Wednesday, December 30, 2009


Love was once the subject cause of the solemn demeanor before you
A terrifying knowledge of the sense of tumultuous storms at the point and break
Had once held me prisoner
You, misunderstanding the misuse of every
Dripping, phonetic, wondrous, dedicated word
That I aim ceaselessly in your direction
You would have me explain things in a more rational voice
I would have you jump off the bridge of romantic logic
And for that, I may be misunderstood
However, that said, I will continue to push the boundaries
Of what can and should and will be called love
As you have pushed my once terribly, tragically linear existence
Into an unexpected plunge into a sharp, cool sea of undeniable purpose in life
Debtor, be kind
Murderer, slay me gently
I want to watch my life being undone before my eyes

Friday, October 30, 2009

The Collision: Maybe It Was a Mistake

I don't remember much anymore of what happened that night. I only really know that you didn't care anymore.
The rest of the story... well, I have to rely on what other people saw that night.
I'm still not exactly sure what went wrong. It was only a month into our relationship and somehow, in the course of 24 hours, things went from well to hell.
Maybe it was that I listened when you told me I put too much effort into my appearance. I showed up at your door in sweats, an old shirt, and a sport bra that blatantly stuck out: my attempt at growing our my hair thrown back into a stretchy headband and a few too many hair pins. I didn't wear any makeup that night, and maybe it was a mistake.
Maybe it was that I wouldn't leave with you that night. There was so much to deal with before I could feel right about just leaving with you... leaving my small world behind. No one you knew had quite that level of obligation, and it was unfair to you that you should want to be with the only one who did. I guess I can understand that. Even now, knowing what I know about you, I can't really say I would have ever left with you. I asked you to give me more time and be patient until I could really feel secure about running away with you and maybe it was a mistake.
I won't know for certain what happened that night. I know you'll never tell me. I only really know that your face had changed that night. There was no love in it anymore and I was too busy imagining our future together to see it.
That month was a good one, I won't deny it. I felt a tinge of shame throughout our continuous rendezvous, because we had united under the pain and anger we felt toward someone I had fallen for too deeply, too fast; someone you had dealt with for much too long. I let you know that I had no intentions of trusting you, and like a true Don Juan, you knew and said everything that I wanted to hear. I found it strange that someone would have avoided the chance to physically take advantage of my want for affection, and I couldn't help but think that maybe it was a ploy and that I wasn't your attraction so much as the controversy of our situation. That being said, I am happy to say that after all those nights, we never did cross that line.
We had discussed my drinking problem as a side note. I had come to believe, so strongly, that I was amicable only after the second drink of the evening. In some strange rationality over trying to make things work, I decided to have 4 on the way to your house.
I had become a star alcoholic by that point in time. Even you told the police that you couldn't tell if I had even had one; not that the drinking mattered. Enough time had passed before you asked me to leave that the affects had worn off.
I had been asleep for at least 2 hours when you woke me to tell me it was time to go. I have to admit how confusing this was. I'm as sure that you have no idea how strange that sounded coming from you as I am that that was your intention in the long run. Any other night, I would have simply moved my car, we would have picked up where we left off, and we would have snuck my person out through the front door before anyone knew that I had been there. This night was different. This night you didn't want me. But this was the night that I needed you most.
Waking up after two hours of sleep had done me no good. I pleaded with you before I left, letting you know that I was as tired as I was perplexed over your lack of affection. Maybe I didn't make it clear enough; how tired I really was... that I really didn't think I should be driving. I respected you and your wishes, though, enough to leave that night. A little after midnight, we exchanged an idea that we would talk tomorrow. Tomorrow became null and void with a horrible quickness.
What I do remember is bits and pieces of what happened. I don't remember what or how I was feeling, what was playing the CD changer at the time. My eyes closed for just a second, which was enough time for my tires to slide off the right side of the road. All at once, I jerked my eyes open, the steering wheel to the left, and my foot straight into the gas pedal. Delirium or terror took over at this point, and I could not understand why as hard as I pressed on what I thought was the break pedal, the car just kept going faster.
I over corrected into the left lane, panicked, and over corrected again... past the right lane... over the shallow ditch at the shoulder... into fields and yards that I didn't recognize. I saw flashes of ground, trees and houses flitting by like strange, large hummingbirds. I couldn't scream. I was still trying to figure out why the break wasn't working. I held onto the steering wheel as tightly as I could. I looked down as quickly as I could, trying to decide what move to make... why couldn't I move my leg? My eyes flitted back up and all I saw was a stationary wood post before me, bigger now in my memory than what it really measured. As the car sped toward it, the headlights reflected brighter until I saw nothing but a white light.
Then, all of a sudden, my body jerked forward. It felt like the time that my friend took me over the railroad tracks at 70 miles an hour and I didn't listen when he told me to hold onto the seat. This was a little different, though. The nose of the car went down and I felt myself thrown up towards the ceiling. The sound was so loud that I can only remember it, now, as having gone deaf for a split second. The jarring feeling of my teeth hitting hard together caused my eyes to close.
When I came to, I didn't wonder what had happened, or how I had survived. I knew I had crashed and I knew I had to get the key out of the ignition. I was so afraid that the car was going to explode... I had seen the commericals and I knew that was the first thing I should do. I didn't know why, though, I couldn't find the key. Where was anything in my car? Beneath me felt hard... I knew I wasn't in the front seat anymore, but where was I? I could hear the keys jingle, but I just couldn't find them. Oh my God... oh my God... Then I heard voices. I started crying.
"Help. Please, someone get me out of here. PLEASE, JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!"
I heard metal scratch against itself and I felt a breeze. An open door and a voice.
"We're trying, hun. Can you make it out through here? We're going to get you out. We're going to get you out."
Where the common sense came from, I've no clue. I wasn't thinking at all, but I grabbed my purse and my phone. 'Where are my shoes? Fuck it. I don't care.' I crawled through the front seats, over some random stuff, and out into the air. I stood up and someone came to catch me.
"Wait... where is the key? Someone has to get the key out of the ignition. I have to call someone. I just need to go home. Please, help me find the key so I can get out of here."
I don't remember what anyone's face looked like, but I remember the shock on them. I remember hearing something about not believing she was up and walking around. I heard, "She needs to lay down."
"Honey, you can't go home. Not right now."
"Please, I'm fine. Just let me go home."
"Here, lie down over here. Someone's coming. Just lay here until they get here."
There was a car seat on the ground. Someone helped me lay down over it. I curled up in a fetal position and wondered who's seat I was on. How long was I out? Did someone have the time to take out the back seat of their car for me to lay on?
I called you. You were the first person I thought of, and the closest. I knew I was only a few miles from your house, and probably a million miles from my own. At least it seemed that way. I started to notice how much my lip hurt, and how big it felt. It just got in the way when I started talking. I did my best to cover up the muffled speech and make real words. Your mom answered the phone.
"Hi. Is *** there?"
She had a very exhausted tone as she said, "Yes, hang on just a second."
You just sounded annoyed. "Hey, what is it?"
"Look, I'm sorry. I know it's a little late to call. There was an accident. I'm just a few miles from your house. Can you come? Please?"
"What? Oh, fuck, Chelsea. Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."
I drifted in and out for an immeasurable amount of time. My head hurt so much and I wanted to sleep, but I knew I shouldn't. All those Discovery Channel medical shows had to pay off, I felt. I cuddled my phone and my purse and just listened to all the loud voices. I saw some bright lights. Then I saw you walking through the small crowd of people. Some of them stopped to ask you some questions. I think they were cops. I tried to listen to your answers. Then you walked over and squatted down to the ground in front of me.
"What happened?"
I felt more like I was being scolded. I felt like I should be scolded at that point, so I didn't care. I felt like a seven year old who had broken a dish and cut herself on the glass. A mixture of shame, guilt, want for affection... or at the least, pity.
"I don't know," I whined, the tears starting to come.
"You look horrible."
"Was anyone else in the accident? I keep hearing about 'upside down' and stuff like that. I don't understand what anyone is saying."
"Chelsea, you flipped your car. Your... car... is... upside... down."
"I'm not stupid. You don't have to slow down... wait, what? No. My car is not upside down."
"Chelsea, really. Look."
I could barely lift my head up. My neck felt so sore. My head must have weighed 200 pounds. I looked up over my hip at all four wheels of my car, touching the night air. My car was, indeed, upside down."
"Oooooooh..." I sobbed. "Fuck."
"You know you hit a telephone pole, right?"
"Well, you did. You hit it so hard it fell over. You're lucky no one else was hurt."
"I know that. How long was I out? Someone got their car seat out for me to lay on. Wasn't that nice?"
You shook your head in frustration. You still looked annoyed. "Chelsea, that's your car seat. It flew out of the back of your car."
We said a few more things. The conversation consisted mostly of me whining to go home, saying that I was fine, and you letting me know that the ambulance was on its way. I'm pretty sure I apologized a lot. I only say that because I know I always do.
The paramedics were nice. I felt like they asked too many questions, but I answered each and every one of them like a champ. This was more out of fear that I might go to sleep. You should never go to sleep when you may have a concussion. They asked if I had been drinking. I told them not for the last 5 hours. What time was it, anyway? I held tightly to my phone and purse the whole time.
I faded in and out through the night. I remember going through the doors on the stretcher... how strange it felt to be undressed by someone else... how weird and stiff and crunchy my clothes felt. I kept asking where you were. They told me you were in the waiting room, so I asked them not to let you see me like this. You already had, but I just didn't want to see that look on your face again.
They took me into the X-ray room and made me hold myself up with a bar that hung horizontally above me. It hurt so much. I just wanted to let go and fall back onto the soft pillow. I was certain that hitting anything, even a pillow, would have been too much of an impact, though, and I was afraid of the pain.
I wasn't sobbing anymore, at this point, but the tears were streaming down my face. There were much too many tears and they were warmer that I remembered. I noticed, then, that I felt them running down my forehead. This didn't make sense. I wasn't upside down anymore; and, anyway, my other tears were running their normal course down the sides of my cheeks. I reached up to touch the extra tears. Red. Blood, blood red. I winced, which stretched the wound and caused me more pain. I cried, not for that, but for having realized that I really, really fucked up this time.
It's a funny feeling to have all of these people running around you at high speed. Everyone knows what they're doing, and you're still not sure why you're there, let alone what they are doing to you. You just know, at that moment, that everyone seems really nice and that you should trust them because you couldn't possibly fix this yourself.
I fiddled with my phone a little in the x-ray room. I was still holding onto it and thinking about calling my mom. Then I remembered something about how you shouldn't operate a cell phone in a radiation facility or something like that, so I put it down until they wheeled me out and down to the emergency room. I passed under one of those circular mirrors along the way... the kind that you can see the whole room in. I knew I saw myself, but I couldn't really associate it. All I saw was red. Blood, blood red. I was thankful, then, that I hadn't called Mom yet.
Mom. Oh, yeah. I should probably call her now.
She calmly answered the phone. "Where are you? What are you doing?"
"I'm at vuh hosvitow..." My lip had apparently swelled more since the last time I had tried to speak.
"I know. They already called me. I'm on my way."
By the time Mom arrived, they had already cleaned up my face. I still had no idea what time it was or how long I had been there. Everyone was still nice, so I was content with just that. Time could jump ship, for all I was concerned. Can I sleep now, please?
The ER doctor and nurses took turns talking to me, asking questions... random things, not really about the accident. The alcohol pads and wet cloths felt cool on my skin. I started to realize how much my head really hurt. Mom came in and spoke with the doctor and the nurses. I didn't really do much talking. The wet cloths started to migrate toward the middle of my forehead. I winced again and moaned a little out of pain.
"Sweetheart, what have you had for pain?"
"..... Huh?"
"Have you had anything for pain?"
"Vut do you nean?"
"Oh my God... you mean you've been here almost four hours and they haven't given you anything? (Hook her with some morphine.) You'll feel better soon."
As soon as the needle hit, I felt this warm feeling wash over my stomach. All of a sudden, 'not caring' progressed to 'not giving a rat's ass' and things started to slow down a lot.
The doctor told my mother first, and then me, that they were going to give me some stitches. They were also going to give me some staples.
"Yep. Staples. We're going to staple up your head. Just like paperwork!"
The doctor began to take out the million bobby pins that held up my hair before he began the procedure. Chunks of dried-up, glued-together hair began to break off with each removed pin. A nurse had the decency to freak out.
"Oh my God! I can see her skull!"
"You know what? I think you can go run your rounds on the other patients now and let me do this. She's been through enough without having to hear that. Thanks."
Mom got a little squeamish. "I need to go. I'm diabetic and I need to go eat something and..."
"Nom, juft thell them tha you awe gunma be sick and go. I'm fffine."
"She's fine, Mrs. Carr. You can go. We'll page you when we're ready for you again."
My eyes rolled upward to watch the doctors hands and the great big staple gun. I listened calmly to the normal clinky sounds of an office stapler, with the added thud and scratch of the staples hitting a hard surface. I thought about that summer I attempted upholstery work with my aunt. I was a piece of furniture being repaired. Pretty cool. Or maybe I was just high.
Then they began the stitches. I nearly went cross-eyed, watching the needle and thread go in and out of my forehead and then the right side of my bottom lip. I am a beloved ragdoll, I thought. The kind that you don't throw away. The kind your great grandmother made and you want to pass down to your first born when they are old enough to take good care of it. I am a family tradition.
Hey, I told you I was high. We ain't talking about Tylenol. This was morphine.
After all was said (well, muffled) and done, Mom was informed that I was ready to go. The nurse helped me into a wheelchair after making sure that my hospital gown was wrapped tightly over my little bones. She then wrapped my legs in a blanket and told me that Mom would be pulling the car around so I could just pop right in. I had never imagined it was so cold outside. Granted that I didn't have a jacket and my feet were still bare, but it was below freezing and much colder than I had remembered it being. This is North Carolina, for Christ's sake. We are the product of global warming. Winter barely exists here, even in the middle of December!
I looked at the nurse and started to unwrap my legs. I wasn't going to steal anything... not tonight.
"No, no, honey. That's yours. You can keep that." There was still blood on it.
I asked about you before I left. They told me you had waited for me, but that it was too late and they sent you home. I felt bad about that. Like you followed me for nothing.
I slept a lot that morning. Mom let me sleep in her bed, with a towel under my head to catch any excess blood that happened to fall. My hair was still and crunchy and mauled in general. I knew I looked a mess, but it didn't matter then. I took my pain medicine and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I called your house. I sat out in the kitchen while Mom heated up some soup. Your mom answered the phone. She sounded concerned, this time, rather than exhausted. She asked me polite questions about the wreck before she put the phone down to run and get you.
You told me about how they wouldn't let you see me. You told me how long you waited and that they had told you to go home and call the hospital the next day, which you did. You asked is you could come and see me. I told you that it was iffy because the house was a wreck (and had been since dad's death), but that I would ask and it should be possible. You told me that you were going back to sleep and that I should do the same. You'd call me again in a couple of hours.
Three more days passed and I didn't hear from you. That day I called your house 3 times. The next day, I called 10. Eventually, your mother just stopped picking it up. Maybe it was a little much, but goddamn it, I needed to talk to you. I needed to know what had happened. I needed to know why you weren't here with me, and why you didn't want to be. Where were you and why didn't you care?
I had one visitor in the next couple of days before I heard from you again. My ex-boyfriend, David. He had no idea what had happened and called out of the blue.
"Hey! I was just listening to the Feist song and it made me think of you. How are you?"
"Well, I was in a car accident last night."
"Ha! No, really... how are you?"
"... well, I was in a car accident last night..."
"Oh my God! Are you okay?!"
The next night he was over with a much needed pack of cigarettes and a hug. We talked about everything that had happened in the years since we'd seen each other, and when things got too serious, he put on mom's old glamour wig and made me take pictures. I smiled and laughed for the first time since that night.
There was a party, David told me, the next night. I was invited. There would be beer (which I couldn't have then), and soda pop (which I could), and pot (score!). I was to be the guest of honor and all my old friends would be there. I called my doctor to ask if it was okay, even with the stitches still in. To my delight, as long as I felt up to it, I could go. It was wonderful to see everyone again, and it took my mind off of what I did hear when I finally heard from you.
I was angry when I finally got to speak to you. I tried to hide it, but some things you just can't... and you picked up on it quickly.
"Look, don't be mad with me because I haven't had time to call. I needed a break. I've been sick these last couple of days and I needed to rest."
You did eventually come to see me. When you picked me up from my house, I was all smiles. I don't know if I had thought you had changed your mind about me, or if I knew you had made it up in the first place. I did my best to make you comfortable, though, wearing a hat to hide my mauled appearance as best as I could, so you wouldn't have to confront what had happened.
After the initial greeting, I started to see the contempt on your face. You looked like a man meeting his pregnant lover's parents. You had never amounted to stay together in the first place, and now there was this thing keeping you emprisoned in what was never meant to be a relationship, let alone a friendship. You were polite with my mother, and I appreciate that.
We went to a mutual friend's house where a joint lay ready and waiting. It was the first time I had not felt pain since the accident. Everyone wanted to see my wounds. Against your unspoken wishes, I showed them... right in front of you.
A part of me wanted you to know how alone I felt... how angry I was that you hadn't even attempted to call or come and find me those last few days. A part of me understood, because half the time I don't even want to be around me, not to mention having to deal with this. Another part of me just wanted you to love me, and knew that that was never, never going to happen.
That was the last time I saw you for a while. I began to hear things through other acquaintances. I heard that you had gone back to having an affair with the teacher twice my age who you had been seeing before me. I heard that you were still hanging out with all of our old friends. They even called me to tell me that you were at the Christmas party I wasn't able to attend because I had no car and everyone was too drunk to drive by the time they thought to let me know about it. This didn't bother me half so much as the things I heard from people I didn't really know.
It was probably about a month later when we were confronted at the bar. Broken hearted, I had started going out again, schmoozing with the trouble that had got me to where I was in the first place. The teacher was there, with a friend who blatantly didn't like me. I remembered her by her reference to me as 'The Bitch at the Bar,' which you felt it important to clue me in on. That's when I found out what you really thought. Said girl approached my friends and I overheard her telling my story from your perspective. I flared with anger. According to trusted sources, I had tried to kill myself upon the discovery that we were through.
How dare you.
You knew I was sick. You knew I needed help. But you knew that I had been happy... that things were looking up for me. You knew that I was beginning to compose myself and that I really had a good head on my shoulder, albeit for the sadness that never seemed to leave. But the idea that I would off myself in such a way... in such a horribly painful way... and over what? You? Really?
I had been asked this by a few people, in general and with no reference to you. These questions did not bother me as they were from genuinely concerned people who really wanted to know. I politely corrected their assumptions and went on. But this was too much.
I started to wonder... if I had died, is this what people would be saying? This huge line you had crossed, from asking a pressing question to proclaiming an awful assumption as an unavoidable truth without ever even giving mention of it to me... without ever even once consulting me...
How DARE you!
You know, a decent person would have informed the other that a relationship was just not possible. I can't think of many people who would just inspire this kind of hatred purposefully before disappearing altogether.
This all being said, I don't remember much of what happened anymore. I only really know that you didn't care at all, anymore.
And I know that you lied.


As a constant in my life
You've one responsibility
A word every once in a much too long while
I wouldn't ask for more
Because that would only
Give you reason and way to disappear
I've shut the door on our love
At least, on my love for you
But the latch is so flimsy
That it creaks and it moans
In its attempts to sneak out
All that I closed off inside
Or its attempts to draw me back in
Does it seem like years to you, too
Since we last were in the same room
Since the awkward motions of our newly born legs
I'm much too certain to doubt
That you are happier now
But I also know that I miss
Something somewhat like this
You reach out
Because you know that what you're meant for
Is something abominably unknown to me
You keep me safely away
From a desire to change
The distance we, at times, find ourselves still talking over
I learned from you
That it is better, much better
To be alone with yourself
Or at the very least, just imagine you're with me
But I still want to know you
As everything but a loss
And I've hidden this thought
Long enough up to now
But what I do know
You can never
This knowledge would only destroy me
And what I do not know
Is if you have ever
Do you still
Or would you ever
Want to love me again

Monday, October 26, 2009

After about the fourth or fifth attempt, not only do you lose count, but you begin to realize exactly what's happening and what to do about it. More importantly, you want to do something about it... you choose to seek help.
The most paradoxical truth in all of this is that once you are ready to admit that you are crazy, once you finally tell someone that you live in fear of yourself and what everyone arounds you reads when they look at you... well, you realize that this is the most concrete evidence of your sanity and that you do have a chance. You're not crazy anymore. You're merely too intelligent to deal with th mundane, everyday things around you. And you're much too smart to off yourself.
Last night's occurrence I'm sure won't be the last of its kind, but it was definitely a breaking ground in this what had, until this point, been a vast wasteland of emptiness. Holding desperately onto my brother's hand in the last of the 24 hours that very well could have been my last, the light peeked out at me. One hour before the calendar date changed, I saw the first beginnings of the first sunrise in these last dark 2 years. It reminded me of that song "Worlds Away" by Summer at Shatter Creek. You know the line, "I know all of the specifics of your life. These last 2 years have been one long dark night. The tunnel's dark and you don't see an end from where you've been."
I guess I just realized that I had changed, but that all was not lost. With some help, I could find those parts of me again and have a reason to hold onto them.
I showed up at Stephen's door around 10:30 P.M. By the look on his face, I must have been in worse shape than I thought; though, in all fairness, considering my Plan A actions for the evening, I was in pretty bad shape. Stephen and his mother have an affinity for taking in stray dogs and nursing them back to health... an admirable way of living. Again, I had become the most recent stray. It had happened before, but prodigals don't always own up to their problems enough to face and conquer them the first time around.
I didn't feel at all like I could cry, but somehow the tears came, not in sheets or downpour, but in that weak sort of way the sky likes to project rain on those melancholy days when nothing eases the pain and you can imagine that the sky knows how you feel.
"What have you done?"
What have I done? I had been asked this question throughout the evening. In truth, it angered me a little that this was the first conclusion most people seemed to want to jump to; that somehow my actions were horrible enough to have an adverse affect on the state of my appearance. My sin: begging for an ounce of pity where a gallon of love seemed lacking.
This question did not bother me coming from my brother. A. Because he knows me well enough to tell the difference in the cause my sufferings. B. Because I had done something, and had something left to do. At any rate, I was halfway to my goal.
I'm not really certain what I said, if anything at all, before I unzipped my jacket pocket and tossed the bottle of sleeping pills between us on the bed. They got lost for a second in the comforter, one of those blue and white colonial patterned fabrics that reminds you of fine china. This allowed me a second to begin.
"I stole these from work."
"Well, I figured 60 was enough. Not too few, not too many. I didn't really want to waste them."
"Oh, Jesus, Chels. Why?"
"This is just all too much."
"The two jobs? Are you working too much?"
"No, everything."
"Was it the guys you're seeing? Did something go wrong?"
"No... just... everything." How do I explain this without sounding more crazy than a girl who just stole a bottle of sleeping pills from her place of employment to off herself? "I made sure that I was off tomorrow morning just in case it didn't work. I also had a draft text saved to send to you so you would know to call an ambulance if I got too scared to go through with this. I know, I know. It's pretty stupid."
I was a great deal calmer than someone should have been, but maybe it only seemed that way because my voice still hadn't returned. Stephen turned off the fan so he could actually hear me.
"Well, you're here right now so I don't think I need to tell you that this isn't the way to go about things."
"Yeah, I kind of decided to come out here first. At first it was just to say goodbye and have a last drink with you, or some kind of nonsense like that. Then I decided that I should probably tell you. I'm kind of supposed to tell you anything." I use a lot of filler words when I'm nervous, or when I feel like an idiot. This situation happened to be the latter.
"I mean, I figured that if it worked, at least I wouldn't have to worry about any of this anymore. I was kind of hoping that there was a heaven... that maybe I would see Dad again. Maybe I'd meet my little girl. You know? Stupid... just stupid."
"No, it's really not that stupid. It's just, well, sometimes you have a fucked up way of rationalizing the situation. I do the same thing. What if it didn't work, though?"
"Well, I guess I figured that if it didn't work, at least I'd get a break... even if it was in a hospital. And that maybe people would come and see me. That maybe then they would understand. I even went as far as to convince myself that I wouldn't get fired from both jobs and that they'd throw my case out the window out of pity for me. But even if that didn't work, at least I might feel loved for just a minute... maybe, I don't know... I guess I was just asking for attention. Goddamnit, this is so fucking stupid. I knew I was crazy. Why on earth would I ever feel the need to bring anyone else into this mean, selfish existence? Absolutely fucking retarded."
"Something happened last night, didn't it?"
"Yes. Well, it was more this morning. I got angry and started pounding Jack last night, so I don't remember much of it. But I couldn't hide the sadness. It was just like your mom said. When I can't control it anymore, everyone can see how sad I am. I guess I was a little annoying, too. At least, I'm pretty sure I annoyed him, tying to get too much attention. I, by turns, feel like I'm in his way when I go visit him, and then feel a little underappreciated for the effort I'm putting into this. Something told me that I shouldn't have gone last night. Then this morning, I just... I told him too much. And I tried to set a rule. And I told him that I wasn't crazy, knowing full and well that I am. When someone tells you that they are not crazy... that's pretty much a red fucking flag, you know? I fucked up, and majorly. I can never see him again."

(To be continued...)

Sunday, October 11, 2009

All of the Gruesomely Kind and Polite

I say this in the most rigid confidence
And post it for all of the world to retain
That there are things that you, above all others, should know
All of 'You' being the innumerable reasons for my existence
I am still here
Though I am filtered
And the taste, not as pure as it once was
A very good reason
For you not to know me
That is, unless, you already have for a while
I scream at night when I sleep
I march with armies
Whose purpose is to overthrow the lords of my land
Fear and loathing
Astounding architecture
That freckles the nation we, once, all so enjoyed
Imitation remains the highest form of contempt
And reflection, the evil that cannot be tamed
"Oh, when will all of you idiots see what I see?
After years of betrothal to this body
And minutes made waste trying to coexist with this mind
I make attempts to be fully in love, once again
With the flesh that shares my bed and withholds me from escaping it
I work so hard to reach out
To every horrible thing I can see
That might be grasped
When it comes to the partner
I make efforts for no soul to ever know me
For I could never really share
What I wouldn't dare to partake in, myself
What an avoidably miserable stance
So, lover, if you love
Become a killer
A gruesomely handsome murderer of my past
And, your thoughts on building a bond
Turn to demolition
Of the fixed transgressions that I so heavily rely on
If the prop should be splintered
The girl that leans will surely fall
The outcome of the injury being solely dependent on you
Make it a worthwhile bruise
Or let me run without remorse
If the terror in all of this becomes too much
I may simply pop my tiny feet back into my shell
And wait to hear your footsteps' descending volume cease completely

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Absolute Terror

With this many different bodies seemingly pressed from all sides upon the claustrophobic limit of space that I can barely hold onto long enough to keep perfectly fearless of my personal monsters, I have been forced to (with an inhuman quickness) compose this absurdly short and irrational stroke of prose poetry before they notice and ask questions and my gates break down long enough for the terror to rush in and I finally lose it.

Thanks for creating that awful feeling in me.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

That Logical Smell...

Though I could easily have chosen the nonsense that flooded my head to pen down this evening
Though I could easily have strewn these words about in an artistically nondescript fashion
Tonight I am past that post and moving steadily on to uncomfortable lands
That lie outside the community of childish thoughts and sour thinking
My person remains as foolish and eccentric as if you had never touched it
But my opinions are well, well guarded since you euthanized the colt of confidence that once kept me from sharing your grounds
My voice is as drained now as the day I gave you the power that you so desperately fought for
My children, my precious little thoughts, watched as you burned and destroyed our happy home
Shortly after I welcomed you in to dry your tears, to warm your bones
And nurse reopened wounds
The unimaginable fears I once had faith would never touch me
Someone else had made it goal to seep as poison into what was once me
I now suck and spit vehemently to rid myself of the things you left me to bleed out on my own time
And that logical smell of dead animals follows my every step
My lips and throat are tired, as you can never imagine
My voice is hoarse with cries for help
If there is one thing you have taught me harshly
It is that we are each and all alone in this
The self I knew is slowly making known
All of its plans and actions
Coughing, sputtering, choking out whispers
Pale and sunken, but alive by all loose terms of the word
She breathes
And I educate her into a positive existence again
Though I, and only I will hold her frail little body in my sights
I forgive the fact that so many of you will never really see her again

Thursday, September 17, 2009


In a not so empty house I recline
Void but for the lounging old dog
Faithful and alive
Inactive but for the thousand-year memories
And the taken task of sifting through the remnants of a family...
... my family...
... that was once so full and thriving and underappreciated and... well, here
But now so desperately longed for
Quiet but for the fathoms-deep conversations I take part in
With the inner most parts of me
Empty but for myself

At these solemn times of the most vulgar realizations of the things I had once and the space that replaced them
Yael's voice echoes and presses me gently, however forcefully, to tears
I open my mouth to sing a different verse
But I involuntarily clammer myself up
Cold hand pressed desperately into cold hand
Curled body to hard floor
For tonight I must give up the battle
And agree with the sole voice passively guarding my thoughts
That I am so lonely
So unashamedly, frighteningly, and irrevocably

Thursday, July 30, 2009


You prepare, in anticipation of the beginning
For the point of meeting, head on, what you know will come
But the day to day routines you must accustom yourself to during the changing aftermath are always uncertain
And this is when you truly learn

You prepare, in anticipation of the end
For the point of meeting, head on, what you know will come
But the day to day routines you must accustom yourself to during the changing aftermath are always uncertain
And this is when you truly learn

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Fallacy: A Lazy Man's Defense

It seems an undue punishment
That, possibly, in reality I did deserve
For misgivings and mistreatments imposed on those who stopped here before you
But, to be truthful, as this supposed complication undulates
It is simpler than you and I originally thought
When humans who are nothing more than humans
Discontinue an irrational belief in fates and curses
They are faced with their own decisions, faults, and barriers
Now, all decisions are acts of will
And can be altered
Faults are merely obstacles that can be overcome
And every barrier, with equally applied force and determination
Can be broken, does not hold us to any such pattern we have victimized ourselves with
Oh, why you don't look harder, I'll never understand
Why you still believe instead of manifest, I'll never know
That fact remains, and it is a blatant one
That this is not the way things are
This is only the way that you have let them become
'Doomed' is a fallacy you have lazily burdened yourself with
The way that you are, a lie with which you have cushioned your inability to try
The notion that you feel you do not excel with you and I
Is not your incapacity to love, but your unwillingness to try
A harsh reality that I have come to realize
And altered myself over time
Once you truly understand that life, that love, are difficult
It is only a new striving that could be attained
In all my admiration of you, I see this one flaw
Something not concrete unless you choose, again, to cement it as a part of you
That you are so willing to give it up
And pass this off as something unchangeable in you
Is unfathomably sad, and a path to certain failure
There is more to you than this, I'm certain of it
And with time, you will come to fully grasp this
That doom is a silly and childish thought and the only belief worth having is in yourself
And your ability to have, be, and do anything you have a passion for
And your will to make anything, even love, work well

Saturday, July 25, 2009

Unlike the Apple (For P.J.B.)

I have learned in my young age
I am learning as I write all of this to you
That certain questions are better unasked
And there are things that should never be said
Or have been said
I am patience at its peaking stamina
I am silence and the chosen study
Of diverting all attention from my face
Gradual as it is
I am told by some that the worth lies only a while ahead
I am told by some, by other somes
That this all wonderful as just a story
But the life I could be living has been buried by my striving for
What this could be
What might be waiting to reward me
What better of a life spent than never knowing
If you really return my love
Ignorance is calm
And happiness
And the feeling of only my own breath
Though, sometimes I'll admit
To make it easy
I pretend that it's only me and not halves parted over miles
And I do have my fears
Although to be fair to the audience I've claimed
I stifle them
A lack of courage never made for an interesting account of events
Like a fruit, I may very well bruise
And you may very well have been bruised
But unlike the apple
We have the choice and mechanics to heal
Like a child, I may very well be hurt
And you may very well have been hurt
But you are an adult now, with a mindset to put it all behind
If that is what you...
Well, for now, that is only what I wish
Respectfully, I decline to be a reason for you to hold to that past any longer
As I am witnessing
You are growing up so fast, my love
Growing closer to the sun
And the dawning of who you truly are
Your world revolves so fast
Your swift seasons change the taste of you
And I am cowardly and courageous all at once
Curious all the same
And getting used to things that way...

Sunday, July 12, 2009

That I Do

This must be love
That is to say, what is left when the romance is over
When the effort is on but one
When you feel it and I live it
For the most part I have learned that this is you
And not to ever take it personally
But, at times, I can't help but think
Maybe if I were not the person in the place that I find myself
Would things plateau the remarkably quick way that they have
At least in my eyes...
What do I do in this position?
How do I tell you
That I love you and that I just want that returned
Where do I leave this?
How long do I keep this in me
Before you or I decide that this is going nowhere
Do I know in what way I could have stopped it?
And what could I have done?
That I just love you... that was supposed to be enough
When that someone on the other side of me
Turns to realize that silohuette has replaced me
How long before he realizes
That what was good for only him
Was what I tried to live up to
How many times has he watched my fight my own words
Without ever even knowing that I really had something to say each time
How many forgotten words will he suddenly remember
Only to say them when I am too far to hear
What will he do when I let him know
That all I really ever cared about was to know that I was something
He cared about
What will he think when he knows of all the times I exhibited a stronger self control
When all I wanted to do was leave the logic
And love him unconditionally
And I do
Though I am learning
That I do...
What does he do in this position?
Does he speak with everything that is inside of him?
Does he tell me that my patience has been all at once rewarded
Does he love me? Does he thank me for my time?
Where does he leave this
Or does he leave it at all?
Does he connect that way I've hoped for all this long...
Does he know in what way he could have shown me this?
And does he know what on earth he could do?
Does he just love me?
If so... that will always be enough
And without limit I love him
Regardless of his blindness
Whether self-induced or out of his hands
When you read this will you realize
That the good in me is for you
And that I cannot wait a second if I had to
Just to see your face
That I imagine you with me, sometimes
That I have someone to be grateful to for more than he knows
And that he is you
That I love you
That I am here

Saturday, July 11, 2009

If I Were That Man

She looks to me and sighs
Before she sings
She says, "You're about to hear it all... all of my honesty."
She sings a lonely song
And I can't imagine
The calm on her face could ever hide the pain in these lines
"When I know that I am here for nothing
I will know that I've truly found home
And he loves me, yes, but in his own way
I know the truth inside, but sometimes it feels as though it's gone."
I can't help but to glance at the curve of her back
And long to make a tension released there
I wonder how he loves and what keeps it so far
That she can feel the way she does now
She says, "I have been bruised
I have been cheated
Being kept at a distance is better than hurting."
But what if I could be that same man for you
With a different complexion and a haven for you
If you would stay here with me
Only a few hours
Not forget, but set aside what you know to be appropriate
You would see everything that I have tried to tell you
And the choice would still be yours
Because if I were that man, I would love you
Not only in my own way, but in the way you deserve
And you would not have to doubt
That I am here, the I am true
That I care nothing for the world, but to make it a good home for you
The tiny lines on your hands
The curve of your fingers
And ever blossomed freckle on the skin of your face
These things are beyond what they seem
You are a creature your own
Something I would desire, but something I would never know
I care for the days between here
And when your heart stops it beating
To make them exactly what you thought they would be
I care for the way that you walk
That you do not stumble
Or take paths marked by promises that will never be kept
Because if I were that man, I would closer to me
And not high with comparison
I would give my own heart
To have a creature such as you
Wander onto my grounds and find shelter in my home
If I were that man
I would have thought so much more
Not only of you
But of how I could make the moment better
I would climb out to the farthest branch
And risk what I know
Just to hear you sing something
In a happier note
When I am that man
I will love you
You will not sing to yourself
Because you won't be alone

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Ah, To Be Different... Like Them...

My tongue must have tripped slightly in my nervous state
When I requested changes brought about within myself that only outside forces could shape and being
Between Illumination and Lunacy some small syllable was sadly lost on its way
Between my lips and their ears
And the outcome of my fervent pleas remains a great let down
You'd think that for all their omniscience they could have read a feeble mind
You'd think that for all their concern they'd have repeated it back to me
But now, uncorrected, the course has been set into unalterable motion
And for all foolish struggle, I can't seem to salmon up through these pounding waves
Or maybe this just happens to everyone at some point in their lives
Possibly multiple episodes of this same exact questioning arises
Who would have thought that your problems are not your own
That this isn't unique
That the same fears have crossed all different thoughts
All these years
Yet, for the similarities between in flesh and in blood and in mediocricy
The element that blends is the driving force to envision ourselves set aside from the shapeless sea of bipedals
Something astoundingly new
But the name that they gave you is... You
A jumpstart of the heart to the willing
And no one with equal time to talk when searching an engagement
But, too many creatures the same when all goal is to be strange
I am the intentional difference!
Hear me(!)... blend into the everyday mumble of this perfect, running engine...

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Goodbye to Belief

There is something so extraordinarily unsettling in knowing that you could have said something when you didn't.
There is something so unequivocally sad in the pursuit of a real freedom.
There is a pain in the realization of a truth you have been trying to bury.
Suffocation occurs most by attempt to fill void souls with cotton like beliefs and words.
I am taking your name from the docket.
I am suffering myself no more.
I am severing the one steel silk thread that connected your problem to mine,
Which in all of its strength, really wasn't that difficult to do.
I am okay in recline, and I know this well.
You, at times, say that you're fighting, but for what?
I am the only decay to myself and I know this without having to research the medical terms.
Honestly, this isn't helping matters much.
I don't feel as though I should speak today.
I go on stealing my vices and I certainly pay the price on the dime.
Stop believing in predestination and judges... and suddenly the sky seems so much bigger...
Suddenly the world is filled with so much wonder...
Suddenly you realize that you alone fight or embrace this.
Because you are alone.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

I Could Have Continued... and Then There Was You

Though I can't be certain where I should be

I know when I should speak

And keeping quiet until spoken seems a test of endurance

I am taxed on all sides by an equal diversity of thought

When awe and horror collide in such a way

To mix epiphany with frustration

Well, it's something you've never known

Something you really don't have to understand

You haven't the capacity for this as well

So, close your eyes and your ears to the manifestations of all that I have felt as of late

I don't blame you

But it still is rather a lonely bench where I find rest

"Nothing ever happened"

As you so deftly rearrange all of my grief

Coast me to avoid what you and I both know to be real

I could find a kindred spirit

And we could deteriorate together

We could loathe, but allow, the decay of this world

And aid in the demolition of one another

We could feel sorry for ourselves

And plan a selfish escape from all the reasons

That we've been here this long

But I wanted to live, you know

I wanted you

It is much easier said than done

Living the present gentle and ravenous disposition that I have been dealt

These are things that I prayed you would never once have to waste a thought with

So I smile when I answer the telephone

And avoid you when I am forlorn

Suddenly you realize why at times

I won't speak for days

I could find someone who knows my troubles

But those who relate are are the kindred cursed with this

And that is a disaster just itching to happen

I could find another selfworthless someone

A mind as mine in one other distant and present form

And we'd fight by the hour and love when we're done

Just to feel anything but the reality that even together we are alone

And when it all becomes too difficult

We'd end more than our union and give up the ghost

Instead of believing in tomorrow

In ourselves

In true love

But, no... I have come to find

That I wanted to rediscover reason

I have come to find you

And that is reason enough

Friday, June 26, 2009

The Dear Wait (For P. J. B.)

A pane of glass that views the world in return

The cracks that stem from memories of it

And movements that bring out

The broken innocence

An equal force of dark and of light

Crashes at a time in life

When not else matters but to see your face

As patience is key in this

I will stay a planted fruit tree

Stationary on your landscape

And strong in anticipation of your return to me

To care for me

And to reap every benefit that life has provided me

Just to give them back to you...

Beauty in a sense of thinking

Is product of nurture and nature in action

And tiny gestures that have made their way across this vast land

Have had something to do with

A growth in me

Of a lush sense of wonder in seeing the way that your face takes shape

When you laugh

There's no need to worry, fret, or fear

Over fate or the stumbling flukes that led me to you

As patience is the only use of time at this moment

I'll remain as a taken picture

On the wall that looks northeast from all hurt that lies in the past

Framed in the finest circumstances that surround us

And our progress in this

To be kept in the house of your heart that remains

For your certain return

From a hard day of spending the life

Of a man in this world

I will thrive on the thought of composing you into my arms

And the love that I only just have learned is able within me

To gather up the every blessing that time has allowed me to produce

And refine them all

Just to give them back to you...

The Dear wait in a loved existence

For one another again to be within reach

And the Dear Wait is a worthwhile time

In the value of the touch of your hand

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Thoughts on Thoughtfulness (Thank You, Solomon. Thank You, Father)

While listening to his hands
I can only think of yours
Weathered with the work of a lifetime
The constant building of yourself
The foundations of all that we are in turn
An intern to the true ways of living
I have learned
I am learning to apply
The high notes are the soft tones that your voice was so well known for
Never by surprise
Every piece of a love that you were making in me
In hopes that the rest might one day see
My hands are taking to a mold
That you so inexhaustibly perfected
Heroes are not just figments of my mind
Though the way I remember things sometimes seems to be
And very possibly is
I would rather know it all that way
Early evenings
Porch seranades
The many fathers that I have had in the few years that I have been
All of them missed
You were the impenetrable force
You are now safe inside my impenetrable walls
Your words and actions are the mortar that holds this structure in its place
I know that it was this
And that it was you
That gave the orders to let it stand
Even when the demolition attempts came from so close to home
Outside of the body are so many occurences
Inside the body are so many assassins
And yet I stand
I give you some of the credit
Because I know not to whom I should offer
I am angered at times
I have not yet thanked you
But I am persistent as you, now
In an attempt to keep me here and aware
You never read these words
Or any others that I may have written
And, while you never knew where my mind was leaving off to
You knew it was never here
It is with you, now that you are not
It leaves off to find you
And as a consequence to the situation
My body never will
It has tried
And without rejection
You have denied me that much
So the day goes
So the holiday goes
In your absence
As any other day
The gratitude I have is only to the endless choices that you made
While you had the time
While that time was falling short
And then, when there was none
And as I begin my every day with these words
Goodbye again
Titles that you could never have lived up to
Erroneous being that you were
Now, in death, you have seemingly mastered...


Ah, and here...

Here is to the tumultuous waves of great disappointment

And the happiness in between

To the thrilling, sickening throwing of the world at ourselves, and ourselves at the world

And to the feeling of ricochet

To the memory of the collision

Here is to remembering
By God, remembering anything at all

Here is to the thorn and the honey

To the rusted sweetness of those who pursue it

Here is to the music that medicates all ills

Whether to the better or to the worse

Here is to the lonely state of things

For, in fact, only then are you really free

Here is to realizing that truth is difficult

That hope is commendable

That worry is abhorred

That both are useless and void

Here is to nonexistent time

Nonexistent future

Nonexistent past

To the understanding that the one is beyond reach

That the other is selective

It never really happened the way that you remember it

Here is to patience

The birth child of hope

To the idea of someday

That someday you will see me as a necessity to your life

As a key addition to your already complete existence

As a desire to your side

Here is to the unmentionable

Which we will not mention here

And to the different meanings that it will take on

Ear to ear

Here is to death

To the years upon years that I will not be

In contrast to the short time in which I am

To that education only do I owe my present vision

Here, they say

Take it
If you please, or don't
Take what has been given

And endless portion of whatever confronts you

And do with it

What you will

Do with it

Anything and all

For, ignored

It will remain


And the constant turns of supposed waste

Will flourish your garden

To blooms you had never known

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Every Sad Farewell

The girl that I knew once
The woman who made me
A little more of who I am
Changed in ways
For the better
Even in the things that I learned from her
As she disappeared from my every day
Those every days when I watched her move
When I wondered what she was doing
The times when she was not in sight
She was beautiful in the morning
Sitting outside with her cigarette, or sometimes just the new day's air
An artwork so still and so simple
The appeal lay on her face
Along with the landscape of her contemplations
Where her every emotion
Her every fear
Her every joy
Flowered new blooms and grew into a world
And I, I could only see what the surface of her features allowed me
I wanted only to know more of the place she appeared to be
Every living thing she touched
Responded to her gentleness
Every stoic object
Seemed to do the same
Or to be made more alive my the tracing of her fingers
The way she held her spoon as she stirred her coffee
The lips that seemed to say so much when sitting comfortable against each other
Her eyes have told me a thousand different tales and truths
That I have only begun to understand
Now that she has taken them away indefinitely
She listened to music, and it moved her
The piano seemed to trace outlines of her soul
So now I listen to the music, and it moves me
As I try to grasp on to the remainder of what I knew of her
Little memories start to flood
There are times I pretend long enough to believe
That I have no qualms with the fact that she's gone
There are times when every pretty, sad song makes her come alive in me
When she smiled near me, the world joined in
From person to animal to rock
At least, to me
Though I try to recreate it, it does no good to me
Every word within my grasp doesn't seem to be enough
Every thought of her, as strong as I will it
Cannot manifest her to me again
We had a life, one life
One that I would like to live again
And the fighting, it was all from me
I was ever angry only with me
For the simple fact that I changed her for a moment
From whole to hurting
For the things I think of now that I could have done for her
When I had my whole life to do them
But every present second mattered more
I imagine her days now
With me where I am, in the past
I envision myself as her shadow
Just to watch the artistry of the every way she moves
And the independence that surrounds her in the smallest of way
My favorite piece of music
My delicate, lovely, variable canvas
The most eloquent and stirring verse I've ever had the chance of reading
I know that i was veritable, now
I know everything that it meant to me, now
I know what I would do to turn this world around, now
I know what I love, now
And that it is her
Now that she and it and everything with it
Has said goodbye
Has walked away
Is gone

Sunday, June 7, 2009

All the Same (P.J.B.)

There is nothing quite like the feeling
Of the realization that one is once and always
So totally alone
The fear and the freedom that come with it are equally as strong
Forgotten, avoided, abandoned, ignored
I know not which category I fall into
For that matter... if any at all
But I do wonder at times, why
If I am always a thought on your mind
Simple gestures toward me do not seem to cross it
My love
Ah, my love
All of it, you know you had
And still do at the slightest of efforts
And at a moment's notice
But if you have no use for it
If you do not want it
Or if there is simply no room for it now
Well, then that is a new reality that I, alone, must face
Once again, I, alone, must face
I continue to live my life
Not as though I had never known you
But I continue to apply the changes you have inspired in me
Where to realize the aspirations that I had a potential for
The courage was lacking
That extra push that I needed to see and attain these things
You supplied
And I continue to love you
As though you were here, beside me
I continue to bless you
Because you are the dearest of friends
And if this love is a love that you can be better by
If you will that this is a love to grow stronger
Well, I would do no good to myself by waiting or expecting on your word
But know, while I am living, I am thinking of you
And when that word decides to come
Oh, if that word decides to come
At whatever hour it might be
I will be elated to receive it and respond
All the same

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Lost Love: Thoughts From Another to Me. (For P.J.B.)

Who's got you, Dear?
What's holding you back?
When you know, Dear
We'll launch a full attack
Because nothing can withstand us
When you and I both coincide
Whatever it is, Dear
It's not stronger than you and I

Who's got you, Dear?
What's taken your love?
Careless demons
You've given your time to taking care of
Though, for now, you can't give a name to them
They are taking the light from the smile
That was my sunshine
And I need that warmth again

Who's got you, Dear?
What's taken your smile?
When you find it
We'll bring it backover mountains and miles
I would love to see it
Because it feels like it's been seven years
But I have patience
And I'll be waiting with you here

Who's got you, Dear?
What's keeping you down?
If you're lost, Dear
At least you still know where I can be found
If the climb is too much for your legs
I will be there to take your turn
And carry you with me
Until we see you again

Who loves you, Dear?
Who's pushing you on?
Lift your head, Dear
And you'll see someone who wants to see you strong
Whatever it is, Dear
You are still who I want in my life
And this sadness will pass, Dear
You'll be back to us in no time

Monday, June 1, 2009

From the Lost Archives

I can only make a guess as to when I wrote these... some of them date back to the tender age of 14, so I will let it begin there. Papers torn from notebooks, patterned journal pages, the backs of receipt tickets... they are here, now, when I had honestly forgotten that they existed. I will try to post them in the order of oldest to youngest, but I am probably making a shoddy estimate.

I give way, now, to these things, though not altogether without a bit of embarrassment! For, you see, I'm reading them for the first time again as I post them here. So, make of it what you will... I'll leave you to it!


If I am too young for you

Why do you try so hard

When I'm still, in sight

A girl

A little girl

All you gentle men

Who have love

You'll have to wait until I come of age

It's just as well this way

It just wouldn't be right... or legal, you know

This girl

Little girl

Why do you still bring this up?

Why are you making you old?

I never wanted to be the pedophile's prize

But I'll agree to be your medicine...

When you need some...

Little girl


You have her hand

Be careful with it

She uses a gentle shampoo

That should say enough

I swear to God

If you hurt her

I'll kill you


He killed a bird

A bird

A bird

He killed a songbird

What if it wasn't one?

He knows he killed something

Sitting on his window

Possibly just because it had a song

And a song was more than he was

He killed a bird

But what if it wasn't a bird?

A bird

What if it happened to be me?



What if it happened to be me?

Queen (For J.L.U.)

You wore platform shoes

And glittered

You were once a child, too

Believing in pictures

Believing in mirrors

Believing in your reflected makeup masks

Felicity, was it fun

In you suit, tie, and eyeshadow?

Felicity, you cry

Holding your youth

As the smoke goes away

Everything fades with it

Felicity, a doll

Felicity, you cry

You've covered your suit and tie

With a party dress

You were beautiful

In a hologram

Still, the memory of mothers

And the things they say...

You were beautiful

You would take the world


If I spoon fed you tears

Would you rain again on me

Loving with picture show, theater faces

In an air conditioned room

You left the keys in the door

And it was cold enough for winter snow

Words on Waking (For D.L.S.)

I found your words in my bed

Your body with me

In my small outline, you seem to fit perfectly

And there are stains on this paper

From other lives I lead

Where it rains

Falls, and I, too

I miss you when I have to go there

And I love you

Nothing between our souls

Everything between ourselves

That could make life,

And you, happy

But I won't let you see another life

Only the world with you in it

And I'll hold to things that drive away the rain and all thoughts, but you


Did I tell you that I woke up to see you

And that I could only love you more than words

Plate (For C.A.H., D.L.S.)


There is no real love

There is no real peace

In the way you talk

I hope that every word you say

Ends up back on your own plate

Where I and my friend stand

Already half-eaten

Or at least having been in your mouth

So... be male!

Be a man!

I still love you

This is just how I am letting myself feel right now

And I hate that

No, I don't want to talk about it

It will be gone tomorrow

And I want it to be

For the first time

Distraction From the Sermon (For S.R.E., C.T.T.)

Strangers, entertain my angels

With electricity

Inside your soul

Inside your hand

You hold your own love

I'll break you

If you ask me to

With your silent lips

And you won't know who

Until you do look for me

And your feet are on the wall

But you won't let it go

Angels carried you this far

You can live through this

Sand is not gone

It is only time

And sifts through your fingers

Like the trains in your head

So... smile for me

Strangers, entertain my angels

You said something about clay

Untitled (For C.T.T.)

I'll climb out of myself, tonight

And use your spine as a ladder

We'll be safe to stay the night

Inside the thought that I could be wrong

You are that thought

The complete lack of judgement

That makes me wrong about most things

But not about us

This is an aquarium

And I'd rather swim than walk, anyway

You know this

You are the only one

Who has spelled my name out in my freckles

And I owe you my head

Pockets (For C.H.)

I have something small to tell you

But please don't think it so strange

And don't you dare worry an ounce

Or at all

Because it was all in love

Just as I am now, with you

And it only hurts for a second

A minute

From prick to heal

Instead, if you should ever ask how I can think at all

As much as I do of you

You'll have an answer

Something to know

I've made a small pocket

Well, a few

Sewn a small pocket into everywhere

Attached to every place I can think of

To think of you

For every small way I remember you, a pocket

And sometimes, a pocket just to make a thought

In the back of my eyes, a part of you

Your face, to see as clearly as possible, whenever I close my eyes

In my ear, your voice to keep me warm when it's so quiet around me, here

In my heart, every little thing that can be thought of

To make you as you

As much of you as you are

Sometimes overwhelming

How happy, abnormal we once were

And should be soon, so soon

Not soon enough...


Whee I lay, one to keep your body

Or the ghost, thereof, while you're away

I keep it there , safe and warm, until I should need it... tonight

Another small, cold night

On my tongue, the words play over and around

And through my head, life, and day... to day... to day...

And speak like you would to me, just to have you there

And in each of my fingers... the tips... a small pocket

They were the first, you see

The first to heal so the rest of the job may be done

These scars that you see are not scars, but my thoughts

That these tips may be used someday to patch up those pockets of yours as they need it

And, as every pocket does scar

And bleed

For a moment the pity is well


As they do become one with the skin that surrounds them...

You'll be there

A permanent fixture on me

That no one can replace

One that I cannot leave, and would never wish to

You will see, I am willing to do this one little thing

As I wait...

As I wait...

She (For J.L.U.)

She can't be love

But maybe enough

To last me through the weekend

His arms tire me

And make me scream

I feel so tied up, but find no threads

Make me love you

Make me cry

It's just what I'm needing to get me by

Make me want to hurt myself

Then I will use up someone else

Sitting alone is probably better

Than spitting all my pain out at her

She complains of being wet

Crying when I've done nothing, yet

You don't know what I could do

Taking one piece, and making two

You would never walk again

If you knew how I feel by the end

Blend the break with your acid words

And burn the places where you know you were

All this time you've spent alone

And missed your chance to be my home

How I love you when you cry

Like I'm playing reaper

How I love her when she sings

And helps me breathe in deeper


Breathe, my friends

Tonight we're together

Tomorrow, we'll end

Shelf Life (For J.K.H.)

I'll be on the dustiest shelf

Of the room you never touch

With the dusts, the dirt of another time

The particles left behind

From stories unfinished

Or, in fact, completed

Or, even still, continued on where the mountain didn't

Where the story had simply fallen off

And should have died sooner

Which makes one understand

That some medication should never be taken

Some lives should not be sustained

Nor pain prolonged

Please, have the dignity to let me go

Then again, my love, how will we tell the difference?

Who will be writing; telling what should be told?

Self Imposed Evils

It could have been so unfortunate
And it very probably was, or was not
But for all your vexatious efforts
You cannot remember a single thing
Whether the night was light or dark
You will never recall
Above knowing what really happened
Your cause for caterwaul
Is the squandering of that inestimable thing; precious awareness
And the repetition of unscrupulous acts under the shadow that only you have cast upon yourself
And the repetition of a day to day, unchanging sequence; revolution, destruction, defeat
And the repetition you appear to both resign yourself and blind yourself to
And the repetition...
Well, it continues on
Much as an unconquerable weed
Interloper on your, once, somewhat peaceful landscape
Marring the very ground that once held you so firmly up and erect
And for miles upon miles
You see nothing but the transformation
Of a beautiful home into a desolate wasteland
And all because you, yourself, passed by
Without uprooting this unholy blemish
Stupidly neglecting it for sheer harmlessness in size, or so you chose to believe at the time
And, in the absence of a fight, it grew
Or, perhaps, became the many
Until the problem, nourished on the generous donation of neglect
Had become too great a structure to move alone
Or had suffocated you in an overbearing crowd of its clones
Such a horrible way to die
Knowing that you could have prevented it
Misplace the soul... and the mind and body are sure to follow readily after
This if going to take more strength than you first anticipated
Are you ready to begin?

Sunday, May 31, 2009

I Am Meant to Write

Until the dictionary fails me
Until the thesaurus is abused
Until the languages are learned
Until synonym, antonym, syllable, and spelling are all but barren beyond fruition of thought
Until the words can take on no new meaning
And I am forced to fabricate my own
Even then, I will pen on
Combination after combination of definition and pronunciation
And imagery and subtle magic
It thoroughly amazes me
The endless conglomeration of dictations
The pungent potpourri of variable expressions and interpretations
This is a true passion
And undying dedication
To the succulent appeal of the formations that make an experience upon undulation
Every lovely blossom as innocent in view
As sensual on the tongue
As liberating to the voice
As melodic to the ear
I enfold myself in the ever cool and calm pages before me
Anticipatory of a rousing discovery
Some new formula of correspondence with the outer world
I place my constant reliance on the belief in interpreted understanding
As little as I know of this world and this life
I am beholden to the donor of such a gracious gift
To convey what I know and know not
To communicate the growth and learning that will most assuredly come
I am awed and inspired
To know a codependent love such as this
Thought, page, and pen
And a healthy abundance of all
I am capable, willing, and elated to pursue
And will continue to long after I cease
And my returns are a happy and gratified many

A Patient Cause

There are many things you may never know
But not for my own exhausted efforts
There are things I would love to make you understand
But, Darling, I fear I don't have the capacity
The illustrations, the syllables
Though my eyes, my voice, my patience
They strain to make it known to you
And I meditate on the notion that you might clearly see it day by day
Even if, in truth, you still seem to let it elude you
The clearing that my mind takes
At the thought of your fondest actions, places, moments in time
That you allow me to experience with you through your own recollections
The soothing that reaches up through the bottom-most part of me
That which penetrates out at the world through my very pores
When I feel, even for an instant, that you are thinking of me
And the cold rush of an undeniably calming breeze
That is your voice saturating my weary and fevered ears
In whatever state, good or evil, that your words may be forming from
You, my Dear, are by turns a warm sun, a generous cloud, a penetrating rain
Merely by the positions of your identity
And it is always exactly the need I couldn't name
At a time that I didn't know it existed
You are an axis to my being, even if only now
And a blessed determinate view before my endlessly unfolding pathway
Though I know you will never let yourself agree
For modest hearts do always struggle with letting appreciative truths just be what they are
And though such short-lived acts as speech and touch
Will never rightly convey my love
Love is time, and my time I devote to you
Longer than it may take to prove
And, even still, after you believe me
My cause
Will be making it known all over again to you

Friday, May 29, 2009

A Cry For Help

I began to hate the night not so long ago
It was just before my unenthusiastic gaze met your face
And, though I felt what I was about to do was wrong
For both you and I,
I proceded
I sincerely damn the longing that is within me
And I am still not sure what it is for
The days when I had everything within my reach
Were the same days that I wanted none of it
Now that I have lost everything
I cling to the fabricated memory of what could have been
Every detail of what I could have been
I can smell the mold in the walls of the old house
Where I have so willingly, and yet unwillingly become imprisoned
I wish for the return of simple momentary things that were, not so long ago, docile in my palm
I have closed myself off from the world
When all that I long for from the very depths of me is a company
Is it any company that I pine for?
Or is it a particular being that I will to be near?
The house is empty, but for me
The sleeping dog gives no comfort, as he has no idea
All I see are me are the negative tool of internal and external destruction I could, at a set mind, employ... but, no
The silence has enclosed me and cornered me to a frightening place
And yet the ringer on the phone has been turned off
I am willing this ever further
This imminent departure
Yet the only concerns that I have are not for me
I have written the letters and shrugged away the apologies that I once decided would only be polite to give
I have realized, only now, the pointless logic of what has been pressing my mind
The very truth that things will only happen when all circumstances come into play at the right time
And every morning, the new light reawakens me
Only to fade with the dusk
Could I alter the path of this planet's rotation and keep myself in the sun's full view at all times, I would
If only to postpone, and possibly discourage this feeling
For, you see, as the night falls
With it recedes my confidence to continue
A twenty-four hour looping struggle that has had me weary up to this time
The romanticized books, meant to distract my wandering mind
Have served only to realize the lack of whatever is not here that much stronger
I have read ten to twenty 'I love yous' per chapter
I have seen the words there, plain as day
I have heard the words in my head over and over
Only to be reminded that they were not for me
And how strongly the desire stands to hear them
To crash recklessly into the body of whoever happens to utter them
And fasten myself submittedly to it
Still a child, I know
As it is blatantly obvious, now
That for all the eloquence of my sly attempt at convincing myself not to believe in something so irrational
I still feel the absence of its presence
There are people I could phone
But the only voice I could bring myself to listen to does not answer
I have seen why I loathe the darkness
My discontent for the evening grows larger by its every dark blossom
It is nights like these, uneventful, calm, and completely silent
That I can so clearly envision the accomplishment of what was set out to happen since the moment of my birth
There is a lack of interest, now, in my perch on this chair
In the clutter around me
In the people who have seemed, so willingly, to deny the persistence of anything wrong within me
Or perhaps my presence, altogether
And for all of this silence, I still feel as though I have said too much
A cry for help brings no help
When it is perfectly and pointedly composed

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Quiet As A Mouse

There were moments when
I knew you were my love
But knowledge lacking truth
Is simply not enough
The road began to fork
The way you went was yours
My cries had given out
You left me quiet as a mouse
You left me quite alone

I thought you would come home
And come home, well, you did
To a burning plot
Where a good house once did sit
And I don't know you, now
I'm scared you might get bored
I'm quiet as a mouse
You'd run to another lady's house
That hasn't yet burned down

I killed the little girl
I never got to know
But she's still here with me
And everywhere I go
And when she breathed her last
She screamed aloud
"I'm scared... It's quite as a mouse.
My time is quickly running out.
I haven't seen the world."

Can a woman learn
The lesson from the sin

I Am Convinced, My Love

I am convinced, my love
That soon we will each find our own place
And together we'll grow
Or in earnest, each watch as the other reaches higher at an equal pace
And our strength
Separately, is greater than we know
And together, we need never battle
Simply our presence will ward away all evils
Negativity should never touch us
Remember that as you walk every painful of seemingly unnecessary path
The travel is long
The journey is all the blessing... and the prize
Even if, now, it seems well hidden and disguised from us
I am convinced, my love
We will rise above what we now know
Over careers and daily activities our potential shows
And as learning never stops
An insatiable appetite for life continues its course in us
Through us
From one to the other
Even falling to error, we simply will pick up and strive with a better understanding
This I believe for us, each of us
For you and I, so far we we are each still standing...
Judicious fates have walked us along a path to discover one another
Though the route of their plans will not make itself known
This is the bravest step
The most fearless march
That we have taken on in the name of what good lies in this world
And in the name of what bonds the alone to the alone and makes them something so remarkably more
I am convinced, my love
That we each have the power to resist giving up
Though the option is always right before us
The simplest of answers is not what makes this question so profound
The courage over what lies here
Is so markedly clear, now
All I pray is that we inspire the unsteady to go ahead and jump
Fly or fall
Damn the strange and defy it all
And crash safely into the definition of what this life is for
This I believe, my love
When it comes to our love
And the purpose of it all

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Please, Do. Plant Me.

What weight on my shoulders?
Oh, that man...
Oh, that woman...
Oh, the nagging sense of fear over mere communication
Am I the crime, or criminal?
That I have become chained to the idea of...
There are no others nearby, now
I bloody apologize!
There is no clear patch of land to plant my feet
I am hanging above it
Clockwise, forward, backward...
And counterclockwise
I feel the soft tap of the bark on my skin
From where the rope has rubbed it raw
But I cannot touch the tree
I cannot touch anything
I bloody apologized!
The only thing nearby
Is the very thing keeping all others at bay
This field of forced loneliness
Seems to pointless
When the one who built it abandonded it long ago
Break down the barriers!
(I beg you)
Cut down this rope!
(I plead)
Breathe song into my lungs once more
Oh, you gentle hand
From which, for all horrid reason (all out of my control)
I have been pushed away
My hands are now limp
And I cannot feel my lips
Except to say
I'm calling your name, sir!
I'm screaming it out!
Don't give up!
No, don't give up!
I love you, I do
But it is so hard to express it
From this hung home
You told me you thought I was an faerie above you
Now you know
I was only a struggling body...

There Is No Point

There is no point to it
And by that, I mean this sword
How can I stand up in battle
Against horrible thoughts
And by a sword I mean a love
That may as well not be felt
As dull as you've made this blade
It will never be feared
Never sought for the fight
So I dig this dull blade into my own skin
And I'll be the only one to feel it
Where it could have brought cities down, darling
It's just killing me now
And by my own will
Do I let it
Do I swear I'll never do it again
I will shelf this sad object
The useless piece of anything
Other than what it could really be
However, it is enough to cause pain
And with the right sort of pressure
Has penetrated me
And will one day rip right through...

Breathe In the Norm

Ah, what new confusing step is this?
What severe motion,
What odd tap dance,
That I could not prepare myself for...
I heave.
I sigh.
I breathe in the norm.
I cough profusely...
The restraint on my voice,
The barriers on my eyes,
Are the very pulse of my reactions
To this world.
Allergic to the experience?
No, merely frightened.
It's merely uncertainty sustained by my own drowning logic.
Cross your fingers for me, please!
Cross your heart over my own...
Cross this intersection
Onward, to brighter and better things!
A more beautiful existence,
That relies solely on a passion
For what I never imagined to amount
Let alone, embrace.
Good luck.

Start the Reconstuction

An odd complex
An unsure interest
A strange curiosity
A willing waiver
An honest mistake
A future you may or may not hold
A friend, packed away
A bolting, shy creature
A frailty that I already know
An equation I understand
A miscommunication
A sudden awareness
An eccentric compassion
A hidden euphoria
An obvious chaos
An awkward oblivion
A detour from the right path
A shade tree along the wrong one
A reflection on my pool
A new branch on my tree of life
A thing to be afraid of
And one to make afraid
A hidden meaning
A found inquiry
A crumbling foothold
A firm quicksand
A nonexistent foundation... so far
Call it what you may, Friend
You have undone me
Your job lies ahead
May the reconstruction begin...