I've lived a thousand lifetimes/
Just to get to today.
I've heard a thousand answers/
From your pretty face.
How much I've loved you/
I really can't recall.
But then I see you standing there/
And I remember it all.
It all...
I've loved you for so long now/
'Till fire ran through my veins.
You've waited for a century/
Nearly driving you insane.
Live and die a thousand times.
Live and die a thousand times.
Standing so close to the edge/
We're in the middle of it all.
One choice can change everything/
Our balance will fall.
Violet eyes and starlit skies/
For that I've died a thousand times.
Wings and angels/
Starlight when I fell hard.
I fell hard...
And it hurt when I hit the ground.
Violet skies define me now.
Hi! I'm Jessie McClain. People closest to me call me Jess. I live, and am, exactly where I need to be right now. I'm 30 years old, wife, writer, avid yogi and mommy. Maybe one day I'll meet you! Until then read my work. It is all writings raw and unfiltered. Just as the world should be. And check out "Awakening Iris (The Dreamcatchers Saga #1)" "Sparks Ignite" and "Embers and Fire" available now! Really, I'm obsessed with dreamcatchers. I hope you are too!
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Beautiful Darkness
Beautiful Darkness
Beautiful darkness/
Wrap be in you/
I know the light will save me/
And there's nothing that you can do.
I don't want to feel numb/
Uncomfortably whole/
Tightness in my chest reminds me that I'm alive/
And that I have to let go.
Let you go.
Bittersweet poison runs through our veins/
The light and darkness we need just the same/
A balanced behavior for our flame.
Beautiful darkness/
Synchronized steps/
My heart is pounding hard/
In my bare chest.
My body tingles/
Sweet electricity/
And I wake up/
To my own screams.
I can't fight off these dreams.
And what we fear you know we create.
Take a deep breath and be brave.
Beautiful darkness/
Synchronized steps/
My heart is pounding hard/
In my bare chest.
Beautiful darkness/
Wrap be in you/
I know the light will save me/
And there's nothing that you can do.
I don't want to feel numb/
Uncomfortably whole/
Tightness in my chest reminds me that I'm alive/
And that I have to let go.
Let you go.
Bittersweet poison runs through our veins/
The light and darkness we need just the same/
A balanced behavior for our flame.
Beautiful darkness/
Synchronized steps/
My heart is pounding hard/
In my bare chest.
My body tingles/
Sweet electricity/
And I wake up/
To my own screams.
I can't fight off these dreams.
And what we fear you know we create.
Take a deep breath and be brave.
Beautiful darkness/
Synchronized steps/
My heart is pounding hard/
In my bare chest.
Monday, August 5, 2013
When The Sun Rises... So Do You. Because We Create.
I don't know how I would explain myself even if I could. What would anyone say to that question? Who are you really? Could we be honest? We know ourselves better than anyone else could but we are complete strangers all at the same time.
Who am I? What are my real motives? Are they pure like I would hope they would be? The answer to that would mean honesty with myself. Sometimes that's the hardest.
I know I can be messy. Even when I try to pick up or organize, five minutes later I'm sloppy again. I hate that part of me. Can't I get it together?
I don't exactly brush my hair every single day. Sometimes I simply just don't feel like it or feel I have more important things to do. Sometimes my hand just gets too tired pulling through the mess. On those days it dries in wind tossed knots.
Even when I bother with make-up, it looks good for about an hour until I forget I even have it on and accidently smear it off. It's almost like it was never meant for my lips or eyes.
Who am I?
I know sometimes when I look in the mirror I stare in wonder at the girl looking back at me. Who is the world seeing? Do they know everything she's been through? Can they see the little parts of her she has kept safe from cruelty and bitterness? Has she been able to keep her own bitterness away so it doesn't corrupt the rest of her? It can never make it's way to her heart. To her mind. Never. She has to stay steady and focus. Focus.
And sometimes I have to tell myself that. Repeat it like a mantra. Focus. Focus. Focus. Mind over matter.
I sometimes feel by looking at me I am passed over and blend. I am small and weak. I feel small a lot. I feel weak a lot. And maybe the rest of the world is right. Maybe...
But there are other times, good times that outweigh the bad. Times where I can't think about weakness. I clear my breath, steady my heart, and feel so strong.
Strong enough to take on this world. It is only at my fingertips. It is nothing. I feel strong enough to love. Strong enough to call something my own and to never give up on this life, even though for a moment it would be so easy. The easy way is never the best way. Never...
Because when you love someone it's never easy but it's so safe all at once and all in one resting moment I feel secure.
Maybe I like the gleam in his dark eyes, the determination on his face reverberating through his step, and how his jaw is terse and sets just right, dark brown hair uncaring. He smells like air and safety. He reminds me of the gray area between awake and asleep. Reality and fantasy.
Maybe I like the innocence of the child. Maybe I just stand starstruck in awe at the only thing left innocent in this world that spins to fast. The purity of the dark green in her eyes, brown specks blending, her imagination taking control, running rapid. She reminds me of autumn. And then his blue eyes flicker my way and he makes me understand the logic in the most illogical. He reminds me of spring. A breath of fresh air.
You see? I have found a reason for self preservation. For pure survival. And I also found ones I would easily die for.
And then my strengths become my weaknesses and it keeps me brave. It gives me something to look forward to. It gives me something to stand up for, and it is something absolutely necessary to my existence.
I don't trust people. Who? People in general. I always find myself searching for their motives. Some I can't look in the eye, some I can't even look at.
Dreams.
Dreams.
Speaking of dreams I sometimes dream that I am drowning. I float gracefully down, and down, and down, and I only fight when my lungs turn to fire. I dream I'm on a sinking ship. I look out small circular windows and see only dark blue ocean outside. I somehow always find my way out of the watery tomb just to find a trunk floating. I grab onto it for security and wait for the sharks to invade, swarm, and eventually pull me under. I gulp water and can't breathe. The lights above disappear slowly.
I feel the pain and fight the water. And then I wake up. Just like that. I wake up screaming and choking.
There were times I remember clearly where I would just want to sleep just so that I didn't have to feel pain, if only for a few hours. Sleeping came as a reprieve. The darkness wrapped me in it's arms and on the good nights my dreams would stay at bay.
I know. I've known pain. Loneliness used to be a close friend of mine. Fear has gripped it's wicked claws around my mind, disenabling me. And anxiety has brought it's blows to my chest. But I can admit to this because I have fought them. I refuse to let it own me. I fight clenched teeth, screaming into my pillow, red filling my eyes, and black bleeding into my mind. Until the light burns it all away.
Because simply...we create our own light. We create our own darkness, out own courage, and bravery. We create the part of ourselves that kicks on and says that we can pull through.
We make the choice to hope. To hold faith. To keep waking up when the sun rises and to walk even when it hurts and we feel that we can't.
we have to help ourselves in order for God to help us. We have to want it. To breathe it and taste it. We have to need it. We have to fight for it. Stand up and scream, clenched fists, thrashing and kicking, cock your gun, and draw your sword kind of fight. No one can do it for you. No one can do it for me.
So who am I?
Maybe someone else could tell you who I am, it's easier when you aren't looking from just one view out the window pane. And I guess when it's all said and done I just hope someone gets it right.
Who am I? What are my real motives? Are they pure like I would hope they would be? The answer to that would mean honesty with myself. Sometimes that's the hardest.
I know I can be messy. Even when I try to pick up or organize, five minutes later I'm sloppy again. I hate that part of me. Can't I get it together?
I don't exactly brush my hair every single day. Sometimes I simply just don't feel like it or feel I have more important things to do. Sometimes my hand just gets too tired pulling through the mess. On those days it dries in wind tossed knots.
Even when I bother with make-up, it looks good for about an hour until I forget I even have it on and accidently smear it off. It's almost like it was never meant for my lips or eyes.
Who am I?
I know sometimes when I look in the mirror I stare in wonder at the girl looking back at me. Who is the world seeing? Do they know everything she's been through? Can they see the little parts of her she has kept safe from cruelty and bitterness? Has she been able to keep her own bitterness away so it doesn't corrupt the rest of her? It can never make it's way to her heart. To her mind. Never. She has to stay steady and focus. Focus.
And sometimes I have to tell myself that. Repeat it like a mantra. Focus. Focus. Focus. Mind over matter.
I sometimes feel by looking at me I am passed over and blend. I am small and weak. I feel small a lot. I feel weak a lot. And maybe the rest of the world is right. Maybe...
But there are other times, good times that outweigh the bad. Times where I can't think about weakness. I clear my breath, steady my heart, and feel so strong.
Strong enough to take on this world. It is only at my fingertips. It is nothing. I feel strong enough to love. Strong enough to call something my own and to never give up on this life, even though for a moment it would be so easy. The easy way is never the best way. Never...
Because when you love someone it's never easy but it's so safe all at once and all in one resting moment I feel secure.
Maybe I like the gleam in his dark eyes, the determination on his face reverberating through his step, and how his jaw is terse and sets just right, dark brown hair uncaring. He smells like air and safety. He reminds me of the gray area between awake and asleep. Reality and fantasy.
Maybe I like the innocence of the child. Maybe I just stand starstruck in awe at the only thing left innocent in this world that spins to fast. The purity of the dark green in her eyes, brown specks blending, her imagination taking control, running rapid. She reminds me of autumn. And then his blue eyes flicker my way and he makes me understand the logic in the most illogical. He reminds me of spring. A breath of fresh air.
You see? I have found a reason for self preservation. For pure survival. And I also found ones I would easily die for.
And then my strengths become my weaknesses and it keeps me brave. It gives me something to look forward to. It gives me something to stand up for, and it is something absolutely necessary to my existence.
I don't trust people. Who? People in general. I always find myself searching for their motives. Some I can't look in the eye, some I can't even look at.
Dreams.
Dreams.
Speaking of dreams I sometimes dream that I am drowning. I float gracefully down, and down, and down, and I only fight when my lungs turn to fire. I dream I'm on a sinking ship. I look out small circular windows and see only dark blue ocean outside. I somehow always find my way out of the watery tomb just to find a trunk floating. I grab onto it for security and wait for the sharks to invade, swarm, and eventually pull me under. I gulp water and can't breathe. The lights above disappear slowly.
I feel the pain and fight the water. And then I wake up. Just like that. I wake up screaming and choking.
There were times I remember clearly where I would just want to sleep just so that I didn't have to feel pain, if only for a few hours. Sleeping came as a reprieve. The darkness wrapped me in it's arms and on the good nights my dreams would stay at bay.
I know. I've known pain. Loneliness used to be a close friend of mine. Fear has gripped it's wicked claws around my mind, disenabling me. And anxiety has brought it's blows to my chest. But I can admit to this because I have fought them. I refuse to let it own me. I fight clenched teeth, screaming into my pillow, red filling my eyes, and black bleeding into my mind. Until the light burns it all away.
Because simply...we create our own light. We create our own darkness, out own courage, and bravery. We create the part of ourselves that kicks on and says that we can pull through.
We make the choice to hope. To hold faith. To keep waking up when the sun rises and to walk even when it hurts and we feel that we can't.
we have to help ourselves in order for God to help us. We have to want it. To breathe it and taste it. We have to need it. We have to fight for it. Stand up and scream, clenched fists, thrashing and kicking, cock your gun, and draw your sword kind of fight. No one can do it for you. No one can do it for me.
So who am I?
Maybe someone else could tell you who I am, it's easier when you aren't looking from just one view out the window pane. And I guess when it's all said and done I just hope someone gets it right.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Derailed
She walked into the fluorescent lit room but it just didn't look the same. It didn't feel the same. The smell was off and the smiles on her old friends faces seemed so fake. They were so distant. But if she was to be honest with herself they were never really her friends anyways. It was all an illusion. It was all a quick justification to her once being a loner. See deserved a friend. She deserved someone to understand.
No...she didn't deserve any of that...
And now here she is again, a loner, the way it was always meant to be. Maybe that's what she will always be. Especially now. Especially since he's gone. But she can't think about that even though it's constantly in the back of her mind. It's never left. Not for the past week as she lay in a daze, curled up in a cold waterbed that didn't even work. It was dead winter, and no matter how many blankets she padded up and wrapped around her it never kept out the bone aching chill. She just hasn't been able to figure out yet if the chill is from the cold or her shredded heart. Since that frozen, gray day she's had a one track mind. And the train is derailing.
She takes a step further into the room. A part of the floor creaks, welcoming her in a disturbing way and everyone glances from the corner of their eye, but not directly at her. That's how she knows they're all gone. That's how she knows her exile. All because of a boy. No he wasn't a boy. He was a wolf looking for a lamb, searching for his prey. And he found her. He found her, and cut her and then left her to lick her wounds. But he has other prey too. And all of these pretty girls are just following him to their own demise while they look at the lamb like it's the one to blame for bleeding. Like the wolf never did it. But she takes another step ignoring the awkward silence and subtle murmurs. Simply because as of late she's had worse things happen to her. So much worse than a lying boy that no longer means anything to her. It doesn't matter.
As she steps her way to the front by the church alter where everyone else is practicing, laughing, and going over the same routine, precise moves she slips her shoes off. The carpet feels rough under her feet and she wiggles her toes into the fabric. She's been involved in this youth program for 3 years now, but no one even bothered to learn her name until this past fall. Remmie. That's her name. She knows it, but they didn't.
It felt strange at first. She had always sat alone or with one of the youth leaders, that seemed to be the only one that would ever talk to her, and then suddenly she was surrounded by people laughing with her and inviting her to parties, get togethers, and bowling nights. She never liked bowling, but she never said anything either. Now she thinks that she should have.
As everyone finally settles into the line to go over the dance once more for the church program coming up in a week she falls right in place. Maybe it will take her mind off of him. But as she finishes that first move she looks over at the one person left that seems to hold no judgment towards her (though it feels false) she idly wonders what Lynn really thinks. Lynn's face is blank...robotic, and as she catches her eye the blonde haired girl smiles. Do these people ever feel? Are they real? She looks towards the big double door she just walked through that would lead her right back out. And suddenly her legs burn to run. To just leave and never look back again. Se wants to run from the isolated loneliness that she feels in, above all places, this church. Weren't churches meant to fill voids, not leave them gaping? This is all fake! She can't dance when he's lying in the cold, wet, winter ground. Before she can really even allow her legs to do what they crave she's flying through the room and out the door the whole time telling herself "don't look back." The last thing she will ever remember about that church room is an echo of a voice from the blonde girl calling her name. Lynn was it?
As she's running toward her final exit to get into her car and go back to her safe, unrelenting cold bed she stops for just a second as she sees the blur of a girl that she loves to hate in the final room by her exit door. The girl she hates is talking to a boy she recognizes from school, but Remmie has never actually talked to him herself. And he sure as hell never bothered going out of his way. Why should he? She's only a little above 5 foot, 100 pounds wet, with a different hair color each week. She blends easy. On purpose of course. She's made a talent of it. Remmie means to go unnoticed until the stupid girls eyes flicker to her face. The girl waves her into the room and introduces her to the boy.
"Hi," the boy holds his hand. He's very ordinary looking with small eyes.
She looks at his hand and reluctantly accepts. "Hi."
And somehow with those two "hi's" they both end up in her car headed to the mall while Remmie secretly is still thinking about her bed and how she doesn't even know why he's here or what happened in the past five minutes to put her on this unsought road. He's not him, he's not him...she keep telling herself, as if she needs reminding. She know he's not him. No one can be.
And what's even more fascinating is the fact that after they roam around the same place in the mall going in circle, after circle for hours as she mindlessly listens to this obnoxious boys babbling she actually agrees to go with him back to a place that he's been staying at. Why? She asks her self immediately, but it's as if something else is making her choices for her. She's just along for the ride. And after all of that if only she had known what place that would be, if she was asked again next time in another life or dimension, she wouldn't hesitate before she said okay for the second time.
Simply because when she gets there and has to spend the next two hours trying to scoot further and further away from the obnoxious boy (she is glad they were strangers before now) while he tried to get closer and closer... during all that and right in the middle of a movie, and hell, and chaos, and an ice storm the covers the heart and soul, God dropped a blessing right in her life. He gave her a light for the darkness that surrounded her every single day.
This guy walked into the room. The boy introduced them as she was laying back. Remmie didn't have a good view of the guy, so she lifted herself for the introduction.
She looked this guys way and saw him. I mean really saw him. She saw the dark gleam of his brown eyes and he somehow in the mess of it all reminded her of a song. A beautiful song. You know? The ones that keep you singing? The ones that keep you crying, and laughing, and dancing. But you're never alone in them. Those kind of beautiful songs. That was this guy. And he wasn't him either. Because he was in the ground...still. And the life would never shine in his eyes again. And despite the utter stillness and faded glimmer in this guys eyes they were full of life. Bright, unfading, days in the sun kind of life. A life that she missed. A life she may be able to know again. And for the first time since she saw him put into the ground, she didn't want to go back to her bed and curl up in the February cold. She wanted to stay where it was warm.
The stars were bright that night. And the cold mist settled over a sleeping town. And she missed him. And her mind never really lost the one track it was on, but now it didn't necessarily feel like it was derailing. And as the smell of leather comforted her this guy made her laugh. And she felt alive.
No...she didn't deserve any of that...
And now here she is again, a loner, the way it was always meant to be. Maybe that's what she will always be. Especially now. Especially since he's gone. But she can't think about that even though it's constantly in the back of her mind. It's never left. Not for the past week as she lay in a daze, curled up in a cold waterbed that didn't even work. It was dead winter, and no matter how many blankets she padded up and wrapped around her it never kept out the bone aching chill. She just hasn't been able to figure out yet if the chill is from the cold or her shredded heart. Since that frozen, gray day she's had a one track mind. And the train is derailing.
She takes a step further into the room. A part of the floor creaks, welcoming her in a disturbing way and everyone glances from the corner of their eye, but not directly at her. That's how she knows they're all gone. That's how she knows her exile. All because of a boy. No he wasn't a boy. He was a wolf looking for a lamb, searching for his prey. And he found her. He found her, and cut her and then left her to lick her wounds. But he has other prey too. And all of these pretty girls are just following him to their own demise while they look at the lamb like it's the one to blame for bleeding. Like the wolf never did it. But she takes another step ignoring the awkward silence and subtle murmurs. Simply because as of late she's had worse things happen to her. So much worse than a lying boy that no longer means anything to her. It doesn't matter.
As she steps her way to the front by the church alter where everyone else is practicing, laughing, and going over the same routine, precise moves she slips her shoes off. The carpet feels rough under her feet and she wiggles her toes into the fabric. She's been involved in this youth program for 3 years now, but no one even bothered to learn her name until this past fall. Remmie. That's her name. She knows it, but they didn't.
It felt strange at first. She had always sat alone or with one of the youth leaders, that seemed to be the only one that would ever talk to her, and then suddenly she was surrounded by people laughing with her and inviting her to parties, get togethers, and bowling nights. She never liked bowling, but she never said anything either. Now she thinks that she should have.
As everyone finally settles into the line to go over the dance once more for the church program coming up in a week she falls right in place. Maybe it will take her mind off of him. But as she finishes that first move she looks over at the one person left that seems to hold no judgment towards her (though it feels false) she idly wonders what Lynn really thinks. Lynn's face is blank...robotic, and as she catches her eye the blonde haired girl smiles. Do these people ever feel? Are they real? She looks towards the big double door she just walked through that would lead her right back out. And suddenly her legs burn to run. To just leave and never look back again. Se wants to run from the isolated loneliness that she feels in, above all places, this church. Weren't churches meant to fill voids, not leave them gaping? This is all fake! She can't dance when he's lying in the cold, wet, winter ground. Before she can really even allow her legs to do what they crave she's flying through the room and out the door the whole time telling herself "don't look back." The last thing she will ever remember about that church room is an echo of a voice from the blonde girl calling her name. Lynn was it?
As she's running toward her final exit to get into her car and go back to her safe, unrelenting cold bed she stops for just a second as she sees the blur of a girl that she loves to hate in the final room by her exit door. The girl she hates is talking to a boy she recognizes from school, but Remmie has never actually talked to him herself. And he sure as hell never bothered going out of his way. Why should he? She's only a little above 5 foot, 100 pounds wet, with a different hair color each week. She blends easy. On purpose of course. She's made a talent of it. Remmie means to go unnoticed until the stupid girls eyes flicker to her face. The girl waves her into the room and introduces her to the boy.
"Hi," the boy holds his hand. He's very ordinary looking with small eyes.
She looks at his hand and reluctantly accepts. "Hi."
And somehow with those two "hi's" they both end up in her car headed to the mall while Remmie secretly is still thinking about her bed and how she doesn't even know why he's here or what happened in the past five minutes to put her on this unsought road. He's not him, he's not him...she keep telling herself, as if she needs reminding. She know he's not him. No one can be.
And what's even more fascinating is the fact that after they roam around the same place in the mall going in circle, after circle for hours as she mindlessly listens to this obnoxious boys babbling she actually agrees to go with him back to a place that he's been staying at. Why? She asks her self immediately, but it's as if something else is making her choices for her. She's just along for the ride. And after all of that if only she had known what place that would be, if she was asked again next time in another life or dimension, she wouldn't hesitate before she said okay for the second time.
Simply because when she gets there and has to spend the next two hours trying to scoot further and further away from the obnoxious boy (she is glad they were strangers before now) while he tried to get closer and closer... during all that and right in the middle of a movie, and hell, and chaos, and an ice storm the covers the heart and soul, God dropped a blessing right in her life. He gave her a light for the darkness that surrounded her every single day.
This guy walked into the room. The boy introduced them as she was laying back. Remmie didn't have a good view of the guy, so she lifted herself for the introduction.
She looked this guys way and saw him. I mean really saw him. She saw the dark gleam of his brown eyes and he somehow in the mess of it all reminded her of a song. A beautiful song. You know? The ones that keep you singing? The ones that keep you crying, and laughing, and dancing. But you're never alone in them. Those kind of beautiful songs. That was this guy. And he wasn't him either. Because he was in the ground...still. And the life would never shine in his eyes again. And despite the utter stillness and faded glimmer in this guys eyes they were full of life. Bright, unfading, days in the sun kind of life. A life that she missed. A life she may be able to know again. And for the first time since she saw him put into the ground, she didn't want to go back to her bed and curl up in the February cold. She wanted to stay where it was warm.
The stars were bright that night. And the cold mist settled over a sleeping town. And she missed him. And her mind never really lost the one track it was on, but now it didn't necessarily feel like it was derailing. And as the smell of leather comforted her this guy made her laugh. And she felt alive.
Monday, July 29, 2013
He Doesn't Know He's BEAUTIFUL
This is an excerpt from my debut novel Awakening Iris (The Dreamcatchers Saga #1). The design is done by the talented Wendy Lohr from Cressen Books Publishing. If you like romance, or simply something real I encourage you to read this! Follow me on Google, Facebook, Twitter, and/or on my blog! Also check out and follow Cressen Books LLC on Facebook or visit their site cressenbooks.com to read the first chapter of Awakening Iris for free. Links are available for purchase on Nook, Kindle, or Paperback!
Friday, July 26, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Consume Me
Consume Me
Polluted, impure, a sense of well being/
I can't keep you from speaking/
I can't keep you from seeing.
Everything that I do/
Everything that I am/
Every dirty flaw/
Every well laid out plan.
You search for me now/
You see through the clouds/
You rip my heart from my chest/
And leave it beating on the ground.
You crush me, you know me/
Love me, expose me/
Keep me/ leave me/
Consume me/ and feed me.
Tears are dripping down/
I want to fall in them and drown/
Fears are clawing out/
You crush them all around.
I'm brand new and bleeding/
White as fresh fallen snow/
You were here, I saw you/
I can't let you go.
You were here, I saw you/
Please, don't you go.
Polluted, impure, a sense of well being/
I can't keep you from speaking/
I can't keep you from seeing.
Everything that I do/
Everything that I am/
Every dirty flaw/
Every well laid out plan.
You search for me now/
You see through the clouds/
You rip my heart from my chest/
And leave it beating on the ground.
You crush me, you know me/
Love me, expose me/
Keep me/ leave me/
Consume me/ and feed me.
Tears are dripping down/
I want to fall in them and drown/
Fears are clawing out/
You crush them all around.
I'm brand new and bleeding/
White as fresh fallen snow/
You were here, I saw you/
I can't let you go.
You were here, I saw you/
Please, don't you go.
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