Slow speed

In these slow times
I try to unwind
Cables wrapped
Head ankles feet
Need to release
I felt free last night
Held a lover in my arms
The cables still wrapped
But i was numb
The worry blurred
All the lyrics made sense afterward
The space between
Save me dave
Lovely soul

In these slow times
Everything moves so quick
Keep with the beat
Keep with the beat

The rain was playing music on my windowsill
My bed held me close
My blankets warm
My body barely there
I was still dreaming
Awake but sleeping
My mind
The rain
My room
My life.
That should last longer than it does
Just breathing
Consciously living.

Im sitting in my car
The rain beating
Snow melting
Im racing
In these slow times
There is nothing slow about them

This place im in

Im sitting in the department of transitional assistance office right now.
Chicks in their slippers and kids in their pjs. Its four in the afternoon and 30 something degrees out.
I look around and it makes me feel like trash. A wastecase.
I know im not, im working hard.
I hate that im here,
That i have to be here in order to survive.
I saw a man with a sign on my way to the child care office.
“Jobless need money or work.”
My music blasting dubstep techno,
I barely heard his thank you after i handed him a 5.
He had orange eyes, almost the same color of his beat tims.
I almost felt like his friend.
Like we, in different circumstances could be friends.
Relate to eachother on a soulful level.
Maybe we did.
I wished i had turned down the music, i wouldve liked to really hear his voice after seeing those eyes.
Ive got a thing for voices,
I dont like my own.
A good friend of mine has said that those “homeless/jobless” people arent really what they say they are.
That thats what their job is, to stand there and take peoples money and they get paid for it.
I cant remember what exactly he said but it was something along those lines.
I cant help but get lost in my friends voice and energy sometimes.
I think its that love thing, two connected souls.
I try to listen but he numbs me it feels good. And i also dont wanna hear his somewhat pessimistic ways of thinking. I get too tired to share my optimism. Not in the mood to make a point.
Tho i should be more, with him.
Hes one of my only friends that appreciates what i think.

I saw 3 cruisers on my way here. Three cops standing around this man, one waving his baton. Twisting it around like an umbrella and he was a little girl.
The man with his hands behind his head looked like a character from a movie. A dirty old puffy patriots jacket, beanie on his head and puffy eyes.. pale face and no resistance, just there. Very city slum, living inside his own head, not a care in the world but where he could get his next buck and fix.
There was another man standing off to the side. Older, matching attire to the man being questioned. I bet they were in it together but the elder are less suspicious. That white hair carries respect, something i appreciate about this world and how some things will always remain the same. The older you are, the wiser you must be.
Such an oddful world.
I like making up my own words.
My boss/friend calls them “britisms”.

Ill be old one day, though i pretend its very far away. Im only 22 so in some sense it is a long “time” from now. ((iquote because what is time? but moments strung together in a rhythm we try to follow, always wasting it, wanting it, needing it, wanting to steal it, sleeping it, believing in it or watching it move along ))
But when i wake up one day when im 80, this day will feel like a dream.
Ill remember moments of being here in this office, wishing i could do more for my son and myself but not having the full ability to just yet. I wont remember these peoples faces or that flat screen that ive never seen on. Or the way people look at me when they see i shaved my head, all the length is gone. Its purple today. Yea thats a ring in her nose. ((Little do you know what kind of obstacles im balancing and influence i could have on you, could help you.))
But i hope to remember the power of these moments, the way they make me feel. The helplessness emotion, thats pushing me to want more, to never return to here in need of assistance, and being thankful for what they do, appreciation. and wishing everyone in here the integrity that i can feel inside my bones.
Be worthy

That happy thing?

My teacher thought i was drunk or high in class tonight?
Some people forget you dont really need a reason to be happy.
when you are fully consumed in the moment it almost feels like the sun is shining.
Find time to center yourself in the present, let go of tomorrows worries and yesterdays mistakes, live in the now, its brighter here. Leave your trail of sunshine, even if the world doesnt understand.
If only she knew the blues i sometimes go through.
If she only knew it was okay to let go.
Ill stop myself here tho because i dont need to change anyone, they can change themselves an i will learn to look they other way when Im frowned upon in moments i am fully me.
Sticks n stones crazy deb.
The moment you get on meds is the moment ill stopp being such a bitch to you, cuz maybe then you will learn how to finish a damn sentence, find a train of thought, say what you mean and truly teach me what i need to know before im so lost in your words i dont even want to bother with the class. And maybe then you wont be so confused when you see me laugh, cuz you’ll see me being me. Just like everyone else being everyone else. You dont know who we are because you dont know yourself.
Take the times to see your faults and outline the greatness. Something you cant change but you can focus on the better things. Like your hair color.
I like your hair color. I look at it alot when im trying to find your point in the mess of all the words and simple unnecessary repetition.
Dark auburn. I almost dont notice your bigish nose.
Your eye shadows nice too.
Purple and tan pops the hazel, makes your eyes look less slanted.
Your funky necklaces are great. Takes focus off your low big boobs.
These are outlines, making some okay things better in a way. Find an outline to your world, filter yourself and figure it out. I cant learn from someone who doesnt know how to talk but thinks she knows everything im thinking but also believes im always confused.
Blah blah blah shish coom bah.
For real.

Ma mummy mom

Sometimes I feel like a bad mom counting down the hours till the days end.
I know I’m wrong when I think this, because everyone needs a moment. Especially someone like me.
Young, separated from his dad, work 5 days a week, school 4 days a week, a big eventful family, a history of heartache thats going through another phase of strength.
Ive got a lot of baggage i guess one would say.
I dont bring much carry on with me though. I usually leave my bags at home when I’m living one place to the next. And unfortunately when I’m home, and just want to breathe, i think sometimes my son feels the weight of it all, the feelings i leave at home.

Im understanding that I will be a mom for the rest of my life.
This realization is a rush
Every time I think it.
Like getting a full smack to the chest
And water in my face.
This is my life, carried in the palm of his hand; not mine.
The most overwhelming beauty in this world, being a parent.
Im a fucking parent. Oh that word

I never thought I would be a single mom, I never dreamed as a kid to live the life I am now leading.
His father takes him two nights a week, and neither of those nights do I find air.
Spending it catching up on lost breathe and responsibilities.
Or a beer/wine with a friend to escape my mind. (I dont like that i do that, im better at staying in my head and working through the cornfield so I dont end up burying my belongings)
So Im not actually a single mom, but i still feel it.
Sometimes Im friends with his dad, sometimes we despise eachother, sometimes he looks cute, most times i wish he had a zipper on his mouth.
Sometimes i wish he was the man i thought he was. But that is my fault for not seeing the weak boy I was carrying, whom i thought was a man guiding me.

I wouldnt go back and touch up on any part of that past. None of it. It was madness, a wasteland, quick, long, passionate, hateful, angry, adoring young love that ended with a gift neither of us couldve imagined. 5 steps in a lesson of love that led to a never ending staircase of compassion
CameronAdam xoxox
He knows im mad when i say his middle name<3

I didnt go back to work until he was 8 months old. A good amount of early bonding time, though i wish i could pause what I need to do for us and do what i want to do with us.
Living a 35 year olds life in a 22 year olds body.

Im doing pretty well, just well though.
Working on the pretty, gonna trade it in for a very next year.

Terrible twos, student, employee, aries, kindred soul, young adult blues. This kind of honesty I keep in a case, unlocking it when i feel the need, but keeping it all wrapped up in my sundays best, with a ribbon and matching bows.
(Aint nobody gonna break my stride, can nobody hold me down..oh no..ive got to keep on moving)

My son is the coolest person i know,
He lights up my world, fills the sky with puffy cloud and blows the wind and waves. I cant wait for a little more time to pass because i cant wait to introduce him to the new and improved me

My shadow and me

She dances with her shadow
Watching the way she moves
Standing in the doorway.
Lights behind them
Winding rolling streching
She waves back in moments of consciousness.
She loses herself in the dance
This blank but full image of her.
This side of herself
she adores.
So much
Almost jealousy
Her shadow tells a better story
I bet if the world met her other half
They might comprehend a part of her soul
Something she often hides
they only see the exterior
what she is told is her “reflection”.
The young woman turns to the mirror
The lying glass

this is just the body that encases the soul,

She is her shadow
Her shadow has no age
Her shadow reflects her
She believes this always.
Puddles too sometimes, though they usually just help her reflect on her life.
Her shadow shows her spirit.

She twists to the floor and slowly spins up. Arms out wide, ballerina toes.
The music is hard to hear when she is playing with her shadow.
And thats her favorite part.

The music usually makes her move,
But as soon as it starts playing,
Her shadow is in control
Her muscles dont move on their own, they are in sync with her heart and her spirit pulling the strings.
Such a peaceful place.
Equal friends.

In the darkness of the night.
Her shadow doesnt have freckles,
Her little imperfections.
Her crooked chin doesnt show,
Her cracked tooth? No.
Her shadow blurs around the ends.
Where are all the scars?
Her shadow doesnt need those.
Those have healed, she keeps those memories somewhere buried inside the color black,
Somewhere she can only choose to go.
I admire my shadow.
My true reflection.
The way she moves is so raw,
Changing in every moment,
Like all of us do,
Oh but the way she moves.
A flame flickering
A rhythm with no control,
Dance shadow, dance.
My shadow is my soul
My mirror, my home.

I am aware

Its been about a month now.
This mind racing feeling that i get when im not busy juggling my life.
I find my mind searching through myself, almost trying to peer at everything in one glance and sorting through it all at the same time.
Consciously aware of the change happening inside me. My jimmeny cricket telling me everythings alright, this is normal.
I should breathe.
Keep breathing.

Remember that time you were breathing?
Remember those times you werent?
Keep breathing, take more air,
Keep it for yourself,
You should breathe more

The butterfly will sink in soon enough.
Letting go of who i once was.
The girl i thought i would always be.
Ive been holding on so tight,
I didnt realize the past was her main focus, all she could see.
It had helped her get to a certain point, a strong point that made her me
But now shes older and grown.
She must continue on.
Wrapped in this fancy new cocoon.
Maybe this should be called a quarter life crisis.
Im more emotional now than ive ever been but its going towards something good.
Im finally doing something for me,
And allowing my mind to help my heart.
Fuel my soul

Who is who

If that is the moon
And its my moon
And your moon too
Then where are you
And where am i
And who are you
And who am I
And who is who
And why is why
And if why is nowhere
Then leave him there
Unless who is there
Then bring him here
If who is he
And if he is such and such
And such is some
And some are few
Like who and who
Few must be two
Could be Us two

And if two are they
And they are there
It would be a who-ray
Two who’s would say
But there is not here
Only one who here
And one who there
As i stare
Where could there be
If I am here.
And who is there?

I dont want to be here
I want to be there
I want to make a who pair.
If who was the moon
Then I would be too
And it would be a who moon
One who and one who
A two-who whose

Feels like who could be anywhere
Whoever who may be
Id like to see a who like me

Oh who oh who is he
The moon shall look and see
Moon do you hear me
Find who for me
Take me there from here
Where oh where could who be
Find who for little ole, whose and whats its me

What is what you wonder?
Its when who and who find each other
Then what shall be
Do you know what i mean

The moon yelled down …

Not a few
Not two
This is one
And that someone is you

There is you
Here is you
Why is you
And What,
is love
Love is you
Thats who
Just you

For right now
But now wont be long
Now will become then
Then will be gone
Gone will be strong
Strong will be soon
When you find a who like you

Love always,
Your moon

Pet rock

I guess i wish i had a pet rock.
One hard and heavy enough to handle how heavy and hard my emotions are.
I would talk to it everyday.
Rocks dont have eyes to read things i dont want it to.
Rocks dont have a heart i could break.
Rocks hold things down,
Keep things in place.
It doesnt have any colors i would fall for,
No smile i would want to keep,
No soul i could shatter,
A rock retains heat,
It could handle my aries volcanos,
Always erupting, corrupting myself.
A rock would sit and not stare,
Listen and keep it all for me.

I tend to block out the world when i need to speak the most.
I dont know if its just because im afraid they might actually hear me, or that i feel like a burden because my emotions feel like a burden to me.
Rocks can hold alot of weight, i could stack them on top of my pet rock and he could carry it all away.
I block them out because i dont know how to explain myself, feeling like i always need to explain myself in the “right” way.
Add that to this list of insanities.
Thinking there is a wrong and right way to explain yourself because i dont trust the worlds intentions with me.
I feel for people and i find myself catering to their needs, the ones i love, the ones i barely even know.
Thinking that people need me.
Why cant i need and seek someone.
I cant have a pet rock,
Unless i want one of those white jackets.
Sometimes i can be me and hold all the weight myself, but where do i pour it out when the time comes.
I write. I dont have time to write.
I draw. I dont have time to draw.
I dont want to “beat the clock”
Always living in a fast pace, always racing.
I want to fight the clock and steal some extra time.
But who am i to say i need more, i didnt ask for this life and thats how little power we were all given when we were born. We didnt ask for this amount of time and we cant change the rules.
Abiding by time.
What a ruler.
We treat it like a god.
A slave to the tick tock.
Figuring out how to do what i can in this time is the hardest part, the biggest task asked of all of us.
“Live life to the fullest”
But wheres the break?
Where the mirage to where we can escape.
Where time stands still and so do our minds. Stand me still and ease this soul. She has so much to offer, allow her time to breathe.
Give me the strength to speak.

The tears are finally gone.

I skipped my pretty rock
Writing helps me keep track of my thoughts as they course through me, channeling emotions. Breathing deep and feeling deeper. At the depth of her mind lays all magic, now to learn how to release.


Such a simple word for such a overwhelming abyss
It can eat you from the inside out,
Before you even realize what is happening.
Its something you cant really see,
We all have a mask
To help us be where we need to be.
But as its eating,
Its taking pieces of you away.
Pieces you need.
Parts of you gone missing,
Like a toy without a head,
Body moving in any direction
You cant think,
That part of you is no longer there.
You end up in a ditch,
Unturned rocks have been sitting here.
Whose there to move them,
Whose there to see you.
When the world is moving so fast
And now your legs are missing.

Where can you run if alone has taken your legs,
What can you see if alone has stolen your eyes,
Why isnt anyone here to help you.
Stop the loneliness from eating you away.
Stop the pain from taking strengths place.

I need to find my body,
I need to find my face,
This silly mask doesnt work as a head,
I need to be whole, i need to recreate me.
We all crash and burn, before we even see the accidents we are already broken.
I need to climb back inside my head and rearrange my life, i need to take charge with a healthy me inside.
I will be my friend and i will be my hero, i will guide myself because i dont deserve to be alone. I know my son needs me.
Picking up my fingers, and placing them in my hands, arms to shoulder head to back bone, i will carry on and grow from this burn.
This is my story,
I dont need to be anyones backpack
Anyones bag, anybodys problem
So I’m throwing out alone,
And believing in myself,
I will carry on strong.

Kick dirt

He listens and watches, waits and has patience.

She is hit with a bat, he breaks her sun, he swears at her name, he doesnt have time to wave goodbye.
((Letting the ‘good’ times roll))
Hes kicking dirt in her face like a child would, and shes reacting like a woman would.
Play with my emotions, build me up and break me down, wear out old this been won heart. There must be a blinky sign flashing over her, calling the winners in. Gamble till the machine is broken, what else would you do with your gold?
Wear it pretty and share it with everyone else?
Somehow they think a game is worth playing till the very end, but its the scores you receive that matter. Play right.
Pick me up off this floor and leave me be.
Let me heal and let me see. Rocks to your face, as i kiss you better.
If its not crazy, its not worth it.
Call me mentally insane.
Send me back to the playground so i can fit in. This grown heart cant take it anymore. ((Put me back in my overalls))

I cant tell if this is a tired tear or if im always letting you effect me this way, this hard.