beggining of an unwanted adventure

I held onto his neck while snow danced around us and he sobbed like a heartbroken father.
hell, he was a heartbroken father.
I thought the worst of this was over but I'm sitting alone in an airport listening to Enya and fighting off wicked tears. These fresh pages mean more than an unwritten story.
They mean carrying a wallet and talking to strangers and walking away from my mother at a deserted security checkpoint
They mean blowing kisses to a sunny Dayton sky and slying away from my beautiful chaos
They mean putting faith in a power higher than all these reality TV shows and dependable alarm clocks
I'm taking these first steps on my own but at least my best friend wrote memories with a ballpoint pen on the inside of my moccassins
This is the beggining of an unwanted adventure.

missing angels

Tonight is one of the saddest nights i have ever spent in this house.
after chocolate chip cookies and mix CDs we took digital pictures and were horrified and enchanted by all this American Beauty

When the credits rolled the tears started coming and i wanted to rock my best friend back and forth with rock n roll lullabies
the four of us collapsed on the carpet and there's still an imprint of our bodies in the blankets.
my fingers dug into their backs and it wasnt until they drove away that i realized
That was my last goodbye.
Now i am left with pictures of Amsterdam

encouraging words
and the soundtrack of my life.
tonight i got gifts from Angels
So ill softly kiss the blue beads of my favorite Mexican's rosary and turn out my light.
Tommorow's just another day of missing my world<3

Accepting these tragedies

I am dissapearing behind Kurt Vonnegut and Indie music.

I am eating in windows of sweet smelling cafes with my mother and drinking Chai tea with a passion.
I am accepting the fact that America is perverted
and roaming the streets are men who pray to a prostitute
I am slowly learning that I have no need to fear the future
whatever pains await in those days ahead will only give me poetry
and there can be nothing more beautiful than realizing you're an artist
The universe is full of people who will only realize they are artists when it's too late and everything beautiful has died.
This is an unspoken tragedy.