acid and fire and sleet and spit and trees and rain and walks on the beach and heading nowhere and laughter and plantains and feet and numbness and crying and waking up and watching stars travel and coffins and paths and clothing and colors and the word yes and eyes watching and parents and rules and religion and anarchy and simplicity and curry and movies and take out and dumb people and the rate of motion expressed as distance over time and drugs and calico cats and coffee grounds and stories and marshmallows and toothpaste and breezes and orange juice and good morning hello i love you and i'll never forget the look on your face and blooming flowers and listening to something new and trains and dolphins and grammar school and tickling and cold tile and this is just the beginning of all that you know in one moment and this is what surrounds you and this is today tomorrow yesterday and this cannot fade and this is here and this is now and this is you and this is yes and yes is life.
my thoughts are scrambled eggs that i made in a pot with a fork. hope springs eternal. a wish can only come true if you live long enough to forget your expectations.
it starts with a bang.
Originally performed 2/24/11
Originally written on 10/15/08
Showing posts with label mess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mess. Show all posts
Friday, February 25, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
The Sound. (Part 3)
I tripped over my own shoelace while I wondered what you were staring at. And it made me frustrated at the time that you didn't say anything, but only now do I realize you were trying to tell me with your eyes.
And talking without listening is a way to say you remember the past instead of hearing me now. Because losing that small anchor you had means that you cannot go back, even when you know the truth.
The places and people and things, all these proper nouns (now-ns) you hold in your heart, are long gone outside of you. Everything you have seen will live in you for as long as you have loved it and continue to do so. You cannot be lost from it. Not ever.
But it seems that no matter how far across the world I reach, you will keep looking at something else, at some other warning sign. And still, even in this isolation, I hope you feel all the warmth I have for you. I want you to do and get the best.
I hope, someday in a fairly distant future, I may be allowed to speak at your wake or throw dirt on your coffin. And then I will know how just peacefully you rest.
Originally performed on 1/27/11
And talking without listening is a way to say you remember the past instead of hearing me now. Because losing that small anchor you had means that you cannot go back, even when you know the truth.
The places and people and things, all these proper nouns (now-ns) you hold in your heart, are long gone outside of you. Everything you have seen will live in you for as long as you have loved it and continue to do so. You cannot be lost from it. Not ever.
But it seems that no matter how far across the world I reach, you will keep looking at something else, at some other warning sign. And still, even in this isolation, I hope you feel all the warmth I have for you. I want you to do and get the best.
I hope, someday in a fairly distant future, I may be allowed to speak at your wake or throw dirt on your coffin. And then I will know how just peacefully you rest.
Originally written on 3/29/09
The Size. (Part 2 of 3)
I run into this kind of problem all the time. I cannot sleep at night because I oversleep in the morning. Or perhaps vise versa.
The silence shared with one person is screaming about sadness while a loud concert with someone else is so peaceful.
It's just the little things you have to really watch for, all of them can speak in echos that count frequencies in the thousands and depths that no one has the strength to see. The way you can miss someone so new to your life or feel the way a memory plays out even when the sensation has passed.
These are just the small parts that speak so loudly. So when your eyes splinter your vision into a million sights and chairs become mountains, you'll learn to navigate your way to the shore and calm yourself before walking away again.
Originally performed on 1/27/11
The silence shared with one person is screaming about sadness while a loud concert with someone else is so peaceful.
It's just the little things you have to really watch for, all of them can speak in echos that count frequencies in the thousands and depths that no one has the strength to see. The way you can miss someone so new to your life or feel the way a memory plays out even when the sensation has passed.
These are just the small parts that speak so loudly. So when your eyes splinter your vision into a million sights and chairs become mountains, you'll learn to navigate your way to the shore and calm yourself before walking away again.
Originally written on 3/29/09
The Shape. (Part 1 of 3)
There is something clear to me.
Part of it is that you haven't gotten it yet.
Another part is that I see that you're not ready to, but you want it.
I wonder if you have this clarity in a different way, though. Like seeing what you know I'm not ready to see.
It is a shame this misunderstanding is actually an inability to communicate something so subtle and so obvious.
When it comes to it, there are feelings and motions that I cannot begin to narrate so I make do with what I can. In the meantime, I hope that someone will pick up on the subtext of it all.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to know telepathy. I want to speak in measures and notes and heartstrings. I wish you could feel what I am feeling because I think it would mean so much more that way.
Originally performed on 1/27/11
Part of it is that you haven't gotten it yet.
Another part is that I see that you're not ready to, but you want it.
I wonder if you have this clarity in a different way, though. Like seeing what you know I'm not ready to see.
It is a shame this misunderstanding is actually an inability to communicate something so subtle and so obvious.
When it comes to it, there are feelings and motions that I cannot begin to narrate so I make do with what I can. In the meantime, I hope that someone will pick up on the subtext of it all.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to know telepathy. I want to speak in measures and notes and heartstrings. I wish you could feel what I am feeling because I think it would mean so much more that way.
Originally written on 3/29/09
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Ghost in the Doorway
I had this dream where you were a large skeleton. You still had organs and a face, but I only saw your bones. Just like the world still had grass and trees but the only thing that mattered was the moon. Perhaps it was too dim to notice anything other than stark white or maybe that is all that needed to be paid attention to. It was more a matter of what was happening than any of these surface details.
You walked with me, like any skeleton would, and we didn't say a word for a very long time. Finally when words came, it was music and images. Light dancing across fields in places we had never been, wind traveling in trees we wanted to climb. I do not remember where we were, but that we weren't going anywhere special. What we would find did not surprise us, but reached into us and fed us life. I couldn't hear anything but your bleached thoughts and I don't remember how I looked. Perhaps I was just as naked as you were. I only know that when we touched it was like fire and when you held me there was nothing but the heat from the furnace inside your chest.
It will be a long winter if I don't see you again.
Originally performed 10/21/10
Originally written on 10/7/08
You walked with me, like any skeleton would, and we didn't say a word for a very long time. Finally when words came, it was music and images. Light dancing across fields in places we had never been, wind traveling in trees we wanted to climb. I do not remember where we were, but that we weren't going anywhere special. What we would find did not surprise us, but reached into us and fed us life. I couldn't hear anything but your bleached thoughts and I don't remember how I looked. Perhaps I was just as naked as you were. I only know that when we touched it was like fire and when you held me there was nothing but the heat from the furnace inside your chest.
It will be a long winter if I don't see you again.
Originally performed 10/21/10
Originally written on 10/7/08
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Stereo in the Kitchen
it is when you begin to apologize that you know you may be in trouble...
"Ennui unbridled, let's talk to kill the time.
How many styles did you cycle through before you were mine?
And it's been a while since we went wild and that's all fine,
But we're sleepwalking through this trial,
And it's really a crime...it's really criminal"
Everything was awash in orange
and our mouths were filled with grins.
The table would morph into a new mess each night
and the furniture would tumble down the stairs.
We could walk into each other's houses,
drink a glass of water and keep walking.
The sky protected us when we played basketball in the dark
and candy on our tongues could melt anything away.
Long drives and drunken lost living rooms,
dark hallways and loud basements filled with sleeping people,
a television kissing you goodnight
and a kitchen sink to wake you in the morning.
To name the things that changed you
is to remember who you are
and if it's the difference between
the hole in my diary or the clippings of my soul,
I'll carve something righteous out
just to tell these stories again.
Some love stories were never meant to be sold to Hollywood.
Or to last.
Note: This is a summary of the events of last fall and the feelings that went with it. I lost a job and a friend last December, neither of which would want me back. The love story is not of romance in this situation but an idealized adoration for a group that was family. I had previously referenced death before things began to fall apart not thinking I could lose this.
In short---last October was a lot of fun and I'll really miss it.
Originally written on 10/20/09
"Ennui unbridled, let's talk to kill the time.
How many styles did you cycle through before you were mine?
And it's been a while since we went wild and that's all fine,
But we're sleepwalking through this trial,
And it's really a crime...it's really criminal"
Everything was awash in orange
and our mouths were filled with grins.
The table would morph into a new mess each night
and the furniture would tumble down the stairs.
We could walk into each other's houses,
drink a glass of water and keep walking.
The sky protected us when we played basketball in the dark
and candy on our tongues could melt anything away.
Long drives and drunken lost living rooms,
dark hallways and loud basements filled with sleeping people,
a television kissing you goodnight
and a kitchen sink to wake you in the morning.
To name the things that changed you
is to remember who you are
and if it's the difference between
the hole in my diary or the clippings of my soul,
I'll carve something righteous out
just to tell these stories again.
Some love stories were never meant to be sold to Hollywood.
Or to last.
Note: This is a summary of the events of last fall and the feelings that went with it. I lost a job and a friend last December, neither of which would want me back. The love story is not of romance in this situation but an idealized adoration for a group that was family. I had previously referenced death before things began to fall apart not thinking I could lose this.
In short---last October was a lot of fun and I'll really miss it.
Originally written on 10/20/09
Friday, September 11, 2009
Still Life
An edit of this. Feedback is thoroughly encouraged. Criticism extremely welcome.
Eons have passed since we walked through that green maze to bronze fields.
Yet I have visited our park so many times in my thoughts,
with the heaviness of death hiding so close to my heart,
it would seem as though it was only yesterday since we were walking side by side.
With open eyes and bare feet,
the music of the air spilled into our ears
and we swayed like stalks of wheat.
Under the blue autumn sky,
I can still hear all of the words you ever spoke
echoing through the blades of grass.
We were not silent then;
we were not patient
and there was no need to be, either.
Our souls touched and grew inside one another.
I can only dig down so far
to find where there is a difference between us.
It would not matter if you lived in any other place,
if I could not see you with my eyes.
We were born to meet each other and live to learn.
(Perhaps if we had never met I may have died?
What about you?)
If my legs could carry me,
I would run.
If you could open your mouth,
you would conduct symphonies.
It was so simple for us.
We were creating worlds by discovering what already existed.
We were flourishing in the void.
We were making peace by not needing one another.
My only fears for you are that fear would get in the way of any life worth living.
That something could paralyze you beyond ever
understanding or experiencing the most necessary affairs.
Waves passed and oceans flew,
time churned and next thing I knew
you were walking away from me.
The crisp air hit my lungs and I decided this wouldn't be when I chased after anyone.
I was tired of walking so far North
that I forgot where the beach lay.
When I was at your place
I never knew which way was home.
I got so comfortable in your bed
I began to dislike my own skin.
Four years ago I might not have known any better,
but four years from now I might say the same thing.
I take a deep breath and plunge in.
---maybe I'll find you after all.
Eons have passed since we walked through that green maze to bronze fields.
Yet I have visited our park so many times in my thoughts,
with the heaviness of death hiding so close to my heart,
it would seem as though it was only yesterday since we were walking side by side.
With open eyes and bare feet,
the music of the air spilled into our ears
and we swayed like stalks of wheat.
Under the blue autumn sky,
I can still hear all of the words you ever spoke
echoing through the blades of grass.
We were not silent then;
we were not patient
and there was no need to be, either.
Our souls touched and grew inside one another.
I can only dig down so far
to find where there is a difference between us.
It would not matter if you lived in any other place,
if I could not see you with my eyes.
We were born to meet each other and live to learn.
(Perhaps if we had never met I may have died?
What about you?)
If my legs could carry me,
I would run.
If you could open your mouth,
you would conduct symphonies.
It was so simple for us.
We were creating worlds by discovering what already existed.
We were flourishing in the void.
We were making peace by not needing one another.
My only fears for you are that fear would get in the way of any life worth living.
That something could paralyze you beyond ever
understanding or experiencing the most necessary affairs.
Waves passed and oceans flew,
time churned and next thing I knew
you were walking away from me.
The crisp air hit my lungs and I decided this wouldn't be when I chased after anyone.
I was tired of walking so far North
that I forgot where the beach lay.
When I was at your place
I never knew which way was home.
I got so comfortable in your bed
I began to dislike my own skin.
Four years ago I might not have known any better,
but four years from now I might say the same thing.
I take a deep breath and plunge in.
---maybe I'll find you after all.
Friday, August 21, 2009
The Only Certainty...
...in this life, is that it will end. Every other concept is up to you to perceive.
It was only yesterday that we walked across bronze fields with open eyes and bare feet. The music of the air spilled into our ears and we swayed like stalks of wheat. Our souls touched and grew inside one another. I can only dig so far down deep to find where there is a difference between us. It would not matter if you lived in any other place, if I could not see you with my eyes. We were born to meet each other and live to learn. My only fears for you are that fear would get in the way of any life we could live.
Yet I have visited our park so many times in my thoughts, with the heaviness of death hiding so close to my heart. Four years ago I might not have known any better, but four years from now I might say the same thing. (Perhaps if we had never met I may have died? What about you?) Even under the blue autumn sky, I can hear all of the words you ever spoke echoing through the grass. We were not silent then, we were not patient and there was no need to be, either. If my legs could carry me, I would run. If you could open your mouth, you would conduct symphonies. It was so simple for us. We were making peace by not needing one another.
Waves passed and oceans flew, time churned and next thing I knew you were walking away from me. The crisp air hit my lungs and I decided this wouldn't be when I chased after anyone. I was tired of walking so far North that I forgot where the beach lay. When I was at your place I never knew which way was home. I got so comfortable in your bed I began to dislike my own skin. I take a deep breath and plunge in---maybe I'll find you after all.
It was only yesterday that we walked across bronze fields with open eyes and bare feet. The music of the air spilled into our ears and we swayed like stalks of wheat. Our souls touched and grew inside one another. I can only dig so far down deep to find where there is a difference between us. It would not matter if you lived in any other place, if I could not see you with my eyes. We were born to meet each other and live to learn. My only fears for you are that fear would get in the way of any life we could live.
Yet I have visited our park so many times in my thoughts, with the heaviness of death hiding so close to my heart. Four years ago I might not have known any better, but four years from now I might say the same thing. (Perhaps if we had never met I may have died? What about you?) Even under the blue autumn sky, I can hear all of the words you ever spoke echoing through the grass. We were not silent then, we were not patient and there was no need to be, either. If my legs could carry me, I would run. If you could open your mouth, you would conduct symphonies. It was so simple for us. We were making peace by not needing one another.
Waves passed and oceans flew, time churned and next thing I knew you were walking away from me. The crisp air hit my lungs and I decided this wouldn't be when I chased after anyone. I was tired of walking so far North that I forgot where the beach lay. When I was at your place I never knew which way was home. I got so comfortable in your bed I began to dislike my own skin. I take a deep breath and plunge in---maybe I'll find you after all.
Friday, April 3, 2009
interlude.
of all the people on the planet that i could say something to, i will never stop having news for you.
"this is the end, beautiful friend. this is the end, my only friend, the end."
listen to something beautiful.
"this is the end, beautiful friend. this is the end, my only friend, the end."
listen to something beautiful.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Cold Goodbye (The End of a Chapter)
Everything has a piece of you that I love(d) waiting to sneak up on me.
And it feels like I did when I stumbled upon that empty village;
when we walked into that cold apartment
with a breeze that came in through the floor
even with the windows sealed shut.
I know because it's like walking in on yourself
as you look over old, broken memories.
And look, that's where I held your hand,
and that's where I fell for you all over again
and that's when we did, and we felt, and we were.
Looking back on it, the barrel of tears in my throat can't seem to say enough.
Just a washing of waves through the grains that were once mighty stones.
A harsh light on the silent night walls of buildings.
The cloudy air of the coast,
the unrelenting roar of waves,
the disappearing horizon line.
Just a quiet surrender of the giants to the fall,
a whispered goodbye to someone and something
long gone
and faded.
Inspired by the track "Zerthis was a Shivering Human Image" by Eluvium, urgency, reminiscence, longing, and a strange sense of happirness.
And it feels like I did when I stumbled upon that empty village;
when we walked into that cold apartment
with a breeze that came in through the floor
even with the windows sealed shut.
I know because it's like walking in on yourself
as you look over old, broken memories.
And look, that's where I held your hand,
and that's where I fell for you all over again
and that's when we did, and we felt, and we were.
Looking back on it, the barrel of tears in my throat can't seem to say enough.
Just a washing of waves through the grains that were once mighty stones.
A harsh light on the silent night walls of buildings.
The cloudy air of the coast,
the unrelenting roar of waves,
the disappearing horizon line.
Just a quiet surrender of the giants to the fall,
a whispered goodbye to someone and something
long gone
and faded.
Inspired by the track "Zerthis was a Shivering Human Image" by Eluvium, urgency, reminiscence, longing, and a strange sense of happirness.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
You Don't Even Have To Wait*
We are walking without crutches and without bandages.
You are going to see these wounds as they are and you will take notice of how I can heal them. We are moving at lightning speed to a greater understanding and my arms are waving through the air to feel the push and pull of the tides. Look at me, I am walking on my own. Feel free to get out your camera and talk about it in a sweet voice, but I am not doing this for you. I have had a taste of freedom and I am ready to feel the rush of wind in my hair once again. Keep your pills and your support beams for your other friends, I am something else in the running. I will be showing off my new bruises and scars in no time.
I will move faster than anyone has before.
I will take you by force.
We are walking without a crutch.
We are moving without your bandages.
I wear these faults as battle scars and I am not afraid.
*Placeholder of a better title. From "Let the Drummer Kick" by Citizen Cope.
Inspired by a phone conversation with a close friend.
You are going to see these wounds as they are and you will take notice of how I can heal them. We are moving at lightning speed to a greater understanding and my arms are waving through the air to feel the push and pull of the tides. Look at me, I am walking on my own. Feel free to get out your camera and talk about it in a sweet voice, but I am not doing this for you. I have had a taste of freedom and I am ready to feel the rush of wind in my hair once again. Keep your pills and your support beams for your other friends, I am something else in the running. I will be showing off my new bruises and scars in no time.
I will move faster than anyone has before.
I will take you by force.
We are walking without a crutch.
We are moving without your bandages.
I wear these faults as battle scars and I am not afraid.
*Placeholder of a better title. From "Let the Drummer Kick" by Citizen Cope.
Inspired by a phone conversation with a close friend.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Goldfish
It's an unspeakable feeling that comes from the depths. We can't articulate it any other way than the simplest of words and we know those won't suffice.
This goes beyond the body yearning for another one to be close.
Beyond worry or doubt or fear.
Like a steady beat, it rings true all the time.
Even after an angry word or a step in the wrong direction.
Every time I tell you, I feel like you immediately forget
and you then walk all over me
oblivious to every step.
My dear, you could not ruin me if you tried. (Even tears dry up.)
But for now, I'll tell you the simple delusional truth:
I love you and there's nothing I can do about it.
This goes beyond the body yearning for another one to be close.
Beyond worry or doubt or fear.
Like a steady beat, it rings true all the time.
Even after an angry word or a step in the wrong direction.
Every time I tell you, I feel like you immediately forget
and you then walk all over me
oblivious to every step.
My dear, you could not ruin me if you tried. (Even tears dry up.)
But for now, I'll tell you the simple delusional truth:
I love you and there's nothing I can do about it.
Glory
It seems that love is an overly abused word these days.
The phrase "I love you" could mean, "I really appreciate this" or "You make me happy" for whatever reason. I love you for doing this, I love you when you do that, this thing that you do makes me realize that I adore you...so on and so forth.
I am beginning to overflow. I love you in so many ways and for so many reasons that I can't possibly name them all. I can't just love you because I appreciate your actions, or even because you have hidden talents that I get to see--these are things that make me enjoy you, like a good meal or a nice day. I love you and I can't figure out how or why and I really don't want to at all. I don't want to feel I need to explain that to anyone, but sometimes I do.
Under dark clouds, even here in this stormy wreckage I can love you. I won't lie, there is a struggle to see what I mean by it and even where I stand. But in the end, I don't lose a thing here. The winds are going to blow and I like stinging rain just as much as any other person, but I'll bear it for the sake of reaching the eye of this hurricane.
Two separate storm systems, two independent galaxies dancing in, around, with one another. In your lightning, you will hear my thunder and I cannot keep the volume turned down any longer. I want to fight you. I want to throttle you awake and shout until your space shatters. Even in this bleak vacuum, I feel you shine brighter than any full moon.
Love is not about sharing someone's sorrow or rescuing them. Or it may be to a degree, but the story doesn't end there. Caring that much about a person doesn't give you an excuse to make someone else responsible for making you feel better, that's still your own job. Being cared for does give you the right to not worry about feeling bad. Just that can be comfort enough.
What am I saying? I love you, yeah (yeah yeah..) and I know that doesn't put a magical band aid on anything. It doesn't for me, and I don't see how it would. I shouldn't be writing this in hopes you'll read it or even in lieu of talking to you. What I'm saying is, 1-I am not done with this topic, and I'll probably harp on it until I feel better, 2-I'm going to grow a pair and actually talk to you about this, 3-I'm terrified too, 4-you already know all of this, 5- *anxiety*
Truth.
Fact.
Non-fiction.
I love you.
andican'tgetyououtofmyheadandiwantyoutolovemetooandiamembarrassedforyouinwritingthisandiwanttotakeyoueverywhereandshowyoueverythingandiwantyoutoseetoseetoseetoseewellallofme
and that may be the most terrifying thought of all.
ps-everytime i dream of you i hear the same song. :x
"This war is crazy, I won't let you down..."
The phrase "I love you" could mean, "I really appreciate this" or "You make me happy" for whatever reason. I love you for doing this, I love you when you do that, this thing that you do makes me realize that I adore you...so on and so forth.
I am beginning to overflow. I love you in so many ways and for so many reasons that I can't possibly name them all. I can't just love you because I appreciate your actions, or even because you have hidden talents that I get to see--these are things that make me enjoy you, like a good meal or a nice day. I love you and I can't figure out how or why and I really don't want to at all. I don't want to feel I need to explain that to anyone, but sometimes I do.
Under dark clouds, even here in this stormy wreckage I can love you. I won't lie, there is a struggle to see what I mean by it and even where I stand. But in the end, I don't lose a thing here. The winds are going to blow and I like stinging rain just as much as any other person, but I'll bear it for the sake of reaching the eye of this hurricane.
Two separate storm systems, two independent galaxies dancing in, around, with one another. In your lightning, you will hear my thunder and I cannot keep the volume turned down any longer. I want to fight you. I want to throttle you awake and shout until your space shatters. Even in this bleak vacuum, I feel you shine brighter than any full moon.
Love is not about sharing someone's sorrow or rescuing them. Or it may be to a degree, but the story doesn't end there. Caring that much about a person doesn't give you an excuse to make someone else responsible for making you feel better, that's still your own job. Being cared for does give you the right to not worry about feeling bad. Just that can be comfort enough.
What am I saying? I love you, yeah (yeah yeah..) and I know that doesn't put a magical band aid on anything. It doesn't for me, and I don't see how it would. I shouldn't be writing this in hopes you'll read it or even in lieu of talking to you. What I'm saying is, 1-I am not done with this topic, and I'll probably harp on it until I feel better, 2-I'm going to grow a pair and actually talk to you about this, 3-I'm terrified too, 4-you already know all of this, 5- *anxiety*
Truth.
Fact.
Non-fiction.
I love you.
andican'tgetyououtofmyheadandiwantyoutolovemetooandiamembarrassedforyouinwritingthisandiwanttotakeyoueverywhereandshowyoueverythingandiwantyoutoseetoseetoseetoseewellallofme
and that may be the most terrifying thought of all.
ps-everytime i dream of you i hear the same song. :x
"This war is crazy, I won't let you down..."
Monday, December 15, 2008
Reflection
He is my Ganesh
And together we are painting the walls blue.
The color of clarity.
Instead of knocking down the walls entirely,
but still recreating the sky no one else can see.
This is about the brevity of sainthood,
or the fear of happiness.
Because the questions we're asking aren't:
"What could you lose?"
or "what will you gain?"
But more of a quiet: "What could you possibly be missing?"
I need not so much a smile
as I need a gentle nod.
Just enough reassurance to move forward
without the push of a stroked ego.
And together we are painting the walls blue.
The color of clarity.
Instead of knocking down the walls entirely,
but still recreating the sky no one else can see.
This is about the brevity of sainthood,
or the fear of happiness.
Because the questions we're asking aren't:
"What could you lose?"
or "what will you gain?"
But more of a quiet: "What could you possibly be missing?"
I need not so much a smile
as I need a gentle nod.
Just enough reassurance to move forward
without the push of a stroked ego.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Before This War
There is a man and he rocks me.
This steady motion follows a path and sets music to life. The notes show a dreamscape he's only spoken of before and here it is on the walls around us. I could live in his arms, just in this moment. So that every time he holds me I hear the same melody whispering from another dimension and another time.
This is a different kind of safety, where I am not just saving you but you defended every bit of me.
This steady motion follows a path and sets music to life. The notes show a dreamscape he's only spoken of before and here it is on the walls around us. I could live in his arms, just in this moment. So that every time he holds me I hear the same melody whispering from another dimension and another time.
This is a different kind of safety, where I am not just saving you but you defended every bit of me.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Sick
i wonder how much time of someone's day is really given to really uprooting every single good thing that could be laid down.
i am listening with my entire being and i'm finding that i'm out of practice. i miss the point sometimes, please bear with me. the words won't make you hear what i have, you need your skin for this, your ears, your soul. you need to absorb it all the way that we can.
i was in love with your history. i was in love with your history. my past was in love with your's but i don't know where i stand now. the brink that i am teetering on is showing signs that if i take you with me, it will mean a swift plunge and certain death. but once i let go of this rope that holds us tight to one another in a swirling current, if i just loosen the grip of my bonds to anyone in particular, i will find exactly what i've been searching for. and whatever you see as beautiful or amazing or grand, none of it will effect what i see. rather, none of it will have to effect it. that effect is ugly and cruel.
maybe the nice things are the ones that i need the least. perhaps i wasn't built to simply enjoy, and a lot of scripture points to this. but that really means something a lot different here, i think.
"nothing about us is simple"
(the phrase "i don't want to lose you" is very real and obnoxiously useless.)
i am listening with my entire being and i'm finding that i'm out of practice. i miss the point sometimes, please bear with me. the words won't make you hear what i have, you need your skin for this, your ears, your soul. you need to absorb it all the way that we can.
i was in love with your history. i was in love with your history. my past was in love with your's but i don't know where i stand now. the brink that i am teetering on is showing signs that if i take you with me, it will mean a swift plunge and certain death. but once i let go of this rope that holds us tight to one another in a swirling current, if i just loosen the grip of my bonds to anyone in particular, i will find exactly what i've been searching for. and whatever you see as beautiful or amazing or grand, none of it will effect what i see. rather, none of it will have to effect it. that effect is ugly and cruel.
maybe the nice things are the ones that i need the least. perhaps i wasn't built to simply enjoy, and a lot of scripture points to this. but that really means something a lot different here, i think.
"nothing about us is simple"
(the phrase "i don't want to lose you" is very real and obnoxiously useless.)
Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
full moon.
please, please, please try and hear your words. please try and live by what you believe.
you can do better.
..."are you hearing me, like i'm hearing you?"
"i'm a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.
you're the bird on the brim, hypnotized by the whirl....
i'm a tree that grows hearts, one for each that you take
you're the intruder's hand, i'm the branch that you break."
i don't feel like crying today. i just want to smile without getting paid for it.
Originally written on 10/14/08
you can do better.
..."are you hearing me, like i'm hearing you?"
"i'm a fountain of blood in the shape of a girl.
you're the bird on the brim, hypnotized by the whirl....
i'm a tree that grows hearts, one for each that you take
you're the intruder's hand, i'm the branch that you break."
i don't feel like crying today. i just want to smile without getting paid for it.
Originally written on 10/14/08
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Fishbowl/Flushed.
Goodbye, you beauty.
I won't forget you for a long time.
Goodbye, my own.
I am ready to lose you any minute, and still I will miss you when you're gone.
Goodbye, dearest.
I hope I never replace you.
I can't help but wonder, what is it like to drown in your own ashes.
I wish you were here.
I won't forget you for a long time.
Goodbye, my own.
I am ready to lose you any minute, and still I will miss you when you're gone.
Goodbye, dearest.
I hope I never replace you.
I can't help but wonder, what is it like to drown in your own ashes.
I wish you were here.
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