I Know You

I know you.
I know you so very well.
You seem to be right here.
Are you really?
You know pain.
You know sorrow.
You have weathered.
Withered, as no rose ever stays perfect.
Your skin doesn't seem enjoyable anymore.
Sometimes you wonder if its even your own.
Clothes that you wear don't seem to make you spunky like they used to.
Your life is not what it used to be.
That's no secret.
You have so many problems, so many worries.
When will you ever shed them and take them off like those clothes.
No. Don't think about that.

a boy and a girl

I'd tell you a story about a boy and a girl, and I'd tell you how they'd give the world for each other. I'd give you a book that explained exactly how they came to understand that they had this feeling in them that linked themselves to this one and only specific soul. My words would tell a story of how they wandered aimlessly their entire life just looking for the one that they knew owned their heart. It'd be about the steep, leg numbing, mountains of which they climbed just to find one another. You'd know how the way they felt navigated them through oceans, through forests and though deserts just from one fragment of this so called story; Id tell you this story about a boy and a girl, but the truth is there is no boy and there is no girl. There is no feeling of immortal bondage and there is no mountains. There's just me and my teenage crush and this place that seems so very far away from home.

19-16-09

The sun shines. It plays in her hair and brushes against her soft skin. Here in this little world, it's as dark as can be. Here in her little world, we see a storm on the horizon. Crawling like a cockroach, it's coming to suffocate her. The life she thought she knew melts into burning tears. What keeps the drops from drowning her? Tattered tin that belongs in the corner waiting for a rainy day? A bucket's better than nothing, and as she dumps tear by tear into the bucket, the tide moves in quickly. The bucket is full. One glimpse of the pain: a retched sight at that. She's looking into the eyes of herself, yet they hold no life. Her body looks delicate. You can see her every bone. Her skin is coved in bruises and welts. The young girl now is wrinkled and weak. What was once her reflection shatters and for a moment the world is silent. The sun still shines. It still plays in her hair, but is she really there?
9-16-09
-Dawn

Rain Storm

This afternoon, I want to do something,

the problem is, there seems to be nothing,

my things are packed,

no more ribbons,

no beads, no feathers at all,

the sky is darkening, I'm afraid it will storm,

It seems too fast, I come up with a plan,

I'll run, to freedom,

out in the wilderness, out where its wet,

where it's dirty and muddy,

no one will know,

not until they come home,

when they see that I'm gone,

they'll call me, tell me to come in,

and maybe i'll want to,

maybe by then.

Hun,

hun,
your life, it's as crazy as weather in wyoming,
your days, scramble together just like your breakfast eggs,
the way you love, it's so unexpected,
your family, hardly gets embarassed,
your mom, afraid of almost too much,
including bringing you into public,
far too crazy for that,
your thoughts, they're so random,
are you even listening to me?
is it because you can ride a bike with no handlebars?
that you're on top of the world,
your clothes, never match,
but you're afraid of them matching,
who could live with matching clothes anyway?
your room, filled with color,
you'll never be normal,
or try to be,
thats a good thing,
you're so fearful, you'll take on anything,
something's screaming in your brain,
oh me gosh it's a rubber duck,
you have a ducky in your mind?
how'd you ever get this far?

Estrella

After Gabby started calling herself Luna (moon), we all decided to call ourselves different things in the sky in spanish. Ceanna (sun),Brandi (rainbow), Brooke (cloud), and me (star)..... i'm happy to live out life as Estrella (star)... today I decided I wanted a picture to put in my camper trailor room (that i'm currently moving into) that represents us all... so i edited this one on my computer (the beware of guys with purses just adds amusment)

BURRITO

My first thought was,"okay, what the heck, should I be scared?" But, hey, that's a normal thought for my average daily routine from getting up and finding my toothbrush looks like it did thenight before, to walking into algebra and seeing that Mr. Estes still has red hair. So it wasn't suprizing when I thaught that when Mrs. Miller decided to post tons of weird pictures her walls one day. She told us to pick one and write a short story on it..... this is what I came up with for my picture of someone leaning into the wind on a sandstone structure.(this isn't the exact picture, but you get the point) It's kind of dorky, but I thought I'd post it anyway:

All I ever really wanted was a burrito, yet they told me no. All of the Americans said no. It’s like Americans just decided to completely ban burritos from their country. They all say no burrito only because this is their way and they cannot accept ours into their lives. It’s clearly obvious the burrito way is the clear way to go. With one bite, a burrito will fill your heart with love; life will never feel so complete.
In Mexico, it’s not like this. Mexicans love burritos, but when we come to America they tell us no burrito. It’s probably just because they have never even tried a burrito. I know a hot pocket is good, but it can never replace my burrito like Americans think it can.

The thought of ever seeing a beautiful burrito again amazes me. How could they live without it in America? I think they just don’t know, so all my life I have been searching. I want to discover the great burrito in none other than North America, and I’m making my way to a new destination possible for holding burritos right now. Then, I will show it to ignorant Americans who just have never tried high-quality food. Somehow, I’ve got to get to these people!

“I have conquered great mountains, swam great lakes, and ate petrifying food just in order to see one little burrito again! But no, have you seen a burrito lately? I’ve risked my life just for one glimpse at a burrito, yet all fails me!” I scream out into a crowded bus that I’ve recently climbed into. Heads turn all around me. With mouths twitching and eyes narrowing, I fail to notice that these bus passengers don’t look too pleased about my eruption. I take in a deep breath full of sweat and exhaustion; the air around me is putrid. I ignore the smell and the heat of the air to think about the situation at hand. It’s not like Americans, such as these smelly ones on my bus, have ever eaten a burrito. They’ve never sunk their teeth into the purest, most spiritual, food on this planet; I know this as a fact. Have they even smelled the warmth of the meat and tortilla blanketing the precious burrito? I think not! There is no other food for me but the burrito. If these people would just make an effort, I know they would find the same with their selves.

Today, I make this promise to myself; I will forever preserve, protect and defend the burrito of the United States. If I cannot find this burrito, then I’m better off dead. My love for the burrito is just so strong. Can I live without it? What are you talking about; can I breathe with no air? To me, I see the burrito as a sacred object no one should be able to live without. No one should see it as anything else. It is not just an item you put in your mouth, America! It is as important as your constitution!

Wheels burn on the pavement underneath us as the bus screeches to a stop. Bags and luggage shift positions above as passengers slowly become uneasy, eager to leave this dreaded bus and the leg cramps that come with it. The drowning of whispering grows louder as we reach our destination. The hope of crumpled legs and restless bodies coming to life steadily grows stronger.

Someone in the military of lined seats shouts, “We’re here!” Dallas, Texas, Is this where I will find my burrito? Because I’ve searched drastically online trying to find this place, the burrito must be real. In fact, I’m almost positive this is the town where I will find my holy burrito. This one hope of finding it is all guiding my life. After all, I’ve searched every town here in America that even has even one restaurant in it. I've spent endless hour’s hungry and cold hoping for that one burrito just to show itself in my path.

As everyone gets up, I try to arrange myself into the crowd currently herding itself out of the mechanical folding doors of the bus. Finding the rhythm, I step out of my seat into the bustle. Fresh air relieves me, whispering its sweet words, you’re free! you’re free! into my soul. Green leaves and sunshine great me with a warm smile. Angels sing in my head as I thank god I'm off that bus and out to find a burrito. My luck sensor is up and so are my hopes. “Burrito!!” I call out into the world. Maybe, if I'm loud enough, my burrito will call back to me.

Heading off aimlessly, I start to make my way through the joyful streets of Dallas. The words of a song formulate in my head. Words conceived by the one and only me echo past multiple buildings bouncing off of the heads of by-standers as I pass them by.
“I lost my burrito,
Now I have to graffito,
With my mosquito!
Yo! Diggy! Dog! Diggity!
Ya D-dog said mosquito!”

Heads turn and I can't help but feel like the hottest rapper in town. My singing grows stronger as pride grows inside me. Will I ever find my burrito? The thought compels me; how could a food be so magnificent and beastly? For once in my life, okay so maybe this isn't the first time, I feel I'm on the verge of finding a burrito.

After hours of walking down the streets of Dallas, my belly feels even emptier than my heart does without a burrito. My hunger takes me to a restaurant on the south side of town. It looms over me as a way of welcoming me to it, and with a slight smile it shows off its vivid colors with sophistication. Fake palm trees penetrate through the sand on either side, their plastic leaves dribble shade on picnic tables. Although this looks like an average restaurant, it has a certain spiritual lull that pulls me toward it. It intrigues me, and somehow none of this feels real. My mind falls into a haze. All I can smell is the sweet smell of food. Three words repeat through my head: I need food!

As I walk in from the torture of the sun, the air conditioned restaurant soothes me. The colors inside shine vibrant and welcoming like a fiesta. Light dances through the window creating a heavenly glow on every surface. Flowers pose in vases on the ruby red window sills. They bathe themselves in glorious sunlight. Three round tables act like a centerpiece to a dining room table. Pretty and bright they stand out in the center. Taking all of this in, I sit down. A waiter slowly makes his way towards me.

“My name is Alex. I'll be serving you today. If you will notice our special today is the Mexican style burrito.” The sad thing is that I was so hungry I didn't realize what he said. The restaurant had put me under its spell.
“Oh, I'll just have a plate of nachos sir... and an ice water?” My empty belly nags at me, feeling like an endless pit. I must have food. It's not crazy. It's unimaginable the pain of my hunger. This pain, somehow, I will never forget. The waiter leaves, bringing with him my order. Food!

Even sooner than expected but excruciatingly longer than my hunger allowed, Alex returned with a plate of nachos and a glass of water. Blue, red and normal tortilla chips are circled around my plate. They're dribbled with all kinds of cheeses and sauces. The aroma entering my nasal passage is heavenly. A sense of reassurance and completeness passes over me as I take my first bite and thank the waiter. I gobble down the food as he leaves and my hunger drifts away.

In leaving I drop a few extra dollars for the waiter. I open the door, and while stepping out I remember my burrito. There is no burrito in America, None at all! “Burrito!!!!!” I wail, falling to the ground in a heap of sobs and tears. No, life is not worth living anymore. I cannot take it anymore.
I must get away!

Panicking, I start to run. I'm not running to any certain place, but the sun beating on me and wind blowing past my face calms me a bit. Soon, I'm past the edge of town. “Breathe, step, step, breathe, step, step, 1, 2, 3, 4,”I repeat in my head over and over again, trying to find some sanity. No one knows how much the burrito means to me. Still, I know what I have to do.
Coming upon a sand stone structure, which reaches through the desert sand, I tell myself this is the right place. I proclaim, “Sweet!” and sprint toward it. This is the only way.

The baby blue sky holds itself above me. With its wisped clouds, it shows me life will carry on okay for average Americans although they have not tasted a burrito. For me, life won't be okay. The sand structure in front of me still rests in front of me, stabbing through the earth currently beneath it. Maybe, most would think the loose sand skirts it in a blanket-like fashion, however I'd rather accuse it of a murder it may or may not have committed (aka the stabbing of the earth). As I make my way closer I can clearly see the awkward shape I will soon have to climb. Arriving at the base I use great strength to dart to the top of the structure. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

I squat, knees poking by my chest, and rise to a standing position, creating energy for what I like to call action reaction. The balls of my feet peek from the edge of the stone, like a timid child peeks from underneath its mom's long coat. They rise from the layered sand. One inch and my heart starts racing. Two inches and I hope I don't live through this. Three inches and I premeditate the pain. Body completely away from the sandstone structure, it’s too late to take this back now. Wind rushes past my entire body. The suns heat feels like a thousand knives poking in my back. Somehow, I feel free. Back arched, limbs reaching opposite directions, fingers apart, belly flop position, I land in sand like you would land in the ball pits they used to have at McDonald's. I slip into another world as my energy completely drains from my body.

To America, I was another crazy Mexican they should have put in the loony bin. To me a burrito was worth life. Maybe someday they will understand. Burritos weren't just food to me. They were hope. They were reason to live on and reason to be strong no matter how people treated me. Burritos were friendship, love and family to me. Nothing except them mattered, and still all I can do is hope that America understands.

- write your own story on a picture, find a website of your own with pictures or chose one form this website

http://justcreativedesign.com/2008/03/22/56-creative-photography/

Hating you

Is it how you smile, or the pain beneath everything that shows me i don't wanna die without you. I bleed so much more than meets the eye,
just hoping you would see me, Just hoping you would care.
do you remember,
when you where a star i couldn't reach,
and every moment took my breathe away,
when every message received sent a shock wave threw my core,
but I'm still lost without you,
and your voice still haunts my dreams,
i still love you,
or do i hate you,
has the emptiness of seeing you with her burned my soul away,
at your every turn I want you to see my face, lose your breath and know my pain,
let me fill your dreams, make you realize you cant see without me,
I hope you crumble into a thousand peoces and cant heal without me,
if I hate you so much,
why do i love you?

In his eyes

He's lost in the cellars of his past,
With memories haunting his every move,
Keept in the corner laying under the darkest shadows,
His lips smile and his mouth laughs,
Hiding but I still see it in his everymove,
I've always been able to,
Yet it seems everyone else is blind,
Feeling through the numbness,
Even when he can't feel the pain,
In his brain he pushes everyone away so it wont hurt when they betray him,
When I look into his eyes,
I can see the world,
The hurt and the pain,
Coldness surrounding him,
Taking his air,
He tries to be strong but this pain is drowning him until its all he sees,
crushing him as he tries to hold above him,
All I want is for him to see me too.

Memories Crumble to Pieces

Drowning in tears,
Slowly slipping under the surface,
This pain is so real,
Yet I barely feel it,
Lost in a world without him,
I'm searching for his soul,
Loosing hope with every leap I take.
This hope is what moves me,
All I am is the air around him,
He forgets I'm here sometimes,
And doesn't realize how much he needs me until I'm almost gone,
Forever is what I thought I had with him but forever is just a word to him,
So together we slip further away because we're already apart,
Our ashes seeping threw the floor boards,
we're weaker than ever before,
and the word together was used to make us stronger than ever,
but now we're just dust,
Tearing ourselves apart because it has a way of making us feel real,

Do you Know She Loves You?

she'll wait a million years with the growing pain,
Just to talk to you once more,
you are her energy,
Her strength to go on,
Every breath taken in is for you,
Only this hope of being with you moves her to do what she does,
don't let her become paralyzed once more.

Remember

Just the warmth of your smile fills her with joy,
you can see her but do you even remember who she is,
the girl that would gladly die in your arms,
she remembers how u made her happier than she had ever been,
was it really the reality of forever because you just let go,
now she's sitting here wondering what makes her so better?
what makes her your every dream and fantasy?

Breathe

He hurt me so bad,
His hands rot every centimeter of me he touches,
Singing me a lullaby of pain,
Mark my words as I send him away,
Never to be remembered by this aching soul once more,
He effect me no more,
The mark will heal,
All I ask is to swim to the surface,
And breathe once more.

Trapped

Forever lay this heart of mine,
In an apparatus of love and pain,
To be locked together with one who can't except my tears,
I live off my own blood,
Feeling the depth of my numbness strengthen,
Loosing hope with every piece of me he takes away,
Does he see what he's doing to me,
Or am I just part of his mind locked away never to be free again.

Numb

I'm tierd of trying to better myself for you,
The work is done but I know I'll never get paid,
What I want is slowly slipping away,
I try to remember what you told me but this silence is killing me,
It's your knife cutting into me,
But you don't notice as the blood drips down I start feeling less pain.