I don't want your "musts" and "shalls", you can keep your "mays" as well. If you knew me back when, you'd be dissapointed, because I know I am. All this money, and all these books, and all those "poor you" dirty looks. The lump in my throat came dangerously close to screaming. And in the wake of Saturday is where the tailspin begins, and where it ends no one knows. The breath I catch is stale with manufactured regret. So keep your "musts" and I'll just keep praying for Saturday.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Tell me you heard the clicks and pops of the reel too
Remember the night we sat on the floor, discussing the rest of our lives, sharing a cigarette while the world moved around us?
I hate the way a few simple years has turned into so many thousands of miles that the past seems more like a moving picture than the living and breathing and beating it was
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I thought I was off to bed when this came clicking like a reel across my memory.
If I can make it I should stay up for just a while longer to walk around and hear the birds begin to awake.
And hate it like I used to.
Lucky Enough to "Suffer"
The midwest is a snow-globe.
In every way as terrifying and idyllic as living in a snow globe could be. For some it is suffocation. The same four seasons. The same highschool. The same life, over and over forever. For others its the lives their parents led, and their grandparents, and the parents before them. Content to be happy inside the glass. No need to taste the outside.
But those that are terrified of suffocation...only they really know the true beauty inside the globe. Its when they leave that their eyes adjust to the light, and that they can see so much more clearly through the now convex glass. The seasons and their ability to change a scape become noticed for the masterpieces they are. The once silent world comes alive with a discovery-a symphony released by the turning of a key. And each season has its own movement. They've broken free of the seal, and now the suffocation sets in but from this toxic air. Only one place could ever be home, only once place can strip away the unwanted elements, with its gentle strokes of backyards and baseball games on the radio, Christmas trees shining like beacons through the snow, lazy summer days coaxing you to sleep in the shade, autumn afternoons at pumpkin patches and choruses of leaves offering their perfume in exchange for a good roll around, and the most poetic thunderstorms heard of-professing their undying love for the land and the flowers they are helping the spring usher in for everyone's new beginnings.
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Its 5am. Loving the carmel and the apples and the walnuts so much I may be rotting my teeth. But an apple a day...cut me up another, because I'm feeling the itch. Fixes are fixes are fix.
...when the fall makes your nose run but the sun forbids anything more than a jacket......the turned colors and the perfume that they only bring out for those special occassions......when you've lived within it and let it live inside you, you'll realize how much your addicted, if your lucky enough to be 'suffering'...
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Coming Down off a Placebo is a _______
I feel like someone who's been on medication. Happy, optimistic. Such a drastic change from just weeks ago. But I'm starting to feel the slip. Or maybe I'm just so very afraid of the slip taking over. And then again, maybe its the curiosity that will kill the cat. I've had my fingers and toes crossed so hard the knuckles turn white. Plenty of prayers. Whatever it is, I just want to stay here. In this state I can dream everything and do it all. The questions barely become audible, not even a whisper. I don't want the slip. Because the bottom of the slope is so far away, but when its all downhill I can get there in seconds. I wouldn't be so worried if life around me had actually changed. But things are pretty much as awful as ever. Yep, its taking over. The endorphins have run dry. I don't know what got them going to begin with. That valley and the need to get out. The bootstraps mustering their own force. I needed to be remined of who I was. Who I am. And I got it. Now its back to the daily struggle. I can do it on my own. I just wish I knew what the magical fix was; how can I get that on my conscious own? I baffle and amaze myself on so many levels. I'm also the most irritating person I've ever met.
I wish I could write happy things and not hate them for sounding sentimental in that gross way.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Throw Away Girls: Once a Lady
Throw away girls
All the right bases
And Pixilated faces
Strung out like pearls
Coll(e/a)ge us together
Up close and forgettable
But stand away
We are the Monets
A living breathing gallery
Of blurred slurs
And vintage oils
Depicting the "Once a Lady"
Now ADorian in Gray and whites
Save for the beauty by colored lights
The pieces to your perfect puzzle
Making us fit together is
Forever a struggle
Because you really just
Want us gone
To have your fun
With the very next…
One is not enough
And the many leaves you lost
She'll try to call your bluff
But you’ve come to crave the toss
So you get your fix
Those sugary salty lips
Repeats can get heavy
But they don’t raise the levy
So the best hips
Are fall backs
And we’ll always be your
Throw away girls
Strung out like pearls
Slurs and blurs
Never quite “yours”