Will It Ever

I'm just so sad. I can't even cry enough. I am just feeling so sad tonight, this morning, right now. My chest aches from trying to be strong and trying to not hurt. The happy face facade is crumbling and falling into my hands...pathways down my face. Will my broken self be mended? Will my broken self, ache

for eternity? Broken heart, soul, mind, and fist? For now? For ever? Why me, why you, why now, why ever...I can't explain the tear soaked pillow or the taste of blood in my mouth. The winding of my spirit so tight that it will snap and recoil, maybe break another innocent bystander. Why the tears? Sweet girl? Why the sad face? You're too pretty to be sad. Well sad doesn't give a Fuck about how pretty you are. And neither does ignoring and lonliness. They're all close friends. Kismet lovers who are freakishly into threesomes. The sluts. Drive me far away from this insanity, man made lunacy. Please change the channel? We pay for cable we should get to watch whatever the hell we want to...why the fuck won't it work??! Fuck...technology. just like relationships. One minute you get what you want, the next you have to call the cable guy to come held fix your problem.. Time to call the cable guy? Is it yet? Go to sleep, forget it all till the storm passes over and the shit storm is through.

Need to cry

Sometimes you just need to cry. Cry until your heart feels a little less like breaking. Until the fake facade your face wears cracks, falls to your hands like dust. Mix with tears and makes some kind of ridiculous, pathetic paint. Paint your life story with it, but someday it will be painted over. Good or bad, will be painted over. The sun will fade this artwork eventually, someone may remember it's significance and once beauty. Till then cry, cry until you wrench inside, till you bleed. Paint the picture, of life as it is, as it was, and as it should be, as it may never be. Now excuse me, while I put my head in my hands, and paint another picture... JJC 10-19-2012

We are kin sisters-sisters of the same arts... Woven from the same cloth our souls are the same. The dark, it looms-creates and hangs. Like a pleasant dark shadow. Overplayed by a smile and a wink. Hidden as one may assume frailty...Then lash out! No strength in comparison! Break through the chains in our dungeons to drag our ways into the light-the moonlit night...So quiet and serene. A midnite night on serpents wings-of gloss and black scales. Fire eyes, she understands. Fierce beasts our friends...our hearts beat fierce and free! And the night...the night is where many good things hide-in wait. Wait for the inspire. To create once more. The calligraphy of the darkened soul. Whispers...You hear nothing. But I hear music. My sister and I. We are kin and kin with the nighttime. JJC 8/15/2012