One Thousand Blank Pages

One thousand blank pages, a bottle of champagne, and a pen

I measure my glass with thoughts of you

The cup overflows and I could never take enough sips to swallow it all

I trip and I fall forever

The floor below is covered in white

Blank pages of the words in my heart

Should I write one thousand letters?

A collection of useless emotions I throw up in ink

I’d rather sink in the bubbles of my drink,

Than think about the possibility of an unspoken goodbye

Tonight I’ll drown in my mind losing time

with one thousand blank pages, a bottle of champagne, and a pen.



Mountain top

Go to the mountain top
Go way up high
Climb through the rocks and rubble
Breathe it in
Get a natural high
Look at the blue in the never ending sky
Go to the mountain top
Run to its peak
Leave your problems in the valley
Find the peace you seek
Meditate on the hill
Be completely still
Listen to your heartbeat fast
Feel the sun warm your skin
Keep the badness out
Let the love in


Too Much of Not Enough

Balance to me is just a beam

And happiness is never what it seems

I’m always too sad or too excited

Too much of nothing or not enough of something

I always miss the mark by a half of a percent

And if I try and punch a hole in a wall it ends up with just a dent


I don’t say enough of what’s on my heart because I exist too much in my head

I can’t recall much of what I’ve said

Quantities are a mere suggestion

Time is not in my possession


I’m a weed that choked the whole garden until it was dead

I just keep growing and spreading like a virus

So I swallow my light so it doesn’t get too bright

It ticks inside of me like a bomb ready to explode

Pardon my manners it’s just I’m afraid to be alive

And I don’t know what to do or how to thrive…..

When I only exist between being too much of not enough.




I am losing my balance

My mind won’t stay here

It keeps floating away day by day

I’m free

Ready for my ride into the sky

But there are strings that bind me to the trunks of the trees

I can’t float away

The earth has grasped me tight

I’d rather be up there near the moon basking in its glowing light

Perhaps it’s too soon


Gravity smacks me down

Bringing me back to the ground

I plant my feet in the dirt

Ready to feel the hurt


Write More…Yeah, Right

I have realized a few things about myself. The biggest thing I’ve realized is that I run from writing. I love it, but I run from it like it is a murderer chasing me with a knife.

I always have good ideas but it’s like I can’t formulate them to ever be as good on paper as they are in my head. And then there is also that pesky word why, why, why. Why am I doing this? Who am I doing it for? Also, why do I choose to think about this at two o’clock in the morning?

Those questions do not have answers and I have stopped trying to look for them. I have stopped making excuses about my busy schedule with full-time work and full-time schooling to get my degree in, of all things, creative writing. I have realized that it is not just enough to write when I have to, like when I am turning in a short story assignment to school, or writing a boring email at work.

I started this blog two years ago and have wanted to quit at least thirty times because I tell myself that I don’t have time and that my words don’t make a difference, but somehow I prove myself wrong every time, and thank God I do. All it takes is one comment or one like on a post for me to want to stay here and continue practicing my chosen craft, the thing I love to do most in this world. As long as the words in my head swirl around tugging at my brain begging to be let out, I will write, and I figure why not do it here publicly to complete strangers who may agree with me or think I’m a total fool.

I have noticed that people tend to view my blog more often when I post more frequently, so I will publish one more post, and then another, and then another…and what comes next, well I have no clue, but giving up writing is not an option. Once I realized that, I stopped running from the terror that writing brings me and I decided to only accept the joy.

Oh and I will try not post in the middle of the night for those of you who actually like to sleep.






3am Friend

It was 3am

The lights were dimmed

And the world was in silence


All I could hear was your voice

The words you spoke strummed the chords of my tired heart

My insides turned ’round,

When I thought I went from lost to found


Your words began to prick my skin

Shoving themselves deeper in

You knew your pride could never let me win

The only thing more deafening than your noise was the sound of your silence

The most cruel violence– I’d only ever be your 3am friend when the night came to an end


So the words hurt when you called me a friend

I must’ve made everything up again

The feelings were invalid

The poem you wrote wasn’t a ballad

What a hell love is when it is unrequited

I’ve tried, I’ve tried, I’ve tried to fight it

But your words were just too beautiful and your heart was just too true as it shone through the ink on the pages


“Friend” wasn’t the word that made me stop.

“No” wasn’t the word that calmed the fire.

It wasn’t a word.

It was the sound of your silence,

Where I found my answer.

You finally stopped growing on me like an immovable cancer.