Title: Insomnia
Word Count: 76
Story Notes: A poem about my horrible insomnia. I'll try and write a short story for next week. I feel like I've been updating with too many poems lately.

When I was in middle school,

I used to fall asleep around midnight

When I was in high school,

It was closer to one

Then it was two

But never much worse than that

I can’t sleep

I don’t sleep until nearly 6am

And that’s on a good day

Last night I didn’t sleep at all

I fell asleep at 10am today

I’m always so tired, so why can’t I sleep?

The insomnia is getting worse

Jumbled Thoughts

Title:  Jumbled Thoughts
Word Count: 84
Story Notes: So... I haven't updated in 2 weeks. Oops. Another poem I wrote at work. Just trying to get some thoughts out.

Lonely, I sit here

In a bed that’s not my own

I wonder if my life

Is on the right track

Is this job

The job that I was meant to have

Is this life
The life that I was meant to lead

Time goes by

Everything changes

Nothing for the better

I feel my sanity slipping through my fingers

I can’t remember the last time
I felt confident about the future
I can’t remember the last time
I knew everything would be okay

Cry

Title: Cry
Word Count: 103
Story Notes: I wrote three poems at work this past weekend. They're all kind of bits of jumbled thoughts. I love them. This is one of those poems.

Cry now

Your eyes fill

The tears slip down your cheeks

The sobs are choking

The pain

The sadness

The very act of crying makes your heart ache

Life has been a dream

That turned into a nightmare

Love is overwhelming

Time is fleeting

The years are growing shorter

They fly by in an instant

Time cannot heal

When there is not enough time to go around

Your body shakes with anguished heaves

You cry so hard that you start to laugh

A bitter sound

Contains no joy

You laugh so hard that you cry again

And cry for days

And never stop

A Movie's Being Made

Title: A Movie's Being Made
Word Count: 45
Story Notes: Observational poetry.

Jeans tucked into black boots

A girl that I don’t know

The trees don’t have their leaves yet

It doesn’t feel like spring

The air is sharp and biting

The grass is cool and damp

The sky is grey with rainclouds

A movie’s being made

The Death Of Venus

Title: The Death Of Venus
Word Count: 174
Story Notes: I had this little drabble in an old notebook. I liked the concept, so I re-worked and re-wrote it.

A radio was playing softly; an old rounded contraption covered in dried blood. A hand, stained red, reached up and gently caressed the wooded surface. It turned the knobs and increased the volume. This was the best part. The pitch of the violins rising mournfully; they could almost make you cry out in pain, they were so beautiful.

The red streaks scattered over the hand-me-down music player stood out in fascinating contrast to the pale wood. It needed to be cleaned. A sob broke from a throat already too cracked from crying. The music, once so calming was no longer doing the trick.

The deed had been done. There was no way to turn back time. No way to right what had been wronged so violently last night. The violins cut suddenly. The song had ended. This was it. With a click, the hand turned off the radio.

There was a deep breath and green eyes finally looked back the bloody mess that had once been a person.

Venus lay dead on the floor.  

Tittle: Dark
Word Count: 94
Story Notes: This is pretty recent. It's also pretty much raw feelings. I suffer from horrible depression and anxiety. It keeps me up at night.

The dark seeps through

It pierces the flesh

Settles deep inside my mind

It tells me horrors

And lies and truth

All designed to force surrender

And deep inside

This traitorous brain

The thoughts are turning darker still

My very skin crawls with hate

For this pitiful creature I’ve become

Everything but the darkness is gone

The night  

Will soon be nothing more than a faded dream

Another day lived in groggy anxiety

Sleep would help tomorrow go smoother

But sleep will not come

Can’t sleep in the light, can’t sleep in the dark

I Am

Tittle: I Am
Word Count: 103
Story Notes: I wrote this poem 8 or so years ago. Back in High School. I probably would have done a few things different if I were to re-write it, but I kind of like it the way it is.

I am the knife that pierces her skin.
I am her lust, her secrets, her sin.
I am the reason she flinches from touch.
I am her tears when she's had far too much.
I am the life that she hides from her friends.
I am the gun that she chose for her end.
I am her hand as she writes her last prose.
I am her fear in this death that she chose.
I am her eyes widened in shock.
I am her scream, heard 'round the block.
I am the dirt that covers her grave.
I am her life, taken away.