Nail it Down


If it hurts going down,

I must attest you don’t repress.

We’ve got ashes to hide,

White lies for the less-than-wise.

I’ll watch my tongue,

Eye the trail.

Clear my lungs,

And pass the condemning nails.

Make sure you seal up my coffin real tight,

Because I might want a second wind at a fight.


Journal #64 – Not That I Remember


Topic: Write about your first love — whether a person, place or thing.

My first love is one that I don’t remember. I’ve seen pictures of him recently, and I’ve heard more about him in the past year or two. He was my great-grandfather on my dad’s side of family. He used to absolutely love to spend time with me.

My mom would come home and ask where I was, and I was usually outside somewhere with him, walking. He adored me, and I loved to be with him. He would take me to the park or anywhere nearby, and I would just brighten his day.

I’m sad because I can’t remember all of these things, considering the fact that I was just a small girl. I’m also sad because I know that I will never be able to get know him now.

He passed away when I was pretty little during one of his trips to Mexico. He had fallen in his house, and he had hit his head. Not long after that he died.

I know that I loved him so much. Everyone that knew him would tell me that. I wish I could remember what they remember.

—–late journal—-

Yellow Marks


Death surrounds this long narrow road.
Flashes of yellow are what I recall.
Life came,
And life left.

Hope came crashing against this glass,
As I watched joy come and pass.
Yellow turned clear,
And I know there is so much to fear.

That could have been me.
That could have been you.
So yes, death scares me,
It claims what is due.