this place is a familiar ocean

waves, crisp pages curled around memories left in the sand and love? it was here that it climbed out of the depths and into the world to roam, and it was also here that it came to die, wading out into the velvet deep following some instinctual promise of peace.

how am i supposed to say anything

To you at all? The ground speeds quickly towards me, i feel drown'd by the air, stifled by your hands at my throat although they have not touched me for so long now...and everywhere i look is evidence of the wreckage ...my breast raw with emotion, heaving like the hull of a ship against those rocks, waiting for the final blow of your vengeance. And still, in the rare quiet moments of the day when my restless thoughts turn to you, there are prayers whispered for you... and hope set free on the wind... The stars always were, and always will be, and no one healed me except my Faith, except God. I almost forgot what that hell was until you showed up with the special gift of your smile to remind me.

in the middle

of conversation, he reaches over - and gently

as though it were the most fragile leaf

plucks my heart from my sleeve

places it in his pocket

and walks on

plummeting towards the finish line

the leaves i've gathered for a parachute,
tea left cold on the counter
like a prom date waiting by the door

stepping out the door
hope as tangible as air

and only a song for a prayer

i saw an ad

for a simple man
with easy thoughts
strong hands, coffee and steps

someone with unheard music
tousled hair
and unwavering opinions

a big red circle around it

as though a desperate person had been searching
and was relieved to have found that such a person exists

too many peices

laid over too many miles, bone fine dust curling up through the spaces in between
and too many hands scooping in for the rescue
too many surgeons, faces damp behind the masks, too many instruments prying for a crevice
a way in,
a window
a weakness
and too many peices to cover
somehow, part of me is always bare
raw
exposed
and they don't make bandaids for what is wrong with some of us

sweeping through the clouds

to look for the lightness i left there, i find it odd that the lightness of day and the lightness of weight are spelled the same.

it is a surprise to find that hopelessness does not have heaviness...according to what i've read, it should have weight, it should drag at the heels and pull on shoulders and break down the skeleton like gravity, or cancer

instead, it is strangely light...a wisp, a veil... a haiku

it allows for breathing, or silence

hope requires fight. it requires a tight, unmoving fist and a digging in of heels. it demands a square jaw, an unwavering resilience...and it is exhausting.

so, it is a delight now. to be just a person without the burden of hope who walks lightly among the clouds and dances without the weight of expectation

because i love words

i can't even speak. because how can i use my words, things i love, to speak of hurt, and hurting?

and what would it sound like? like ... drama-mongering. like pity-fishing. and i won't have it.

so
now
i will be silent.


but not here.
because you are my arsenal. you are how i fight off those mean red days, and nightmare ghosts. you are a steady, firm hand when i shake and the blanket when i grow cold at memories or voices on phones. and i need you, and i know i've never said it, but it must be known

payment

you think that just because you have to serve time that i don't have to pay for the mistakes i made. your voice is laced with every hurt i inflicted, i hear it, it hurts and i pay.

i felt stupid

it was foolish, and i knew it, and the police officer knew it, but i felt stupid anyway. because i've seen worse. the bruises he snapped photos of were not as bad as i've seen, and the story i had to tell was nothing compared to the others, and so i felt stupid. because their sympathy would have been nice when i was smaller, when i was locking children in bathrooms to keep them safe, or mapping out escape routes that would keep them safe not from fire but from beasts who drink and bite, but not now. not now when i am successful, and capable and can change my own tires and pay my own bills. what am i supposed to do with that sympathy now? now it's a joke, but they look at me with sad, wary eyes and across the bad office furniture homedepot reject, they push pamphlets and phone numbers and ask if i'd like a nurse or a counselor and where is my baby, is he safe and now i say "ifeelsostupid" and they think it's because i'm afraid of you, and i am afraid of you but that's not why i feel so stupid, i feel so stupid because i've already been through this blender, i already know better, i already know better i already know better ialreadyknowbetter and when i saw the signs, i didn't see the signs, i just walked back in and let you push the button and blend me up again

because i love words

i use my voice. i am clear. when i speak, i do not speak in a language that you do not understand. and when you ask me, i tell you.

so when i say that you should stop because i am frightened, when i shout that i am dying beneath your anger, WHEN I TELL YOU THAT YOU MUST NEVER BEHAVE IN SUCH A WAY


i expect, like anyone would, that you will understand.

because i loved you,
i stayed.
and then i didn't, and so i left, and i will never again quiet myself.

it's a trick i pull

lucy with the football...this evil little upturn smile,
a withering leaf
mistletoe
pretty, and full of venom

when i wake up or turn around, the memories are there, like my grandmother's silk
waiting for a wedding, or a funeral...or both in one day as the case may be and sometimes is...

this tree, roots firmly in my stomache, has carved memories...electrical impulse branches snake out and beyond. it can't be helped. it's biological. each leaf is a flash, stamp, picture. this is why they call it a family tree. because it never stops growing, and it's roots are great, overbearing, heavy and dependable. It is home, comforting and burdensome - like ownership. Like love or devotion. Two very different things.

in the night

the door opens, and the music begins to play...and i wonder, if its a ghost, or just the echo of my heart...

and it's amazing, how a song can carry so much strength, that i close my eyes as i fly across these keys, the purpose being to bring you close to me.

is too much revealed, like a mountain slope, tempting a fall, shying away...running fast, an avalanche....

or, is it just the wind?

man i

talk some shit, and can't stop myself...and it's the truth, what i say but not the whole truth, and not everything comes out of my mouth, although it seems that after the baring of my soul there could be nothing left, but there's more because broken as i am, there are always peices to be found, scattered here in the hallways of my soul...


i need a janitor to sweep them up, save me, sweep me up, put me in a bottle that isn't broken and doesn't smell like it was forgotten

i wish i knew

my heart like i know my face,
it's faults, it's little weirdnesses - like the way one eye squints more than the other when i smile, or the way my mouth is always crooked...
the way i'm only pretty if the lighting is candlelight, or barlight or beer goggled...

if i knew my heart the way i know my face, perhaps i would know enough to see when i'm going to be hurt...

and i would walk away before it's too late instead of always, always, always just smiling my way into the storm.

i would probably walk away...

but i like the rain

i need a poet

jack or ginsberg, ferlinghetti - someone wise...
walt - where are you?
I AM A SCAVENGER, and ravenous for blood
slipping through the television,
through libraries
through muted dawns and hectic nights
filled with booze and gentlemen...

i seek the universal truth,

i need a paintbrush, and a poet

today is a day for Emily Dickinson

and quiet happiness,
which to some, may seem like opposites
except we'll never know.

perhaps she wrote about sadness
to get a feel for it,

like reaching your hand into the snowy drift
until it tingles,
so that you can draw it back and be giddy with warmth again.

in the silence i can see better

and find that as i allowed you to weave this trap about my body first and then my heart,
i committed this one sin...a double edged sword, a sin first of body, later of heart.

it was a secret trap door. a thing i didn't know i knew i would need until, one day - it became clear, like a river clears itself of the debris from the storm, only by rushing forward, through treacherous ground...cutting the land, carving the rocks....until she finds the violence of the ocean, a strange new peace - open, free, wild

and still unknown


and still unknown

a tree grows

in my heart
where you are planted
each season, love blooms
a new color

with every turn of the sun,
each dance of the moon
a new harvest

for my son, my heart

softly speaking greys

they hush me awake...and maybe i prefer them to a lover's arms - no complications, no harm.

if only Romeo died

if only after softly waking, juliet had fled
running with remorseful love
while romeo lay dead

perhaps the tale wouldn't be so dear
and nothing we would pay to hear

still, if only after softly waking, juliet had run
she could have grown into a woman's heart
seen the folly and the wisdom

of what may have been a fiery passion
but no reason for an end

i wait, a letter of love, for your arms like an envelope to fold me back into existence

i lie to myself and by myself quietly, smiling to sleep that it's okay~ it's okay that those whom i've loved are happier now, beyond me...
i lie to myself and by myself quietly, sighing to the window that it's okay~ it's okay i am alone and lonely, finding a path beyond my own...

one day~ yesterday~ i was not bitter or jaded. the memories of who i was are not yet faint enough to delay this pain, the pain a snail must feel as she builds her shell.... an intricate, stone hard case, a beautiful trap whose purpose is to protect, to alienate...i wonder does she weep from behind that impenetrable swirl? does she long to be naked and just... not tense? i wonder if this particular snail remembers naivete like a treasure...the belief that things like love and hate are simple and easy to understand.

i lie to myself and by myself, watching her on the window sill, precarious movements testing the air and the edge... i lay beside her and pray she doesn't fall.

harry connick jr

with his three word name, like an assassin, kills me...his crooked lips
filled strong with conviction and song
i could bend like a reed under his will if only he knew how to reach me

he moves like a wild man, tamed...a thistle in a vase

i wish i knew him

stairs

whenever i am in a stairwell and i look up into that swirl of levels...that snail shell whirl above, like a woman's inner workings, pink and mysterious, no matter the numbers who have traveled there...i find you in my thoughts, our many conversations, held over distance when you couldn't hold me in your arms...you, with your sweet, low, gravel voice...whispering so that your wife wouldn't hear...i thought whispering because it was late....i think of you because the comparison is one you would've made, romantic and crass, one of my favorite traits....your dirty talk, like a poet drunk on sex and cheap wine, threatening me with the deepest love and dirtiest respect....

you were always a lily

in my mind, captured for beauty, almost strong enough to survive, and yet...
still, fervently reaching for the sun, that ever burning proof of love, something eternal beyond yourself always out of reach, just beyond a corner, or a curtain, a bee trapped inside of a window pane (pain), dying from thirst and desperation.

it hadn't occurred to me the strength that it takes to survive a transplant like that...from your link to the earth, cut off from your roots and brought to a glass trap, filled with water, unfiltered by dirt, put on display and subject to the cruelest scrutiny of love...the hand of death and decomposition looming ever, waiting for the slightest threat of brown or wilt...

and yet you often run, a child with scissors towards the danger of love, and stand strong in the face of skepticism, my skepticism which is a hard foe to face...and so i see you, my mother and think of the strength of lillies...

the gladiator of them all

Starting over is a messy business like re-painting

I have just painted over an old canvas, and the nude which i had drawn beneath is still visible - head unsure on slight shoulders, knees not quite strong enough to hold the weight of her awkward but gorgeous hips. a poor rendition of a woman, a woman who does not know herself, and who looks to cower from that knowledge, she ducks her head, afraid that it will see her and she will not escape it...but still, here she is, visible to me - as though to flaunt my inadequate skill- as if to say - "look, starting over is a messy business and if you are going to do it, you will need more paint...and probably a better brush."

i lie to your face and in your arms.....

you are much more direct......

"you can't control this" becomes some sort of loud, menacing prayer...you say it so often it is like a blur in my head, a bee that never flies away or dies...


i cradle things more important than you or i ~ i fold them into my body, rewinding the tape until they are protected... my boy, my hope...

i forget to protect my love, and it begins to errode like a rock in a river...thousands of markers, fossils, begin to be rubbed away by the current of words, actions, reactions....

until suddenly~ i rise up from the river unburdened and climb to the shore

day traders

The bruises are gone and so, I think,
the healing is done.

We speak now of what we want~ easy things,
things like love
warmth,
the caress of a beloved hand at just the right spot

they are all the same, we compare score cards of heart and love...

it seems perhaps we are not so easy after all....

i don't even care....

in the morning, i wake up and walk around naked and nobody bothers me or picks a fight.

at night, i come home, make snacks for my son and myself, and lay around reading stories, playing cars and making messes that don't bother any one.

the last nine chapters of my book i read uninterrupted.

when i go out, i talk to everyone - and nobody accuses me of sleeping around because of it.

i spend most of my time smiling on the outside cause i'm doing such a good job....

but i don't even care

cause you're hurting and none of my smiles can fix anything

ain't nobody dope as me

i'm just so fresh and clean

over night, the trees have changed their minds
and gone from sweetly singing green
to softly yellow sighs

and those who faltered with the stress
have gently shed their leaves
a thousand tiny suicides
colorful with greif

the whole wide world is turning grey,
and i am walking lost,
so lay upon the shivering ground
and whisper to the frost

Death Cab Drives My Way

"We're starting to feel
We stayed together out of fear
Of dying alone
I've been slipping through the years
My old clothes don't fit like they once did
So they hang like ghosts
Of the people I've been
It's like my heart can't take
My fall in love every day
And I feel like a fool
I have to face the truth
That no one could ever look at me like you do
Like I'm something worth holding on to
These times I think of leaving
But it's something I'll never do
'Cause you can do better than me
But I can't do better than you
You can do better than me...
but I can't do better than you"
-- You Can Do Better Than Me

walking the fence

i'm a tightrope walker and a bullet dodger
a killer, a lover, a liar
high priestess and bar fly.
kitten with deep claws, criminal with no pause

i am used and abusing my sight.
done this before like a highschool drop out...just trying to get some damn thing right.

i am not every girl

and it's presumptious and more than a little rude
for me to dance and assume, that every song is sung for me

and so i drive away,
i drive fast so you won't see
that every breath is for you,
like every tear is for me

'cause i am not every girl -
your indifference tells me so....
and it is what it is...

and so the story goes

this new ground...

is familiar, although i stumble.

the bruises you leave are bruises that were already here. and this is no fault of yours, cause you only followed where i led,

and i am trying to leave you alone, but i can't find my way out of your head.

another argument, nothing sweet or simple

i'm drunk and looking for words that rhyme, but all i find are words that are true...that we fucked up, and now...

we don't know what to do.

Hawk

i saw her
she rose above the solid sun river
grace, like a wind, surrounded her

my heart, the betrayer
sang we were the same

and i watched, horrified and fascinated
as she circled and dove
vanished and appeared,
a small creature struggled in her grip,
struggled and tore itself apart as she bent her head to watch

i listened to my heart scream with knowledge
because i know this dream,
a dream of love
of killing the being you need, to survive

of knowing that love may die
if you kill it

Secrets

can't talk now, my heart is singing

things i didn't know

it takes longer than i thought to heal from a broken heart - and in the meantime you can do damage to more than just yourself. i didn't learn any lessons like i thought i would.

and i only ended up slamming my fingers in the door as i left so angry.

the truth is you were perfect

it's just...maybe i'm a broken teacup, and perfect just doesn't fit well with my design. it's not your fault, and it is okay...

we'll be okay, i swear

there has to be something

i don't have much to give - i said looking at my hands - i already gave it all

but i don't think he heard me, and now when i tell him - i have nothing left- i don't think he believes me... he thinks i have the patience to try and make him a better man, he thinks that his love can conquer all...and i cry because i believe that love can conquer all, but there has to be something...

confessions deep and dark

i like to eat cool whip straight from the container. i don't care for dog slobber and sometimes i spend hours in the bathroom inspecting my eyebrows. i think helping someone pop a zit on their back is a sign of just how much you love them. i like football, i do, but i always fall asleep during the games because let's face it, sometimes they are damn boring. i don't care enough about my lawn to mow it. i don't think smoking cigarrettes is a yucky habit. it's sexy as hell and you know it. i feel more guilty about not subscribing to NPR than i do about fantasizing about having sex in the balcony of my mother's church. i like to smile at people. i think it makes them happy to see that they make me happy just by smiling back. i eat salad with my fingers and i beleive this makes it taste better. sometimes, on saturdays, i walk around in my backyard in the early morning, before my husband or my baby wakes, i walk barefoot, and i lie down in my too tall grass and i listen to the earth. she brings me peace, and i send my soul out into the universe to find yours, to see if it wants to talk.

beginnings and endings...

to apartment, or not to apartment...that is the question...

we both know the answer, it just stings.

this should have been here

i meant to
start a new blog in secret. you know, so that i would have a place to put these things...so that i could save this new journey for posterity's sake. .... wait. ... scratch that. i don't even know what "posterity" means. but something in me has things to say, and wants somehow those things to be saved, to be placed somewhere eternal...and books...they burn so easily, they drown so quickly in landfills or basement floods. ...the thing is, sitting here - i feel a certain peace... a little bit of heaven is this... ( giggle to self)... you see, i freaked out. Realized some things about the past two years, suddenly found myself falling in love with ... a memory.... and, me? aren't i a fighter for love? don't i beleive that you should always leave when you are unhappy, you should stand on the doorstep of the person you need and proclaim your love no matter how doomed or wonderful or who you kill to get there. Why, just step over those corpses, and throw your self upon the mercy of the one person you know you love more than anything and damn the resonance cannons....full speed ahead...because coming home now is never as fun as it was to come home then, waking up with a smile is now hard to do, and "life seems nothing more than a quick succession of busy nothings"....and at the bottom of all of this, man, i just miss my friend. i do. i miss knowing my teammate understood that sometimes i talk some shit. i miss knowing that sometimes he got a little lost in thought. i miss pickle ball. i miss movies we both loved...i missed someone who sang along and danced along and got drunk from tea and didn't mind that i snore a little (or alot)....damnit, i miss the politeness, the kind words because we both felt that when you love someone you are kind.but isn't that the way it goes? when things you didn't know were wrong reveal themselves too late...and you find that what you thought was a day at the beach turns out to be a hole you dug....and what's this? the walls are pretty high, and it's going to take some time because beleive it or not, you DO have to dig your self out...it takes a kick in the ass to wake you up sometimes...because there are mistakes being made here and mostly by me...

giving in

i sat on the bed in your hotel room, green haze and magic brownies, strange tv and somewhere garrett laughing...i don't remember the jokes, but i remember us laughing, i remember the conversation, the hope of your smile, the way i liked right off the bat how your eyes crinkled at the outside edges when you bellowed how funny we were

i remember finding you in the crowd, perhaps you found me, and the gentlest first kiss... a new years kiss... my first one ever, and how at that moment i wished that you would love me, that i would be your girl...and how i felt with my whole self for that moment that i would love you forever...

watching you from the corner of my eyes, trying to be smooth - i mean me, i was trying to be smooth, trying not to let on how much i wanted to be near you, hear your voice, hear you speak my name, touch my hand, sing with me... i buried myself in beer and was overjoyed when your secret spilled onto the napkin on my table...

she in the other room, with you, yelling...my knees drawn up to my chin on the bed in your bed in your pajamas, in your bedroom, knowing that although we had done nothing wrong, we had somehow done things wrong and hurt someone you cared for, but also being so happy to be with you that she wasn't relevant... not yet, not untill years later when i understood her so much better...

you in the mirror, biting your lip while you played with your hair and toyed with the idea of a shower before we left, later watching you sway to our favorite songs, there were so many, and i was so proud always to walk in on your arm, to have the freedom and be so blessed as to be yours, i whispered it to myself for years...that i was yours...even later, after the mess and my impending doom i whispered it to myself, that i had had the freedom and been so blessed as to be yours...

i can't get away. it hurts and it kills every day that i am still yours and you are not here, but i can't get away and after three years, now i don't even try to hide it any more...

i was wrong.

i know where the crap came from. you brought it with you. it was tied up in a beautiful smile and tender kisses. remember them? you used them to hide the mood swings and rudeness. all those tiny bullets that have been killing me for years now.

the question that tears through me, tied with love and thought to the bullets as they come is -

what do we do now?

Where did all this crap come from???

i've a sneaky suspicion that it was always here...piled up beside back issues of "Poor Me" and "Green Grass and How to Spot It"...yeah, and that old classic standby "Leaving Your Lover: 50 Ways to Screw Things Up"

Where am i going this fine day?

ah.... where AM i going???

further and further into Grown Up Land, maybe? a place i never, ever wanted to go, not even for a second, not even just to look around...not even if the wine is fuller and sweeter with age...(which it is damnit, it IS!!!) maybe i will look around after all, but damnit i won't ever live here!...i don't think they'd let me anyway... (giggle)

perhaps i am going quietly crazy with this new found love, freshly sprung from the ground and my womb, stronger than any mountain, or wind or sun or beast, or song, or planet - stronger than all of these, stronger every second because all of these created this love and as they turnburnriseblowendbegin, it grows stronger because these things made me and are a part of it...

mostly i think am just going to the place where i knew i would go eventually. the place where i would no longer be capable of denying the cold hard facts of my heart, which are as follows...

1. that my heart is neither cold, nor hard and never was, only hiding for a moment because it got so frightened...
2. the first cut IS always the deepest, and it is the deepest only because it never really heals up, and it never really heals up because as we all know, for things to heal properly they need a kiss and a superhero bandaid
3. you can never go back, but you can always go forward and sometimes...the way forward is also the way back

yes?

The Air Is Sweet and Fragrant.....

And None May Pass Without My Permission!!!


The air IS sweet and fragrant, rebel snow and all -the crisp sky stretches before me like a sheet in the wind... i remember times when most my time was spent three sheets to the wind... or maybe four...sometimes five...and now i live simply - high on life and on a good day Love as well. Thinking of our little stretch of land and the possibilities it holds... i think there is more growing there than tree and faery... underneath the Roses, nestled deep within the still sleeping earth there are secret tendrils beginning to unfurl and sigh towards the light....


my heart hears them coming and rejoices...

JOLLY HAMMIE

is alive and well...and it's his birthday!!! Happy Birthday, you little stinker you! Laugh often, and don't ever forget the cheese!

i did not die....

it only took me a while to find my way to being reborn....and i'll admit it, i got a little sidetracked on the way....but i found something really cool and i'm bringing it with me..........

in like a lion............out like a breeze...........

the puget sound sweeps in with the calm hardworking rhythm of a woman washing clothes by hand...i pretend that they are my clothes she's washing, and that the hands she's using are my hands...my fingers are slender brown icicles anyway, shaped by the wind that blows in, relentless like my future...i pull the sticks out of my hair and it blows into my eyes happy to be free - maybe someone will see how romantic i am and take a picture...i could live forever on a postcard, an advertisement to generations down the road of what the earth once looked like, that there was once a beach so new and wild that even though you took off your socks and shoes to feel the sand, you still wore a coat because it was that cold......


you should know that i look up to see if you will come...when you don't, i wonder if i will have the courage to do anything about it.............

The Poet is the Fool

The poet is the fool always the fool because every one thinks she tells the truth and it’s only the truth sometimes, it’s only part of them she writes about, it’s only a glimpse of the day she sees and brings it to the paper like an offering of love, saying here, here, it is this I loved and have brought it to you because you may just like the taste of it…the paper is the fool as well because he always takes what she brings and sometimes it is bitter, sometimes it is ugly, sometimes it is not filled with the beauty of her soul, he is like every man and does not wish for both sides of the coin, he wants only to have the feel of it, to close his eyes and feel it’s shape lying upon him….but, everyone is the fool because the poet is a liar turning tinsel into silver and selling them a dream, a dream they believe is about them, they think her works reflect something in themselves, as though she placed mirrors in her words on purpose, when all she did is have a drink and become thoughtful.

big fat liar....

that's mostly me. cause i know i said i was done, and i know i said it was the end....and neither of those things is true. cause as well as being a big fat liar, i am also a big fat addict, and my drug is words....

the bending, binding, licking, smudging, tossing together and setting free of word and thought.

today, as the sun baked the blaring music into my dashboard, as i dodged and weaved and flipped off granny to my hearts content, i tried to remember who it was i told i have a My Space account...i don't have a My Space account...too many perverts in that parade...(NOT a reference to homosexuality - i love gay people - i'm straight and they love me anyway - how cool is that? - but i digress....)

oh yeah...MY SPACE......i don't have one. don't they cause cancer? i'm pretty sure they cause cancer....but i start school on April 2nd...just registered today....and am pretty damn proud of myself...wish you could see me...but anyway...happy thursday.

one...two....FIVE!!!...(three sire)...THREE!!!

Seriously - it's funny. Any one who knows anything about anything at all can see that.

it is.

God, i really miss....... zim....

ouch.

got totally called out and as it turns out, i'm a big whiney baby.


go figure.


maybe after i rip this band-aid off, i'll find that i'm not really finished yet, and ... you still owe me a beer....

This is the end my only friend...

and i think a good time to go. there's a lot here, and it's been a year or so.... maybe you guys will miss this little corner of the internet and maybe you won't notice. it's okay either way. Things will be written, people will love and lose and be redeemed. but i am going to stop posting.

thanks for the beer.

The Answer Is...

sometimes.


sometimes i turn around and realize i've already been here.
sometimes i dream of a beach in the future where you and i sit and wonder why it took us so long.
sometimes the risk is worth it.
sometimes i cry alone because that is the only way i can cry to someone who understands.
sometimes i laugh this way too.
sometimes i wish it was yesterday.
sometimes toast is actually better after it's been dropped. i think that's because you know what you could've lost.
sometimes the only hope i have is secret.
sometimes the only way to keep a friend, is to let go.

sometimes i still sing christmas carols.
sometimes i still dance alone.
sometimes i smile at the sky and know that you can feel it.

The End

driving this morning and thinking of the latest argument - one we've had and had and had....and had....

and thinking of the revelations a box of wine can introduce....

and knowing that you read this sometimes and may get the wrong idea quite easily.............

the biggest truth is that i love you

and there just isn't anything else worth writing about.

Big New

Sometimes, at the strangest moment of your life, those times when all you see seems to have been a sick joke, or a bad night drinking full of wrong turns through questionable neighborhoods, sometimes you wake up on a new morning and realize that it *is* a New Morning...and old things are beautiful again, and loved jokes are laughable again and old friends are wished close again and worn t shirts are worn again....and dances - the dances of loved ones, and silly ones and cold and warm ones - those dances are danced again...and no one can take these things. not even if you give them away....

New Favorite Song: Sneaking Sally Through the Alley
New Favorite Snack: triscuits, and cheese
New Favorite Past Time: knitting
New Favorite Movie: Pride and Predjudice
New Favorite Pet: Millie Bean
New Favorite Spot: Beach
New Favorite Favorite:...................................somewhere out there

i know this much is true

a friend said that lately my blog reads like an obituary and i know he's right...it's been a year since i noticed how beautifully the sunlight filters through the leaves in the morning, or truly laughed...


i'm so afraid that i've made the biggest mistake of my life out of spite....or that i'm killing myself slowly as penance for every hurt i've ever caused....there have been so many...i can see them buried in my eyes when i look in the rear view mirror...which i do alot...waiting for the day i make my dream come true

life is like a box of chocolates

you'd better choose carefully because the one you pick might taste like shit.

can't beleive i've stooped to rhyming...

going out of my head and i don't think there's a cure,
might be nicer if you were here, but can't tell for sure.

left behind a pretty nice life - i guess if you don't mind the drugs...
all those hellos and goodbyes, rounds and rounds of hugs...

itching to call you up, see if there's room for beer...
i think it might be nicer if you were only here.

another installment of happy confessions

sometimes i don't eat because i'm too lazy to make anything - even cold cereal. i'm afraid of getting fat feet - which is a major reason i don't want to ever have babies. when i'm by myself in the car, i practice my acceptance speech. just in case i ever win. tom cruise scares me more than cancer. i always look behind the shower curtain before i sit down on the toilet. you never know what might be there. every time you get angry i think about leaving. not because i don't love you, but because i don't know if i love you enough. i still sometimes dream of being an elf. i talk on my cell phone while i pump my gas. the wedding march reminds me of Darth Vader. i love disco. i answered the phone while having sex - it was my boss calling to say he hoped i'd get well soon. i did.

big fat juicy love

i'm terrified of the deep, dark, squishy bottom of the lake, river, ocean...when i wake in the night choking, it's always from dreams of drowning...my hands stretched up towards the green light of the surface, waving slowly ...goodbye sun...goodbye air...goodbye...like a princess on parade.

when i venture in to the cold, wet chill of the ocean, my feet never leave the sand - i cling with my toes to rocks and, i believe, life...

people have joked, myself included, that i am a Cat, fond of drinking it, but never really happy about immersing myself in water..."the only good water, is bath water" i've been known to announce...

on my list of Things I'd Like To Do Less Than Shoving White Hot Pokers Into My Eyes, waterskiing is number three.

and yet - you are a fish...so, i am learning to swim.

i thought there might be something...

some sort of soul changing catalyst - something that made me honest, made me good made me more than i am, something like the hand of God to ring my bell and wake me up - but when i woke up this morning i knew for sure that like my only true favorite ever said " i will only ever be selfish"...

and long ago i cursed myself with the most selfish wish i could find and now i leave behind the hearts like bodies broken beneath the wheels of an unstoppable summer wind....


i thought there might be something...and i think i might have been wrong

dear God

please take away this pit in my stomach...

i've been in love

i've been in love - each time with a different man, and each man so different - the artist, the musician, the asshole, the irish...

and it's been great

get on the train

taking turns is difficult, even for grownups...we all itch for the bat, we all wanna push the kid in front so's we can be closer to the story book...

staring hard at you, i realize this, that we never really stop waiting for our turn. in my mind, you all revolve through my heart, each one of you waiting his turn for the spotlight. And do you realize - i wonder if you know this - that what you revolve around is just me? My ego is the sun and you are the planets that validate my existence.

if you stopped turning for me the universe would fold in on itself and i would disappear

Crest Whitening Strips

to this day, whenever i use them i giggle, thinking of you - how you left them on my night table... Happy Fathers Day Pooh

breaking the girl

with the romantic slide of a credit card across a hard surface...if i had a whiskey river i might forget i never learned to swim

butter side up

all this love - and always for someone else, for some other time, for something i can't put my finger on...

the ability to settle in and settle down is not a trait i have although, it's too late i think for a revelation such as this. so what to do? in this time of Tucker Max and Carrie Bradshaw - everybody searching for the everlasting but finding the search funner than the end result - what to do?

"If you can't be with the one you Love -Love the one you're with?" i always hated that lyric - it was near the top of my list of "Shittiest Lyrics Ever" ... too dishonest, it reeks of a housewife who dreams of other lives, basement apartments, fast cars and freedom...

not to confuse the issue is the fact that i truly do love the one i'm with....it's just that somehow, my subconcious wakes me up with the pin prick of another lyric i've always hated..."love and marriage goes together like a horse and carriage"

i mean really, how does a horse and carriage compare to a 1969 Chevy Nova SS?

is it okay

that i miss you so much? Those hours and hours of sweet conversation, lying in each other's arms a million miles apart. Making love over the airwaves, not phone sex - but building our love in words and confessions. Building a giant, vulnerable mountain one that we would ultimately never even get to climb...and i know that's my fault. Turns out i put all my eggs in the wrong basket, and i know that it was worth it to know what i know now...but oh, i still miss you...

dreamt of you last night, those long hard lingering kisses. the best kisses of my life - it was one of those dreams where you know that you are dreaming and you try so hard to stay sleeping because morning will not be as fun as sleeping. i think i would have been able to keep you at bay if it weren't for your kisses. you surprised me with the first one - i remember that i didn't expect it, and then i knew that no matter how hard i tried to keep you as a friend and nothing else that one kiss would be lingering on my lips like a raspberry stain, to trip me up and make me want more...conversation and kisses...i could have dined forever on your conversation and kisses.

the first hard kill

because your hands are still beautiful splayed across the strings like that they remind me of the way they danced over the buttons on my jeans and the fabric of my shirt, like i was a gift you could not wait until Christmas to open.

i remember the taste of life from inside your mouth, bootlegged beer and cigarrettes - the tragedy of life at fifteen is that you don't yet know that you'll miss those moments, making out in the backseat, on the floor, saying "no", "no", "no" as though it were your whole life you were about to give up and the ache was too good to complete...

and now driving home, the top down and the music loud, i remember years later when we were friends, me still a silly girl, hiding behind smoke and mirrors, still madly in love and hoping, hoping, hoping, hoping that you would never forget the songs you wrote for me ....

and i dreamed of the day when you would pull up to my window and tell me we were leaving

~i'm running away ~ you'd say ~ come with me~

and i would throw out my bag and and gather all of my faith and leap onto the horizon with you because we both knew that the secret is music first

the words will come ...but the music is always first

cheap red wine and a harley

at times it crawls up from somewhere deep inside of me...somewhere close to my liver maybe...spreading warmth like whisky...a tiny smile that tickles my lips with thoughts of...our last shared laugh, a few dirty words, my legs wrapped around your slender hips, together walking the streets of dawn building towers with our words and knocking them down with our drunken guffaws...our egos ringing off the sides of cars as they passed us, swerving at the sight of what we were - a many armed, four legged happily drowning monster with a filthy mouth and a strangulation fetish...for three minutes before the guilt of your cunt-face wife and my dog-face boy caught up with us, we were truly happy...

car dancing

the thing is...at the strangest times...i miss you.

and i think to myself, what a wonderful (fucked up) world...there was something that you knew afterall, that i didn't.

and now, finally knowing it...i'm quite content to let things happen as they will. Because as an angel who may have been a Beatle once said - Let it be.

12:50pm a thousand dreams ago

To sit outside and listen to the silence pour out of these trees like music from an ancient piano.

Few Hours Later…
I’ve never felt soft sunlight before: this sunlight is defiantly soft and it is kissing my neck like some friendly beast with a soft, soft tongue.
There is a tree above me, I am not sure of his name, he has millions and zillions of needles clustered at the ends of his arms like dandelion tufts and he doesn’t squirm a bit when I touch him, he doesn’t reach out to poke or prod.
How satisfying to sit with his quiet company and have a smoke - to watch this smoke curl up through my eyelashes. If I had a lover I would surely leave him. The delicious aroma, this sunshine air atmosphere brings out a personality in me that is so gorgeously dull. I feel as if I could become a mother.

Still Later...
Sometimes when people look at me it’s as though they are peering straight into my naked soul…how dare…

book one

Crawl away, take a moment just one. Take it in and hold it there, walk among the fields today, walk under stars sometime it may set you free. If life is a prison, you’ve got the cell with the view. Get away, from your life, take a vacation from your mind. Anyway you want to take it it’s up to you.

The air is yours, you paid the tab at birth, so take it all in. crawl away, get to your feet and run through this space, everywhere you see that’s where you can be. Never close your skin to this sensation. Around the hill, underneath all this weight, you will find your freedom buried.

Run now, if you go fast enough I’m pretty sure you can take flight. Write a letter to your future self, help you remember what you know now, if you sleep deep enough, I’m pretty sure you won’t need a stamp.


You can go right now. If you run far enough I’m sure things will crumble slower than you can leave...wash yourself with the streetlights till you’re pure again and there’s nothing that some smoke and mirrors can’t clear. Stepping on the razor of this life, the fragile line between happy and complacent , it can never smooth, this silver line... no one you ever love or lose will ever solve this crease. like a river it folds the country of your body in half.

Never beneath any other sheets did my life make so much sense. If ever there was a puzzle i think God hid it under your skin and left me here in torture to find it. And i reach between your eyes with my soul to find what i know must be hidden there. I will it there.. and dreams be damned i know you feel it crawling beside your veins.

I drove all night, I drove all day Up and down passes just to feel like I was running away

For someone’s arms around me, it’s a risk I would take, that when you come, my heart would break. For someone’s arms around me, in the dawn, in the night....

irish eyes

there was a lover once i had,
who with his fingers traced my hand,

and when he lingered at my lips,
it was the deepest river kiss

he took me down and held me there
and when his fingers traced my hips,
i followed like the sand

there was a lover once i had
who shaped my body with the sea
and when my soul was freshly bathed,
he gave it back to me

Metaphor sex but she just laughed and walked away

i didn't know i was so hungry until i began to eat, didn't know that i was so thirsty until i began to drink and now that i am seated at the head of your table with all of your goodness before me... your body a canvas of skin and scent, lit gently through the curtains by a grinning street lamp....
your love is wine and i am drunk, swooning like a fifteenth century Italian woman, bent before your eyes like a cat....
i call out your name across the expanse of our bed, it is empty like my arms but your words lick my soul, your voice makes love to heart, and as my lungs fall into jealous rage, I call your name

there are lines to be drawn and conclusions to be crossed

and in the middle of both lies a pile of memories, good ones - filled with laughter and spaghetti, the tangy smell of beer and the sweetness of sunday sheets. let's leave them where they lay, in their happy sprawl. let us leave the aching ones as well, for they will be like rotting grapes, and add the flavor of good wine to the rest if left alone.

let us sigh, and smile, and let us close the door...twilight comes, and then the dawn - and oh~ the dawn brings songs of colour and light...

and those songs are always the ones to sing

the cryptic song of a relentless heart ( and Oh, How Melodramatic it can Be!)

if i lean, quite far enough, i believe the wind will sweep me up, and together you and i ( you of course being my secret twin, my only truly undiscovered dream) will slip beyond the purple atmosphere ( we never liked purple, you or i) and slide around the rainbow ring of the moon...do you remember drawing a line for me, across a sidewalk in Seattle, bending time around it, so that in my mind, there we sit for always, you, patient like the Dahli Lhama, waiting for me to put aside the fears i carried and answer you ... and me - so afraid...so scared beyond even the ability to breathe ... that i never answered you... i still carry the answer, and every day i close my eyes, hoping for the ability to lean far enough into that Yesterday to give you the answer...

you asked me what if, and the answer is it does

a friend of a friend says that the bridge is found within and i believe him because i travel it, even as i build it

can of peas

a can of peas is on the right side of the monitor, always on the right side and lately everything i write seems to say nothing. is it true then that the muse only loves a tortured writer - have i shoed her away then by being so happy?

i look at Can of Peas - a secret reminder....and i wonder....

was it a fair trade?

Ooh RAH!

- we lie in bed, our foreheads touching, whispering the secrets of our future together....

you are one of the knights of the world i tell you - the moon is your round table and the idea of America is King Arthur....

i know you have to go and it kills me - i know better than to ask you to stay, and the pain of knowing you are going is nothing like the sting i would feel if you reneged - oh, but i want you to know that through whatever valleys and deserts you travel through, i carry you in my heart and God carries you in his arms.

Our love will never falter - as strong as any winds are, we are stronger - bouyed by Hope, reinforced with Faith and shouting at the top of our lungs -

we twist in the sheets until our backs are against one another - a sign of security because we know we're on the same team, fighting for truth, justice and the American way, depending on each other for protection....

confucius say: woman who has cat, hates pussy

my cat wakes me up during the night.

she jumps onto my head, curls up like a furry donut and purrs on my ear.

she knows that every single door in my apartment is loose in the jamb, so she walks from door to door and pushes them to make them rattle....until i get out of bed to let her out ( or in as the case may be) once she sees i'm out of bed she runs to my pillow and curls up falling instantly asleep.

i can't sleep on my pillow if she steps on it. i've tried but all i can see behind my closed eyelids are her little paws in the litter box, scratch - scratch - scratching up bacteria and feces......then i have to get up, wash my face and my hair, change my pillow case and my pajama shirt....and...you get the idea.

yesterday i got so fed up with Cat, that i spent a good fifteen minutes chasing her around...then i put her in her Kitty Travel Case, put a blanket on the top ( this is becuase she knows how to open it...i don't know how she does this with no opposable thumbs but she's sharp as Satan) put her in a closet, shut the door and went to sleep....

it would have been a peaceful night except that i kept waking up to press my ear against the closet door to make sure she wasn't crying.....

(sigh)

with my favorite song for a pillow i fall asleep

a dream ago i was running through a feild or a building, chasing myself into rooms where i could see myself dancing, stretching myself over these bones, solving the ache that i forgot to tell you i remember.

every glance backwards confirms that i'm over the worst hurt i ever had, and if it only took this long, could it have been so bad? nevermind that the otherside of my skin is torn with the scars inflicted to aide in forgetting...

"you won't hurt yourself?" you asked
"don't flatter yourself" i said

and i didn't hurt myself unless you count running through the mess you left behind over and over again until there were bruises layered over bruises like thick cloth covering up my heart....

i didn't hurt myself unless you count replaying the memories in my head until i was so delirious with greif that i fell down the stairs and couldn't even be bothered to get back up after i'd reached the bottom...

i didn't hurt myself at all, because as i wandered the streets of my heart, trying to repair the nuclear damage of your actions i was so intent on NOT hurting myself that i forgot to look both ways when i crossed the street and when the glorious beast ran me down, i didn't feel a thing....the thick bruise cloths that covered my heart protected me... i knew that nothing could ever hurt me again...i would never again be on the losing end, protected by the hurt i'd already felt, i could go on and on and on and even when this beast began to swallow me whole, the teeth never hurt...

and i still remember you in my prayers because i know that the correct answer to your question wasn't "don't flatter yourself" but "never as badly as you're going to hurt yourself..."

and i lie in the belly of the beast, curled up on his heart, protected by hurt and love and all the juices of both...with my favorite song for a pillow i fall asleep...

when i think of you i feel like throwing up

it's seven o'clock and the sun is setting...i can't believe it's almost been a year...the sun slides off the buildings across the way, even they shake off the idea of fall...a little melancholy comes in through cracks, and i wish that i could go back...twenty two sounds so good...i remember twenty two was so good...

the wind of the sea still moves me but everything else has changed

i'm being romantic, leaning out and over, watching you on the corner...it's raining and you drove three hours and five hundred miles to see me....to see me flip you off from behind the glass door, to hear me shout that you should fuck off, forget our love, go away or anything else besides stand there in the rain on the corner waiting for me to give...and i wish you would go because i know i will give, i can feel it starting already....deep in my stomache, i can feel the girl in me who wants nothing more than to curl up next to her friend and talk talk talk until dawn and sleep takes them over....the girl who yearns for more intimacy than nakedness can give, the girl who says that a soulmate without speaking is no soulmate at all....my insides were never stirred the way you offered to stir them with your frankness and your honesty.

years later after finding what i was looking for from the back of your bike i can smile about this and make an offering of hope for you.

i hope you find what you were looking for when you were looking for me to let you in.


....


years later and i'm miles away myself now having grown up to hear my own voice

just trying to be friday

it's a good day for spacing out....and after talking with the sun for a while we come to the conclusion that of all of man's feeble attempts at humor, work is the worst.

somewhere in this crazy ass ocean there are rocks to step on and i just might follow them home to you...

there's a mirror pegged to the wall and i stand there dumbfounded wondering who the hell carved out the pumpkin grin reflected there... oh, my if this is who i am when i grow up then put me back now!!damn. all those years i worked so hard to stay alive and this is all i made?i must be angry.i must be so angry because my fists are cutting themselves with nails, and i can feel the furious tomatos of color bursting on my cheeks. if i turn around to throw some of this emotion your way i know i'll slip on these fragile stairs and tumble backwards to break my will and my neck.But i'm not angry because of who i am, i'm angry because you never see it, you've never heard my voice or cared enough to listen for it. Even when i screamed you offered gifts and silence instead of the only thing i really looked for which was a shoulder for more than crying on.

up into the abyss

every moment that i hold you is a moment closer to death, that ecstacy of climbing the highest peak and jumping off to float into the atmosphere, nothing but the sun to cushion my fall...this is a delicate balance, a fine line like the Rockies from space...a skewed vision, only my perspective of love, of dreams, of finely tuned illusions. kept secret since childhood, and coming to terms with the fact that there is nothing wonderful about me at all except my ability to love...and that's the only quality i need.

and we lie so close...linked by verizon and a wish for intimacy, and you reveal no longing to know who i was when i wasn't yours but that's ok. because i was crushed like an aluminum can, and stuffed in the blender of life, churned until no trace of my soul was left. so what you see is brand new. there is no one else like this girl in the world. i am a brand new invention, built out of trust in blood and sweat and imagination. i've bathed in hurt and come out crystal clear and strong, like china, like lace, like music...and this is it. the only truth that i can present...who i was has been crushed to a fine dust...and as i stand on the edge of God's seat i hold my past out to the wind, ashes to ashes ~ and i know that if i jump there may be more to catch me than sunlight...my soul is out there swirling in the blue ... waiting for me to have the courage to throw back my arms and leap

Rhyncovanda Herbert Kurihara

this very moment after days of thinking perhaps i really will go insane, i realize that it has been hundreds of hours since i last wrote anything and i remember lying there with you, words tripping over my drunk lips trying to tell you just exactly how i came to be this maniac two faced lyrical soothsayer...thinking i was so genius, thinking that i had things that mattered in my heart, that there were so many ways that i could confess to bring you closer....

and reading here, i find that every word ever thought, every poetic dream ever shared between the sheets, every moment of thinking i might really go insane was made so much better because underneath it was the knowledge that i would use whatever was passing through me in those seconds to write....nothing else makes me whole....this is the sand pit i dig under your feet, to suck you in and hold you close to my heart, i think that if you could just see every bone beneath my skin, if i bared my teeth and my soul you could never leave, you could never walk away from such vulnerability... you would be mesmerized by my unfolding orchid, like the most beautiful opening in the world

throwing rocks at santa

another jonas day and this one brought on by nothing except happenstance...this is a day that brings out the dark, where you understand why people climb to the top of the building and jump even when there's no fire...this is a day for tailgating and mailbox baseball. it's a day for every mean kid to triumph.

this is a day for eating all the candy in front of your friends....


but after five, it'll probably get better

Haiku for Beer....(kudos to ethan watters)

a simple statement
breeds a thousand words
outside it still rains

i walk beneath trees
possiblities shake them
and their seeds fall down

every footstep sound
reminds me of another
who makes the same sound


soulmates tumble through this life on parallel strings
waiting for the breeze to intersect them
sometimes the lines are closer to spiders web than silk,
lines get tangled and time won't stop to help them

sometimes you must do your own reaching, across space and time - you must throw yourself across that distance - see if your line is strong enough to carry you towards your love...sometimes the only breeze blowing is the breath of faith that comes with hope

i admit...i like to confess

i dropped my sandwich on the floor facedown and still ate it. i'm scared of the dark. everytime i get in the elevator with a group of strangers i wonder what they would be like in bed. actually i wonder that about every person i see at least one time or another. sometimes i turn my phone off when my friends call because i just don't want to hear anything they have to say. i feel like crying when i see road kill. i still dream that one day i will be famous. i believe in magic and faeries and the goodness of mankind. when i was four i saw a woman with boobie tassels on Taxi and begged my grandma to buy me a pair- i was mesmerized by the way she made them twirl. the day i heard my step-father died was one of the happiest days of my life. i know it bothers my girlfriends when i don't wear a bra. sometimes this is the only reason i have for not wearing one. i burnt my hands in the fire because i was trying to scoop out a moth before it died. i didn't learn to ride a bike until i was 6 and i was ashamed to tell anyone that until just now. i read the last chapter to see how things turn out. when people say i'm sweet or pretty it makes me happy. i ate an entire sheet cake every day for six months. i can tell when people are lying and most of the time i let them. when i eat apples i eat the core too because there are starving people in Africa. i think babies smell like bleach. i never wanted to get married because i didn't think i could love someone for the rest of my life. now i know i was wrong.

honey is sweet sweet poison

dreams are for reading, for diving into like cold icy waters and fishing around in...sweet dreams are made of this...of a car on the freeway blowing south...trailing clothes and responsibility like exhaust...once i sat at this machine and was a golden child, people walked beside me and waited for the next amazing insight or terrible wonder to appear, i gave birth to them like a tireless branch gives birth to grapes and they rolled forth, fat juicy babies ripe and bursting with promises and water...

it's been a decade almost and i know you follow me like rabid bees because you can smell my fear...

from far far away

The question’s been asked, “ how do you breath after this?” and the answer is, I don’t know. Everyday it seems is a battle between good and evil, yesterday and today. My dreams are the messengers, and not any help at all. They tear back and forth between these two encampments, bringing cryptic, washed out jumbles for me to decode. The truth is I don’t know how this is done. I don’t know how to keep living, my body does it for me, without my knowledge or consent. Everyday I hope is my last, and everyday my chest rises and falls with breath, trying to confuse me into waking up and moving on.

Snow falls now, through the atmosphere, and i wish i could fall with it, washed pure through the filter of sky. Would my soul return pure and untarnished by life? Would redemption be found between the particles, crystal clear as thoughts?

I bring myself to smiling because there’s no where else to go. Silent walks between the words of yesterday and the wails of today. The scenery hasn’t changed much, but then neither have you. Everyone wonders where strength comes from, it comes from wherever you’ve never been. It comes from the places deep under, from the faces you’ve never seen. And everyone travels her own road, at least I know I travel my way, and you no longer steer the way.

Anyway, maybe it’s time for me to go, perhaps you’ve heard quite enough. Perhaps there are places to be where you don’t have to think about the cost of love. so, it’s sad to let you go, cause i can see the drowning in your eyes. I guess that’s the lesson learned, to force myself into indifferent goodbyes.

you're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you, don't you?

i miss my friend...and when he wasn't, i missed him then too. is there a way i wonder to make cookies out of these crumbs? let's not be rash, i have no expectations, no desire to jeopardize anything we've gained since our path was split, just a hankering for some one who thinks that dead girls dressed as bunnies are funny and the best throw up ever is rainbow sherbert. but harry was right when he said that there is no room for a platonic friendship between a man and a woman. and i was right when i said that you can't be friends with someone you've seen naked...no matter what happens there is always that awkward knowledge of someone else's private parts lingering about your brain...like a guest who's worn out their welcome.

but it's funny because now there's room for truth, it came with the room for friendship and perhaps is only here because we both have someone else....and i don't want any shying away because there's no reason to run from truth.....but there are so many truths, what to do when they face each other instead of walking side by side?

oh, so NOW you want me....

and all i can do is smile to myself because i know the secret to revenge...

kiss my filthy mouth and love it

it sounds cliche, but i walk through the night, under, beside and above the rain - feeling it soak me, knowing i should wear a coat, get out of the road or put some shoes on...my body convulses with the cold, and i know i'm catching my death in sneezes and coughs...but this is too pure, this rain is the blood of the lamb and because i walk with my face up to God, he blesses me...

am i some sort of hypocrite i ask myself? am i a liar when i feel pure? if i love the way you throw me on the bed and hold me down, if i love the curses that come whispering out of my lips when we reach the top, if i caress the bruises left behind when i shower am i less good than i thought i was when i thought that i was innocent?

smiling up at the silver horizon i thank God for daisy chains and daydreams, i thank God that i have sweet lips and a wicked tongue, i thank Him for my halo and the fact that it's a little bit bent.

jumping off

i hope it's as beautiful for you as it is for me...this sky...it aches and sings with a clarity i feel i don't deserve...i'm choking over this desert, it crept into my throat during the night and no matter how much water i drink it's there, vicious sand tripping up my breath and holding my lungs hostage...this is what it's like i know, once you dive into love you sacrifice everything and you have no right to ask for any of it back. all you can do is the best you know how and pray to God you don't fuck up.

so now i pray...i close my eyes and i trace the shape of your memory....i bruise my knees with prayer...don't let me fuck up...but right now it's not God i'm asking, it's myself. i walk away from myself, eight, nine, ten paces out i turn and look at myself. i count the scars, i count the gravel under my feet, i count the notches on my belt and i ask myself if all of those marks of growth were worth it...

they were- i say

good job getting here

thanks, what now?

i don't know, but you've got something good...

don't drop it

i won't...

so here i am, on the chopping block, waiting for the song the air makes as the axe cuts through on it's way to my heart....

altheasong

the window becons across formica and bad indoor/outdoor carpet, flourescent lighting turns me a light, buzzing green and as i follow my heart to the edge of my seat and lean to see the trees, i remember dreams of pushing you out this very window...pushing you to your death and being happy at your fall...life is odd

Confessional Forum III

Subject: Is this the confessional forum?
Text: Well where to begin...My life's goal is to
travel the world. I listen to classical, jazz, rock, and ragtime. I dance uninhibited while fantasizing about Tom Cruise in Top Gun. My IQ is something I will never reveal so people won't be jealous. I can't eat off a plate if there are any weird smells in the room, or if the food looks funny. Sometimes I like to walk on the beach in the pouring rain, run around town with my braves #1 foam hand, hug people, dance with my cat, and watch movies that make me cry. Sometimes I really miss the rain. I do believe in God and science, and firmly believe in evolution. I like to look in the mirror and practice my award acceptance speech but only if no ones looking. I have a big ego. My mouth gets me in a lot of trouble. I am proud and humbled by my parent's sacrifices for my well being and education and have many fond memories of my childhood, but I am happy for the most part and a very loyal person. I work in a hotel while finishing college, and have dreams of being an advertising/PR exec. ......

Confessional Forum II

Below are confessions sent to me from friends and friends of friends. i'm sure there will be more..

Text: This is how I will respond….. I don’t have a life’s goal because that would mean I was committed to life and I still haven’t made up my mind. I really don’t listen to music anymore it’s too loud. I tried National Public Radio but it was way too fast paced for me. Instead of music I listen to the neighbors fight while wearing my princess Leigh out fit and eating bon bons. I think there is a disease called IQ but I don’t have it. I pick the gum off from under tables and chew it. I tried to insure my elbows because I believe I have the sexiest elbows in the world. Fun is building my statue made of eye boogers and adding to my collection of belly button fuzz while humming the French national anthem all at the same time. I feel that religion should be replaced with the words of the “Lizard King” and everyone would be much happier. I like the way a wind bath feels on my naked body just not sure why my neighbors have to call the cops every time. I like to think of several different ways to do the same thing. My eyes tend to cross when people drive me crazy. I am dorky and kind, but silly most of the time and a down right upstanding citizen. I work in the mailroom, but have dreams of becoming the new purple dinosaur that kids love more than Barney…….
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Subject: Is this the confessional forum?

Text: Well where to begin...My life's goal is to own a piece of the moon. I listen to rap music wearing a huge Mexican hat and often dance around my house in nothing but a tutu and gorilla slippers. I have an IQ of 163 but dyed my hair blonde to counteract all that intelligence, so now it is 129. I can't eat off plates that have pictures of horses on then. Sometimes I like to chew fun, run through the house with scissors, eat whip cream straight from the spray nozzle and compose piano symphonies in my head all at the same time. I am agnostic, but I follow the Ten Commandments anyway and I do pray and often I use the chat rooms as confessionals. I like the way a q-tip feels in my ear. I have a very long tongue. My eyes get me in a lot of trouble. I am weird and geeky, but I am happy most of the time and a dang decent person. I work in IT, but have dreams of being a Vegas showgirl......

Confessional Forum I

Below are confessions sent to me by friends and friends of friends. i'm sure there will be more...


Subject: is this a confessional forum?

Text: This is how I will start…… My life’s goal is to get a smashed penny from every machine in the world that smashes pennies. I listen to 80’s butt rock music wearing a pair of leg warmers and often moshing by my self around my house in nothing but a tie dyed tank top and blue fuzzy slippers. I have and IQ of 119 but dyed my hair dark brown and now it is a 137. I can’t eat off biodegradable plates. Sometimes I have to remind myself to blink. Fun is jumping on a huge trampoline while eating Squeeze cheese straight from the nozzle and humming the Oscar Myer theme song in my head all at once. I can’t tell you if there is a God or not but I would like to believe that in the end everything will work out as it did for Vivian in Pretty Women. I like the way a white head snakes out when squeezed. I have small hands. My eyes turn from blues to green after three days of no sleep. I am Funny and nerdy, but I am outgoing most of the time and a darn level headed person. I work in printing, but have dreams of becoming a radio morning show DJ…………………

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Subject: Is this the confessional forum?

Text: Well where to begin...My life's goal is to play music and get paid enough for it that I don’t have to do anything else. I listen to mope-rock, jam bands, bossa nova, think Paul McCartney should be canonized and dance like a freshly beheaded chicken. My IQ is somewhere between 130 and 140 so I should know better. I can't eat off a plate if whatever I’m eating is messy enough to eat with my hands. Sometimes I like to spend a whole weekend wrapped in the pages of a good book, couch-surf, and feel sorry for myself. I do believe in God and want to apologize on behalf of the whole human race… sorry for fucking up the planet. I like clear blue skies but love a good hard rain. I have a wee fear of ledges. My monkey mind gets me in a lot of trouble. I am totally oblivious and hopeless romantic and have a bit of a love/hate relationship with my impulsive behavior, but I am happy for the most part and an empathetic person. I work in Multimedia, but have dreams of being a carpenter (fat chance on that one). ......

morbid on a monday...but still smiling

a friend poses an interesting question...

Do you ever wish the person you’re with would die so that you’d know how to feel?

and i am curious...does anyone else do this? do you?

Sometimes i have to thank myself for being so cool

yep, ladies and gentlemen the count is in and i am definately one of the cool kids. i have graduated from the Kiddy Table to the dining table because i now eat with fork and knife. the heavens have opened up and taken me in, i have been on T.V, stopped traffic and been asked to leave the counter because i was making other people look old. i have my own basketball shoe. just one mind you, but still. i can leap tall buildings in a single bound without breaking a sweat. my words are music, even if i speak with my mouth full. i have created masterpeices in seconds, and destroyed worlds in moments.

but i still can't get any work done while i'm thinking about you.

the weekapaug twist is making me gotta jiboo

HAIYA! in my best impression of chow yun fat i dive up into the sun and rise with a silky grace that leaves you stunned with awe at my abilities, shamed by your own ineptitude and green like jade with envy...

it's been a long time but i can now listen to my swimming boys without memories for daggers sliding through me for every song...and looking back i think this was one of the cruelest hurts you inflicted. of every comfort you stole, losing the music hurt the most. but i am cunning, and when the night slid like a sneaky jelly across the wavering sky, i tied my ninja ropes tight and crept in to take it back...and now it's mine, i reign supreme- cower before me Dogs!! the living room shall never again be empty of my favorite food groups! i laugh and gallop up the walls...giddy with guitars and trembling with the voice of a thousand ivory teeth as paige tortures the groove triumphant...oh, it's good to be home amongst friends

you answered...

who knew? but don't cheat, start at the beginning...

special specialness

PostSecret

Disco Baby Lemonade

shag carpet swims across the room and a thousand reflections of Me dance, arms up, shoulders swinging opposite of hips, chin high and nodding to the trumpets...feels so good...feels so good...night and morning blend in purple and teal, the hours unapparently passing while the music breaths around the party...

and tumbling downward toward the stairs i wake years later with this memory held above my head, of a rock star life that once was led

tumble drunk and best buds

flailing, both of us, one arm around the other and weaving as best as we can through thickly organized tables and chairs to find a door, any door really - where is the door? i know it's here on one of these walls, there must be a door, because we are inside and once we were outside...we didn't get in by osmosis, damnit! but drink after drink to quell some deep hurt works and now the hurt is gone and so are my legs, ha! so are your legs for that matter... and it has truly been so long...so long since a drink with girlfriends left us spinning around like children in fields, and this is good, it's a good way to be, fun and loud, a parade of two with no ring leaders, no rings at all and apparently no door to the outside either...

i call you up the next day and mourn the fact that no man ever loved me enough to love me past the edge of the bed...guilt pours in like syrup, thickly sweet under the smell of last night's laughter and beer...is this what is wrong with me? there must be a million reasons hidden somewhere in those men, reasons that if i could just find i could have some closure. and all i was looking for any where was unconditional love, the love i give - which if you listen to some people isn't love at all because i expect it back, i expect some return on my investment. but isn't this all that any body does? we invest our hearts a moment at a time like pennies building up and when we have paid so much we expect some incredible return, we expect heaven rolled up in a fatty bag for us to carry around - our favorite burden.

and Thank God for you, to remind me that i have been loved for more than my bed, and that in dark moments it may be hard to remember that love, but that it's still there, even in the dark like a friendly pet to surprise you with a squall and bite when you bump her in the night.

freshly baked earth

the earth is fresh, it rises past the moon, fervently shakes off the rain and smiles, shading my eyes i can see a single silent bird as he shoots up into the sun like a rubberband....as high as i've ever been has never been too high to reach up when the sky is warm...

the most crisp memory i have is of dreaming on the cement, nose down eyes closed to draw in that hot baking smell, gravel texture on my forehead, hundreds of tiny points stabbing staccato pains up and down my body as my weight pulls me down to earth...and i want to press harder, i want to punch through to the center, to the hot boiling center of the earth, where no one can find me... no one except a cool drink of water knight, and he would raise my head to breathe ice through my hair....and like a river we would lift ourselves through the rock and dirt, rising easy like smoke into the fresh fresh air, into the moon tinted evening...

prescriptions

when i was small i played a game called "getting lost". it was simple really. i would leave my house and walk until nothing looked familiar. walk and walk and walk. and then i would try to find my way back.

that's exactly like this...only i'm not trying to find my way back. i pass these streets with names i can't pronounce and i just keep going...the landscape shines with your smile, the air is crisp, sweet like an apple - fuji, my favorite kind.

the surprise of losing someone you never had

looking back over the years i can see the movement between us, like a seventeenth century dance, we walk close but never touching, spin circles about each other and separate for long breaths of time to come back, hands demurely clasped behind our backs, eyes sparkling pretending like we are not pretending, being overly polite, and then turning towards the people we came with we disappear again...

Semper Fi

the earth dances on her axis as you stretch towards me and hold my head up for kisses. i could drown in your kisses as they rain down on me...stay...

freakout

crap. ok. driving again right? because this is how i do my best thinking, behind the wheel and in my head, with barefeet slipping off the pedals and my headlights careening off of buildings, across the center line and over the tracks to steady themselves against your bumber (rear-end ? hahaha) and ok, so here we are, almost strangers but like pretzels folded around each other (baked together ? hahaha) so intimate

and i have to get this out...i have to learn to climb mountains so that i can whisper it to the deep wilderness that lives in the thin air surrounding God...


...........................whisperwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisperwhisper.................................

Don't you fucking dare~

ok. there are things you must do and things that no one should ever do, i don't care who you are. one of the things that you should NEVER EVER EVER do is cover a Beatles tune. seriously. this is just fucking arrogant.

i can't even tell you what brought this up, because that isn't even relevant. the fact is i have been a Beatles fan since i was four and this has always been my opinion.

it's fucking arrogant and selfish to think that you, YOU of all people could cover a Beatles song and do it well. who the fuck are you, huh buddy? let me tell you who you are. you are a no talent hack who was smart enough to fall in love with the original genius of well written music, but not smart enough to recognize the fact that sometimes, SOMETIMES YOU RETARDED FUCK, YOU SHOULD LEAVE PERFECT ALONE! STOP SHITTING IN THE RIVER, STOP PICKING THE BEAUTIFUL FLOWERS, STOP DRIVING YOUR ASS DAMNED SELF OVER THE UNPAVED HILLS AND STOP ASSUMING THAT PEOPLE LOVE THE SOUND OF YOUR VOICE AS MUCH AS YOU DO.

(sigh)

you make me so angry i could poke my own eye out.

ding!

that's a point for me because this is an ear to ear grin. because i lost it again. my head i mean. over a beautiful person who startles me into giggles, holds my head when he kisses me and hates chocolate and asparagus. he sings the wrong words, pretends they are the right ones, pinches too hard and drives like a maniac. he tells a good story, climbs mountains and trips over his own feet.

there's no way of knowing if this is someone who will have your staying power My Love, or if he can break your record. there's no way to know anything, except his dog-tags lie close to my heart and he laughs like an idiot when i'm funny.

leaf blower

the trees have been getting dressed again, wrapping themselves in Spring, lacing up their boughs in hope and green. the way i measure time, this winter was shorter than it seems, but perhaps that is because most of it i spent in the cold, my skin turned back like a blanket to bare my soul. and this is what healing feels like i guess, when you find that what was broken became whole when you weren't looking; i thought it would take longer, i thought it would be the distance from my heart to the moon before hope would steal in again. this is hope, this is real laughter and when i search myself for bitterness, i come up with tiny club shaped pieces like hershey's kisses and they melt away when i taste them. pulling this keyboard close i reread these journals, i touch the screen like braille to see if i can feel the dampness from a million tears cried. i know they nearly drowned me, i know that the icy cold of winter was death's grip around my neck for a while. there are glimpses of you still My Love. your light catches my eye like flashes of lightening behind me. i don't want you to think that i am through with you. it's only that hope has returned and it looks good on me. there is a person i was, and i dropped her while i walked beside you.

When i stopped looking for you, she came out of hiding.

i wish you could see her.

she told me to tell you she misses you.

my name is yoshimi

(love and love and) hands and lips (and love and love) and music falling over us as we dance and you can't dance but you do it anyway and your irish eyes are smiling and your crooked mouth is kissing and waves of smiles grind me into the beach where a moment ago i died...

every time i fall i scrape my knees...

and the bottle still breaks when i drop it
but climbing up to my highest dream
a dream of love
the only peak
i ever found worth climbing
i can see the coming day before it lands
and it's worth it

and prairie
where grows hope
from death and dying
is all around me...

i saw an old man in a friend, one day.
i saw an old man as a weathered barn, he smiled toothless and red
when my hand stretched itself out to feel the splinter
he vanished

fucking napoleon

crawling over your countenance, to map your hills and valleys, take note of your dunes, your dimples and (my favorite) the spot where your hip dips down to let my lips run towards the promised land ...

pushing you out the window

AH HA!! seven stories up is high enough to really make sure you are dead when you land, but still close enough to see how you fall. hm, and really i wish i could make you fall, kick your stubborn butt right to the ledge and then kiss you ever so softly, with just the right amount of breath and teeth to send you over like a drunk, pinwheeling down the air like the fastest stone in the world, a floundering fish, a drowning bird, arms straining hands to your neck killing yourself before you hit the ground in a spaghetti mess of hair and lungs....this is a love story so i would collect you in categorized things to put things in- like this - hair/chin/leg/misc.bones/eyeball (L)/eyeball (R)/spleen - and i would hold up your ears to my lips and sing sweetly to you, i would take you down to the market and we would buy string and glue. together we would fit you back together and i would loan you my blood until your body could make it's own. you could drive home happily disjointed with a box of spare parts in the back of your car...and i would lie on my sofa telling cat the story of how once upon a time i killed the man i love, and when i was sure he was thoroughly dead, i put him back together and let him go

the terrible beauty of life

turning my head up i soak in the silver lining that drips from the clouds, i hold myself close and offer some comfort to my soul...every faltering step i take is a dance across the ocean's curling edge and my bare feet collect the sand for my hourglass, reminding me that we only have so long to soak up the terrible beauty of life

a thousand smiles

the wrong side of my bed is against the wall and this is usually an effective method for fighting off the mean reds...waking up to the wrong sounds i fight the wave that keeps trying to sweep me into the rocks. it hits about 1pm...and though small it swirls in my head until i crawl back up to the beach of my soul, grated like cheese and exhausted with fury.

i am on an escalator running the wrong way and when i get one foot off, some rat bastard pulls me back...yeah and you know what? i know that rat bastard may just be my alter ego, so how do you shoot yourself without shooting yourself, huh? but what if that's not it? what if the bastard that pulls me back is not my alter ego? huh? what then? what if the universe that revolves around me gets kicked every once in a while by some mean kid with his nose out of joint and it has nothing to do with me? what if somebody just thinks it's fun that every time i climb two stairs they pull me down five? what if every time i make a choice for the better, mapped out to do some good, trust someone to meet me halfway some slippery banana creeps its way in to trip one of us up? what the fuck is going on here? i feel like a dog on a leash tied to somebody's back bumper. don't get me wrong, victim i am not and there are no tears here. but i am one pissed off monkey and i feel like throwing shit.

what is the purpose here? to teach me a lesson? i'm supposed to walk away from yesterday and today with some knowledge of what to do when the bully of life decides it's your turn? ok, smart ass, here's your lesson for the week:

sometimes there is no reason. sometimes nothing is mapped and no one is pushing you in the mud. sometimes the good choices we make turn out bad and not because God flushes the toilet over your head.

sometimes you have a jonas day for no reason at all and not even pushing your bed up against the wall can stop it.

if you have a thousand smiles you are bound to run into a broken one now and then.

i'm sorry officer i wasn't looking...

like a glimpse of happy after a long night sobbing you were visible between the friends lined up at the bar...and you sat close, close enough for me to smell your neck, to trace the line of your jaw unnoticed...but not too close - our knees did not touch as we spoke...and i was amazed because the last time we met i did not remember you being this beautiful...hours of coffee, firework displays of laughter and more depth than i was lead to expect later the fact that you are only here for a moment fazes me...this has been the slowest, most painless hit and run ever... we crashed around our curves, we tumbled through the air and it doesn't even seem to matter that you may land somewhere else

love sweet love and a little misunderstanding

i call myself up and talk a good game, but between you and i, we all know the truth here. we both know your picture is under my pillow and your entire being is mapped out on my soul.

when the beer curdles

the drunk sets in, sparkling wine my ass...there's no interlude like the closet hands out, reaching towards us with open arms, welcoming, a hiatus that lasts for all of 10 to 15... a little bit rude you say to go to a party and duck out for some short lived pleasure. but to hell with it i say, we are all friends here and what are friends for but to laugh at us in our turn and create sport for us in theirs. the hand of God reaches down and fills me with guilt like a pint overflowing...it's all good, i say, all journalists drink well, we fucking marinate in it and like a good steak we come out raw, we shake it up, we cut it loose like a muthafucka and we lay it low like an expensive whore...come in the water's nice...

the light of God

the light of god falls on the highway and still we drive along unnoticing, unnoticed by each other, passing in the right lane, running signs and praying to see angels saving us...this is how we die and the living in between is not much different except the scenery. when i close my eyes i can see my life fold out like linen before me and i know in my heart that my life is a top down scout international II, silver blue interior and ticonderoga pencil yellow to sail past the red flags that signal sharp curves ahead, open to the wind and the light of God falls on me as i drive by you with your thumb out, no time to stop, roses are waiting ahead.

irony is what i think of you...

sideways shifting through the shadows, time like a cat sneaks by and pretty soon i turn around to see that nothing tangible of you remains. slowly i have recreated my universe and it turns only around myself now. it's funny because i remember being the one to tell you that we all act selfishly and always do, even if we are stretching out helping hands we do so because it brings us rewards. i remember telling you these things before i gave myself up and tied the strings you pulled around my wrists and ankles.

i'm such a pimp...

when the moment comes the electricity that we built leaps from my fingers to your skin and all is right with the world. there are no thoughts of moments to come or moments left behind, there is no reasoning or justification, just whisper damp sheets and thousands of pillows...time slips around the corner like bare skin over bare skin relearning like adam and eve that because perfect doesn't last forever you've got to accept it when it comes...we rain oceans together, create a boat with our bodies and close the door smiling

you say it's your birthday na-na-na-na-na it's my birthday too

happy birthday crap-weasel.

make a wish ~ i truly hope it comes true

where's a band-aid when you need one?

perhaps the question is ~ where will i find someone who made me actually laugh like you did? not that polite "ah you must be funny so watch me laugh" type of laugh, but the real kind, the kind that surprised me into a guffaw that always sounded (to me) like some sort of choking zebra. for that matter, where will i find someone who i can make laugh in that same "hold the phone piss your pants, can't see straight" way you used to laugh with me? this is a very real concern these days. i miss galloping through the night with my love, nothing but laughter warming our naked bodies ... i miss seeing forever when you looked at me.. i even miss those circles you drew relentlessly on my knee as we drove...never thought i would, but then, after we began to heal together, i never thought a time would come when i'd ever have to miss anything about you. ...

i know i hurt us when i behaved the way i did sometimes. i knew it every day and i felt it when you picked those scabs till we both bled...i asked you not to crucify me over and over the way you did, but not because i didn't feel remorse. i asked because everyday i killed myself for the way i know i hurt you and the shame was choking who i was. i asked because for me to leave it behind like a carcass in the road and continue on towards the better person i know i can be, i needed you to drop the leash too.

tripping over your shoes

had a date the other night. an old friend called up, wanted to have some drinks, play some pool maybe...( not the friend you think, check the phone records since you still don't beleive me) ... so i take the leap, because it must be time, the night mares are so infrequent now. it must be time to venture out into those rushing waters...so i dip my toe in, seal the time and begin to go about getting dressed for an evening out. cat ran up and down the stairs freaking out because she knew what i was up to and she did not like it one bit. took a long bath, washed my hair and picked out matching underthings ( i've decided that never again will my panties not look damn good), thinking better with lavendar steaming my brain i did not shave, but i did powder and perfume places that i haven't paid attention to since you left. freshly laundered and feeling so powerful and girlish, i layered myself with cuteness, cute old top under cute new sweater above cute jeans that make me look less stumpy than i really am...there is something miraculous that happens to a girl when she twirls in the mirror and sees all of her curves are behaving themselves and winking naughty suggestions to her reflection. confidence and assurance abound. jump back, kiss myself-yeow! rushing out the door, suddenly excited to see an old friend under different circumstances i fall flat on my face.

some how after all these months i am still tripping over your shoes. i tripped over you all night long.

a beautiful thought for an agonizingly bright day

“I stood there trembling with anxiety — and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature.”

remember days passed, when youth was apparent in your walk and time was for filling with haze and laughter? remember the moment of silence when stopping by a field the earth was so brilliant the crystal outlines seared your retinas with white lines? close your burnt eyes and relax, sit back and forget your desk, your car, your children....you are youth, you are haze and laughter so ride up with the breeze into the haunting clouds and appreciate breathing.

dwindling pinpricks of light

one billion light years is a long time to travel, but it is traveled well so that reaching me in the night are thousands of dwindling pinpricks of light

slide

i want you to know that you didn't always shine for me either, and sometimes i didn't even like you, but i always loved you and that's maybe the biggest difference between us. when you were less perfect than prince charming was ever supposed to be it was ok, because my own faults evened us out, we were like a teeter-totter to me, taking our turns getting dirty at the bottom. perfection would have meant sitting even, never falling but never flying either and i couldn't take that...but it's what you wanted wasn't it? you were looking for june cleaver in a hippy dress and when my face was dirty from the lessons i tortured myself through you refused to see the girl you loved underneath. ... i wonder if you realize this ... i know that so many of these entries are about you, what you didn't see, what you did wrong... i want you to know that there are entries on my heart about what i didn't see, what i did wrong... they are there lining my aorta with letter after letter describing lessons learned... in days coming they'll be here too, heartfelt admissions for all the world to dissect or ignore. ... i want you to know that even though it might sound like it, i have no animosity towards you, i know you were somehow trying to do the best you knew how. and really that's all i've been trying to do as well. i don't know if you care or wonder, but the only reason there are still things to write about you is that i still love you. over and over again people tell me to fight for what i love, and i believe in that, you know i do. but i also believe that sometimes the fight is in learning to let go. i'm learning to get off the teeter-totter once in a while and try out the slide. i hope you are learning what you need to know too. i hope you figure out that some times all you need to do is wipe away the dirt and you'll find that what you were looking for was there all the time.

i don't know what you know, but i want you to know that i know you don't know what i know...

as many things do, it comes to me as i drive. this whole time i somehow have been waiting for you to turn around, find me in a different place than you left me and realize that like your keys, you need me. because your lock has no other fit, and although you can pry it open there is no sound like the click of two halves that get past the resistance from the mechanisms holding them together and become whole to open the door together. ... driving i wonder, was i wrong? i know that there is a very real possibility that i have been wrong this whole time, and that the only reason we fit so well together is either a) one of us is a thief and good at picking locks b) one of us is so afraid of alone that there is no resistance or c) all of the above. part of me wonders if these doubts are a sign ... like if i didn't have these thoughts it would mean that i am right and you are wrong. which creates the new idea of why does there have to be a right and wrong? maybe there's just a whole tangle of choices and no manual. maybe because there's a whole tangle of choices and no manual sometimes you end up with a shelf instead of a bicycle, but that doesn't mean that one is better than the other does it? nothing is cement, not even asphalt is permanent. Mother Nature fucks up our "permanent" structures all the time so perhaps these doubts are natural. they come from rejection i suppose. funny how all the self confidence in the world can't save you from the bat of rejection when it comes swinging towards your head at 90 miles an hour. the bat comes fast, and if you are like me and blinded by a goal you cannot reach, not your dream, just a goal that someone keeps moving, it comes too fast and silent, and hurts like a bastard because it doesn't kill you. but shaking my head i know the truth, and i believe you still do too. you and i are not only lock or key. it's a nice metaphor and was comforting when it came, but it has nothing to do with the reasons you had when you left. this is so hard, the seeds of doubt you plant as you try your hardest to be someone else, as you try on girl after girl like new faces, never telling them who you are, showing them the shiny side and not willing to take the chance that they might love the other side too, tarnish and all. and now i don't blink when your name is mentioned ~ it doesn't mean that i no longer love you, it just means that i am myself again. the person i was when i met you is back, version 5.0, the upgrade with the kick ass speakers, and more memory than ever before....

this is for you. because i want you to know that you are not fooling at least one person. and because i want you to know that noone else holds the bat that hurts us except for ourselves. sometimes we knock ourselves out so that we can wake up and be redeemed.

deciding decisions

was never my strong suit. and this is odd like Alice's mirror, because i realize i am stubborn as hell most times. still, when i think of you and the trek you've forced me to drag myself over these last few months...yep, i have to say that deciding decisions has never been my strong point. really the only decision that i've stuck with is that "i do" is not for weddings only, and that it lasts after death like fingernails and teeth. like rose bushes with roots so deep that not even a 4x4 can rip them out of the ground.

And really i think today is about looking back, seeing where i've come from and figuring out what that means to where i'm going. the dreams are still coming, and the tattle tell twist in my guts that links you to me. i wonder if you still feel it? or better yet, if you ever felt it. i wonder if it was only my own strange intuition, the bird on my shoulder that always told me what the horizon was doing before i got there. oh. the agony.