I didn’t have a plan. From the very start, I followed the wind to bring me to new places. I was tickled by the dandelions and graced by the sunflowers. Dancing barefoot under the cloudless sky, I’ve never felt so alive.

I didn’t have a clue, and until the very end, I don’t believe I ever will. Every step in stride leads me closer to perfection and further from the chaotic magnitude of your sullen devices. This too shall pass, and so I too must carry on.

I never asked for much. My needs are as they’ve always been; a place to call my own; a locale just for me. I’m much too large to be kept in here, confined by each suffocated note blaring from your old school radio.

I never followed the rules. Or the path. I wandered off course and questioned every lesson the great Book taught. If it condemns me, so be it. I’d rather embrace all that’s meant to be endured with my own version of truth. Your light simply wasn’t bright enough for me.

I always knew I’d make it to the edge and back again. What was offered on silver platters spoiled my appetite and churned the bile. I make my own way. I govern my own indoctrinations. This life is mine, and when I began it, I left the rulebook and the maps behind.


Save Our Ship


Time moves at warp speed, and as always, I am standing still. Your minute hand moves across my face while I watch the sun. I swallowed my pride and said goodnight.

The water was shallow; this time, we waded in up to our knees. The salt soothed our burns, acquired by long hours praying to a god to save us. False idols, all of them. They make us cross the coals, splitting the sky and uniting the seas. There is no land here- little we can do to change the tide. Held tightly to your hand, we watched them wander aimlessly into the abyss.

One foot before the other. Never look back. Show no fear.

But I wont go that way. There’s more to life than to blindly follow in the hollow steps of another. I will sing, loud and clear, and hope that someone hears me. Never before has this rung more true. The bell screams liberty.

Our freedom is no illusion. It’s a journey to the tallest peak and a slope to the lowest hole. A wormhole that no one dares go through. I’ve thrown down a line or two in the vague hope that I hear a reply.

Tap. Tap. Tap. It echoes against the walls. They’re clawing their way out, searching for a breath of fresh air. These poor, hapless souls- they don’t know what’s up or what’s down. Their confusion is their condition. Their only hope now is to sit and wait.

Dash. Dash. Dash. They’ll sit at the bottom of the sea, listening to the voice caused by the fear in their hearts. They are ruled by it. They hear the evil. They see the evil. One by one, they close their minds to the evil. The truth, they know, will set them free.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Can’t you hear it? Why won’t you move? Save them! Go to their aid! They’re crying out for you! I will live to see the day when we think independently. When the curtain falls, I will take a bow at center stage.

This is your time. Speak now, or forever hold your beating heart in your hands and watch it slow. We are withering away and I keep reaching for you. Out-stretch your arm and let me help. I can pull you back off the ledge. You’ve done all you can do.

The chisels are blunt now, and this is so much bigger than you and me. We’re standing on a pin. One wrong move and we’re both gone for good. We’ve done all we can do. We’ve left behind the message for whoever comes. On the face of the only mountain, we’ve carved in stone one final hope:


I Belong Here


This is where I belong. Above blades of emeralds, crisp and cool, I lay at the bottom of the world, thinking solely of you. I’ve been here forever, staring into infinity and asking the question why over, and over, and over again.

The stars have been blinking for hours and when I looked, I found them in your eyes. Your hands were silk. Through your fingers slipped the sands of time and so here I lay, counting the pieces left behind.

But this is where I belong. Buried to my knees in warm grains, watching the waves foam. We’re on the edge of the something so grand there is little room for error. I’ve traced the ripples in your eyes, and I know what song you sing; a whispered hymn, echoing politely in the darkness.

This is my home – the vast open space – the void, tucked away secretly. I belong to the canopies, balanced on the branches. It’s been only me. They could never understand the strength of it all. From under here, I’ve watched the world fall. But you… you are my eagle, soaring proud and free.

It’s a pity, really, that it’s taken me so long. I’ve wandered across the sky, muttering frozen clichés and holding myself for comfort. It has no end, because there was never a beginning. Wrapped together in a coating so clear I can finally see through the fog: It’s been only me, sitting on blades of emerald crisp and cool. I’ve been here forever, thinking solely of you.

Playing God


It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get it out. I know what I want to say, but really I have no clue. I keep mis-believing, thinking my thoughts are important – that someone would want to listen. But no one cares what I have to say. I’ll keep talking anyway.

I’ve been hoping my thoughts will reach you. Across time and distance, I long for you to hear what I can never say. My tongue is swollen, glued to the roof of my mouth. My arm is cramped and my fingers numb. I’ve been writing this down for far too long.

And the more I keep writing, the more I’m convinced these words will make history. You’ll find them several humanities from now, swallowed up by a cave. Loose-leaf will be the new lambskin. My mindless ramblings will be the new torah.

My audience is faceless. I’ll never know who they really are. I’m the modern day prophet, speaking from a burning bush. I’ll make the laws and I’ll set the clock. This is my firm and guiding hand. My fingertips prove my guilt even as my hand keeps lying.

We’re still trying to make sense. The pieces won’t fit, so we’ll use Xacto knives and superglue to hold it together. This isn’t going to answer any of your questions. It’s designed to make you ask for more.

So give up. Go home. This won’t be over soon. We’re spinning and spinning and spinning. Is it any wonder why we haven’t yet grown dizzy? My pen will run dry long before the fog clears. Can there be any hope for the hopeless?

JUST STOP. Stop breathing, stop thinking. Don’t sleep. Hear me, but please don’t listen to a word I say. This is naught but the idle ramblings of a girl pretending to be God.