the rare kind

i smell like a home cooked meal straight out of my mother-in-laws kitchen. its a smell that intoxicates you with warmth and memories of laughter and a new addition to the family you've always had. as i  lay here in my gray bed, i am finding that my limbs are exhausted and my brain is slowing. my heart rate is rested and night owls - the rare kind that sleep - are beckoning for my companionship. its quaint. but my lover isn't yet in bed so my eyes cannot rest until i've snuggled him into his twitching sleep coma. for being a day of rest, i always feel so warn of exertion at the end of this day. its funny how little things like that pan out over the weeks.

thick liner and pressed flowers

i feel as if i should go back to what i consider my "roots" when it comes to spilling my soul onto pages or spilling it through scattered, frantic fingertips. i've strayed too far. tried too hard to conform. that has never been my style, just inquire of my educators as i grew up. i'll be me, thanks. old pictures. forced visions. description in a way i call just. the style i so desire - the things that i love. only a new chapter. time away has altered only small pieces. insignificant to you, greatly important to me. you know, the kind of writing that reminds you of classic red lipstick, thick black liner, pressed flowers and old, dusted novels. the comfort-food lyrical words. me.

Best, Best Friend

I'm in the mood to spill. My heart is beating, bursting out of my chest as I lay here in the dark, encircled by the glow of the computer screen. I suppose I have a lot on my mind, tonight. Don't fret, though. Its only goodness and anticipation. There isn't an ugly thought in sight, for once. I'm finding myself, here in a lovely light - basking in the glow of what I've built with my best, best friend. I think of him and my heart gets warm and I blush to myself. Its glorious. I love him and I'm seeing the very best images when I picture what this future could be like. Think it could really happen? I do. Theres a reason we're together, me and him. So why wouldn't the days ahead of us be flower fields and sunny days? Mm, how lucky I am.
There. I spilled. Goodnight, lovelies.

campus

tired eyes, dragging feet. experienced souls and newcomers all thrown together in one large plot of land. open minds and cups waiting for filling. i spy individuals napping in corners, noses hidden behind books, eyes glued to computer screens. as many in the hall as in the classrooms. scattered people avoiding eye contact. its a first-day kind of day for sure. the frostbit air gushes through the big glass doors as they open, chilling those near by and each chair slowly becoming occupied. wondering, wandering minds. 'how will i fare these next few months?' what friends will i make, who will i meet, type pondering. lounging on a circular couch to myself. ...and this is only the beginning.

foggy

sleepless. again.

tired, foggy eyes, bored of this same room.

this is getting old.

others who fall into a slumber the moment their heads hit their pillows...

they're the lucky ones.

insomnia: a slow killer. 

a road to insanity.

one day i'll sleep. one day.

i keep telling myself that.

2am Rambles

Its bound to be an Owl Eyes night, tonight. Figures. I don't have a lot of nights different than that. Too much to do. Too much to think about. Too much to smile about. Too much to stress out about. Too much to handle normally, really. Its all too much but anything other than just that wouldn't be roped inside what I like to brag about.

Today was pretty. Productivity throughout the chilly day and the frozen night ended in kisses. 

Why, though, does tomorrow always have to loom over my sleepless head? Why is my mind incapable of embracing laying lazily on the couch and keeping my thoughts there? What if I don't want to worry about what tomorrow is going to put on the plate? What if I like being oblivious to the fact that I'm technically an adult? Wishful thinking, again... One of my talents.

At least if I slept I could live inside of a dreamland for a while before reality becomes a part of me, again, you know? They say the overly-creative minds don't need as much sleep. I wish I wasn't so overly-creative, in that case. 

Well, the night is getting closer to becoming the morning. Perhaps I should try again to sleep? Or at least relax a while.

Goodnight, goodnight. 

Weight on the Mind

How do you hold a broken glass together in your hand?
How can you convince yourself this mess is part of the plan?
How can I do this when my hearts screaming its wrong?
How do I find the meaning in this stuck-on-repeat song?

I want to have this and get that sparkle back.
This isn't something you find when you wander off the good track.
But hearts and minds collide and splash you with reality.
Keep reminding myself I've got to live this life for me.

Sometimes the right thing and the hard thing are the same.
Got to face the music, I would be the one to blame.
Deep down I think I love this but my skin is crying 'no.'
Makes me wonder why when I was young I wanted so badly to grow.

wishful lack-of-sleep

i swear a night will sneak upon me, one day
when my head hits the pillow before midnight i'll fall asleep. fast.
there won't be long, l o n g hours passing while i drive myself crazy.
my mind won't be over actively mulling over every aspect of life.
i'll just...sleep. dream. and sleep some more.
since i'm still owl eyes, i'll count my blessings instead of sheep.
number one on the list tonight..
at least the reason i can't sleep tonight is because of butterflies.