Latte steaming scents
of wicked adrenaline,
and false peace.
Words dripping from my finger tips,
exciting my senses.
My inner winds juxtaposed
by the worlds crumbling.
Life rising between your floorboards,
providing breath to this deathly cage.
Noises circling my inner world,
the city lights lighting my eyes,
just one in a crowd.
— Lydia’s on Ludlow ( 1. 4. 2018)
Billowing fog, covering your feet
trees rising up, springing life in
every single twitch of toes.
Streams of twinkle tears
pour down each crinkle
of your time.
Towering high, high above. Up
in the skies. A tower of so much
more than your great hope.
Birds circle you. Calling
our your majesties. Mysteries
imbedded within your core.
My constant one, ever
increasing and always growing.
You’ll never leave me.
You are my North Star
and my House of Life.
You are my companion and
my saving grace.
I dare to climb. Pieces of you
collected and crumbled in my hands.
You lift me higher than my
inner clouds could ever go. you
show me the sunshine and
shadow. I am overshadowed,
never alone but wrapped up
in your collection
— My mountain top experience (1. 14. 2018)
I am a trier.
I try really hard.
No matter what is
at hand, I try.
I try too much,
losing my innate
value and only
seeing worth based
on how good I’ve tried.
I try at everything,
nothing coming easily
and always trying.
I try by the clothes
I wear, trying to
communicate an
effortless ease.
I try by my eating,
only consuming
things that make me
try harder.
I try by my voice,
speaking words that
try to sway your eyes
to see the good try
I’ve given. I try really
hard to be the girl
you’ve always wanted.
I tried too hard and
I can’t keep up with
all my trys. I’ve decided
I might try something
else instead.
-Tried (1. 18. 18)
Maranda Taylor 