Wishes from my Youth

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A sudden dread creeps up my spine
It no longer can align
I search in vain for what to do
When my life is so undone
I’m no longer having much fun
Going through the motions
Is making me weak
Pretending I’m content
Is making me sick
Although cold has swallowed the world
I dwell outside
I want answers
The wind brings with it clarity
The wind brings with it all I see
The wind brings change
I lay under the giant tree from my childhood
I lay a different person
A woman, no longer a little girl
I wonder what my future is
I ponder when my luck will change
And I get lost in those moments
That the little girl inside me created
And the little girl inside me
Still wants more than anything
As a little girl, I desperately fought for those things
For a job that makes me happy
For a man that makes my heart sing
For children to love
For a dog to walk
For a place of my own
For a car that hugs every curve
For a life that is mine
Troubled and happy
Delight in disorder
I fight even harder now, but I can’t seem to get there
Perhaps I should fight with the tenacity of my younger self
Young Maria believed in dreams
Young Maria believed in everything
Young Maria was blissfully happy
Perhaps I can go back in my heart
Perhaps those powerful wishes
From my youth, can rise up again

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No more delight in disorder

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Chaotic cleaning
Mind is steaming
Mind is dreaming
Of literally anything else
Old Boxes and broken bags
Messed up Packages and discolored tags
Dust, garbage, and glitter
Everywhere the ground is littered
I must confess
It’s a terrible mess
But I mercilessly organize it all
So next winter it will work nothing slide and fall
No more delighting in disorder
Delight in decluttering

Broken

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Bloody knuckles

Broken dreams

Tears stream

I scream

But no one can hear

Not one can lend an ear

My watch smashes and breaks

How much will it take

Before I smash too?

Before it’s much more than

Bleeding knuckles

Broken dreams

When will I be okay

When will anybody love me

When will the hate stop

When will I see the top

When?

Until then

It’s bleeding knuckles

Broken dreams

Breaking through the Cage

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Huge windows and haunting walls

Enclose me in misery

Everyone acts like they are in charge of my life

I scream so loudly inside my head that it throbs

I hide deep downstairs

But it doesn’t matter

Until I can leave, move to my own place

With my own things, my puppy, my own life

My vivid colors schemes, my greatest dreams

My kitchen utensils, my fluffy towels

My carpets, my choice!

They will continue to act

Like they have dominion over my soul

Trapped

Rage encompassing me

Hopelessness swallowing

Until I break free it’s my

Cage

Once I get hired and I can move out

I will dance about

I will sing and cry tears of joy

I will prance, dance, romance

I will pull apart the steel bars

And after telling everyone how much I love them

How I appreciate everything

But how I crave fresh air and freedom of choice

My own voice

I will walk free:

“I will breath in breath out

And tell you all of my doubts

Because everybody bleeds this way

Just the same” – quote from breath in breath out, Mat Kearney

Toil of Coil

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I sit uneasy
I stand tall
I pull and press the cold torment in my hand
My dirty jean apron is tied
My cloudy red bucket nearby
The music in the distance is the only soothing thing
With the gray clay
I fixate my mind on a small perfect vase
And for a moment in space
It exists

I glace over at my tools
At my damp pick and my filthy needle
My hands bone dry
I make three coils
They are stacked on the wheel
Oh Coils I hate the false joy you bring
It makes my heart sing
A lovely but misleading tune
Makes me look like a loon

So I work work work
Faster, concentrate
I combine you into one piece
Low and behold like rotting mold
On my toast
Revolting
You infuriate me
I plot ways to clash swords with you and win
Yet outwards travels the clay
Like a Mayan Temple

You, coils torture like a bully
You get inside my mind
You mess with calm
And create the perfect storm for madness
Maybe I stabbed my hand with the chisel
But so many failures of the toll of the coil

The toil of making circles makes me
Dizzy and you collapse my senses
Like a bully
You always reemerge
More hurtful
I stack and combine three more
It is woman verses nature
Maria against the coil
I will spin you around and make you puke
But again I have to start again
With what strength I have left
I stand up
I sadly but angrily crumple and thrust
You into the bin
Evil coil

You make my blood boil
You make me bleed my own blood
I have nothing to show for all these hours
Except your victory
And some blood

I curse the day you were born
Circles represent forever,
Perpetually they go on
So Forever I wage battle
Guerrilla Warfare
My fist smack and the table rattle
Until I collapse
Or you melt
Spawn of Satan

High on the List of things I hate (Throwback)

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High on the list of things I hate

Broken rulers, being dreadfully late

Burning something or worse leaving it uncooked

Going to a hotel only to find out they’re booked

Self- help books and a huge flood

When my brand new shoes get caked in filthy mud

 

Cruelties towards an animals or human soul

Finding out your favorite team lost by one goal

When your dress tears apart at the seams

You wish that it was a sequence of bad dreams

(Yes I even hating the wishing, the lies we have to tell ourselves to stay okay)

When nature’s fury causes us to question our fate

These are high on the list of things I hate

 

When you end up questioning everything you’ve ever done

If you have not, it is time you’ve begun

When you look in the mirror and

You truly don’t love it, you take your hands and pray

When you have a craving for something and the store is fresh out

When you’re baby cousin does nothing but screech and shout

 

But something I don’t hate per say but

Something that makes me cry when it occurs this way

Is when I am sad

And no one knows why

Instead of advice or comfort of any kind

They sit there stuck on rewind

No knowing that the only thing worse

Then any problem, burden or curse

Is facing  this world alone

Judge Me

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<revisting high school ponderings>

no matter
where you go where you are
people are judging you
your clothes
your make up
your hair
your purse
everything is being analyzed before
you even speak to the person
i noticed as i went to shake someone’s hand
i already judged them as a jock
because they were built and wearing Abercrombie
i thought was not so judgmental
but as the day wore on
i figured out even if I never said it
I was.

And that sucked.
Now when people JUDGE ME
I get mad but realize i was judging the person
next to them anyway

I’m trying to figure out
why we judge people
and why some things get in the
way of ever knowing someone