If you sent me your imagination

I'd strip it down to its component parts

I'd take the gentleness of conversation

And paint its sentences across our hearts

If there was nothing but the sound of silence

I'd turn it up until the heavens wept

And then I'd vaccinate the veins of violence

Telling no one where its ashes slept

If every rainbow had a black and whiteness

There'd be no jealous green or angry red

And in a world of badly bleached politeness

We'd just be highlights of the things we've said

I can't be bothered with procrastination

It's just a way to say your mind can't fly

So if you lend me your imagination

We'll lock and load then bullet the blue sky...

* I do not intend to be mean, harsh or anything just thought..meh?*

--------------------

At the hospital while patiently waiting for our turn..

Guy: hey, are you a patient too? What do you want to have checked up?

Me: Uhm, (feeling awkward) there's something in my throat. It's like my esophagus is clogged or something. I'm having trouble breathing

Guy: Esophagus? You mean you choked on a soup?

Me: ( thinking what does the guy mean..then realized he was referring to ASPARAGUS soup...i wanted to laugh seriously but i don't want to offend) * smiling* uhm yeah maybe..

Is it wrong that i did not correct him?!? Gaaahhh

You took the life out of me day by day.

You took small amounts,

so I wouldn't notice

when I was left with nothing.

I had to save myself,

I had to get away.

And as I flew away on my own

I began to feel like

MYSELF.

Not dead

in your shadow.

Weightless as we dive

Altered state, no less alive

Thunder masked by mist

Ethereal cascade

Rolling to the seas it made

Forceful catalyst

And I will swim free

Letting nature remind me

Lesser things exist...

I don't think any of you here on Prose. actually know me. I am pretty kept to myself at times but that doesn't mean I don't want to know all of yo, I do. I hope you find this to be something worth reading. This is a little bit about me..enjoy.

I love coffee, tea, and lemonade.

I love psychology books more than I do any other kind because I am intrigued by it all. Human behavior is a huge part of my studies as well.

I am a fan of Criminal Minds, Ghost Whisperer, and the movie Secret Life of Walter Mitty.

I write a lot of tragic things because I love horror and romance mixed in together.

My fears: heights, showing weakness, and public speaking.

I'm introverted to the core.

I spend most of my time with my pets. (two turtles, three dogs (one recently passed away), two cats)

I love traveling and simply being outside in the sun or at night with the company of the moon. I crave natures presence and I need it as well. I think everyone does. I wish more people would spend time outside instead of glued to their digital screens.

I am in a long distance relationship with my boyfriend Caleb. It's been the longest relationship I've ever had. I'm glad I have him in my life.

I love rings and the color black, grey, and brown. (Anything neutral really)

Not a huge shopper though I do collect art and CD's.

I like sunsets. The way they are always different each time. It's like a show in the sky.

I love creatures of every kind. If they are dangerous I'll admire from a far. If not you bet I'll be up close and praising their existance. It amazes me how many insects and animals are so uniquely made for them to survive in their own way.

I was born in a small city of western Russia, but I'm American raised. I love foreign foods but I do not eat meat/fish.

I also live off of pizza and egg rolls.ha

I make my own jewelry and paint in my free time.

I love riding my bike, camping, skateboarding, hiking, and canoeing.

If you know me then you'd know I may be sweet but my view of humanity differs from my view of nature.

I am constantly battling myself.

A good vs. evil type thing within me.

I have a need to learn, but I struggle to remember a lot of what i do.

I play stragegy games to train my brain.

I also love Prose. I have been busy lately with family but I always find my free time being spent here. I hope you enjoyed this little getting to know me. I hope to read more about you lovely writers. Thank you!

"Therapist?" Lords laughs as he waltzes into the office "what a waste of time." Throwing himself onto the couch. He knew the drill. "Look" Lords says to the ceiling "why don't I save both of us the headache of this bullshit and just hand me the script." There was a long pause. He would have thought he was alone if it wasn't for the incessant scribbling of pen onto paper. If this quack was waiting for him to look in his/her direction it wasn't happening. They could sit in silence the entire hour for all he cared.

Finally he heard her pompous voice "I don't think you realize how serious this matter is." She paused waiting for a response she wasn't going to get "You tried to kill yourself."

"Really?" Lords sits up quickly as if this was news to him "is that what I did? And here I thought I was here because of my pornography addiction." He raises his eyebrow as he pretended to masturbate.

"Well, if you feel that is one of the reasons."

"Reasons?" Lords interrupts "No there was no reason. Why is it always reasons with you people? What if" lords leans in closer "I was just bored." He stands up and begins pacing "or maybe I wanted to see what it would feel like to die."

"What do you think caused you to have these feelings?" She was trying to take back control he knew the game plan. He was making her nervous.

"I don't know." He whispered as he crouched onto the floor "perhaps it was withdrawal from drugs" he held up his hand making it shake "or the fact that my daddy beats me, and my mommy abandoned me, and my uncle gets me drunk and then touches me inappropriately" he whispers "and you want to know the worst part? Secretly I like it so it makes me feel all dirty inside." He smiled a sarcastic grin "is that what you want to hear?" As he pulls himself off the floor and walks to the window.

"If that is the truth."

"The truth?" He laughs silently at himself "The truth?" Then looks down at the floor "the truth is, I am a spoiled little rich kid with too much time on my hands. So I thought what the hell." He looks the therapist in the eyes for the first time "lets make those miserable fucks that call themselves my parents pay for all the HELL THEY PUT ME THROUGH." He tried to shake away the tears "They are just lucky I didn't try to kill them instead."

Music…how it affects us so, what kind of touch it commands on our souls, our emotions?

We live inside a world summoned up by a spirit of someone else’s experience, a salutation, happiness, sorrow, that feeling inside us

Called as it were from our past, our hopes, our dreams, a moment in time, the spaces between the notes

We are quickened by the emphasis of the measures, the expression of the stanzas, the bridge back from hence we came, the strength of the magic of lyrics

No one understands where that well is found, where the angels that dwell, they that spirit us away and to the afterworld

We just know it is a chariot which pulls life and death together as one

We are lost in the moment of eternity, as it exists forever and never, it brings out the god in us

The well of life spring where we learn our first memories of emotions, that blessing and curse of why we are here

Courage and compassion cause us to commune with the divine, and we are made to understand the meaning of music of love

Taking care of four little kids under the age of 8 is no small task, even for Marilyn. In her former career, she'd always been ultra-efficient and capable, but these 4 miniature "employers" were challenging, even for her.

She'd been at the top of her game when she surprised everyone by retiring to start a family. With her first baby, she was an easy mom - lounging on the floor reading with him, playing with blocks when he got a little older. She'd made that kind of time for "number two" as well. But, somewhere along the line, and without her even realizing it, she began running her children more like a business and less like the mommy she'd started out to be.

There were schedules, deadlines, prioritized tasks...spontaneity was a thing of the past, lest chaos reign! Or so she believed. Go, go, go. They were always in the car going somewhere. Her smallest, Eve, got dragged everywhere; to Kevin's soccer practice, Mitchell's piano lesson, Kelly's dance class.

Poor little Eve. She was a fixture, back there in her car seat, babbling away as her siblings slid the minivan door open and shut, open and shut, open and shut. Everyone chattered around her. Marilyn, found it impossible to focus, with everyone talking to each other all at once. So she just let their voices wash over her. Especially Eve's, since she was too young to talk.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Marilyn had dropped off the last kid before racing to the market. What nutritious dinner would she whip up tonight?

Why did all their activities have to converge on Wednesdays? Hump day, indeed. Marilyn sighed as she lifted Eve from the car and seated her in the shopping cart. She always kissed her whenever she did this. Every time she lifted her in or out of the car seat, she kissed those silky cheeks. Those were their rare moments to quietly enjoy each other.

Eve gurgled and cooed while Marilyn distractedly responded with the occasional "Mm hmm" or a "that's right, sweetie" - offering meaningless acknowledgment as she read labels & tried to remember her chicken cacciatore recipe in her head.

As she was leaning over the mushrooms, she heard Eve say, "Apple!" It was clear as a bell. "Apple!" Eve repeated. Marilyn glanced up to see Eve pointing at something. Following her outstretched arm and finger, Marilyn turned to see... apples, on the other side of the produce department. She was stunned. When did Eve learn to say apple? Did she just say it now? Was it her first word? Apple? Babies don't say "apple" before "mama" and "dada," do they?

She turned back at Eve, who was lit up like a Big Bird night light, and hugged her. "Yes, baby! That's an apple. Here," she handed Eve a zucchini, but realized she was getting ahead of herself and put it back, "Wait, here," she handed Eve a lime. "Can you say 'lime'?"

"Lime!" Eve shouted, completely pleased with herself.

Marilyn didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she decided to do both. Had she been more tuned in, more present, she might have noticed Eve talking before now. And come to think of it, what were her other children saying? How much of their music had she missed?

That night, after pizza, they all sat on the floor and played...and talked...and Marilyn listened to every word.