Lint of Crimson


I was in the moment;

Caught off guard.

You didn’t notice.

Hard is hard.


I saw my memory dance before me,

And it was glorious, let me tell you.

But it wasn’t like that,

And you bet I know it.


Sometimes my mind likes to add colors where they aren’t supposed to be.

I know too well that memory was golden grey.

As plain as could be,

But golden to me.


I deserved better than that;

Every color the eye can see.

Yes, we know that now,

With a new partner to be.


I see shades of fuchsia ingrained in my sockets;

Vibrant evergreens along my nerves;

Lint of hints of crimson within my old coat’s pockets.

But lint is lint;

Fleeting, is it not?

The memory came as sudden as the memory left.

No lint of crimson left to preserve.

Not when I deserve an endless palette of colors to explore.




HH Journal 9 -Let’s Not


Topic: Evaluate the present.

Let’s not.

I’d have to evaluate why I haven’t done an Honesty Hour in the past three or four days, and I’d have to answer for my decisions.

I haven’t done an Honesty Hour because I’ve been so incredibly busy with my coursework. I can see the light over the mountains of pages of reading I have, so it’s a good sign. But I have a month left so it’s full speed ahead until I get to move passed that mountain. I’ve had a good reason for not writing, but is any reason a good reason when it’s Honesty Hour? That, I’m not entirely sure.

I agreed to go out there and try new things, like any adventurous college student. It should be fun to explore new places, you know? I’ll get to know some people along the way. So I won’t stand up straight and try to ramble off my reasons for why I do what I do. I’m not that person anymore. I don’t know where she went, but something told me she scurried away when she found the chance to run. I won’t try to find her right now; I’m too preoccupied with school for that.

I’m excited for the future, nonchalant about the present, stressed about my work, but confident that I’ll make it out just fine. So presently, I’m decently decent. I’ll let the stress just slide off in the near future, and I won’t try to stop it. Good things are coming. That’s what I can gather from the present.

Feel it Fill the Room


I pushed the doors wide open then shut,

And I was greeted with warmth.

No questions, no whats,

Just a smile, suiting our norms.

I’ve missed having that.

I missed knowing I was missed.

There was nothing to get at.

There was just me in the midst.

I can smile down and feel it fill the room.

I can smile looking upwards too,

Knowing just whom,

That smile was to.

‘Holy Spit’


You’re always on my side,
Even when I think you’re against me.
There are times when I slip then slide;
Fall straight down on both knees.

I could think that you wanted this to happen,
Or that I deserved what I got.
But that’s not how you work,
You don’t look at my quirks,
And judge them so harshly so;
You don’t trample me with blows.

You’re not holding me down,
Or watching me, passively, drown.
You’re hand has been out there,
Waiting for me to bear it.

It Hit Me Now


It’s hit me now.
Mouth agape, ushering a wow.
Not a regretful one at that,
But one that leaves me perplexed just at,
Where it is we stand.

I liked where it was going.
There was a thrill in never knowing.
But know I need to know.
Will this stream come to flow,
Or will a dam obstruct it so.
Nothing has yet been planned.

I’d love to go with the wind,
Find myself out.
Undo what’s been pinned;
Know without a doubt.

I want the excitement that I took as my own.
I have my own questions whose answers go unknown.
I don’t know what it is I’m asking though.
I just don’t want to hear another no.

Of the Senses, Past Peoples’ Heartache


I feel it in my skin.
“Doth thou profess to thine own sin?”
Says the priest to the adultress.
“Never will I lose what I will win,”
Says the adultress to the priest.
I can’t unsee that ghastly grin.

I hear it in my head.
“Say that you wanted them dead,”
Screams the prosecutor to the killer.
“I only remember red as I watched them die as they bled,”
Replies the killer to the prosecutor.
I can’t unsee the tears that were shed.

I see it right before me.
“Why do you feel like you deserve to take what is surely not free?
Asks the official to the robber,
“Because they stupidly dropped their key,”
Answers the robber to the official.
I can’t unhear the laugh of darkened glee.