You Called Me Atlas And Pressed The Weight Down On My Shoulders.

There's a strength in the palms of my hands.

And I sit in awe of it.

A short lifetime of climbing my way up and through.

Gifted and abused are my fingers.

Peppered with calluses and scars.

And I find I like it, this simple fact about myself.

It could have been true of a lot of people.

But in this moment it is my truth

Name me not Cassandra

Name me not Cassandra for my voice it must be heard.

Even if you bind my mouth with fabric and brush away my word.

I claim not a higher wisdom for vanity or spite.

Only a point of view from far below your height.

I am cursed with the experience of an unwelcome hand.

And through this lens I now see my sister who too have been touched by man.

You may turn and shield your ears from me, laugh away my proof

But my mouth, it will not waver in telling you the truth.

Name me not Cassandra for your Helen is on her way.

She brings chaos and together we as women will make you pay.

I'm good for love

A fertile plot for it to claim. It springs to life under my feet. It drips and curls down from my fingertips. Its roots in my every thought.

I love colors and sunsets. White fluffy clouds. Boys and girls. Friends and strangers. The texture of cotton. Hot steam and cool stream water. Eyes and arms and noses. Hands and hearts and shoulders. Fresh baby kittens and sun-soaked kitchens. Me and you and them.

Love grows up my arms like new grass sprouts. Tangles around my ankles like thorny vines. Grows thick in my chest like moss. It's suffacating

I'm good for love but love isn't good for me.

I think too much about the stars

Many times people treat enlightenment like a concrete state. Like once they reach it they are above the world, impervious to it. Unaffected by change and time.

But its quite the opposite. Those who are truly in tune with the earth find that change us the only constant. They move with the tide. Sway with the breeze. Grow with the trees.

To reach your most natural state is to be in tune with what is inside you as you are with what is around you. To cut away your earthly ties only brings you farther from the mother.

To be connected with the ever raging fire of your soul is as important as being swept away in the tides of time. Always present, ever in motion.

New witching hour

10 o'clock is the new witching hour. When you've run out of tv and fanfics to distract you from all the free time your wasting every day. When anything productive you could be doing with your time, anything that would mean something to your life, Writing, playing, traveling, trying to get published, Anything that you want to do for yourself is going to take too long and cut into the mandatory time you have to devote to outer society. Be it work or school we have to pay a time fee, an emotional fee, a physical fee, just to exist here.

10 o'clock when all the long hours of your short days are used up and out of reach. When it's responsible to go to sleep. To get those 8 hours so you aren't quite as dead to the world tomorrow as you could be. When the doubts and insecurities come creeping in between the hours of sleep and distraction. You dig for another show, video, book, fic, song, anything to keep you going until you feel like your eyelids are just heavy to fall before your thoughts get the better of you.

When the emotional vulnerability makes you fragile and everything from your voice to your reflection or hell one stray mannerism makes your self-esteem take a dive. Back in the good old days, all we had to worry about sneaking through the shadows in our rooms were monsters. Demons come to take your soul. What do you do when you are the demon. When the shadows are under your eyes. When all the ambition in the world has been pumped into since your ears opened to this world but as soon as you focus enough to see it. All you see is how it's wrong.

We're still kids. Whether your 17 or 30 your still just a kid. Because the definition of adult is emotionally stable. 3 kids, 2 cars, 1 husband and more zeros than you can count. Being an adult means maturity and when they've spent your entire life feeding you pretty lies about your future, how are you not supposed to feel inadequate?

Don't you just hate it when you get the chance to talk. Like finally talk for the first time in forever. And you know it's been a while since you started but everyone else talks all the time so what if you go on for a while. But now people are changing the subject and the conversation is rolling naturally in another direction like conversations are supposed to do. But you weren't done and you can't move the conversation backwards so you just get quiet. Quiet like you always are. And you don't know how long it's gonna be this time before you can talk again.

There's a sparkle in your eyes that twinkles so brightly I want to compare it to the stars in the sky, to nova's and galaxies far away. But these worn words have lost their strength in repetition. Instead, I will search for the words that cause that shine. I will do anything to keep you looking at me that way.

Sometimes when two people are broken in the same way their jagged edges fit together

What I wouldnt give to feel the static in my limbs again.

For as much as it makes me jump and twitch at least I can move.

For as distracting as my restlessness is at least I am not still.

Not frozen by the empty space between my skin and my bones.

Left hollow by the absence of motivation; Of want for anything.