I've managed to avoid
All the hassle and hurt
And the curt belongings
Of shame and ignorance
I should be carrying
On slanted shoulders.
But I waver,
Knowingly,
(Despite the warnings)
And I push right through
My determined seams,
'Til the inside of my desire
Is right-side up again...
A moonlight serenade for me
Would be divine-
If only the right moon
Were mine.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Dark Blue
You.
You are glowing with a pride I haven't seen before.
You are telling me what to do.
Your eyes are the words I could never say.
Your lips, the thoughts I never felt.
In design, your body motions me forward. And I fall away. It scales me, though I pull back. I am not here. But you are.
In my prison, I am a slave to both. But that is a lie. The curse of the prison.
Permanently, have I really been changed at all? Should I have been the active, rather than the passive? Have I stopped to breathe? Will I replace it all again?
Rebounding, I am led toward uneven pavement and pond rings and complacency and shuddering. It's eating me.
Can it be explained so simply? What, am I a child? Am I incapable of this?
I stare at the questions I pose. And they pose me.
Grant me serenity
Instead.
You are glowing with a pride I haven't seen before.
You are telling me what to do.
Your eyes are the words I could never say.
Your lips, the thoughts I never felt.
In design, your body motions me forward. And I fall away. It scales me, though I pull back. I am not here. But you are.
In my prison, I am a slave to both. But that is a lie. The curse of the prison.
Permanently, have I really been changed at all? Should I have been the active, rather than the passive? Have I stopped to breathe? Will I replace it all again?
Rebounding, I am led toward uneven pavement and pond rings and complacency and shuddering. It's eating me.
Can it be explained so simply? What, am I a child? Am I incapable of this?
I stare at the questions I pose. And they pose me.
Grant me serenity
Instead.
Tales From the Crypt
Well, look what the monster dragged in!
Hiya, existent or non-existent reader folks! I am BACK! (for how long or how consistently, i fear i cannot yet tell.) BUT, here I am to catch you up! The following are some tales from the crypt, that is, some pieces I never put up on here from ages and ages ago, buried deep within the confines of my ruby, cardboard-bound notebook. Enjoy at your own risk!
curse ive
how i feel about love
is more like an ongoing question
that i fear will never be answered,
rather than an achievable goal
or a summons
or a song
or a resolvable plight.
cuz I am an uptight, invitable,
irritable, ever-angry-in-the-face-of-ignorance,
too-good-for-that-girl who
occasionally leaves her post at
Prude Bay and takes up residence at
Port-au-Prince ss.
3DD
Gingerly
I watch the pines set sail
On the light, furry parades of snow
That refuse to trickle from
These wanting branches.
I scoop up regrets
In my arms
Like seashells,
All soft and edge and knowing.
They slip and cut my feet
Like well-oiled machinery.
I sit and slop up
Mad soup
That sucks off all the sorrow
And empties it kindly into
My selfish brain.
...Sloth is not one of my proudest habits.
summerquiet
I want to feel like that, though since I am changing what I want on an hourly basis, this feeling will certainly pass.
I love to re-listen to those messages. I treasure re-reading those words on paper- the ones that you read forever and ever ago.
Warmest sensations overcome me with both these memories. They are the most accessible, real feelings I've had in a long, long time. And I have been silent for far too long...
My heart would burst with wanting, if it could. But, I think the sterilization changed all that.
I don't want to share it anymore. And that "it" is me.
I can't own something real unless I first own me. Entirely.
...I am nervous. And a little terrified. And as I've been told, fear is a response to something important...
Like telling secrets.
I've always been an open book.
Except for the guilty parts...
No more.
Hiya, existent or non-existent reader folks! I am BACK! (for how long or how consistently, i fear i cannot yet tell.) BUT, here I am to catch you up! The following are some tales from the crypt, that is, some pieces I never put up on here from ages and ages ago, buried deep within the confines of my ruby, cardboard-bound notebook. Enjoy at your own risk!
curse ive
how i feel about love
is more like an ongoing question
that i fear will never be answered,
rather than an achievable goal
or a summons
or a song
or a resolvable plight.
cuz I am an uptight, invitable,
irritable, ever-angry-in-the-face-of-ignorance,
too-good-for-that-girl who
occasionally leaves her post at
Prude Bay and takes up residence at
Port-au-Prince ss.
3DD
Gingerly
I watch the pines set sail
On the light, furry parades of snow
That refuse to trickle from
These wanting branches.
I scoop up regrets
In my arms
Like seashells,
All soft and edge and knowing.
They slip and cut my feet
Like well-oiled machinery.
I sit and slop up
Mad soup
That sucks off all the sorrow
And empties it kindly into
My selfish brain.
...Sloth is not one of my proudest habits.
summerquiet
I want to feel like that, though since I am changing what I want on an hourly basis, this feeling will certainly pass.
I love to re-listen to those messages. I treasure re-reading those words on paper- the ones that you read forever and ever ago.
Warmest sensations overcome me with both these memories. They are the most accessible, real feelings I've had in a long, long time. And I have been silent for far too long...
My heart would burst with wanting, if it could. But, I think the sterilization changed all that.
I don't want to share it anymore. And that "it" is me.
I can't own something real unless I first own me. Entirely.
...I am nervous. And a little terrified. And as I've been told, fear is a response to something important...
Like telling secrets.
I've always been an open book.
Except for the guilty parts...
No more.
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