Biography of Jessica Roux
2006: I'm young and have always had a passion for writing. There are always so many thoughts churning in my head, and it sometimes becomes hard to write them all down in a perfect manner. I don't ever intend to read my poetry out loud, in fact, I cringe if I let someone read my poetry and they begin to read it aloud. I would rather just be able to view my thoughts, not hear them.
12/4/07: I feel as if I should updatee about myself. Not that many actually aquire time to do such upsurd things, but I am just doing this for the sake of doing it. I'm more temporary than the seasons, and I'm constantly phasing. My mind is boiling over with words and thoughts and pictures-none are reoccuring. So I do my best to capture them for the sheer reason that my mind is far from photographic and my mind strays away from the reality that I, myself create. No one knows who I am, I prefer to remain a mystery. I errupt with every emotion possible, and I never stay within close bounds. Sometimes I am caught in the state of intertia, but I'm sometimes stubborn, and can't accept the driving force (when it actually does come) . I am filled with love, so much that it makes me sick. The human race is decaying every minute, but growing every second. Really, in actuality, all I'm trying to do is be who I was created to be. I want to see everything, feel everything, be everything, and hear everything. I long to be Limitless. And nothing else.
Jessica Roux Poems
Through summer’s cool breeze To winter’s bare trees; The missing pieces found the empty puzzle.
The puzzle was scattered All over the floor Some pieces hid beneath Crevices in the ground
A constant journey Never ceasing Corrupts my mind Without an apology
There’s something floating outside my window But I cannot fully see for my blinds are shut. I release the blinds with my eager hands
Rain lashes down But the tree remains motionless. The leaves rustle from flimsy branches And eventually fall onto foreign ground
Sometimes There Is No Answer.
A storm of constant cliché Lie in my body. The translucent heart And the precious bone(s)
It’s true that life exists beneath the surface. But
A constant journey
Corrupts my mind
Without an apology
The puzzle collapsed
Leaving no trace of life
Until the day I found myself in a shop window.