Friday, May 28, 2010

Letter to CJ

I think if we had a song of how our relationship miserably failed it would be Thinking of You by Katy perry.
By the way I'm glad that you told others about your illness. I wondered and still do if you were ever worried that I'd tell. . . pointless to think about I know, But I hope that you can find some small amount of trust worthiness in me.
I thought about you this morning. I try not to dwell on you to much, you know, part of moving on and all that. But my ipod started playing the start of something beautiful and it made me think of you again. after all you introduced me to that band.
And I wonder how many other girls you played just like me. Not that I would fault you for it. I should be angry but I'm not.
I wonder if it was just an elaborate game of trolling. Get a girl to say she loves you in X amount of time for X amount of points. I'm usually more sensible then that, but from now on I'll be extra cautious about like/love.
And I'll always wonder about you because you are a mystery to me. I will never be able to get inside your head or see things as you see them.
You were a great memory I just wish to God I could let you go. Some days I think I have. Some days I'm not so sure.
I just wish I could be brave again and not be so afraid of everything. I just don't wanna be somewhere years from now and still be thinking about that silly foolish boy and the silly foolish girl I was, and that month which means nothing to you and everything to me.
. . . I just wish it was the beginning of september again and it was only you and I . . . and that I hung up the phone the first time you said hello..

Saturday, May 22, 2010

I want to keep believing in you,
but you can't convince me to fix whats wrong with us
With the world
With everything

I'm tired of pretending it's all my fault

Not now. Not ever. Never again.

There will never be another sunday for us.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Never There

Never there.
I don't think I shall be
Ever there.
The growl of the ocean lays me out
Stealing sounds from my mouth
Round oh's slip from my lips
Into the sand and the sky and the stone
Which is all salt,
all warm,
all fierce.
These bleed and cry
Like a pack of gulls
That circle over a morsel
Not quiet dead
But almost.
The stabbing sound
Heralding the world,
A death bell
And the last sound heard
Before the quiet and the black.
Dear God, what am I.

I changed everything for you

You use me in your unassuming paradoxical way.
Stretching my sinewy limbs until they snap
Then look heartbroken into my eyes and I claim the fault as mine and deem it unfixable leaving me to smash my fingers in futile attempt to make up for the wrong doing. I am fault and faultless.
Both virgin and whore.
I have nothing and you take from me
Scraping my dry wombed self as if it was an ocean to sink and swim and steal from.
Hording secrets of my self away til I don't know what I am.
And yet, I stay.
I stay and let you use
For what am I if not to take from?
What use is all the beautiful things in me if not to give them away?
So I lay prone under you and let your greedy hands skim and flutter over my not yet dead skin.
Prying open my chest to sift through my organs to pick and salvage what you will
out of the heart of me.
Telling me to throw away what you call worthless, til I am perfect to you
Or I would of thought after all the care you took shaping me
but somehow . . . still not good enough.
Trying to better change into what you want me to be,
Some golden monolith in the back of your mind.
If only I knew what it was,
If only you would tell me.
Please just tell me.

Monday, May 17, 2010

That is All

I miss Evan and I'm stuck.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

I live in a land where the fields stretch off into the night
Like a green sea.
Whispers in the grass that tell of something more.

I am the daughter of an outlaw . . .
And a religious zealot.
With a gun in one hand and a bible in the other
Even though I don't believe.

But I have been taught to protect the old ways, the not so good ways,
Certain truths that are no more certain then the sky with it's ceaseless patterns
Claiming to be holy mystery's.
And no one found the looking glass
But it's claimed someone fell through
Into the rabbit hole
And around the bend and back again.

Nothing it true and yet it all is.
We don't decide
We just are
And must make the best of it.

What a joke.
But no ones laughing.
We take our lives to seriously.


I packed my things up
And went to the place where the young things are
Pulsing in the dark to a neon sound.
They've got the cure
And ain't momma just dying for a fix
Dying to crawl on her hands and knee's away from it all
Away from the tap tap tap
In her skull
To brightening bliss.

Loves house burnt down over a lighter and spoon
And left the white ash of this
Now there is only this.
And so soon
To be slipping down the walls
Of a public bathroom stall
Into a puddle of mush
That screams of artificial home
That screams of love
That has no reason
And no groove in this world
Just hovering like a headless Buddha
That told her it was right.
His fat fingers dripping with the stuff
Could she catch them on her tongue
Like sugar
Could she learn
Or run
Never hide,
From her place in this world

Tremble and twitch
Told her it was sick
To be doing what she's doing
And sick all the same
To be not to.
She wants to make it right
And someone turn on the light
Her bones would break
And ache
Her skin
Snapping one by one within
The fire less to do with desire
And more need
That drives the secret feed
The sin
The weakness
That sunk the pit of her lower
Then the sea
To turn and churn
The hunger
The god damed hunger
To be more
Then me.