Red Door

They say depression is like a black hole
For me it’s more like a red door
Red like the stilletos in my closet
Or like the blood in my veins
Once the door is opened it’s a vortex
It sucks the real me in and leaves my skeleton behind to walk the streets..
To go to my job, to sleep in my bed

The door is always welcoming inside of me ready to swallow me whole
Its arms reach out for me in the darkness of my mind grabbing my wrists
Keeping my body captive
It’s not as painful as you think to be dragged through the threshold of the red door
Sometimes I am ready to run through the door and be captured by its beckoning arms
My body feels like it is on fire
And the only way to stop the burning is to jump head first through the door to the place where I feel at home
Isolated and alone
Nothing can reach me here and I don’t have to hurt anymore
It’s just done
And the depression has won

I am not afraid of the red door any longer
And I am not afraid of the pain of being alive
I’ve broken free again and again
There are bruises on my wrists and burns that scathe my flesh
I am still here intact and I will not be dragged back down to the comfort of being numb
Because when I turn around I see the glimmer of hope in the setting sun
And I’ll exist beyond the red door where I once fell
I will not go back to my private hell

The red door will still exist but so will I
Flesh, blood, bones and love

Ready for the massacre of a life well lived.





I present to you..Me

Here I present to you my everything
It’s not much I know
It’s all I have…
Well not really
I have these bullets
And I have these holes
I may have something sitting in my heart that weighs me down resembling the ash of coals
That’s not important because you have the diamonds
And you have seen the flowers in the garden of my soul
But you haven’t been pricked by the thorns

Here I present to you an image of me
Polished and pure; happy
Well not really…
I have these scars your eyes have not seen
And my light is bright
But you’ve not yet been burned
There’s an ocean of passion inside of me
Sometimes I drown in the waves
You’ve only seen me swim

Here I present to you the truth
Glass is less fragile than my love
And my body is made up of words like ink upon my skin

I’m difficult to take like a strong drink.


Not Always Pretty

I’m not sorry if you feel that it’s wrong that I am not always pretty
Excuse me if I don’t have time to dress to impress
I prefer flats over heels because I can’t take any more pain
I’m not perfect

You see I’m just so drained
Trying to chase who I am supposed to be
while everyone and everything around me is sucking me dry

I no longer have the energy to hide my face with lies                                                I’m stuck to the investment of my future
I sit on a triple weighted balance beam
My tired eyes aren’t what they seem.  Some days they are painted with a stroke of black,
Other days they are naked.
I am not going to try and fake it

I’m not always pretty
The sunlight doesn’t usually favor my unfavorable skin
I’m no sculpture that sits still looking nice
But take a stroll through my mind and you’ll see I’m art
Chaotic and colorful
Stuck together with pieces from different puzzles that don’t always fit
My heart is wild and my head races with my dreams
Don’t try and drag me down from this high
So what if my hair is a mess and I rushed from here to there, forgetting to zip up my dress?

Yes, I do try to be pretty
Pretty smart
Pretty strong
And pretty kind
For me pretty is redefined…


My mind is made up of ribbons

My heart is tied with ropes

The years have worn on their edges causing them to fray

Untie the knots and let the ribbons fly

Undress my mind, pull it apart and see what you find

If you dare get close enough to touch

Maybe my eyes can’t see what’s in front of me

I looked too far into the future staring too closely at the sun

You have to exist somewhere

In the space between trees

Across the waves of the seven seas

There has to be you….there has to be the one that will make me come undone


I wish the sun would shine its light on me

Let it burn a hole straight through my body

Then I’d be able to prove what I have always known

There’s no blood and no bones

I’m not real neither is this life

My pain is an illusion

My body is an empty shell of bones

I want it to burn through me so bright that I become stardust in the night.

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.


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

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.





Dreamer’s Disease

I can see you thinking

Your thoughts drive you insane

And you set yourself on fire

Only to find the things that will extinguish your flame

You’re sick with the dreamers disease

You can’t seem to find where you are meant to be

You are bound to this place 

When all you really want is to be free

Your heart is far too soft 

For a world this hard

Your disposition remains sweet

Although your attitude may sometimes sour

Don’t lose yourself

To become someone else

There’s something about your inner power

It’s how I know you’re worth the fight

You can find the light

You’ve got a reason to try

I’ll take your hand and walk with you through the darkest night 

Hold onto me and watch your spark re-ignite

Promise me you won’t give up to live a lie

There are too many paper people who aren’t open to feel

Why be in love if it isn’t real?

And what’s life without love or hope without dreams?

We can do more than cope with life, the future is better than it seems

Keep on keeping on until you’re cured of the dreamer’s disease.