this day

This day is the only day.

The sun rises and sets

but its just an  illusion.

When I speak with you,

I am not speaking with anyone.

I fly in and out of dreams like a

dragon

high on the clouds.

The moon peeks and

waxes and wanes.

It’s all imaginary,

You and I.

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The idea of self.

Sometimes you hold on to yourself,

thinking that you will lose yourself,

afraid that life will disappear if you lose yourself.

It’s time.

Time to let go of this strength

it’s not making you strong.

I don’t give a damn if you think you know something

there is nothing that you could know.

This is not just you.

This isn’t about you.

This is truth.

 

Anger is your anger. You created it.

For you.

But, this isn’t about you.

 

Sometimes we shine the mirror of the self

and work on a reflection,

like a piece of crafted glass.

There is not a more perfected vase

than one that is broken.

From (lb)Cake to Cornbread

A guest post by my sister:

My sister, Ashley, and I attempted to make avocado pound cake which FAILED. Turns out we learned how to make avocado cornbread instead. We both tasted the batter before putting it into the oven and it was sour. Disappointed, with a foul taste in our mouths, we felt doomed. However, the end result was greatness. Too much cornmeal in pound cake= delicious cornbread. If you want to know how we invented the best avocado cornbread it is not knowing how to follow directions and lacking the ability to measure.

Life Lesson…. mistakes lead to genius ideas. If we did not mess up we would have never made avocado cornbread. But take my word, the end result will leave your mouth salivating. Hey, you may even slobber a bit. Who knows?

 

Also, while the goodness is cooking, you can bond with your sibling, friends, family, or yourself. Whatever you prefer. Ash and I watched Tv, wrote a book, and reminisced about the decadent smell in the air. The smell even woke our parents up in the REM stage of their sleep.

I have to end the blog here so we can cut into this delicious gluten-free avocado cornbread, while it is still warm. Remember, accidents are new ideas. This is how post-it’s were created.

nothing but this negligee.

I want to be a slow breather,

where the air enters my lungs
and fills each gap and then slowly exists.

Black is the color of my hair.

I feel like I am drowning when I see you.
Should I feel like I am drowning when I see you?
Is that what it should feel like?
I hope you are around
when my face is white
and airless;
and my lips are red and
filled with strawberry jam.
Maybe I could go back to the beginning
of it all,
to that first day.

Maybe I can drown here in this white porcelain tub.
I don’t need any water.
I am wearing
nothing but this
white- lace negligee.
It clings to my body and
doesn’t know the meaning of
goodbye.


Slam the door in my face, please.

Look deep into the face of this poisonous, cunning snake.

Ask me if I know how to kiss you.

Ask me if I can see you

With anyone else.

 

Slam the door in my face,

I don’t give a damn.


You are hollow tree.

Empty,

You are like these shelves.

Do you know how to patch my mind?

Dear brother,

turn your cheek from

This gate.

 

Don’t ask me if you can get out of here.

There is nowhere to go.

 

This is the bottom.

Ask me if this is the bottom.

 

Did you think of it yet?


I know you are barely moving.

You are slow mover

And I am

Gone.

 

Write me

When you feel a little better and

know you will never die.

Xo, Ash