I cower in the sheets, from the voices beneath my bed. 

They wish I were dead.

I cover my ears, 

cheeks salted with tears;

As nightmares curdled from dreams,

Penetrate my tectonic skin.

I’m scared.

You won’t hear my screams because within, I’m dead.

I die a little every day, every time a voice says

I’m not loved and a voice 

doesn’t embrace the love 

I put forward. 

I’m not a coward.

I’m protective. Of myself. 

Of the broken pieces 

That once my soul shared with another 

And just got broken further.

I’ll never again bother, to blossom

If I must end up withered.
I write on these sheets, 

what the voices beneath 

dictate to me. They make me wish 

I were dead.

I can’t cover my ears because the noise 

is within me.

Cheeks dried and salted like the fish at the sea,

Have forgotten to blush at your cruel tease.

There are no dreams. 

I’m not scared anymore.

I’m paranoid.

You won’t hear my screams because I don’t scream.

I died many ears ago, I no longer can find my soul.

Love is nonexistent.

I’m a fearless coward.

My shield’s broken and I can’t protect myself anymore.

Yet I bother, to get myself out of this bed 

Running errands and let pass this life

Like night and day.
I’m hopelessly hopeful

Of sunrises that will never set

And promises made to be kept

Hours so full of bliss they feel like mere minutes

Sands in my feet and the sound of the shores 

My head against you heartbeat

I desire no more.

But these sheets have been written on

In ink burning red like the sun




And just like that I’ll be gone.

And you, you won’t even remember me.

They’ll throw away the red sheets

And my words will sag and bleed

Like a torn rag on the streets.

But it doesn’t matter 

Not anymore.

Not now when I’m deep in the ocean

Away from the loud shores.

It doesn’t matter now if you don’t remember me

I’m the air around you, I always was.

You’ll need me when I’m gone.

A hopeless paean

Three things and not one. Love, trust and pain in a cocktail. But you add the honey, the sweetness in you astounds me, paralyses me, keeps me awake when I sleep.

I lay the cards on the table, deal a fresh set of worries to tackle, yet you push them away, kissing my pain. 
I love you. 
Oh, bother! My heart is an eagle gliding, cutting the seamless sky with its serrated wings; you follow the footsteps I never left, you’re the wind that sets things straight.

I’m a puddle in the ocean, a drop in the haystack, you saw me through the vibrance, you noticed the grey in the black. 
I love you for that.
I’m white noise, and I’m the cacophony on a beautiful night. But you’re the strings that gives music to my voice, you made songs of my misery and euphony of my plight. Through the fading embers of a fire I didn’t light, you brought day to my night.
I’m not grateful. I’m thankful I’m not. 
I owe you my misery, you’re the flood in my drought. Either way I’m a ruin. Seven sins etched in my disease. You healed a dying flower, a lonely cloud on a sweltering time. You poured in some love like water, creating beauty so sublime.
I’m thankful that I’m not grateful, because then, I’d owe you my life. 

I’m not the one to owe, my debts lay in stacks at home. You, oh you fixed that too. 
I was happy in my death, dealing cards of worry, everyday a fresh set, drinking in pain and plundering my body, misty pall draping my nights. I was happy in my despair, my ecstasy lay in the dread. You pushed life in my heart, kisses on my lips and shared a piece of your soul.
Listen to the voices, they tell me I’m not loved. That woman at the end of the street who sells garden grown tomatoes knows. She offers me gently in a tone that mocks me if I’d like to taste the ketchup she made. The man who throws newspapers in everyone’s face, gently taps my door to ask me if I’m okay. 
I don’t even buy the newspaper.
I hello-ed the devil yesterday, walking in a knee length skirt with great auburn locks that shone with the sun, her mellifluous laughter drenching my heart, but it’s dry as ever. The dust in my hands, crumbles to my feet into the sand. 
I’ve never been in love.
What are you, if I say I love you, but I’ve never been in love. 

Am I lying or are you a mere hallucination? Would you be here if I told you that all I did was lie? 
Would you stay if I was a lie?
I’m popping pills into the night, the shards of the broken glass pierces the sole of my feet, the soul a broken mirror is a glass itself. I’m broken. I reflect the tragedies that the moon shows.
I love you. But I don’t.
I smile, but my cheeks have never hurt before from the laughter that they speak so fondly of. I’ve paid for laughter before, but it hasn’t worked at all.

People tell me jokes, but they sting. I’ve counted so many decks and so many cards that laughter is a misery. Laughing at misery, a sin. 
My decadence is poetry that lustily gloats of metaphors and antitheses. I’m a paradox in myself, where my truth lies and lies are silhouettes of the truth that they hide.

I am a lapidary pulling diamonds out of my dreams to reflect the silver lining in my nightmares.
I love you, but you don’t even exist.

I love you, but some wounds never heal.

I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.

I love you but I wish you loved me too.

I love you, but love is just an illusion.
I love you, and I wish I didn’t.

Hello World?

Taking a trip down to memory lane, I probably might find out a reason as to why I am opening this blog, but I can’t find anything.

This world needs fitness and this world needs stories to make it believe in happy endings. We all want to believe hat happy endings exist, but no one knows for sure if they do. Just like Global Warming and the fad diets of this world, it’s just another myth for sure.

So why this blog (both that anyone cares or anything)?

Just because I want to help initiate change and feel good about myself, not that I don’t now, but still.

What will I write about?

The good foods, the bad foods, workouts and poetry, book reviews and much more that no one really cares about, but everyone probably needs.

Life is beautiful. Cheers!