Sometimes I want to scream to the sky to make me anew.

Before

Before the world ends,
Before I scream my final scream
As if the sky were glass
I could bring down upon myself.


Before consequence eats the fettered
Rotting flesh of the heart
And sin spits and licks
Our ashen mouth dry with leathery cracked tongues.


Before this fatherless bastard universe
Collapses down on us
I'll speak the name
You've given to me
In a moan or whisper
You called me Judas or lover.
Then asked
Are they not both the same?

Oh my God. Don't scream. Don't scream. I know it hurts. don't scream.

Once

I was somebody once
Before these hands
(how old they've become!)
Erased my face from mirrors.

I knew god once
Before a book was shoved down my throat
And I couldn't quiet swallow the words.

I knew what safety was
Before I caught mom crying in the bedroom
And tipped over pill bottles on dads bible.

He is not God
And she is not a saint.

I realized there is not love
Only lying really well.
And we don't cling to 'home' for comfort
Only a blanket to cover our darkest deeds.

We don't speak of what goes on behind closed doors
And the world doesn't see us cry behind photographed eyes.

We grow older but not wiser,
Lost all knowledge behind a glass of innocence.
We can never say with surety what we knew then, . . .
Back when I used to know things.

Cobalt

I lost you somewhere between Jesus and the floor boards.
And these thin tissue paper words are just that,
Frail and transparent.
I hold them up to the moon to see their faint shades dancing listlessly
And I wonder vaguely what happened to us.

Was it the light that made us realize we no longer wanted this?
Should we of just continued by candle light and soft perfumes of night flowers?
Turning and speaking love poems on sheets of satin,
No, not that.
Anything but, is what we truly are.

We aren't exotic night birds.
We are simple.
Your ribs are shades of black and white
Devoid of color I trace them
With failing fingers
The truth as solid as news print.
We haven't talked for weeks.
But in this moment there is only me and you
And blue collared cotton
Bleached by moonlight
In a new england farm house
Set alight by noiseless fire.
(So quietly we burn)

We are drifting apart. it is already late.
And I'm wondering
If I should say goodbye
Or make love to you one last time.

I don't give a fuck what you think.
I'm going to greet the morning
Punching the hell out of the sky.
In a haze of marajuana and old rusty needles
With the light dripping down
Like slow loss.
And her alabaster skin will kiss my
Bloodshot eyes.
Her, the choosen one,
The one to bring the news that he's gone.
I will die here
Under the weight of her heaviness
Her eyes that know all,
Bleeding for the sins of those without remorse.
My lips holy, like God.
My tongue an instrument for Jehova
So smile or smite them then, Oh great one.
I am done.

.

What's it like to die?

To feeling your life ebbing out of you slow
Tiny little stars dancing before your eyes
Then no light at all.

Is it quiet and dignified?
A hush as the heart is taken aside
And put down.
Is it loud and raging?
Death prying your fingertips
Off of consciousness.

Then the miracle.

The voice that calls you back
Willing or unwillingly.
The One who says
"It's not time yet."

Out of cold darkness
Blinding light and heat.
You are reborn
Naked and unassuming

The nurses shout
And you cry out
Your first triumphant call
Of new life
Golden baby with the world
In your mouth

You arise burning and victorious
Living to tell of dying.

So tell me, Oh great Lazarus,
What's it like to live?

I've done something horrible.
I wish your heart would be broken because then . . . nevermind. It was just a little passing dream I had for us. Go, be happy. I'm happy alone. Well, not really. Content is more the word. I've learned to live again, or at least function. I wish I had drugs sometimes. Something to love. Something to return to instead of empty rooms and bare scrapes of memory that mean nothing now.
It's a little queer that everyone I know now has somebody. Not that I mind really, I don't need anybody. I can keep myself warm through the winter. But apparently they couldn't. I wish I could say it makes me feel Superior, to be such an isolate island in need of nothing, so self sustaining. But I don't feel proud of myself now, not like I thought I would.
But I've found something to hide behind. "I don't need a relationship now." those words keep me safe. I can live a life of fear safely tucked away in monotony I choose. I don't have to take risks or do anything emotionally dangerous. I can control the flow of my life, ignoring the prying eyes of strangers and more threatening, the nice smiles of grocer boys. I don't have to look for love. That unpredictable dangerous hurtful thing. What good ever comes from it? No. I choose to be alone. And I am happy.

I Don't Dream [of you] Anymore

I don't dream anymore.
I count the taps in the dark.
I stare into blackness
And mark the paces of the changing hours.

I hear all
As if I am the only person alive
And sometimes I fantasize that I am.
I waste hours into thinking
I let them slip down the walls,
Pooling on the carpet.

The second hand of a clock
Is a slow heartbeat
Dripping morphine into my eyes.
I don't feel.
There is no need of feeling.
Only cool observance.

I live lives,
A new one every hour
And become master of every domain
I could build city's just to burn them
And empires just to drown them in a sea.
And I think of you . . .

I don't dream or plan
Or spin with different outcomes
And perfect ends.
I just remember.

I listen to the silence
And gather what wisdom it has to offer.
The story of my agelessness
Is told and retold
Into waiting ears.
As if I was always meant for it,
I saved myself just to hear the tale.

It becomes lover and mother to me.
God and devil.
How I abhor it's mute presence
And find comfort in it's every whispered second.

It becomes Holy and Heavy.
And I am it's single lone virgin priestess.
Offering sacrifice of words
And melody's
And sound
In wordless absolution.

Giving it my voice,
At midnight and one,
And two, and three,
til even four or five.

I tread this dreaming house
With quiet footfalls
Drifting in and out
Stopping to explore this night world
Prying secrets from the moon
And only she would tell me
For I am pure now, like she.
And I am aging fast
With these secrets
Weighing down.
Not that I care.

I keep them,
And they become part of me.
And I belong to it,
But it does not belong to me.
This world of wakefulness.
I give it my self to do with what it will.
It dwells in this house
As if I had wanted it.
But we are both unwanted.

It gives me the time
To dangle my mind
To erode my thoughts
Into sugar crystals.
That granule into white mountains
Somewhere distant of here.
I drop thoughts,
Awful and ugly,
Like bombs
Where no one ever was.
Or balls
Against the floor
Just to see if they'll bounce.

I dismantle life's complexity's
Into grains of sand
And blow them about
On the coffee table.
And I wonder if I'm God now
Or merely mortal.

I watch the day punch
The living fuck out of the sky.
I hear the sounds of bones crack
And the bloody light
Globing about like an awful hangover.

I am not pure anymore.
I am a night whore with to much ridding.
This worn papery skin is no longer
Alabaster and smooth.

The purple circles
Carve hollows under
These stupid eye sockets.
Washing up like a bruise.

Day has hit me
For I belong with the night.
I am the child it never wanted
Or the lover it couldn't give a damn for.
It pulls me,
Tugging, stabbing,
To show me I am real.
I am not a ghost
. . . or a priestess.
I will be what it wants.
But I refuse.
My eyes are aflame,
Burning and red.
I dismiss it.
I will not dream anymore.
Not for you, for I, for it, for them.

I belong now.
And thats all that matters.

A Cold

Congestion.
I'm all clogged up.
Swollen shut.
I don't want to be open.
Leave me
And let me sleep
With nothing but tissues and nyquil
Perhaps a good movie.
No.
On second thought . . .







forget the movie.

In a world without you.

In a world with out you.
A world i would of made less cold,
Less distant.

Where we could have a room between us
And not long long miles.
Were I could say your name
And you would hear me.

Instead of spiders dancing quietly in webs,
Instead of the children sleeping down stairs.

We would never realize or come to learn
What love is
Through the sweet and silent sacrifice
Of mothers lies.

We would never know the faults of our fathers
And they would be kings still in our eyes.

And mother would be washing dishes and wiping food off our chins
Instead of bleeding tissue boxes dry

We would never grow up . . . Like this.
no, never

like this. . .

October

Today is our anniversary of sorts
The dawn comes
Muted and gray
I lay here
My eyes swollen
Like I've been hit
And perhaps I have

I heard the thunder waking me
In the middle of the night
But now all is calm.
The rain drips
Into the silence.
October has not been kind to me
And whatever this weather brings
It does not bring love back.

It is over
And I let the dream
Slip away into morning.
This was the last,
The last bit of me.

Every day will be a mile
That moves me further from you
I can live,
Smile,
Remember how to forget. . .
But I don't forget anything,
Dear.

Let every memory fade,
Light uncatchable joy
Has fled.
If God is merciful
I'll forget your name
And never remember I had it once.
You rescued me
And pulled my heart from it's dark hiding place.
You could of left me alone
And I would've been happy.
Some people want to be found. I don't.

Let the salt abrade me
Til I am no longer what I am.
I return the gifts of bravery and trust.
You have no right to tell me to be unafraid
When you are all that I fear.

Go. Take the dream with you
I don't want it anymore
I don't want anything.
Leave me to be.
I am over.

Clouds

I wish I could drink in the sun
(the original one)
Drown in that air.
Instead of being weighed down
By clouds I could never touch,
I could never hold.
I dream of their feathery softness
Their radiant transparencies.
I shed the globules of fat
Off this human carcass
So I may rise.
Rise and tangle my hands,
My arms, my face,
In that space of unbelief
That is past hope into something greater
But simple and without fear or longing.
I would bring the whisps
Of pale incandescence to my lips
Breathing in,
Kissing inward and out.
Sliding it through my fingertips
The way I would strands of silky hair.
Holding it
Like memories.
The faint smell of powder
And cool touch of pearls on my cheek
Of a mother that would of held me.
The aroma of apple pie,
And being nestled in the crook of her arm
While she read story's of palaces in the sky.
A father that would of wanted me.

Please don't keep me away.
Grounded.
Don't let me stay
Down here
Where I cannot touch you.
I love you.
Don't turn dark for me.

Don't let
Dreams be
All I can have.

The End. (Again)

"9/25/09 -
I'm getting far to deep with you.
It hurt when I thought you wouldn't call
like all the others.
I thought this could be the beginning of the end.
I'm such a stupid girl.
Break my heart
So it can never be broken again.
For after you,
I don't want any other.
I hate feeling stupid.
I hate this easy vulnerability.
So fragile we are.
I could keep myself behind walls,
I could lock up my heart
In the highest tower of a fortress I've built,
But you would come
And kiss it,
Waking it of it's 100 year sleep,
And ruin everything.
I think you're playing with me
And I can't be played with anymore.
I'm not a toy
I'm a porcelain doll.
I've been dropped and kicked under beds
Far to many times.
I can't sustain another fall.
I would like to trust you
And believe in a thing called . . .
Caring and Protection
But I can't trust anybody
Or you.
But I want to
And that has got to count for something.

I wont tell you any of this
For though I want you to understand
I know you wont.
All the pain I carry around will only hurt you.
I'm trying to let go,
Dipping my toe tentatively into the water,
But I can't just yet.
Please be patient with me.
You have no idea how hard
Freedom is."

-All this stupid emotional bullshit. In a few words - I'm scared and rightly so. It's not you it's me. "



You, good sir, are a bastard. You have no idea how bad what you've really done is.

Sometimes I think I have to many deep thoughts in my head
And when they come out the sound like shit and over dramatic.
So I think of ways to rework whats on my mind.
To take one small piece of beauty and focus on it.
Closing a piece here, or opening another . . .

or maybe I think all at once to slow and not at all.
Everything doesn't make sense. but does it have to?
Can't we just let the flowing take us?
Take us where it will?

I'm an idiot and I fancy thoughts to much.
These words and phases flow through my mind at the oddest times
and I find them beautiful.



In worlds with out you . . .

My cold hands . . .

I never left you . . .

I arise burning and virtuous . . .

I do not dream [of you ]anymore . . .

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blabady Blah

I'm begining to think that everything I do is shit.

So why bother doing anything at all?

Just Sleep.

Harlott

Drill inside me.
Don't you understand?
I want you to use me.

I want to feel the pricks
And burns of to much use.
I want you to feel nothing for me
As I do you.

Remain unattached
And floating
Like reflections in mirorless deeps.

Don't romance me.
Don't care
Or call me for days.
I like the numb
That comes
From to much heartbreak.

I like arsenic
And all things bitter.
Staving myself
From all beauty
And 'the loves of me'
It'll only do if it's no good
And worse.

Be fatal
And I'll kiss you
Be sweet if only distantly.
I know what you want
And only I,
I can give it to you.
As close to necrophilia
As a breath.

I'm cold but alive
If that
If barely.
Don't deny
You could push into
My stiff limbs
For hours.

I like it
Or as close to like as
I could come.
You adore
The gray perfect
Of me
Of my nothingness.

No remorse
No attachment
I put to much of me into
these pages
How dull
They seem.
How monotone.

I will learn to lie better
I promise
I will I'm sure
But somehow the words don't mean
Anything.
Now.











.

How Do I Love?

Remember when we were naive
And we said that we'd love forever?
Now I am tired
And sitting here
Watching the rain
Drip, drip, drip,
With the cigarettes
I don't smoke
And the whiskey
I don't drink.

We rode the pendulum
Of emotion
Swinging back and forth
And maybe you meant it
Or you were just bored.
I know I was
And sick of a sort of
Loneliness.

I suppose I should now confess I lied.
But that's only half truth
My emotions don't back up my words
And whatever heart I have is unsure.
Now that I have this
This us
I don't know how to proceed.

How do I love?
There is no book
To learn from
Or role model which I may rob of traits.
So I act,
And I feel that you do as well
We both suit our respective parts
We don't misstep
But the steps that are scripted to us.

But it isn't real
And we both know.
Though we deny it
Waiting for the day
When it will be real.
If it is to come.

We lie
With all honestly
And deceive so sincerely
That maybe our good intentions
Might change this in what it should be
Or could be.
Maybe we'll stop being Casanova
And simple fade
removing all glamor
To you and I.

I'm keeping myself
So when you leave
I won't go with you.

You say I'm not aware of whats going on.

That's true.
But it's ok.
Your world is so awful
I don't wanna be aware of whats going on.

Hope.

Please I want to let you know, but I don't want to speak.
You're destroying me and I love it.
You will kill me if you stop.

I'm so afraid of this.
This is so so dangerous.
I have a safe shell.
Promise me that if you take me from it
You will watch me and protect me.

I know I shouldn't
I know.
Trust has gotten me nowhere
But I want to trust you.
Do you hear me?
I want to make my self vulnerable to you
I am trembling but open.

Please, Please don't be like them.
I am already trusting you not to.

Don't hurt me.
You could
So easily
Already.

Age Worries

19. Who would want to be that age?

19. It seems to old.

It's not a nice age, a certain age,
You can't just breeze into 19.

19. God, How odd.

Just a year to awkwardly be.
It's only acceptable if you're confidant,
If you know where you're going in life.
If it's your first year of collage

But for the rest of us it's agonizing.
A weired obtuse, that fits no where good.

I'm 18 and that's where I'd like to be.

I wasted the best year of my life with you.
And after we broke up
Spent the last half of this one rotting.

I did nothing with my 18.
18 Could be an age of broken deep love
And growing up and creating
Something breathtakingly beautiful
To the beat of never dying
And music pounding on a darkened dance floor,
And purpose.
But I failed to do that.

And now I'll be 19.
It's not perfect, pretty, like 18.
It's not the golden carefree 17.
It's not even a sweet 16.

19.
How awkwardly odd.

The number makes me sick.
19.

Not even completed by 20.
But one final step closer.
By then I'll be hurdled
Into the adult world.

No more young and innocent
And youthfully beautiful
That youth that still clings
To childhood
It's perfection and hope.

20.
Who will want me then?

Nic

I thought about you recently. I don't know why. Then I saw you today, I thought it was a woman at first but then no, it was you. You were with mike (?) that singer from Touching Mrs. Dash. His hair was floating about in it's frizzy way, gauzy in the late noon sun,the kind of light that makes everything look buttery and absolutely meltable. I love that time of day.

I would of waved but I didn't recognize you til it was too late. But I'm kind of glad I didn't. You looked happy in that way that kids do when savoring every last drop of summer vacation, sponging up the warmth and carefree attitude that speaks of sultry nights and heat baked pavement with nothing to do but buy 98 cent slushys from Cumberland Farms and watch your shadow as the sun fries your skin.

So I thought I'd say hi in this sorta anonymous way, while your eyes are growing bloodshot from starring at the artificial light of a computer screen. Maybe your reading this at the brick house (do you still go there anymore?) perhaps your in your house or maybe out somewhere else, the multiple places you could, should, and probably are.

This started out as a comment and now It's a mini essay. My finger hovers on the 'backspace' button to replace this utterly stupid unasked for rambling with a non-discript "hey". But then I think "Hell, . . . . why not?"

Idk. Life

It's worse then I thought.

God, you actually love her.

I want that. I want that love that you have. I want to for once not have to sacrifice myself and leave this battlefield empty handed. Loosing the pieces of me, that once are gone you don't want me anymore.
I've given all my sympathy, all my goodness, all that was pure and right, laid down all beauty and desires for a better life. . . just to have to smile and gather whats left together. To act like it's ok, like I'm fine with it.
I depart head down and feet bare. I don't want this anymore. I have nothing left to give. I have no sacrifice in me that has not already been spilled and pawed over and at last rejected. I cannot love anymore. I haven't the strength.

I hope and I long from some deep dark center of my self. I weep but I whisper it, if only in my head -

Someday I'll find a man that loves me.

I didn't mean it, . . .

. . .What I failed to say.

8/29

The day has arrived.
I sit upon this bed in the shadows of morning.
And still
No call, no call, no call.

My day waists for you.
Every moment, every second,
Set aside
For loving you.
But I am alone now.

I should be with you
In the dark of some movie theater
Nervous, afraid
But so thrilled
To be in your presence.

I should be running
My fingertips
Along the soft cradle
Of your hands.
In wonder of their plains
And perfect proportion.

I could be speaking to you
In quiet tones
Afraid the
Thud, thud, thud,
Of my heart will be heard
At your nearness.

This day is for you
I wrote your name on it
In my clumsy child like script.
I was so excited
So naive.
But I am alone now.

So call, . . . or don't.
I don't care.
I don't really want to know
How your spending today.
I don't.
I try and try, not to think of
Where you are.

Because I know the most
Likely place
Is the place that causes me pain.
But I do wonder if you think of me this day.
If you remember, or if you forget.


How easily I am replaced.

How quickly I am blown from your mind.


"Please, please don't love her."

Machine

Electric motorcade
Tell me why I
Tick, tick, tick
Like some gawdaweful machine.

And who am I ticking for?
Who has my time?
Who buys my life?
I sweat in this rancid heat -
The heat of sweat and
Machine oiled together
Into something
Unhuman.

Tell me who brushed my lips
With those burning dry kisses
That make them crack and bleed?
Who cripples me?
So that I hobble about
Like an ancient thing
Begging to be
Put out of service.

So replace me
With the
New, new, new,
Til I am shinny
And in that tip top shape.
Smelling of a just bought car.
Well oiled to preform again
Til you ache to
Push and Pound
And drill,
Slam me shut
Beyond repairability
I will run as long as you want me.

Then stop.
And discard.
Leave me
But with the dignity
( i am already empty)
Remember to hang the
"Out of Service"
Sign around my neck.

I will tick for no one.

The 9th Nirvana (just for fun)

You twitch,
My little body.
Oh how you scratch
And claw.
Itching burning to
Be under the surface of things.
Your mouth is a golden moon
Frozen in an O
A shriek, A shriek that nobody hears.
Gaping, gaping
Waterless goldfish
Gobbling stars
Til your belly is full of them
Til your throat is stuffed up
To the brim.
Do you vomit up chaotic galaxy's,
The belly splits and the universe comes tumbling out?
Do you crawl in a corner
And hide from the light that made you sick?
No, you twitch and twitch
Silent shrieks
Rising up to claw the heaven
With your mute keening.
You could be a god.
A balloon rising, rising,
Filling with gasses
Up and up into the darkness you love so well.
Stabbed with needle points of stars
Letting that other,
That other thing through.
You could be hours
Or minutes
You could be defying gravity and seeing God.
But you don't.

You trip switch

You substancless cloud.


You cry for you are
Nothing.

You are unable to dance this dance
Or see this here
Transcendence.

Just shooting off thoughts

"We crossed the line.
Who pushed who over?

It doesn't matter to you.
it matters to me."



"We're cut adrift, but still floating.
I'm only hanging on to watch you go down,
my love.

I disappeared in you
You disappeared from me.
I gave you everything you ever wanted
It wasn't what you wanted.


Desperation is a tender trap
It gets you every time.

You put your lips to her lips
To stop the lie.

Her skin is pale like God's only dove
Screams like an angel for your love
Then she makes you watch her from above . . ."

Did you need her like a drug?

No, this started out wrong.
I didn't want it to be like this.
Hear me out,
Please, I almost say . . .
But I don't want to be desperate.
Still I hope you stay and listen.

But now that your here
I've lost all my words.
I had them I swear,
I riffle through my memory like scraps of paper
Looking for that one important piece,
The piece that was supposed
To make all this go away.

I am caught naked and ashamed
But I don't think you see that.
Instead it's just another failure
Another thing to sigh and shake your head at.
I know I'm incompetent.

I spent hours on it you know,
I thought and thought
And put those thoughts into words.
Night after night I'd practice
The inflections.
Til it was perfect to my eyes,
Or nearly so,
Til through my clumsy way,
I would get my point across.

I know it's not a masterpiece,
But maybe, a work of art.
And I created it just for you.
You were my muse,
And my inspiration.
The one it was dedicated to.

Each syllable shifted
To give it just the light I had in mind.
Each pause and start to offset it's wonder.
And I made it just for you.
But you'll never hear it.
I lost it you see,
I would apologize
But I doubt,
I doubt the familiar sound
Would ring with as much truth
As I'd want it to.

So I shift from foot to foot
Awkwardly.
Almost crying.
But somehow oddly understanding
Your impatience with me.
I know I need to grow up,
I do.

" Your free to leave me but just don't decieve me and please, believe me when I say I love you . . . "


I found out.

Hiku? I don't know.

I lay here.

I could be a leaf

or a petal floating in water

But I'm not.

I am a Sarah

And the water I'm floating in

Is only exhaustion.

He distracts me

His hands could be clocks
Ticking away hours


Is this what I want?


Is this what I dream?


What do I dream?


I'm afraid of that, the shadows of my wants.
That hover like the children I've killed in the corner of my vision.
I feel them breathing on me.
I don't look but let the fuzzy shapes hover there
Never taking substance.
Never being.


Like desire
Or passion.
The greater more that's supposed to drive us.


Then there is him.
And I feel pain in the pleasure.
A horror in the want
That something bad is about to happen . . .



Oh, fuck it.
. . . Why not?

A Story of Summer Romances

I lay upon this bed
Immersed in pain
(again)
It's the sort that makes you want to cry out
For it's cutting sharp edge
But I don't.
Instead I embrace the dull hollow ache that comes after the sharp.
This ache is my friend.
I've known it well.
It and I have spent many nights together
Reminiscing and talking of everything.
One could say,
It knows me by name.

The reason for a chat this time is over a boy.
What else?
That's all I have left to cry after.
I've cried over parents and dead baby's
And bad childhoods, so after all that
Why not a boy?

This particular one didn't call back
As is typical in these sort of boy - girl exchanges.
Lost interest? Found someone else?
Is truly busy?
Who knows?
Most likely will never know.

This ones different though,
For once I pursued.
I was the chaser.
I set my eyes on him and was captured.
I wanted no other.

That could of been my mistake,
It is said men like to chase.
Perhaps I should of let him do the work . . . or not.

[ mistake #1]



I broke the heart of a boy in Nevada for this man.
That boy was a kind boy,
A good boy.
The kind of boy that calls you back
And asks if your alright.
A boy that will grow up into a fine man
With a boring predictable 9 - 5 job
Who will marry and make a fine husband,
A fine father to his 2 1/2 children.
Who will surprise his wife with flowers
And write her love poetry off hours
And recite it to her while the have their
Weekly saturday night sex
In missionary.
I had a fine boy.
And I broke his heart.
I broke it for a man who wont even speak to me.

[ mistake #2 ]



But what i think it was,
What it really was,
Was that I showed him I cared.
I let my hand slip.
He didn't call me for days and when he did
I told him I missed him.
I told him how sad I was that I hadn't heard from him.
That I was worried.
He told me not to be obsessive.
maybe that was true maybe I was (am)

[ mistake #3 ]



So I tried not to be.
I didn't contact him.
I wish I could say I ignored the whole thing
And went on with my life,
But this is me we're talking about so of course I didn't.
Like the pathetic desperate creature I am
I waited by the phone
. . . for days.
I checked it every five minutes
To see if he left me a message.

I went insane.

[ mistake #4 ]



I went through all the pictures on my Myspace
And started deleting them.
Starring at myself til I became hideous and distorted
To my own eyes.
I grew despondent and bitter.
I called my ex
(cause he was always there)
And I broke down and cried
And pathetically voiced my insanity.
Now I'm sure word of this will get back to that boy
And if he wasn't sure then, he's certainly sure now,
He wont have anything to do with me.

[ mistake #5 ]



So short and intense it was, as these affairs often are.
Sharing your life with another -
Inviting them to do them same.
Consoling them, laughing with them,
Talking til the sun came up again and again
So that you were dead on your feet
At work the next day
But you didn't care.

All the seduction, the promises,
The 'I love you's spoken far to soon,
Vanish like mist in the sunlight,
Like a dream before a waking ones eyes.

And it's wondered if they ever happened at all.

In the long run these don't really matter.
They are hardly remembered and easily forgotten.
But right now, in this moment,
It matters to me.

So for now I still have the slight twinkling of hope
That he'll call.
That all my insanity will be erased.
But I know I'm just blowing on the coals of a dead fire.
I know it's over.
And in time the hurt will fade,
And I won't even remember his name,
But for now, just for now,
I grieve.

More of a jounal entery

written in a close cramped office on lunch break.




I want the woods right now.
I want the hollow silence
That does not push it's self on you
As this world does.

I want to be that barefoot girl
stepping slowly and lightly
Like a little Indian,
Like a little deer,
Through the stubby pines and undergrowth.

I want to run to the great woods
And stand amidst the ferns,
With those tall, tall, trees about me.

And the sunlight shinning down in dull patches shifting like some great kaleidoscope at the wind gently stirring the trees inch by inch, but never heard.

I want the quiet of the deep woods that waits,
That does not ask,
That waits if you want to speak.
That lets you dwell and decide
That is never impatient while you find the words you want,
That you decide.

The quiet that couldn't care less
and is not offended if you say nothing at all.
If you lay a hand on a eroding tree trunk
covered in moss as if in greeting
it is only for your own benefit.
The woods never asks of you anything
But it will take it calmly and serenely
Because it is what you want.

It is there to be imposed upon
But never imposes.
It waits but does not wish,
It is welcoming but is somehow unchanged or disturbed by your presence.
It lets you view it
And somehow you know it lets you.
But never says a word.

I hear the call for such stillness,
For such peace that does not take
But to clear your head of worries.

I want that place that is nothing but the air
and the sun on my back
and the calm that knows nothing
of war or explosions

except of course to say -
"I understand dear one, . . . I understand."

F i v e

Some stuff I wrote in may of 2008. For Ian.


Apology for a missed call

I have disappointed you.
I know,
I haven't picked up the phone
When you called.
I have let the pause grow
In between 'I love you's'
And silence.
We are drifting on
a boat
And I keep trying to
Desperately anchor us
to land.
I pray for you to notice,
To understand,
To rage with me and take
my hand.
But I find you missing
More often then not.
The one thing I am always yearning for
Is someone who understands.
There are those that love me
But non I can go to, . . .
They don't understand me.
I think of way's I can
Put it into words
To make you realize
What I ache for.
To make you see my need.
And I do need you,
But I am afraid.




Drowning

There is a distance.
A wide precarious gap,
That I cannot cross alone.
Your silence has made a trench
And uncertainty a bigger hole
Til there is a cannon of quiet between us.
And I am sinking in a sea of Arctic doubt
The cold numbs my eyelids seducing me to let go.
I see the wavy lines of your face watching me from above . . .
Is the not understanding this bad?
I cry with my everything towards you
I stretch my soul through the eons of time
And space from where it was formed
Just to touch you,
Why won't you help me?
Why won't you speak?
Just one word.
Why do you look through me?
Look at me!
See me.
See my pain.
Am I nothing to you?

Do your hands hold me down still?





Hanging on the Other Line

I keep dreaming one of these cars will be you
Coming to pick me up.
I keep thinking every dark haired man with a Moscow accent is you.
But it's not true.
We left our hearts in hartland didn't we?
We forgot to pick up that very important thing.
I'm sure your heart got lost in the luggage
And is visiting London, Belfast, Brazil, and Nairobi . . .
Mines stuck in this bunker.
Did the barbed wire catch in my tongue that tried to speak with you?
Did my letters find their way into the paper shredder?
Telephone lines are faulty and don't go through . . .
We all know this is true.

Lives get buried in the laundry.
Souls are squandered in bills.
Yes, we know this is true.
Is that what happened to you?

Did life come down on you?
Mouths need food, backs need clothing,
Heads want a pillow . . .
Is that what happened to you?

How did you disappear?
Why was I ignored?
Did you think I wouldn't know
That something wasn't right?

Did you think I wouldn't notice
The day you ripped my heart in two?
How could I forget,
The day I murdered you.



Begging Again

Sun shines and it's shades are no more warmer
Then your apologetic smiles.
I didn't want attention
I was crying out for mercy
I didn't want you to see.
But how could you not notice
I was bleeding on the carpet?
Can pleasantries be battering rams?
Politeness artful distance?
Can cold goodnight kisses
Shut out a heart so earnest.
Can loyalty go unrewarded
And faithfulness unproved
Can sacrifice not merit
One moment of your love?



Bird Tamer

Kiss me again.
Let it be final, the last time.
Finish what you've done.
Why love me into submission?
Why persist to hold so frail a thing
Just to cruelly kill it?
Like when you held that baby bird in your hand.
It's soft feathers covering a body so weak
It could be seen through the snowy gray.
It's heart beating, it's delicate eyes
Looking up to you in trust.
With gentleness that moved my heart
You tenderly cradled that little promise in your hand
And closed your fingers over it.
With a loving sigh you crushed it's frailness
Til the blood wove thin tears through your fist.
Weeping with the last downy feathers
That floated through your fingertips.

You have no more love then stone.

Life Let Go . . . I Guess

on depression and cutting




Do I feel good enough?
Am I worthless?
Whats wrong with me?
To big, to empty,
The song of nothing plays inside my head.
Maybe that's why I can't sleep at night.
I just wanted to quiet the voices screaming at me.
I'm sorry I couldn't cope.
I'm sorry that I'm weak and indulge in secret interludes
To alive my restless ache.
Restless motion spins like a drying cycle before my eyes.
I'm sorry that I need you.
I know in the eternity that spans before me,
Vast, cold, and endless, there is no harbor that would take me now.
I am alone
And the tree's stand barren in my life.
The fruitless womb of promise
Expels it's last stillborn.
Hope is unbreathing.
Wrap her and bury her
The sun stops for nothing.
It will set as it has thousands of years before.
Come let us depart, and let loose the night
To steal the last fragile breath and pale wisps of soul
Before the coming morn.

Seth

I wanted you last night.
Not way the way lovers want
each other,
Tangled in passion driven beyond
Care or logic.
But in the way widowed wives must want,
A cold creeping hand
That squeezes the heart
Forcing me to lie awake,
To think,
To remember.
Til each memory drives me mad
And I cry and babble like
Some insane person.
Maybe if I was insane
You would have a reason not to call.

I rest on this bed
Bord flat
Starring at the ceiling cracks
Wishing it was
The lines of your face
I was tracing
And retracing.
Hearing the spiders
Whispering among themselves.
Are they judging me?
What must they speak of
In those webs like
Wisps of air.
They appear hovering,
Some alien creatures.

I lay with the light on.
In the darkness
All these thoughts are magnified
And screamed
Instead of softly spoken, -
Stated like facts.
I can deal with facts.
I make up a thousand
Excuses for you
And I believe every one.
But in my heart the betrayal still stings.
It weeps deep down
In some dark center of myself,
A self I never knew
Or could figure out.

I know how to play the china doll,
I know how to paint my face
And even be smile ready
If it's suited to the occasion.
I am thus now prepared.
I shouldn't be,
Your not here to see.
But it gives me satisfaction
Like winning some game
To know I wept not
When my heart was breaking
I screamed not
When you absently tore me in two
I didn't call
And I left no further message
When you were out
Living your life.

Eden in the asphalt

What are you? You Mannequin.
You wear love like the latest fashion
Memorize lines and act the part
But be devoid of passion.

You are arced in my mouth and I spit you out.
You ripped my heart from the roots up
But it's beginning to grow again
There will be roses where you pruned it.
Yes, lily's in the deepest darkest valley
That grow wild, untouched by your hand.

You are a gardener in the picture I have of you.

You are cutting all the flowers down.
"Must not have disorder" you say
"Must not let things grow where they can't be told"
You are sheering the grass into dirt
"Must not attract bees" you say
Harmful spreaders and vicious infectors
Spreading the sex of flowers
Like a rebellious sect.
"They spread over night"
You confide.
"A firm hand is a loving one"
Is it love to take the beauty from this patch of earth?
Stripping the flowers of all
Comeliness and favor,
Dressing them down like your plain woman.

Even so, it must bristle your heart
To know each one caries the seed
Of it's loveliness.
It remembers what it was born to be
It nurses the memory until death
Then releases those pods of promise
Into the wind.

And deep beneath your drear garden
There is a stirring.

In the warm womb of the earth
Awakens the precious scion of hope.

Thinking on papper

God, where are you? . . .
Will I ever find you again?

Sarah where are you?

. . . it's not a stern voice.
It's not filled with disappointment of frustration . . .
It's filled with longing.
The voice of a lover peering through a lattice,
Of a shulumite running through the streets for love.

What if God longed for my heart? . . .
What if he called, burning , burning,
Running through the desert?

What if love was the voice that called and called . . .


What if God was a God that loved us?

Havent slept in awhile.

The clock is a time bomb
It hurries me along
Hurries me into sleep.
Or what would of been sleep
Had I not been hurried.

I squeeze my eyes shut
Ticking . . . . Ticking . . . .
Like some automated machine
Malfunctioning.
Worries come to mind
I wish I could quiet them with dreaming.
My head pounds
My body spins upside down.
Ticking . . . . Ticking . . . .
(God! Shut UP!)

Oh Jesus,
Was this your gethsemane?
The sweat pouring down like blood.
But you did not have this clock.
My eyes jump and rove

7:45 . . .

7:47 . . .

7:50 . . .

To that sweet face.
(addict)
My limbs ache.
I twitch like an addict.
Maybe I am an addict.
I don't think I would care.

If only I were dreaming this,
Instead of half dreaming.
Instead of stepping in two worlds
Oh, let me step in one.

I am both fish and man
Swallowing this humidity in great gulps.

Then let me spin
And not choose one over the other.
Til the day is out.
Til I can rest these eyes stuck with grit
And lay this body in sheets filled with it.
I can be fish
Or man
If I choose.

I can have hours to dream
Instead of minutes.

Nothing is That Was Not Before

I saw something that made me sad today.
I wont, . . . No, I will not tell you.
Keeping the secret is keeping the beauty to me.
Keeping the emptiness.
Keeping the hollow ache . . . the one that makes it hurt to breath.
And you somehow now feel special because you've kept it to your self.

When I started this I meant to tell you something.
Something about the uncertainty and missing you.
Fuck it. It's gone now, Like so many lost thoughts I don't bother to write down anymore.
I meant to say that from missing you I buried myself in the damp wet earth
I covered myself from the sun because it was like your love
And I lay there in the dark dreaming of your warmth.
But that's utter shit, isn't it?

It all is.
Maybe it always was.
But who am I trying to impress.
I cannot satisfy myself and that is the key
The buzzing of the hive
That tells me I'm no good.
And the voices are all my own.
They prick me, stinging venom,
I lie here uncomfortable
but hardly fatal
Hardly in danger
Hardly imported enough to matter.

Jorden. on the baby we lost.

I thought about you today.

I know they said I shouldn't.
It wont help my depression, but I don't care.
It's your birthday and you deserve to be remembered.

I recall the whole terrible time just in bits and snippets.
A pause outside your mothers door, Images of the hospital, being held as I cried on my birthday, your little booties going back in their pink tissue paper box. . .
That was the most haunting I think, . . . the clothing.

I remember for months I couldn't stop starring at them. Tiny onesies, jumpers, little sock's and booties . . . I wonder into the infant section of every store and gaze at them. Maybe stopping to touch the softer them soft fabric made with such love and care.
For the first month or so I found myself actually shopping, which made it worse. I would forget for a moment, picking up this and that trying to decide between a pink or yellow romper . . . but then I would remember. I'd fold them up neatly placing them back on the shelf. There would be no need for baby clothing now.

Before I use to sit dreaming of how you would look. Would you have your mothers wide blue eyes? your fathers dark wavy hair? I was so sure you would.
Imagining holding you, your tiny hand wrapped around my finger, perfect in every way. I would lie awake at night thinking I would give anything in the world to hear the sound of your soft breathing. To feel the barely noticeable weight of your immaculate fragile body tucked against mine, your round distended infant belly rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

I had many restless nights.

Then there were the dreams. The horrible nightmares I'd awake from, sobbing with no comfort. Crying out to God, to the dark, to anything, for you - to have you back. I'd curl up in a ball and through my tears whisper your name.

There was this empty spot where I know you should of been. Life jarring along, trying to resume it's usual pace. Through the show of rushing confusion, everyone dancing around the subject of you, I grew apathetic.
I tried to find things to fill the space. I tried so hard and soon I could sleep through some nights. I went a day then two with out thinking of you. They would say I got better, and maybe i did. But I didn't forget.
I still glance at babies differently, I still pause when I hear you name. I still remember.

It's been years. I count them off. You would of been five now.

In my mind I see you dancing in a field, your dark hair waving in the wind. I lay a kiss on your forehead and tell you I love you. To the child that never was, the girl that was never born . . .

Happy birthday Jordan.

2/23/07

2/23/07 on my anxiety disorder/ anorexia.



All the night is shadow.
Hiding
In this little corner.
In this masquerade.
I hope I'm safe.
Who is this enemy of the night?
This shadow that bats me around,
That angers me?
Fear is swallowed up by the dawn
But how long until the night ceases to
plague me like black death?
How long until salvation has arrived?
How long must I live in this shadow land? . . .
And though I am scorched I may not
Drink the soothing water,
Though I die there is no one to hear my call.
All comfort is taken away.
There is no earthly safe house for one
Who stands outside the walls of Eden.

Oh, pensive night give up your ghosts
And torture me no longer.
Give up this right to plague me,
To rain control of my every move,
My every thought,
Give up the ghouls and monsters,
The demons hiding in your darkness
Take away my confines,
Let me walk free under the sun again
And let not the moon show her hideous face a shadow.

There is no mothers comfort for a terrified child
In this chronic and endless nightmare.
I am alone and utterly despondent
In this sea of false looking glass.

The screams are to big for my body
But I cannot let them out.
I will not go back to that place of hiding,
Of constant fear and illness.
I must find the trick switch to the trap door.
I must never return, not even for safety.
(Stay calm)
I have quarantined myself.
I cannot touch anything.
Whose the pariah now? . . .

I've decided to take a new turn with this much neglected blog. Instead of this being some myspace/facebook substitute ( both of which I have) I will use it to share the personal things I might not want just everybody that I know to see.
It will become very personal in nature. I will choose to share my thoughts on religion, loss, love, family, and Illness.

Our church went through a split a few years ago. The reasons are still sorted and confused but the why is still there.It can be speculated and assumed but it hangs there, unanswered, as in most such cases.
Unfortunately at the time I was so involved in the christian lifestyle that it actually mattered to me. I came to a stand still, confused over the matters of faith but acknowledging God I decided not the practice what many would call active Christianity.

Being raised a pastors daughter I know much of the Bible. But what I am willing to admit is I don't know God. When I was still active in the church most of my time was spend trying to fulfill the need to know God. Some are laments, some are prayers, others are musings or rages at my fruitless search.

I'm just a lost soul at the edge of a very interesting precipice. Don't judge me to hard, I'm still trying to figure things out.

oh, and I often think in poetical terms so if a lot of this veers towards poetry that's why.