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..
Friday, May 28, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
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 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.
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
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.
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.
Die
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
Now.
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.
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
Now.
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.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
I once praised you with fingertips
I wrote you sonnets in the curve of your hip.
I let us slip
and sigh
into tomorrow
And kissed your lips
with secrets.
I once loved you with a look
One that at the smallest glance took
Away fears.
And you were a king in my eyes
For more then just a day
Did you miss it?
I once kept you with a word
Whispered, and yet you heard.
I cradled you on our shared bed
with hips and lips,
eyes and secrets,
I kept you
In the dark
Close to my heart
And never wanted to let go.
The first time I loved you
I loved you with only three words
I said them in a casual way
lightly rolling them off my tongue
Iridescent bubbles of thoughtlessness
The second time I loved you
It was more serious
I said them timidly
Wanting to be bold
Standing naked before you
Wanting to be so much more.
By the time the third rolled around
I knew loves ceaseless game
I had been led around
And stripped naked
One by one
But this I saved I just for you.
I presented it as a gift
when it's the last thing on the shelf
Maybe it was worth it
Or maybe it was just what was unwanted
But I said it
Earnestly
But with heart
I love you.
And this time after all life had taught me
i meant it.
I wrote you sonnets in the curve of your hip.
I let us slip
and sigh
into tomorrow
And kissed your lips
with secrets.
I once loved you with a look
One that at the smallest glance took
Away fears.
And you were a king in my eyes
For more then just a day
Did you miss it?
I once kept you with a word
Whispered, and yet you heard.
I cradled you on our shared bed
with hips and lips,
eyes and secrets,
I kept you
In the dark
Close to my heart
And never wanted to let go.
The first time I loved you
I loved you with only three words
I said them in a casual way
lightly rolling them off my tongue
Iridescent bubbles of thoughtlessness
The second time I loved you
It was more serious
I said them timidly
Wanting to be bold
Standing naked before you
Wanting to be so much more.
By the time the third rolled around
I knew loves ceaseless game
I had been led around
And stripped naked
One by one
But this I saved I just for you.
I presented it as a gift
when it's the last thing on the shelf
Maybe it was worth it
Or maybe it was just what was unwanted
But I said it
Earnestly
But with heart
I love you.
And this time after all life had taught me
i meant it.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Growing Up
I never saw a man
Except for once on a hospital bed
The light was gray and he asked me to touch him.
I was four.
That was the year mom took me into town
For new shoes and hot chocolate
She gave a dollar to the man with the cup
but wouldn't let me look at him.
Dad used to smile and swing me around
And called me his little girl.
And there was always paper to color with.
When I was eleven the men came.
They gave daddy white pills
And he didn't call me his little girl anymore.
Mom took me into town
And pinched her face at the price of training bra's.
I ground my toe into the dirt and pretended I was 30
When men used to look at me.
By the time I was seventeen I was drifting away.
Familiar with the touch of wanting hands.
Mom never smiled
And I was never home.
Dad looked at me like I was a Satan
with a bible clutched in his hand.
And I wanted to apologize
for what, I'm not sure.
It just seemed like the right thing to do
And these people who were strangers now
Raised me to be like that.
The year would go by
And they would see me holding hands
With several boys.
But never a man.
Until the year I turned nineteen.
By then the leafs were melted off the sycamore
And nobody used the swing out back anymore.
Because it just wasn't the thing to do.
Mom would scrape together her last bit of flour
And smile over coffee.
And I thanked her for that
With a $20 in her palm
Because I knew the price of flour these days.
Dad was steve now.
And we barely talked
Not that I minded.
Words were never spoken
And the house was often silent
And cold.
I would lie awake
Staring at the night light
In a room of an unfamiliar town
Feeling more at home.
Wondering distantly
Why that was,
But not really feeling in the dark
For an answer.
Except for once on a hospital bed
The light was gray and he asked me to touch him.
I was four.
That was the year mom took me into town
For new shoes and hot chocolate
She gave a dollar to the man with the cup
but wouldn't let me look at him.
Dad used to smile and swing me around
And called me his little girl.
And there was always paper to color with.
When I was eleven the men came.
They gave daddy white pills
And he didn't call me his little girl anymore.
Mom took me into town
And pinched her face at the price of training bra's.
I ground my toe into the dirt and pretended I was 30
When men used to look at me.
By the time I was seventeen I was drifting away.
Familiar with the touch of wanting hands.
Mom never smiled
And I was never home.
Dad looked at me like I was a Satan
with a bible clutched in his hand.
And I wanted to apologize
for what, I'm not sure.
It just seemed like the right thing to do
And these people who were strangers now
Raised me to be like that.
The year would go by
And they would see me holding hands
With several boys.
But never a man.
Until the year I turned nineteen.
By then the leafs were melted off the sycamore
And nobody used the swing out back anymore.
Because it just wasn't the thing to do.
Mom would scrape together her last bit of flour
And smile over coffee.
And I thanked her for that
With a $20 in her palm
Because I knew the price of flour these days.
Dad was steve now.
And we barely talked
Not that I minded.
Words were never spoken
And the house was often silent
And cold.
I would lie awake
Staring at the night light
In a room of an unfamiliar town
Feeling more at home.
Wondering distantly
Why that was,
But not really feeling in the dark
For an answer.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Loosing you in room 132
I trace cold window panes with failing fingers
Searching for your name.
Somewhere down the hall a door lock snicks shut
Reminding me of the hollow ache of my aloneness.
Children shuffle down the halls
That smell of perfume and cigarette smoke
Their bulbous eyes pleading to be loved.
Bones stick out and pinch
Rubbing the wrong way
Out of filmy thread bare shifts.
They will be taken aside
Into secret rooms
Their neglected state stripped down
With leathery purring hands
That coo and fuss over tangled hair
And to tight hand me down shoes
That will be removed
Along with innocence.
The crying of some child
On a hotel bed
Disturbs the silence
But quietly.
Lovers moan out their dissatisfaction's on the other side of the paper thin wall.
Sticky In the lazy glow of artificial light
Dim to hide the stains of sex and self indulgence.
The reek of underworld corpulence
Like the smears of last nights lipstick on the rim of a drinking glass,
The ash that burned neat little holes into the polyester rug.
I curl myself into a question mark on this borrowed bed
Where not so long ago we played Lady and her Love.
Pretending to be someone else,
Pretending this room was ours.
But when the clock expired
And the candles burned down to nothing
We left our hearts with the room key
At the front desk.
Searching for your name.
Somewhere down the hall a door lock snicks shut
Reminding me of the hollow ache of my aloneness.
Children shuffle down the halls
That smell of perfume and cigarette smoke
Their bulbous eyes pleading to be loved.
Bones stick out and pinch
Rubbing the wrong way
Out of filmy thread bare shifts.
They will be taken aside
Into secret rooms
Their neglected state stripped down
With leathery purring hands
That coo and fuss over tangled hair
And to tight hand me down shoes
That will be removed
Along with innocence.
The crying of some child
On a hotel bed
Disturbs the silence
But quietly.
Lovers moan out their dissatisfaction's on the other side of the paper thin wall.
Sticky In the lazy glow of artificial light
Dim to hide the stains of sex and self indulgence.
The reek of underworld corpulence
Like the smears of last nights lipstick on the rim of a drinking glass,
The ash that burned neat little holes into the polyester rug.
I curl myself into a question mark on this borrowed bed
Where not so long ago we played Lady and her Love.
Pretending to be someone else,
Pretending this room was ours.
But when the clock expired
And the candles burned down to nothing
We left our hearts with the room key
At the front desk.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
old news
10/17
I'm falling apart inside and out.
Is this how it really ends?
I'm bitter and cold and hungry.
I don't dream anymore, I don't hope or want anything.
I don't think I want to be saved this time around, And theres no one who could anyway.
And I can't even tell you, your kinda all I have now. You've been busy, I really have no right to burden you.
You've been good to me, considering. And it could be worse. I understand your problems are bigger then mine.
I know you want to get beter and I would to, If I could see the light.
I wish I could make it go away. You would say I make this myself. Perhaps it is true but I can't stop it now.
I can't just 'be happy'. I'm failing, I'm trying, but it isent working. I'm so sorry. I wish I could cure myself.
I'm gonna go out with a bang, or maybe climb a skyscraper just to 'see the view'. either way I'm going to save
all the help and engery to be used on someone that matters.
I don't even know why I'm typing this here, maybe I know you'll read it. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
10/20
I guess I'll be saying I'm ok right up until I do it. I mean really. Not the attempt when I was 12,
I guess my imagination didn't want me. Not when I was 16, no he came and took me from that. Then twisted me to
what I am now. Broke me down and made me sick. And then the string of men that were just like him, one after the
other. It took an innocence from me. A hope. I don't hope now.I don't believe that love will save me.
I don't believe there is a better life, . . . this is it.
I am meant to be alone.
And I will tick like a machine. I will rise, work, try to sleep, til one day I'll just stop. My gears will stick
and I won't move. Then I think it will be time at last. Why try to rush it? that's where I went wrong at 12 and
16. All one has to do is wait. It will be time soon enough. Then there will be no reason to stop. Nothing to pull
me back. No ambulances or men of god shouting my name. I can do it boldly. (or will it be more of a surrender?)
No matter... It will be the time for it, the right time. And that is what makes this world stick together,
Not just time but the correct time.
And I will leave nothing but a few pretty photographs.
And they'll remember me for being a good worker for a couple years. No children. No great memories.
A handful of relatives to shed the compulsionary tear or two at my grave.
I unmark the world but I will not leave it. Not until it tells me to make my exit.
And I'll make my steps in the dance, and say the lines that are scripted to me,
and without bow or accolade walk off into darkness.
I'm falling apart inside and out.
Is this how it really ends?
I'm bitter and cold and hungry.
I don't dream anymore, I don't hope or want anything.
I don't think I want to be saved this time around, And theres no one who could anyway.
And I can't even tell you, your kinda all I have now. You've been busy, I really have no right to burden you.
You've been good to me, considering. And it could be worse. I understand your problems are bigger then mine.
I know you want to get beter and I would to, If I could see the light.
I wish I could make it go away. You would say I make this myself. Perhaps it is true but I can't stop it now.
I can't just 'be happy'. I'm failing, I'm trying, but it isent working. I'm so sorry. I wish I could cure myself.
I'm gonna go out with a bang, or maybe climb a skyscraper just to 'see the view'. either way I'm going to save
all the help and engery to be used on someone that matters.
I don't even know why I'm typing this here, maybe I know you'll read it. I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
10/20
I guess I'll be saying I'm ok right up until I do it. I mean really. Not the attempt when I was 12,
I guess my imagination didn't want me. Not when I was 16, no he came and took me from that. Then twisted me to
what I am now. Broke me down and made me sick. And then the string of men that were just like him, one after the
other. It took an innocence from me. A hope. I don't hope now.I don't believe that love will save me.
I don't believe there is a better life, . . . this is it.
I am meant to be alone.
And I will tick like a machine. I will rise, work, try to sleep, til one day I'll just stop. My gears will stick
and I won't move. Then I think it will be time at last. Why try to rush it? that's where I went wrong at 12 and
16. All one has to do is wait. It will be time soon enough. Then there will be no reason to stop. Nothing to pull
me back. No ambulances or men of god shouting my name. I can do it boldly. (or will it be more of a surrender?)
No matter... It will be the time for it, the right time. And that is what makes this world stick together,
Not just time but the correct time.
And I will leave nothing but a few pretty photographs.
And they'll remember me for being a good worker for a couple years. No children. No great memories.
A handful of relatives to shed the compulsionary tear or two at my grave.
I unmark the world but I will not leave it. Not until it tells me to make my exit.
And I'll make my steps in the dance, and say the lines that are scripted to me,
and without bow or accolade walk off into darkness.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
इ वौल्ड रथेर हवे थे पैन थें थे अब्सेंस ऑफ़ यौर वोइस.
Sometimes I sleep but I have no dreams. And I hear some higher purpose calling but somebody snatched the voice of God back into the wind and laughed, tossing it amoung the clouds to echo into distorted nothingness. While I here below was left naked and blamed, for mysteryious sins of the heart. Flawed with an inability to love or trust in the one who made me. I am at fault for it all. I wish the world woud toss their sins like stones upon me, admiting at last that I was the one, begging for them to quickly unload them selves to my quicker death. I am done.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
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?
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?
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
.
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?
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?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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 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.
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