My head is in fog, waiting for your touch.

But it doesn’t come. I search it out, it is no where to be found.

You discovered my truth, I started need you.

As before, as again, as now I feel the loneliness.


Doctor Who


So I decided to start watching Doctor Who after watching Torchwood (which was an awesome show that they cancelled way too early.) I loved the season with Rose in them. She was delightfully innocent and had a genuine enjoyment of everything they did and had no issue calling out the Doctor for doing something wrong. I do not however care much for Martha Jones I feel like she is to much of a know it all and all this whining she does because they Doctor doesn’t look at her like she wants him. She’s an adult acting like a lovesick teenager and it’s sad since she is studying to become a Dr.

Now I have heard that I am just joining the bandwagon that is Doctor Who and I disagree because I am not going out to buy all things Doctor, I do not want a Tardis anything, I think Daleks are laming and annoying, and I am not going out to join every fan page known to man that is relevant to The Doctor. I chose to watch it because of the references in Torchwood to it plain and simple. I am allowed to enjoy a show without being a fangirl or being accused of joining a bandwagon.

Week off from social media…


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Taking a week long break from all social media including WordPress. Its been almost 2 days and I already feel less stress and less compulsion to constantly need to check them all. The first I feel I need to do in the morning shouldn’t be check Facebook and I shouldn’t have to constantly feel rejected just because my friends and family don’t like or comment on something I share considering most of the family I’d only see at Xmas and the friends I would have lost track of after HS. But these sites create this constant need for approval from friends, family and people we don’t even know and it can become addicting. After my week is over my hope is to only check in once a day and create better bonds with the people that matter through the phone and email (cause really who writes letters any more). Your journey is your own and I would never presume to ask others to make the choice I have but if you do let me know how it goes for you. Hope you have a good week…smell ya later, lol.

The Raven – Edgar Allan Poe


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I have no words of my own to share today and rather then ramble on about that I’m gonna share the poem that has been rattling around in my head all day mostly because one can never go wrong with Poe and the Raven and it matches my mood…weak and weary..

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

The Darkness – by me


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I hate, with an all-consuming passion

I am terrified, of being lost and forgotten

I seek, to be alone but am afraid of it

I struggle, everyday though you can not see it

I fear, death and life and love

I control, all the time in every way I can

I confine, within myself to seek to appear normal

I hurt, deep inside sight unseen

I scream, can you hear me through the darkness

I am lost, searching through the nightmares

I finish, the depth of hurt too much to take

I have gone, did you notice my absence


I am content – by me


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I am content

As I sit here in this empty room

I am content

While I listen to the rain fall down

I am content

Pondering the here and now

I am content

Waiting for the dawn to break

I am content

Knowing you are no longer here

I am content

When the world outside screams for more

I am content

If my time has come and I must go

I am content

When the pages are gone and the book is done

I am content

As your words run dry and you have no more

I am content

When sorrow fades and happiness shines

I am content

I wait… by me


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I waited for you day and night

I waited for you all my life

Thought I had found you once or twice

Thought I had given up a time or two

I have been happy more often than not

I have been unhappy here and there

I dream about you while I sleep

I dream about you while I wake

You are the whisper in the crowd I hear

You are the whisper on the wind I see

Sometimes my hope is faint and fleeting

Sometimes my hope is tethered and strong

But it is for you I wait with calm aware

But it is for you I wait to bring me home

With the breath I breathe

With the lives I have lived

I wait

So much ugh…

Supposed to do this writing thing every day the whole month of November and I have set a minimum limit of 100 words for myself. There are dozen of things that I could wax poetic about but some days it just feel like more work then I want to deal with and well half the things I could write about would offend the masses and I really just don’t want to deal with the drama, call me a coward I don’t care. But tonight I am cold and tired and just don’t feel like dealing with the words that aren’t coming from my fingertips.