stopping the hearts of men
and traffic alike.

but was it all worth it?
she lost many
and gained little.
women hated her
men wanted her.

to personify society's definition of beauty
was something coveted.
but it came with a price
and she gave up the most important feature of her person:
her individuality.

death;

death
is the inevitable
the last milestone to life.

but to die young
as children
is a devastating and unfair
predicament.

life is precious
and only given once.
to have only a few, beautiful years
under the belt
is heart-wrenching
and no child should have to face that fate.

childhood dreams;

what did happen
to those memories
of childhood days
filled with heroic dreams
and stuffed animals.

have we forgotten the foundation
of our present existence?
our personalities are built upon
our childhood
and the imaginary games we played
once upon a time.

as we grow up
we put behind our kindergarden treasures
of pet rocks and magical lands
trying so very hard
to be grown-up.

and now, we have hit that pinnacle
of being a "grown-up".
we have graduated from our silly games
that we used to play
on the playground.
we are now in the real world
working, with careers
no longer in a fantasy land
but facing the responsibilities
of a game called life.

where have those days gone
the memories we lived for.
a thousand pictures i can imagine
for a single word: childhood.

it seems we have all but forgotten
the most precious things
like colorful stickers
or the sixty-four pack of crayons
that served as collateral
in childhood gambles.

for me, the highlight of my childhood
was almost fourteen years ago
where life-defining play
left a mark on my heart.
and i frequently relive those memories
of playing "magic"
climbing trees
and a sleepover game.
such a short period of time, three years
but they were one of the best
of my childhood.

you are the red to my wine;

you are the red to my wine
the breeze to my summer nights
and the sun of my brightest afternoons.
like iced tea, we go hand in hand
together.

in the cold of winter
you and i fall downward
dancing a fairy tale dream
as snowflakes raining from the sky.

we are but two individuals
alone, although together
even in the bustling mall
in the frenzy of holiday shopping.

it is cold now outside;

it is cold now outside
and she sits by the fireplace
that glows no flame
beside the dilapidated christmas tree
that would bring no joy that night.

the melancholic look in her eyes
is enough to scare the ghosts
of christmas past, present, and future
from knocking on her door.

alone she felt
like the lonely stars in the sky
whose feeble glow
attracts no one.

there was nothing in her heart
that she so desired.
an empty hole
beating endlessly
to the tune of lost time.

and so she continued to sit
looking out the glass windows
watching for the sun, over the mountain peaks
the sun that would never rise nor shine
even in her darkest of days.

You may have thought;

You may have thought
I had forgotten the memories
That I was far too young
To remember
That I was only
A child.

But, you are wrong
I remember the intricate details
Like the back of my hand.
Granted, I may not have remembered
Everything
But what I do remember
Is etched deep in the synapses
Of my brain.

There were memories that were good
And then the ones that were bad
That terrified me
And made my cringe from you.

Some things are best left buried
Deep in my chest
But those are the things
That may have made me stronger
And the person who I am today.

scribbles #3

Geometric shades of gray
the design of my life
dominates my sun.

she should have known;

she should have known
that forever wouldn't last
as long as she had hoped.
foolish, childish dreams
girlhood fantasies
were all they were meant
to be.
betrayal brutally stabbed her hard
and she cried waves of tears
that cascaded down her pink cheeks.
she felt like a thoughtless girl
reading between the lines
that never existed at all.
so she packed her bags
and set off on a new journey
to forget about the past
and the years she wasted there.
eventually, she found joy and happiness
once again.
her broken heart and shattered soul
mended, slowly but surely.
and she was able to move on
surrounding herself with the good in life.
and never again would she experience
that painful, throbbing ache in her chest.

Take my hand, he said;

Take my hand, he said
I will guide you, protect you;
Your ears will never hear harsh words
And your eyes will never cry tears
This I will promise.
And so she let him take her
Over the mountainous peaks
Across the galactic seas
And into the starry skies
Into another galaxy.
New and unusual things she did see
Under his watchful gaze
Never allowing her to stray
Keeping her close as prey.
And never did he break his promise to her
For many years to come
Loved and wanted she felt
As he did in turn.
Memories together they created
Pure as the hearts beating in their chests
And as rare as diamonds and emeralds.
Two souls and two fates
Intertwined by the will of destiny
Always to linger
For eternity.

the end was near;

the end was near
and she saw the light
at the end of the tunnel
comforting and bright.
it opened up wide
wanting to swallow her whole
to forever keep her near, and safe.

scribbles #2

thank you
it is over
the long nights spent
cramming.

quit playing games;

quit playing games
let's put it on the back burner
hidden behind forgotten boxes
and moth eaten clothes.
old jokes have become stale
collecting dust
on imaginary punch lines.
so let's put it on the back burner
lost among a bucket of marbles
between nineteenth century paintings
and your great-grandmother's
worthless - or is it priceless - heirlooms.

beauty;

beauty
only skin deep?
look at her mind and see
strength, poise, potential, brilliance, and
promise.

i'm spiraling downward;

i'm spiraling downward
completely out of control
with no way to halt
my momentum, my roll.
which is up and which is down
it's all the same around me
inability to differentiate
lost in a sea of colorless scenery.
onward and onward
an endless fall from eternity
no rest stops on the way
a sightless journey.

a christmas ornament;

a christmas ornament
he held in his hand
his face reflecting
in the vibrant green.
but then
he squeezed too tight
and it shattered
the shards stained crimson
like my heart.

so, i should be studying;

so, i should be studying
for final exams
this week.
but my mind refuses
to cooperate.
it's filled with nonsensical musings
completely unrelated
to nursing.
it's filled with dinner parties
christmas lights
and sleep.
i have less than twenty-four hours
until my first exam
for which i have not cracked open
the books.
i am completely
and utterly over this semester.
i do not wish to think about the multiple
drugs
that i must memorize
or diabetic insulin peaks.
granted, it is important
but i am simply
over it.

She danced gracefully;

She danced gracefully
Nimble on her tiny feet
With perfectly pointed toes.
She danced a symphony
Not guided by music
But by her heart
And the beats of her life.

Alone in her fairy tale world
Existing only in her mind
She flew across the stage
Fulfilling girlhood dreams.
She danced to the 3/4 beat
Faster, faster
Then slower, slower
Coming to an achingly slow stop.

She paused, breathing heavily
Perspiration beading her forehead
From the many hours of practicing
Nonstop.
A little ballerina
Running on auto
And Energizer it seems.

The dance consumed her very soul
A cascade of thoughts that ran in tune
In the only place where she was free
And uninhibited.
Where her dreams became reality
Where broken hopes were revived
But sadly, only in her mind
For this crippled prodigy.

scribbles #1

there was something brilliant in her eyes
a passion that burned
not with fire but with love.

there was something sinister in his eyes
a passion that burned
not with fire, but with corruption.

there was something tragic in their eyes
a passion that burned
not with fire, but with despair.

and just a dream;

there was a dream in which i felt fear and sadness. it was a corruption of my feelings, and something i would never wish for. two young girls, killed in a park by wild wolves. i remember being there, watching, helpless, and unable to stop the scenario before me. but then the scene shifted, the light of death fading from my vision.

i was sitting in a room, alone with another woman. i asked her if the funeral had already taken place. she said yes. it was at that moment that i felt the greatest sadness towards the two children. i would never see their shining smiles, their bright faces, or their beautiful laughs. i remember holding the youngest when she was an infant, new to the world. and so very few years she had before she was brutally taken away.

i awoke, and still felt the sadness that lingered, over my heavy heart. but with awakening came relief, knowing that dire fate was merely a dream. and just a dream it would remain.

i was in a dream once again;

i was in a dream once again
and you were there, beside me.
we held hands as we walked
along a deserted path
in the park.

we wandered aimlessly
for what seemed like hours
though, it may have been
merely minutes.

there was a lake
to which we drew near
seeing the calm water
absent of ripples.

and then, you were gone.
where did you go?
were you a figment of my imagination
just a dream, a coveted desire.

unfulfilled you left me
haunted
by the brief memories.

come meet me at the horizon;

come meet me at the horizon
where the sky touches the ocean
a thin line
barely discernible.
we'll dance on the beach
leaving footprints in the sand
as they blow away in the wind.

come meet me at the coffee shop
and we'll muse over hot coffee
about everything that comes to mind
the memories that will eventually fade.

come meet me in the middle of nowhere
with the mountains as our natural backdrop
giggling, frolicking in the
dandelion and sunflower covered
open plains.

come meet me in the jungle
where we'll run and hide from elephants
and spy on tigers lying in trees
holding our breaths
enchanted and free.

come meet me at the end of time
where we will relish our existence
of the past, the history
that will forever go on
in our hearts.

i feel the raindrops fall;

i feel the raindrops fall
like the tears of forgotten memories
lost in the continuum of time
a million years into the past.

an infinity, the universe will age
until a cosmic catastrophe
will plunge it out of
existence.

deciphering ancient hieroglyphics
leads us to
stories untold and riddles unsolved
history lost
gone forevermore.

time is linear
or so we assume.
are there other branches
of what ifs and alternate worlds
universes closely parallel to our own
yet so very different.
does the butterfly effect exist
and has it changed history?

can we change the world?
or are we controlled?

our thoughts and feelings:
are they our own?
because science suggests
that chemical receptors
are at the core of our mental processes.
and disrupted pathways between brain lobes
can alter our personality.

who are we to say
that the world is the way it is
computed by complicated
mathematical formulas
and scientific research.
perhaps we do not control the world.
perhaps all its phenomena
are the works of a higher being
unseen by the naked, feeble human eye
and instead must be discovered
through heart and soul.

and is there life after death
is there a heaven, hell, limbo
or nothing?
are we celestial beings in human forms
or will we fade into the backdrop of time
as minute dust particles
of minor significance?

questions always asked
but never answered.
mysteries that can not be explained
but only theorized.
that is the world we inhabit.

death, the dying, and the screams;

death, the dying, and the screams
is all that he hears
all that reverberates
in his mind.
the flashing images
like a horror film
up on the big screen
plays on repeat.
so much pain and torment
plagues his aging mind.
when will it stop
when will the memories
be erased
and cease to exist?

even after twenty five years
he can still see the fear
in the eyes of his soldiers.
they were young, children at heart
still wanting to be under their mother's wings
not prepared for the reality of war.

oh, a little fun
and games
they thought.
we'll play with the big toys
and be real men.

they never realized the gravity of the situation
until they fell
with bullets ravishing their bodies
and blood painting the dirt ground crimson.

over and over again, year after year
he wished he could turn back time
to tell the young generation
that war is not a rite of passage
that the battlefield will become their graveyard
and their ghosts will forever wander.

is it really worth it;

is it really worth it
to give up everything that is most important
for the cars, designer handbags
the red carpet, and fame.
to be recorded in history
is truly a remarkable feat
where people will know
of your name
for generations to come.
but, again, is it worth it
giving up your privacy
having photographers hot on your trail
staking out at your home.
always having to double check yourself
do you look pleasant, perfect?
a grumpy, sad, or angry photograph
can give rise to vicious rumors
in the tabloids.
so is money and fame more important
than your dignity, your privacy?
where relationships and marriages
and cheating lovers
are the entertainments to the world.
is it worth it
and will you be happy
genuinely happy?


[source: clevelandleader.com]

i really can't stand you;

i really can't stand you
why do you think that only your opinion matters?
you should learn to listen to the voices of others.
maybe you are more experienced
maybe you have been in it longer than i have been alive
but you still don't give the chance to hear us.
maybe you are nice
but in emails and in person
you sometimes sound condescending
you ask for questions and then rebuke them.
how are we to understand
if you dont explain?
god help me in the weeks i will have you.

grow hair, grow hair, grow!

grow hair, grow hair, grow!
i miss you beautiful waves
the dark chocolate shine
and especially your length.
a horrible mistake i made in 2007
putting you through such misery
such pain, such regret.
and then several more times
you hated me
for what i did to you:
permed you
cut you
cut you again
and once more.
but now, its been five months
since you have been near shears
and that is good!
but you haven't grown much longer
or my naked eye doesn't seem to see
at least.
grow faster please
i miss you so
and i will never wrong you again!

Turning the Tables of Destiny: A short story

He stirred slightly, the blood on his forehead already crusty and dry. How long was he out? He felt the sharp pains and tender aches over his entire body, muscles he never knew existed complaining. What happened, he did wonder. His memory was hazy, having no recollection of the recent past. Every bone in his body protested at his movements as he struggled to his feet, gasping, wincing.

And then the memories came, rushing back like a flooded levy. The others who came for him, to scar him and to possibly end his life. He remembered the look in their eyes, burning with heated passion, with hatred. Did he know them? No. But he understood exactly why he was targeted.

As a child, he grew up relatively happy, if not lonely. The other children would never play with him, forbidden by their parents. His own father disowned him at birth, too, leaving him and his mother, wanting nothing to do with them anymore. But his mother provided all the care and love she could, ensuring that he would grow up to be a proper gentleman. She had sacrificed everything for his safety and happiness; she endured estrangement from her family, the jeers of the village folk, and the harsh insults of her contemporaries. The mother of Satan's spawn they called her. They said evil was her lover, the dark arts her friend, and witchery her lifestyle.

So he left her. He left her to protect her, for if he was not around, perhaps they would leave her be. He would hope his mother told them she finally destroyed what had consumed her, that the boy who lived with her was no son of hers. He wished, from the bottom of his heart for her to do this to protect and free herself.

He yelled out in agony, collapsing to the ground, every bone in his body burning, like a hot iron rod. He blinked back the hot tears that stung his eyelids, threatening to spill over his dirty cheeks. He curled his fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palm, fighting the urge to give up, fighting to live through the pain. But it was proving to be much too harsh for him, and he fell onto his back, succumbing to the darkness, to relief.

How long he was out, he did not know. Hours, minutes, maybe years. The sensation of time was lost to his unconscious psyche.

And then, he heard a voice. As sweet as sunshine and as smooth as butter.

He felt a cold compress on his forehead, giving him much relief. He felt small hands rub his hands, feet, the joints that ached so badly. He flickered his eyes open, seeing a strange girl rubbing a healing salve on his wounds, apparent as his pain slowly began to subside, although not eradicated.

"Who are you?" he rasped, his voice dry from disuse. The movement tickled his throat, causing him to reflexively cough, sending him into a spasm.

The strange girl - no, woman - tsked at him. "You are better off not moving for awhile to let the salve set. It will not take long," she said told him, continuing her ministrations.

He listened to her and waited what felt like an eternity before the pains and spasms in his body became tolerable. "Why are you helping me? Can you not see what I am?" he questioned this strange woman once again.

"I am helping you because you someone who is in no position to care for himself. You have been badly beaten. You are lucky to be alive, considering the extent of your damages; broken ribs, punctured lung, bleeding spleen to name only a few. What in heaven's name did you do to receive such treatment?" She sat back on her sheepskin mat.

He stared at her for a moment. And then he stared at his hands. And the tail that wrapped around his torso, his wolf like ears flicking slightly. "Well, is it not obvious? I am a hybrid, a mutt; nothing worthy of attention. It was not what I did, but what I am."

She watched him quizzically, his statement soaking into her brain. "Well, I simply see another living being. I am sorry for your circumstance. But not worthy of attention? I believe you are wrong. You had someone who loved you very much for you to have survived as long as you did. I suspect that it was your mother who protected you to let you live long enough to experience life."

He snorted at her comment. "Experience life? The only life I have experienced was hurt and betrayal. Happiness is a foreign concept to me."

She shook her head. "I disagree," she said. "You have known happiness. I can see it in your eyes. It is mingled with sadness and torment, but it glows feebly."

He nodded. "Some happiness. With my mother. But that is all. To society, I am as good as livestock."

She gave him a pitying smile. "But you are setting yourself up to be said livestock. You are sculpting your person on beliefs your society has put forward, as barbaric as they are. Do you feel to be livestock, property, worthless? Who is to say that is the life you must lead? Take matters into your own had and build the foundation of your legacy yourself. No one, not even your mother, can design your future for you."

He suddenly felt very shy and embarrassed at her chastisement. Why did he never think of that before? He had been ridiculed and bullied for the majority of his life. But what did he do to stop it? Nothing, he realized. He allowed for his village folk to have their way with him, and his mother, and he did nothing to prevent nor stop it. He felt foolish.

She smiled at him, seeing the revelation light up in his green eyes. "You see now then? You only became what society wanted you to be, what they wanted to believe. You are no monster; you are no doormat to be stepped upon. You are a person, even if you are half human. You deserve the same rights as any other citizen of your society."

He listened to her words, and knew this to be true. Perhaps his beating, his leaving home, and his serendipitous encounter with this woman was a wake up call to pave a new future for himself. "Yes," he breathed to himself. "I can go back and put my right foot forward, and show them my potential. I can be a citizen of my village, and contribute. And if that fails, and if they reject me as they always have, I will move to another village, another city. I am not bounded to simply one place!" He became excited, unaware that he injuries had healed and that he was jumped up to his feet.

He whirled around to face the woman, to tell her of his plans, of his new found sun. But she was gone. The warm room that was once lit with fired logs was cool, ashes in the hearth. The candle that was lit when he awake had burned down to a puddle of wax. And the sheepskin that woman rested upon was coated in dust. And she was gone. He looked puzzled, wondering if her presence was simply a figment of his imagination, a magic his weak mine concocted to comfort and guide his pathetic self.

But no, the salve was still there next his feet, half used, and still fresh. He felt rejuvenated, his injuries healed, his pain gone.

Even after many years, he would never fully understand what had happened that day. Was the woman real? Or was he at the brink of insanity? Regardless if it was reality or fantasy, he did indeed become a new person. He was unable to be a part of his village; instead, he moved himself and his mother into another city. There, the citizens actually ignored him the first time he arrived, not because he was different, but because he was as ordinary as they were. He was not second-class or second-best to the human race. He was equal and they found nothing special about him. He worked hard and became an integral citizen of the city, a respected individual. He married and had children, with whom his mother had immense joy.

He would never know who that woman was. Was she an angel? A spirit? Or perhaps his muse, his guiding star that had burned down to a miniscule flame? Either way, he had reignited the life in his heart, the potential in his soul. He became the person his father never believed he would be and had the life he could only fantasize about.

He was whole and his life had purpose once again.

the drive in town was dreary;

the drive in town was dreary
with cars packed on the interstate
like sardines.
the musical genius of owl city
caressed my ears
a symphony to my brain.
the lull of sleep pulled so strongly
and i fought with heavy lidded eyes
to gain composure and to stay awake.
and finally did i make it
to my destination
without any destruction
on my part.

i sit here in this quiet place;

i sit here in this quiet place
with my thoughts and a few people
clicking away on their computers.
the silence is soothing, inviting
perfect for time away
from the hassles of life.
the main distraction is the heater
pushing in warmth
to frigid fingers.
books are perfectly aligned
on their bookshelf homes
perfectly alphabetized
forever forgotten in time.
the day has barely begun to set motion
the sunrise peeking over the horizon
to birth the world with the future.

i'm drowning, disappearing;

i'm drowning, disappearing
in this pile of rubbish.
suffocating, and losing consciousness
in this game called life.
papers strewn here and there
in disarray.
so hard to concentrate
on the list of things to do.
no more, no more
let me go
let me sleep.
no more, no more
i am tired of the endless points
on the map
from here to the end of the road trip.
erase it
give me a blank slate
to rewrite the memories and the future
so that i can bypass it all.

oh sweet release;

oh sweet release
where are you?
why do you evade me so?
i am desperately seeking you out
each day, every day
for you to bless me with your
presence.
it is an uncontrollable desire
a coveted want, need
and an unhealthy passion
to have you.
so please, please, please
sweet release
come out from the shadows
to me.

the days are getting shorter;

the days are getting shorter
darker, colder
and the sun no longer shines
as long as it used to.
it is an odd feeling
the transition of seasons
from warm to chilly.
but one merry thing
about the coming of winter.
halloween, thanksgiving, christmas, new years
a bountiful succession of tradition
of beautiful holidays.
i love the smell of pine trees
and the glittering bulbs
of christmas lights
stringed and looped over bushes
and along rooftops.
i love the falling snow
so white, cold, and beautiful
coating the world
a winter wonderland.

she had a dream last night;

she had a dream last night
being pursued by those who wished
to capture and kill
to destroy her.

a horse came to the door
to whisper run, run, run
they are coming.
there is no time he said
pack the bare essentials
and leave this place forever.

that she did
grabbing her laptop
and her coat.
food she would buy on the way
hotels she would rent.

she looked out the front door
she saw 'sparkle cleaners'
and knew they had come
her exterminators.
they were people she once knew
once worked with
and once had wonderful times with.

she grabbed her younger brother
her father and her mother
and pushed them out the back door
onto the patio.

but intercepted she was
by a man whom she loved.
and she was stricken at the thought
of his betrayal.
but no, he did not betray
he grabbed her hand
hiding her
leading her to the car
that would drive them to sanctuary.

they got to the car
he said he could not follow
for he was bounded to her enemies.
he said go, go, go
never return
for they will be waiting.

she kissed him one last time
clasping his hand
never wanting to let go.
with sorrow in each other's eyes
she climbed into the driver's side
and drove away
into the horizon.

A sweet prayer

A sweet prayer
I gently sing
With a melodious ring
Diffusing the sting
Of life's harsh fangs.

[from 2007]

nursing

nursing
a tough passion
of death, life, and healing.
being there, caring for those in need
always.

tick tock tick tock

tick tock tick tock
she stares at the clock
watching time pass by
inch by inch
so agonizingly slow.

ten seconds crawl by
seemingly hours.

when will she be free?

she has been here
sitting, with cramping thighs
and numb toes
waiting, waiting, waiting.

she feels the shiver in her bones
the fear that clutches at her heart
and the mild sensation of suffocation.

she wants nothing more than to sleep
or to die.
anything than wait for that unknown fate
where her future may lie.

when will she be free?

she longs to breathe the fresh air
to feel the sun on her cheeks
and to hear the bluebirds chirp.
but she is no more than a prisoner
locked away, hidden forever
in a gilded cage.

when will she be free?

do you hear me when i call out your name;

do you hear me when i call out your name
when i am singing the song to your heart
late at night when the world is asleep?
i fervently hope you will hear the notes
that dance inside my mind
and i can barely speak when i see you sneak
right past my window blinds.
i will follow the trails you leave behind
like birds on breadcrumbs in hansel and gretel
to simply have the chance to glimpse.
and this sad obsession will drive me to the brink
until you hear me call out your name
and listen to your heart's song
that which i sing.

we will run through the hallways;

we will run through the hallways
and zigzag through rooms
pursued by our enemies
until we reach the end of the maze.
we will catch our breaths
and laugh precariously
at how narrowly we escaped
our unprecedented fate.
it is then when we will pause
to stare at each other
as our laughs become giggles
and fluttering breaths.
and we will smile at one another
suddenly painfully shy
full of wonder and awkward silences
as if we have not been friends for years.
we will realize our hands are still entwined
from the spontaneous rabbit on the run chase.
and as we draw closer together
falling sideways onto the bed in a hidden room
we will continue to stare, and smile, and breathe in silence
because even in the darkest days
when hope is all but seemingly stolen and gone forever
we understand that we will always have each other.

[scene inspiration: ProfEugenius]

dæmon;

dæmon
my very soul
forever together
pullman's fantasy idea
my friend.

a happy day today will be and is;

a happy day today will be and is
where families and friends come together
to celebrate the harvest of our ancestors
and spend quality time with one another.
no fights or arguments can stain this day
just good food will stain our clothes
as we enjoy the festive feast.

give thanks

give thanks
to those you love
on this bright happy day
while gobbling up food, ham, and
turkey.

i'll say hello and goodbye to the sunrise;

i'll say hello and goodbye to the sunrise
as it rises from the east
from georgia to california
each and every day
year after year
until the star burns itself out.
i'll say hello and goodbye to the clouds in july
as they dot the horizon with their illusionary figures
watching them drift lazily across the sky
being functionally defunt
until they darken with rain
and let out their king of the jungle thunder.
i'll say hello and goodbye to the demons of my dreams
each and every night
until the light is bestowed upon them
when they will cringe and shriek in fear
until their voices are no more
and i am granted my freedom.

what is it like

what is it like
to live a life with no regrets or mistakes
to walk upon each milestone
confident, successful, and proud?
it is a fantasy that is out of our reach
where mistakes are the epitomes
of successful journeys.

with mistakes comes learning
and with learning comes understanding.

so when will the next biggest mistake occur?
will we become engraved into history
or simply become silhouettes of time?

tra la la;

tra la la--
this tune that drones inside my head
la di da--
something i can barely comprehend
sing along--
a song that has no name
cha cha cha--
but inside my heart it is all the same.

email

email
clickity-clack
typing loves notes to you
being far away yet so close
and send.

Sweet lullabies whispered in my ears;

Sweet lullabies whispered in my ears
so calming, a flow of nonsensical words
of whimsical origins
as I drift away into the realm of dreams.

Shades of blues and greys color my world
of open skies and sea foam
a wondrous clash of memories
from the deepest crevice of my heart.

A life remembered from long ago
long since buried in the soil
to grow and foster a new future
that lays the path to my yellow-brick road.

happy;

happy
feeling fuzzy
like steaming hot cocoa
fresh on a chilly, winter day
sweetness.

i am a balloon inflated with elation;

i am a balloon inflated with elation
floating across the plains without a care in the world
and profusely smiling.

a day that started off blue and grey
transforms into colors and happiness.

it truly is an awesome day.

the semester is almost at an end

the semester is almost at an end
and i can only dream about the day i sleep in
with no clinical rotations
or papers to worry about.
it's a salivating thought, you see
that i am one semester closer
to freedom and graduation
(and higher paying salaries!)
it's unbelievable at how fast time as passed
how this chapter in my life
is coming to a close
so very very soon.
only a few more semesters
before i enter to working world
of responsibilities.
and i will be waiting for that day
confident and standing proud
'cause i'll have my big girl panties on. =)

Painted hearts dance across her cheekbones

Painted hearts dance across her cheekbones
to hide the obvious sorrow in her eyes
a facade to cover up the scars.
Too many years have passed living in shadow
only to face the truth before her
for she can no longer run away or hide.
She needs to stand strong
that she understands
but can she smother the flutters in her chest?
No more avoiding the inevitable, she says
time to embrace the open skies
even when the thunder comes crashing down.

Paper-thin memories splay on the screen

Paper-thin memories splay on the screen
like sheets of falling rain in spring
of a midnight castaway dream.
Forgetting all that was in the past
slipping away so very fast
understanding that nothing is ever to last.
A sea of endless hopes
hanging haphazardly from silver ropes
"can you hear the future?" she wrote.

can you feel the open breeze

can you feel the open breeze
of memories we have left behind
trailing
trailing
spiraling downward endlessly.

so much more that can never be
destinies that will never see
the light of day
light of day
light no longer aflame.

so what can i say when i dream
about you and love we have lost
forever gone
forever gone
forever gone today.

Tell me, what do you see

Tell me, what do you see
Underneath the starry sky
Something that we wish we could be
As we hide behind a mask, a facade, a lie?
Looming over the mountain peaks
Where the heavy clouds tumble down their rain
But still a secret which we seek
Over and above graves the tulips have lain.
Lost amid a fog of helplessness and despair
So many puzzle pieces strewn
Trying to find our way through the lair
Navigating the paths of ruin.
The time has come to wash our soiled hands
And to leave behind what is the past
To march on forward over our newly discovered lands
Our fears and cautions, to the winds we cast.