Welcome to the Tip of the Iceberg of My Most Intricate, Illustrious Mind..

This is the developing and ever-evolving compilation of my works as a more-than-mediocre-but-less-than-extraordinary writer. My literary works are either products from the obscure depths of my labyrinthine dreams, or (even as young as it may be) my rather cultured imagination — and not to forget my real-life experiences. These are my attempts to explore the elements of my interest and change my enigmatic and esoteric thoughts and considerations to something fathomable, or at least to make a valiant effort in doing so.

Enjoy! And please feel free to leave any comments, concerns or criticism. It will be greatly appreciated.

–Marisa JoBeth

The Point

About your past.
About your future,
You cannot ask.
Pixels composing
What is real.
Words inside,
You cannot feel.
Hiding beneath
Transparent places.
If only those
Familiar faces.
Weren’t standing there,
So in the way.
Of a brighter, better,
More beautiful Today.
To see here, now,
All that is good
To finally,
Be understood.
You are not what meets the eye.
But colors flashed before we die.
The cirlcle goes on;
It never ends.
But what’s between
Beginings, Friend?
Divulging prisms
Of greater Truth.
You’ll lose your youth. 
But let’s be coy,
And not so couth.
You’ll think of me
When the point is moot.

Above the Field of Dreams

We were going to the place where dreams are kept. Together in a truck we wove in the dark through snow-covered, gently sloping mountains until we came to a plain: the edge of a vast, dark plain under the stars. Trillions of stars, so abnormally bright in their circling blankets of bright nebulous cloud. I remember then we closed our eyes and it seemed as if we were both trying to tune into the same station; to have the same dream on some distant star in the stretches of the cosmos. Listening for the same frequency for hours, finally, I felt my setting transform and my scene be replaced.
I was a cat, much like my own cat — if not perfectly identical — and I was in a kennel caged with many other animals in the room. The room had no windows but had one door which was open, and there I saw you standing at the end of the corridor with my storekeeper and caregiver. He was talking me up — fluffing my fur for you — telling you what a good little kitty I was and how I would be the perfect pick. You were beaming as you set me in your sights and walked towards me, and I was excited as any animal in the room; I felt I’d been there the longest. But suddenly, in mid-stride, you hesitate at the door. Your smile quickly fades and your expression is washed over with an emotion I cannot name. Your eyes seem uncertain, scared even, and that alone instilled a fear in me in the fraction of a second before you pivoted: an action surprising only my storekeeper.
You nearly ran at the end of the hall where the entrance door stood, and with your slam of the door, its stained-glass pane cascaded to the floor in splinters.. and the illusion was broken.
I was alone in the truck.
And in the middle of the night sky above me, above the Field of Dreams, I watched our star die.

You think you know me

What am I doing?
You ask with blind eyes.
Where am I going?
Far far away from the people of whom I despise.
Who is enabling me?
The majority of you are enabling my misery.
Now why must I sit and listen to you scream at me?
I will not change. You cannot change me.
I am not the horrible person you speak of, and you cannot tell me differently.
I am not worthless, though not much more can be said of your spiteful words.
They do not cut me — only the ropes that bind me to you.
Keep cutting away..
And once I’m free
Maybe then you’ll see
How you had imprisoned me.
You clipped my wings
And told me to fly.
Did you think it reasonable to expect me to survive?
You simply want the best for me?
–Don’t feed me those lies.
I know you only seek after me to break down and cry.
But I won’t let you have that
–won’t give you the satisfaction.
You won’t get my concern,
No.. Not even a fraction.
Just push me away.
I’m begging you, please!
The best of best moments
The moments like these:
When you realize you’re alone
And no one can help —
But wait — isn’t there someone?
Perhaps you’re not by yourself..
Soon you’ll know what hope looks like as the abyss closes in.
You are alone, you black soul –Without one single friend.

In a Perfect World

In a perfect world,
I would be peacefully asleep in bed, resting for church in the morning. I’d have the arms which I love most embracing me amourously. I would wake up with two sweet upward-turned curves at the corners of my lips, and I would dress in front of a mirror and know exactly who the person staring back at me was.
I would listen to Nature and all of her sounds from the comfort of my swing inside the shady, secluded alcove of my grandmother’s woods. And I would be accompanied by the whispers of sweet nothings, pouring into my ears like liquid charisma, from the seat next to mine.
I would take a long drive with a friend just to sing horribly and laugh at one another.
I would feel the droplets of freshly-fallen dew on my skin as we counted shooting stars from the soft depths of tall grasses.
I would hear the thunder of cascading water as he held me closely somewhere only we know.
The butterflies would still chase my breath away from my lungs and flow directly into my heart when he kissed me.
I would still have his soft hands to hold and to hold mine back.
I would still stir from an afternoon nap to the faint scent of his cologne lingering gingerly on my pillowcase.

I would love and be loved by the love of my life.
If only we still existed together, the universe would be the zenith of my happiest moments with him, blissfully trapped in a marvelously, timeless crystal sphere.

But, miserably..

The World is far from flawless and has long since lost its’ illusory luster on my childish heart, and the love of my life is no more.

I would give anything just to catch a hint of his cologne.
My hands hold nothing but broken promises and empty dreams.
And the butterflies…
I choke on their burning wings as they desperately try to escape the incessant pyre in my chest.
The only thunder I hear is the magnified sound of the salty, cascading waters surging from my eyes,
Down my cheeks,
And fall in streams
From my chin.
I feel nothing but the despair that engulfs me like flares of the Sun.
I no longer venture out to the beautiful place in my grandmothers woods because I shred another, already weakened, muscle of my heart into oblivion, every time I wish I could feel his presence.. or hear him say all those lovely little things to me.
I drive around this town alone; in search of something that’s not there..
What I’m looking for is no longer attainable.

As I get dressed, mechanically, every morning and I look into the hard, glass reflection of myself, I do not recognize a single feature of the lifeless entity staring back at me.

She does not smile..
Nor does she wear a frown..
She looks like a little girl who’s recently been conveyed that
There are no such things as FairyTales..
Only beautiful lies to be told again and again.

I would give my last breath to have him holding me, ever so tighty in his arms, peering into the windows of my soul and knowing..
Knowing that this would last forever, He and I, and that I was the only thing he would ever want,
And he would never let go….

If I lived in a perfect world,
He would never have betrayed me,
And I wouldn’t have this irreparable, gaping hole in my heart..
I would be asleep,
Peacefully asleep in bed,
Resting for church in the morning.

But instead,

I lay here at 3 o’clock, on a sleepless Sunday morning, in a raging river of tears,
That everything I ever wanted is

And that I am Alone.

A monologue written January 30th, 2010.

[not really a] Sonnet 1759

Oh what it be for thee to put a smile upon my face.

The pitter patter ‘neath my ribs, sweet love,  it makes it race.

Appetite without sincerity? Doth know t’lives here, nigh.

But an evergrowing fondness and true admiration lie.

In the depths of souls of souls, nothing verily could mistake,

The boundaries of my love for thee in one single warm embrace.

T’is but neverending and nor ever shall it cease.

I love you Chris, indeed, I do; so dear and true and sweet.

Madly Alluring, Resonating In Sweet Affection

She was there and saved me from myself. I was drowning in a sea of misery and she gently lifted me out of the water and told me it was going to be all right…. standing by the water’s edge I could feel her heartbeat through mine… Entangled… Impressed…. It was a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time, especially after swimming for years in the sea I had created for myself. Few times before, I had sent a message in a bottle in hopes that someone would find it and release me from my misery. And it was you… Your eyes, the color of the sea that I was swimming in… Your touch caressed me in a way I can’t express but through my face and my reciprocating touch. Your love is my lifeline and for that I could never repay you for your generosity.

If I could have asked for someone as dear as the title to the story reflects, I probably would have not have received such a gift but instead it was given… without a preemptive thought. I never asked for such a person, but then there you are… when I least expected it. A gift the Universe brought me, probably sent to me from some distant supernova and it was the Universe’s way of letting me know that I’m not alone. Nor will the Universe allow someone such as her to be alone either. A cataclysmic fortune she is and I believe that she will be a driving force for some years to come. I thank the Universe for her in my life and I’ll never forget the present that was given to my dying soul. Thank you…

All things come to an end, but I’ll be damned if I let what is between the beginning and the end have any due effect. I will nurture her dying soul and breathe new life into what I see in her future. She pulled me from the waters I was drowning in, and then she refilled my soul with the waters from within her soul and I was refreshed and content. Never again will I doubt the Universe and everything within it, because the Universe brought her to me with a bang…. a glorious bang. And for that, I welcome her soul within my own and I will be sane again. Without misery.

Written to me by a very special person, October 19th, 2011.


I stole away in the last of the night to the sand and the sea. I let the rushing tide warm my bare feet as I patiently awaited the sun to greet me a humble hello. Sadly, He didn’t have quite as pleasant a welcoming for me as I had wished.

The sunrise was as dull as my expression, but not nearly as bleak as my heavy heart and mind. The Dolphins didn’t mind this, though. I watched them play together against the dreary pastel backdrop like it was a happy morning. And it probably was for them..

Nearly two full turns of the clock had rounded before it slipped into the forefront of my thoughts, that someone might be worried if my bed was found unoccupied and my phone on the dresser.

Then I realized that, possibly, I didn’t give a damn. I didn’t care to know who might be concerned about me, or if they were at all, and I took my sweet time brushing my arms and legs off.

It didn’t take long for me to change my tune, however, because I also realized I didn’t want to risk the possibility of my whereabouts being questioned; so I started jogging in-land.

I wasn’t fifteen yards from the shore when I fell, knees first, from a striking pain in the sole of my left foot.

Blood dripped quickly from it, staining the sand beneath it crimson, and covered my helping hand.

And it was then that I started to cry.

After two hours of sitting alone on the beach without a soul to listen to my strife, I began to let go of the tears I’d been harboring. It wasn’t for my salt and rock-ridden wound, or my tormented heart, no; but for my poor foot’s assailant… I wept at its beauty.

It’s elegance was as shocking as the pain it’s perfectly-sharp edges had inflicted. This shell, just larger than the size of my fist, was gorgeous beyond comparison. Its’ iridescent colors of white faded into sapphires and coral hues, and the swirls and splotches of seafoam-green and turquoise were a sight to hold themselves.

For a split-second, I longed for having my phone to take a picture of this lovely ocean treat; but only for a fraction of second. No amount of pixels could capture a rudimentary portion of its’ radiance, and would not do it justice in the least. It was a delight only to be held by one’s own two eyes.

Then, as if to spoil my small moment of fascination, I caught sight of the blood it conjured when I ran over it. I was angered and very sorry, both at once, to see the bright red trickling down from its edge to a few of its smooth nooks and crevices. My tainted blood should not have corrupted this impeccable shell.

I gaped at it for ever and it boggled me—this little conch.

What absurd reason did any creature have to not have this to be their home? Why on earth was this marvelous piece of natural art, lifeless and uninhabited? How could something so miraculously beautiful be so horribly empty inside?

My tears fell silently, fast and swift.

We weren’t so different, this vacant shell and I.

I clutched the magical little thing gently with my clean hand and I limped my way back seaward.

I gazed at the waves and I stared at the shell and I knew that I couldn’t keep it for myself. It was too timeless. To deprive it of purpose would be a selfish crime.

I peered at it a moment longer, said farewell with a wish and a kiss, and tossed it into the foam.

Maybe that fine beauty can find a good home..

Maybe I gave it a second chance to live.

Chronic, Hopeless Romanticism is Sappy

He’s the reason I smile at all.

If I’m laughing, it’s at something he said.

If my bed isn’t lonely, it’s him that’s snuggled up next to my chest. If my phone rings and I frown, it’s because it’s not him on the other line. If I’m giggling with a devious smile, I’m devising what I would like to do to him. If I’m completely bummed, it’s because I was expecting to see him; but alas, plans fell through.

If I’m dreaming, he’s the lead, the supporting, or even the only other character. If I’m drinking coffee alone, I’m thinking of him. If I’m drinking beer – it’s imported – and he bought it for me. If my phone goes directly to voicemail, I’m probably talking to him and don’t care what you have to say. If you don’t hear from me in a whole weekend, you can bet money that I’m with him.

If there’s a blank, somber stare in my eyes, that’s me desperately wishing I could kiss him. If I have one hand clutching my shoulder and the other draped across my waist: that’s me hoping to know the next time he’ll hold me close. If I’m fiddling with a lighter, that’s me pondering the last time he lit my cigarette. If I’m listening to music, it’s probably some he sent me. If I’m singing a cheerful tune, it’s because he’ll soon be in the driveway for me to be scooped up.

If I’m trying NOT to think of him, you’ll catch me playing mahjong – the jerk has addicted me to it. If I’m watching Mystery Science Theatre with an arm and a leg wrapped around a body pillow –  that’s me pretending to be with him. If I’m inhaling deeply with my eyes fastly-closed shut, I’m savoring his scent. If I’m dancing around like a buffoon, it’s because he’s pleasantly surprised me with something awesome – or possibly something sweet. If I’m blabbering like an idiot, I’m dreadfully sorry: it’s the direct result of the butterflies, flittering about inside my head, which he’s planted there. If you see me writing in my journal, it’s undoubtedly got something to do with him. If I go to sleep with a smile and a sigh, it’s because he made me do it. If I appear in deep thought, I’m contemplating a better way to tell him how I feel. If you catch a glimpse of a tear fall from my cheek, I’m wishing I could close the gap between point A and point B.

If I’m awake and aware that he’s not around, I will dearly be missing him.

But if – and only if – my heart is still beating, am I sure to incessantly be loving him.



And if you’re reading this now..

I love you Darling..

So very very much


Never have I wanted more,
More desperately than this,
To find myself amongst this thorny path of densely clouded mist.
The windows of my soul,
They know not what to see.
No longer can than they filter deception from reality.
What is it to be real?
To see, and hear, and touch?
Are things not so tangible not considered to be as much?
And the things I know, I know..
Are they really true?
Or is it merely false inspiration infecting my point of view?
So lost am I, a wanderer,
In this foreign land I tread.
My heart is burdened heavy in this Valley of the Dead.
So I hide pieces of my heart,
A many places along my way.
That I shan’t worry of whom, I’m sure, it could and would betray.
I’ve hidden them, so well, in fact,
I cannot find them anymore.
Forever lost in waters beyond the tip my ore.
If only I could see clearly,
If this fog would dissipate,
I could return myself to my much simpler, former-state.

Logic is to illogical,
As nonlogical is to me.
As I am but to know what is to become of me.

I am my own conundrum,
A puzzle, likely, never to be solved.
I wish someone could make sense of me before I do dissolve.

Written May 11, 2011


(an excerpt from) My Enigma Caught Your Tear

My Enigma Caught Your Tear

                “The darkness had settled in for the night. Our vivacious laughter filled the air around us as we sat on the floorboard of what seemed to be a moving van. No seats caught my eye that I cared to know whom occupied, including the driver and passenger seat.

Zoned as far out as another terrestrial realm, we were spinning lights in the most miraculously beautiful patterns. Content as we were in our level of consciousness: we submitted our absolute trust in rolling whichever way the vehicle decided to tumble us, like two articles of clothing floating around in a dryer.

And we were reveling in every second of it.

Our laughter was so purely effervescent it became a strenuous effort to complete the simple task of breathing. We quickly figured it the bright thing to save frolicking with the glow sticks for a moment for gaining a point that we could lie down to inhale slowly.

Expanding our chests and then expelling the oddly, (yet wonderfully) sweet air from our lungs, was pleasant beyond comparison. And in our elation we became distracted with the stars; entranced, watching them zip by like tiny snowflakes behind the shiny glass barriers of the windows.

The black canvas of the night sky sprinkled with confectionate sugar, routinely would encounter puffs of deep blue and purple cotton. After a while they were all we could see, and no longer the pretty stars they were impeding. We noticed the shades of blues and purples morph to pinks, and the pinks to smoggy oranges of hues of clouds that overhang cities. We had no idea what city we were traversing about, only that we were in one. And neither of us possessed the want or need to gain that bit of trivial knowledge. It simply did not matter.

Since the stars were no longer present, we began to entertain ourselves with seeing who could follow the dull yellow haze of street security lights the longest. Without it, yet, manifesting to our knowledge that we were following these lights with our eyes right through the roof of the van, and only had to lean our heads back to keep following them for as long as we wanted — we continued our contest.

Nearly half an hour had passed and then, at the same time, we both looked at each other.

We didn’t exchange a single audible word. But then again, we didn’t need to.

The visual scrutinization for information through each other’s pupils transformed quickly into something else entirely. Suddenly, I knew what your pure, undiluted and unadulterated thoughts were. From the expression that smeared itself thickly over your face, leaking to the center of your eyes, I also knew the converse was, in-fact, true.

And so, it was at that precise same moment our conscience became one, we both realized we weren’t merely in a van anymore.

The entire pod-like-structure that we were encapsulated inside, was an oval made entirely of glass. Without relinquishing our hold on the others eyes, we let our peripherals absorb that our minds had been separated from their physical bodies inside that enclosure; and we were, now, traveling rapidly away from them in a half-omniscient/half-first-person split between our physical bodies and what new life-form we had metamorphasized. 

You and I watched ourselves ebb and flow through and within Time.

We were marveled at such an awesome view. It became evident that Time itself wasn’t, in any way, the line that we perceived ourselves to be following when inside that estranged vehicle, going straightforward. We were constantly changing streams of tributaries of rivers of seas of ocean currents of imaginary (yet visible to us both then) waves of time; inter-lapping an interloping. Parallel and perpendicular; its fluid motion like that of a magnified spectacle of the sound-waves procured from vibrating chords of a guitar.

We appeared to be spinning the most immaculate and breathtaking, perpetual spider’s web ever spun.

Stepping outside our consciousness, yet again, observing ourselves even further away, it was as if we both were a tiny encapsulated message being sent from a synapse in a brain, traveling an electrical current to where ever that message’s rendezvous dwelt.

And our minds remained intertwined in those few moments..

As if we shared the same DNA, we were the two intricate strands of nucleotides that spiral in and around themselves to form a double helix. You were my equal and opposite reaction. There wasn’t an infinitesimal fraction of knowledge one possessed that the other had limited access to. We were experiencing through mind, body, and the spirit rigorously, unequivocally, and beyond-a-shadow-of-a-doubt: absolutely and infinitely verbatim.

We exchanged glances a second time and our magnificent surroundings changed with us — back to the interior of our chauffeur-less cabin, that was indeed a vehicle now, shuttling us exponentially faster towards the unknown.

An inexplicable feeling of despair swept through my arteries, veins, and every last capillary of my entity like a disease, and engulfed me. I knew well that we both knew our journey’s end was eminent, and its limits were being reached sooner rather than later.

So just before our senses were immersed into a devouring abyss of black obscurity, we saved ourselves one last profound glimpse of one another and spoke  simultaneously together, a remorseful whisper.

“Remember me.”

The desperate air of pleading those four syllables exuded through our tone made the walls of my throat hot and my chest burn with anxiety.

I’d had only enough time to follow a quickly-swelled droplet from your right tear-duct, feel it fall from my left cheek, and watch it stop in mid-air before we proclaimed in unison for worlds away to know that, “Forevermore,” would we would indeed remember one another; and it was then that we were captivated by complete and utter darkness.

*                      *                      *

               As gracefully as dying — or as easily as falling down a rabbit hole — I fell into a comatose state, and could no longer sense your presence.

 *                      *                      *

                I seemed to be paralyzed without sleep for what could have been months or even years. There are no words I could possibly implicate to describe how lonely it was roaming aimlessly inside the hallways of my own mind without a light to guide me, for such a horribly long, immeasurable amount of time — being completely, miserably aware of the nothingness.

Though suddenly, I thought I saw a single yellow ball of light ahead, near where my feet should be. However, even the mere thought of me feeling something (after my senses having been so deprived) was foreign to me.

Color had not touched my eyes from the void that consumed it in decades..

Sound had not impeded the drums of my ears in millenniums..

Sweat had not trickled along the edge of my epidermis, consciously making its salty surface itch, in eras long past..

I was neither hot nor cold. My flesh had not felt temperature of or from another being and my tendons had not been put to use in eons; nor had seen or felt the fabrics which clothed my body, in just as long..

What was I supposed to believe? My reality was held only in my own perception. For how long had I been trapped as an essence of my presence but not allowed the luxury of feeling it?

I thought maybe my mind was playing tricks — taunting me with what I wanted to believe — to believe I had hope of escaping this limbo and everlasting prison.

I began to try to rise off what I can only relate to that of a floor, fighting the atrophy that had long since fermented in my muscles, to see what this illumination (if it was even real) might be.

As my hips rotated to support the weight of my upper torso and its movement, I realized I could feel. Only fractionally so, but I felt myself being ever-so-slowly elevated.


I could feel the heavy weights of my eyelids painstakingly lifting themselves slow as anchors being reeled into their docks. I was squinting; scrutinizing my target intently. Like a sloth, deduced to the most droning speed without still remaining motionless, the further up off the floor I rose, the brighter the light became. But only as slowly as I could manage to reel in the rest of the anchors that had held me down for so long.

I was emerging from the deepest slumber; resurrected from what could have well been death. The warm blood that hadn’t visited tunnels of my veins since I last took gaze into the windows of your soul, was rejuvenating. It overwhelmed me — made me hungry for strength and for the life I’d been denied. I pushed myself harder to enable the aid of my arms, reaching toward this light that I only hoped you could see too — Wherever the sands of time and the universe had dropped you into its infinite and beastly, dark realms.

Closer and closer I became, and brighter and brighter the light shone before me, but my head was only nearly five or so inches off the invisible floor. It would take me centuries to succeed in doing something that may not even reap any kind of reward. I felt as if I would cry, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even wallow in my own self-pity. I almost gave up..

Then my mind traveled to realm all to its own, and I pondered: if one was known to be brave and revered for their bravery and kind doing amongst others, should they not save a last drop of their bravery for themselves — lest cowardice overcome their might — and no solitary soul is to see this act; does it count? Does all their benevolence elope this precipice of pusillanimity? Could the reverse possibly be the answer? In the end, would the dastardliness prevail over valor or would all deeds good and bad simply cancel each other out: ordaining their soul devoid of any character, absconding their spirit without disposition, honorable or abominable?

I could have stopped right then. I could have sunk back into the mysterious depths of a sea that not even I really knew the extent of. I could have given up and died inside myself, forever to remain in the Nothingness. No matter if any one entity would ever know what was to become of me — of what choice I would make — I would be beside myself forever. Beside a rotten, subservient coward whom couldn’t amass the energy to save them self from peril.

I almost gave away the very life I had been fighting for my entire existence, but in my deliberation, my subconscious was growing louder and louder; pushing its way to the forefront of my thoughts. There was absolutely no way — in the Hell I only just exited — that I would be doing that for eternity.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

Be that light before me, tangible or not, with every last shred of energy — I had to reach it.”