Estoy intentando, pero no entiendo. Otra vez

Soy todas las contradicciones,
Todos los paradojas.
Estoy llena de café, demasiado
Pero quiero dormir,
Pero quiero correr
Lejos y rapida.
Quiero moverme.
Quiero preguntar.
Necesito una memoria más mejor, por favor
Dios, mi amigo y padre sin genero,
Pero este también es una mascara,
una disfraz por ti de mi.

Mi corazón tiene hambre por algo,
como la sonrisa de él.
Oops.

Estoy vibrando fuera de tiempo,
escuchando por algo no puedo ir.
Tengo hambre por algo no puedo
Comer o probar.
Tengo hambre por aprender y saber
Y conocer en mis huesos.
Ouch.
Mis huesos contiene miel y jugo de limon.
Limon.

Soy buena o mala,
Dios? Yo no sé.

Mi garganta
Mi garganta sabe a duele y arena.
Repito mi vida cada día, dios dios dios.
Repito mi escribiendo.
Repito mis días.
Vida es un repetición
De todo, grande y pequeñito-ito
pequeñito, ito.
Tengo un poquito valo con eso.
Valo de vida.
No quiero repetir, también quiero repetir todo.
Estoy siendo destrozado.
All can see right through me?
Fecking hell.
No entiendo.

I slept next to the boy I fancied and God stopped answering my calls.

I reached out into an empty space between stars. 

I spent the afternoon after sunrise careening down a hill under rain and bruising hail, without a rain coat, praying and making up ridiculous nonsense sums. I only hoped I and all those under my care would make it through the storm alive and none the worse for the heavy wear. Even as I lived deeply in the moment in fear and sublime awe, I had the time between seconds of deep discomfort to realize this was the most miserable I had ever been, but the experience was deeply beautiful and I knew I would look back on it later as a time of beauty and strength in hardship. I still had faith we would make it through, perhaps under the care of a higher power. 

We reached a leaky campsite in pouring rain and stood under the trees, waiting for a break to strip off our clothes and climb into our damp tents. I payed fervently and hoped deeply that the coughs some had wouldn't get worse in the wet cold. One boy shivered under a wet sleeping bag, he couldn't stand up when we eventually made it into our tents and changed into whatever dry clothes we had. I was last, enduring the rain and cold the longest. I ruined my three dry shirts by standing over a fire attempt in the rain, my slicker wouldn't keep the rain off of me. 

Somehow we survived, but was that proof of god, or just our own strength and luck and good thinking under pressure? I still find myself repeating this story and comparing it to new ones. 

Praying to god I don't really know or feel is there or cares, while absurdly maintaining faith. I chase myself around in my head; god help me, no god, no god cares, god cared before, did god really care before, is this proof, is this not proof, how could this be proof, why not proof? It makes no sense and isn't aticulateable at all, but it's loops in my mind and wounds in my heart. It leads me to despair and gives little respite. 

But the real question is, how and why did I slip and fall off of the solidness of belief to this strange, shifting beach of faith under cynicism? Why did it start there, in those mountains, on that night, next to a boy who didn't return my feelings, and did nothing more than share my tent for two sleeps? 

Honestly, I hate calling people, but texting is the worst form of communication known to man. 

Flowers

Little Red Canyon in February

Fun in the Snow

Poetry 

Has the power to polish life

The world 

A fingernail brighter 

Enough to bring the sparkle out in your eye 

Draw your attention to the ravenings of your mad heart 

Enough even to highlight the flashlight shining from another mad heart 

But your insanity could be playing pretend with your brain 

Only the comets know what is real. 

Oh god I want to create 

And I want to live life I 

Want to be bright and fast and streak across the sky on fire

Madly happy

In love 

Laughing 

I want to get out of my own skin 

I want to burn away my bones 

And supernova my heart

Explosion of emotion 

I want to wrap myself in the cords of vulnerability and affection 

Honest to goodness 

I want to smile with firelight in my eyes 

No more polite grins

Stretched thin, 

Blue

And empty. 

I want to unfold my wings 

And take off, 

See the whole world in true clarity 

And heart breaking color. 

What am I? 

Nothing. 

What will anyone remember? 

What does anyone remember now? 

A lunatic,

Crazed, perhaps? 

She tore down the mirror with hand-tipped claws.

A /mono/ possibly, /Mona/

Up the tree, a little tipped in the brain, 

Simple. 

Or even a red star burning out, 

Terrible and sublime (sub-lime) for a while, 

But in the end, 

Quite disappointing. 

I really am nothing that is thought of me, 

Only a hollow voice and a thirsty ego. 

A little too eager to please, 

But soul-dehydrating fearful of 

Falling short of all of your expectations. 

I would like to see with eyes unclouded 

Clearly, truly

At my best, 

I am lucky, 

a star smiled gently upon me 

But really I'm just mediocre 

Ochre

Ocre

Nothing at all 

But a small heart 

Trying to grow through the cracks 

In the sidewalk 

Towards a sun 

A billion miles away.