tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36314435789982642502024-02-19T23:35:23.646-08:00Track of...Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-67627775268767466702010-01-03T20:31:00.000-08:002010-02-18T08:34:15.136-08:00UntitledThrough my particular view from the top of this particular building, the world seemed rather unsettling today; a little too complex, you know? I suppose that's just how it is when you reach a climax in your life. Shape up or ship out. Keep up or get left behind. Grow up or... well, I'm sure that you know the alternative, or that you can wager a guess.<br />Such was the temperament of the day and the atmosphere of this particular location, at least to me.<br />The odd thing in all is, of course, being that it felt right. This entire scenario just seemed completely mapped out... predestined by something or someone far wiser than I; possibly something a little more sadistic, as well; but wiser, nonetheless.<br />So, if this situation was entirely a product of fate and the combined workings of the universe, predetermined, or at least know in advance by the gods or whatever other intangible factors were directing this scene... why didn't I know what was happening next? Why couldn't I remember my line?Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-50124358328012978892009-12-30T08:32:00.000-08:002009-12-30T08:42:03.310-08:00UntitledLove was once the subject cause of the solemn demeanor before you<br />A terrifying knowledge of the sense of tumultuous storms at the point and break<br />Had once held me prisoner<br />You, misunderstanding the misuse of every<br />Dripping, phonetic, wondrous, dedicated word<br />That I aim ceaselessly in your direction<br />You would have me explain things in a more rational voice<br />I would have you jump off the bridge of romantic logic<br />And for that, I may be misunderstood<br />However, that said, I will continue to push the boundaries<br />Of what can and should and will be called love<br />As you have pushed my once terribly, tragically linear existence<br />Into an unexpected plunge into a sharp, cool sea of undeniable purpose in life<br />Debtor, be kind<br />Murderer, slay me gently<br />Slowly<br />I want to watch my life being undone before my eyesChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-67681324335384445902009-10-30T18:04:00.000-07:002009-10-30T18:10:54.919-07:00The Collision: Maybe It Was a MistakeI don't remember much anymore of what happened that night. I only really know that you didn't care anymore. <br />The rest of the story... well, I have to rely on what other people saw that night. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />"Help. Please, someone get me out of here. PLEASE, JUST GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" <br />I heard metal scratch against itself and I felt a breeze. An open door and a voice. <br />"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." <br />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. <br />"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." <br />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." <br />"Honey, you can't go home. Not right now." <br />"Please, I'm fine. Just let me go home." <br />"Here, lie down over here. Someone's coming. Just lay here until they get here." <br />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? <br />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. <br />"Hi. Is *** there?" <br />She had a very exhausted tone as she said, "Yes, hang on just a second." <br />You just sounded annoyed. "Hey, what is it?" <br />"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?" <br />"What? Oh, fuck, Chelsea. Yeah, I'll be there in a minute." <br />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. <br />"What happened?" <br />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. <br />"I don't know," I whined, the tears starting to come. <br />"You look horrible." <br />"Was anyone else in the accident? I keep hearing about 'upside down' and stuff like that. I don't understand what anyone is saying." <br />"Chelsea, you flipped your car. Your... car... is... upside... down." <br />"I'm not stupid. You don't have to slow down... wait, what? No. My car is not upside down." <br />"Chelsea, really. Look." <br />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." <br />"Oooooooh..." I sobbed. "Fuck." <br />"You know you hit a telephone pole, right?" <br />"No." <br />"Well, you did. You hit it so hard it fell over. You're lucky no one else was hurt." <br />"I know that. How long was I out? Someone got their car seat out for me to lay on. Wasn't that nice?" <br />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." <br />"What?" <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />Mom. Oh, yeah. I should probably call her now. <br />She calmly answered the phone. "Where are you? What are you doing?" <br />"I'm at vuh hosvitow..." My lip had apparently swelled more since the last time I had tried to speak. <br />"I know. They already called me. I'm on my way." <br />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? <br />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. <br />"Sweetheart, what have you had for pain?" <br />"..... Huh?" <br />"Have you had anything for pain?" <br />"Vut do you nean?" <br />"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." <br />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. <br />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. <br />"Sthavles?" <br />"Yep. Staples. We're going to staple up your head. Just like paperwork!" <br />"Okaaay..." <br />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. <br />"Oh my God! I can see her skull!" <br />"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." <br />Mom got a little squeamish. "I need to go. I'm diabetic and I need to go eat something and..." <br />"Nom, juft thell them tha you awe gunma be sick and go. I'm fffine." <br />"She's fine, Mrs. Carr. You can go. We'll page you when we're ready for you again." <br />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. <br />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. <br />Hey, I told you I was high. We ain't talking about Tylenol. This was morphine. <br />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! <br />I looked at the nurse and started to unwrap my legs. I wasn't going to steal anything... not tonight. <br />"No, no, honey. That's yours. You can keep that." There was still blood on it. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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? <br />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. <br />"Hey! I was just listening to the Feist song and it made me think of you. How are you?"<br />"Well, I was in a car accident last night."<br />"Ha! No, really... how are you?"<br />"... well, I was in a car accident last night..."<br />"Oh my God! Are you okay?!"<br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />"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." <br />I wanted to scream at you. "I HAVE 19 FUCKING STITCHES IN MY HEAD AND I CAN STILL PICK UP A GODDAMNED PHONE!" <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />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. <br />How dare you. <br />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?<br />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. <br />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... <br />How DARE you! <br />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.<br />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. <br />Oh. <br />And I know that you lied.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-74436202776194774102009-10-30T17:41:00.000-07:002009-10-30T17:52:41.949-07:00ConstantAs a constant in my life<br />You've one responsibility<br />A word every once in a much too long while<br />I wouldn't ask for more<br />Because that would only<br />Give you reason and way to disappear<br />I've shut the door on our love<br />At least, on my love for you<br />But the latch is so flimsy<br />That it creaks and it moans<br />In its attempts to sneak out<br />All that I closed off inside<br />Or its attempts to draw me back in<br />Does it seem like years to you, too<br />Since we last were in the same room<br />Since the awkward motions of our newly born legs<br />I'm much too certain to doubt<br />That you are happier now<br />But I also know that I miss<br />Something somewhat like this<br />You reach out<br />Because you know that what you're meant for<br />Is something abominably unknown to me<br />You keep me safely away<br />From a desire to change<br />The distance we, at times, find ourselves still talking over<br />I learned from you<br />That it is better, much better<br />To be alone with yourself<br />Or at the very least, just imagine you're with me<br />But I still want to know you<br />As everything but a loss<br />And I've hidden this thought<br />Long enough up to now<br />But what I do know<br />You can never<br />This knowledge would only destroy me<br />And what I do not know<br />Is if you have ever<br />Do you still<br />Or would you ever<br />Want to love me againChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-11354667228817380122009-10-26T07:38:00.000-07:002009-10-26T08:20:29.866-07:00After 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.<br />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.<br />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."<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />"What have you done?"<br />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.<br />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.<br />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.<br />"I stole these from work."<br />"Why?"<br />"Well, I figured 60 was enough. Not too few, not too many. I didn't really want to waste them."<br />"Oh, Jesus, Chels. Why?"<br />"This is just all too much."<br />"The two jobs? Are you working too much?"<br />"No, everything."<br />"Was it the guys you're seeing? Did something go wrong?"<br />"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."<br />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.<br />"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."<br />"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.<br />"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."<br />"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?"<br />"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."<br />"Something happened last night, didn't it?"<br />"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."<br /><br />(To be continued...)Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-42728288179456221352009-10-11T07:04:00.000-07:002009-10-11T07:13:58.507-07:00All of the Gruesomely Kind and PoliteI say this in the most rigid confidence<br />And post it for all of the world to retain<br />That there are things that you, above all others, should know<br />All of 'You' being the innumerable reasons for my existence<br />I am still here<br />Though I am filtered<br />And the taste, not as pure as it once was<br />A very good reason<br />For you not to know me<br />That is, unless, you already have for a while<br />I scream at night when I sleep<br />I march with armies<br />Whose purpose is to overthrow the lords of my land<br />Fear and loathing<br />Astounding architecture<br />That freckles the nation we, once, all so enjoyed<br />Imitation remains the highest form of contempt<br />And reflection, the evil that cannot be tamed<br />"Oh, when will all of you idiots see what I see?<br />I AM NOT A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN..."<br />After years of betrothal to this body<br />And minutes made waste trying to coexist with this mind<br />I make attempts to be fully in love, once again<br />With the flesh that shares my bed and withholds me from escaping it<br />I work so hard to reach out<br />To every horrible thing I can see<br />That might be grasped<br />When it comes to the partner<br />I make efforts for no soul to ever know me<br />For I could never really share<br />What I wouldn't dare to partake in, myself<br />What an avoidably miserable stance<br />So, lover, if you love<br />Become a killer<br />A gruesomely handsome murderer of my past<br />And, your thoughts on building a bond<br />Turn to demolition<br />Of the fixed transgressions that I so heavily rely on<br />If the prop should be splintered<br />The girl that leans will surely fall<br />The outcome of the injury being solely dependent on you<br />Make it a worthwhile bruise<br />Or let me run without remorse<br />If the terror in all of this becomes too much<br />I may simply pop my tiny feet back into my shell<br />And wait to hear your footsteps' descending volume cease completelyChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-91029412627568953192009-09-27T18:09:00.000-07:002009-09-27T18:13:52.952-07:00Absolute TerrorWith 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.<br /><br />Thanks for creating that awful feeling in me.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-15571800356223103962009-09-19T19:33:00.000-07:002009-09-19T19:56:29.650-07:00That Logical Smell...Though I could easily have chosen the nonsense that flooded my head to pen down this evening<br />Though I could easily have strewn these words about in an artistically nondescript fashion<br />Tonight I am past that post and moving steadily on to uncomfortable lands<br />That lie outside the community of childish thoughts and sour thinking<br />My person remains as foolish and eccentric as if you had never touched it<br />But my opinions are well, well guarded since you euthanized the colt of confidence that once kept me from sharing your grounds<br />My voice is as drained now as the day I gave you the power that you so desperately fought for<br />My children, my precious little thoughts, watched as you burned and destroyed our happy home<br />Shortly after I welcomed you in to dry your tears, to warm your bones<br />And nurse reopened wounds<br />The unimaginable fears I once had faith would never touch me<br />Someone else had made it goal to seep as poison into what was once me<br />I now suck and spit vehemently to rid myself of the things you left me to bleed out on my own time<br />And that logical smell of dead animals follows my every step<br />My lips and throat are tired, as you can never imagine<br />My voice is hoarse with cries for help<br />If there is one thing you have taught me harshly<br />It is that we are each and all alone in this<br />The self I knew is slowly making known<br />All of its plans and actions<br />Coughing, sputtering, choking out whispers<br />Pale and sunken, but alive by all loose terms of the word<br />She breathes<br />And I educate her into a positive existence again<br />Though I, and only I will hold her frail little body in my sights<br />I forgive the fact that so many of you will never really see her againChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-72533445788556553162009-09-17T20:31:00.000-07:002009-09-17T20:42:17.694-07:00LonelyIn a not so empty house I recline<br />Void but for the lounging old dog<br />Faithful and alive<br />Inactive but for the thousand-year memories<br />And the taken task of sifting through the remnants of a family...<br />... my family...<br />... that was once so full and thriving and underappreciated and... well, here<br />But now so desperately longed for<br />Quiet but for the fathoms-deep conversations I take part in<br />With the inner most parts of me<br />Empty but for myself<br /><br />At these solemn times of the most vulgar realizations of the things I had once and the space that replaced them<br />Yael's voice echoes and presses me gently, however forcefully, to tears<br />I open my mouth to sing a different verse<br />But I involuntarily clammer myself up<br />Cold hand pressed desperately into cold hand<br />Curled body to hard floor<br />For tonight I must give up the battle<br />And agree with the sole voice passively guarding my thoughts<br />That I am so lonely<br />So unashamedly, frighteningly, and irrevocably<br />LonelyChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-65385991035115804132009-07-30T19:50:00.001-07:002009-07-30T19:55:41.500-07:00Preparation/LearningYou prepare, in anticipation of the beginning<br />For the point of meeting, head on, what you know will come<br />But the day to day routines you must accustom yourself to during the changing aftermath are always uncertain<br />And this is when you truly learn<br /><br />You prepare, in anticipation of the end<br />For the point of meeting, head on, what you know will come<br />But the day to day routines you must accustom yourself to during the changing aftermath are always uncertain<br />And this is when you truly learnChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-47583423691950276532009-07-28T09:40:00.000-07:002009-07-28T09:59:31.431-07:00Fallacy: A Lazy Man's DefenseIt seems an undue punishment<br />That, possibly, in reality I did deserve<br />For misgivings and mistreatments imposed on those who stopped here before you<br />But, to be truthful, as this supposed complication undulates<br />It is simpler than you and I originally thought<br />When humans who are nothing more than humans<br />Discontinue an irrational belief in fates and curses<br />They are faced with their own decisions, faults, and barriers<br />Now, all decisions are acts of will<br />And can be altered<br />Faults are merely obstacles that can be overcome<br />And every barrier, with equally applied force and determination<br />Can be broken, does not hold us to any such pattern we have victimized ourselves with<br />Oh, why you don't look harder, I'll never understand<br />Why you still believe instead of manifest, I'll never know<br />That fact remains, and it is a blatant one<br />That this is not the way things are<br />This is only the way that you have let them become<br />'Doomed' is a fallacy you have lazily burdened yourself with<br />The way that you are, a lie with which you have cushioned your inability to try<br />The notion that you feel you do not excel with you and I<br />Is not your incapacity to love, but your unwillingness to try<br />A harsh reality that I have come to realize<br />And altered myself over time<br />Once you truly understand that life, that love, are difficult<br />It is only a new striving that could be attained<br />In all my admiration of you, I see this one flaw<br />Something not concrete unless you choose, again, to cement it as a part of you<br />That you are so willing to give it up<br />And pass this off as something unchangeable in you<br />Is unfathomably sad, and a path to certain failure<br />There is more to you than this, I'm certain of it<br />And with time, you will come to fully grasp this<br />That doom is a silly and childish thought and the only belief worth having is in yourself<br />And your ability to have, be, and do anything you have a passion for<br />And your will to make anything, even love, work wellChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-72385870109219897222009-07-25T19:51:00.000-07:002009-07-25T20:08:34.046-07:00Unlike the Apple (For P.J.B.)I have learned in my young age<br />I am learning as I write all of this to you<br />That certain questions are better unasked<br />And there are things that should never be said<br />Or have been said<br />I am patience at its peaking stamina<br />I am silence and the chosen study<br />Of diverting all attention from my face<br />Gradual as it is<br />I am told by some that the worth lies only a while ahead<br />I am told by some, by other somes<br />That this all wonderful as just a story<br />But the life I could be living has been buried by my striving for<br />What this could be<br />What might be waiting to reward me<br />What better of a life spent than never knowing<br />If you really return my love<br />Ignorance is calm<br />And happiness<br />And the feeling of only my own breath<br />Though, sometimes I'll admit<br />To make it easy<br />I pretend that it's only me and not halves parted over miles<br />And I do have my fears<br />Although to be fair to the audience I've claimed<br />I stifle them<br />A lack of courage never made for an interesting account of events<br />Like a fruit, I may very well bruise<br />And you may very well have been bruised<br />But unlike the apple<br />We have the choice and mechanics to heal<br />Like a child, I may very well be hurt<br />And you may very well have been hurt<br />But you are an adult now, with a mindset to put it all behind<br />If that is what you...<br />Well, for now, that is only what I wish<br />Respectfully, I decline to be a reason for you to hold to that past any longer<br />As I am witnessing<br />You are growing up so fast, my love<br />Growing closer to the sun<br />And the dawning of who you truly are<br />Your world revolves so fast<br />Your swift seasons change the taste of you<br />And I am cowardly and courageous all at once<br />Curious all the same<br />And getting used to things that way...Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-69641263043051654012009-07-12T14:36:00.000-07:002009-07-12T14:58:42.749-07:00That I DoThis must be love<br />That is to say, what is left when the romance is over<br />When the effort is on but one<br />When you feel it and I live it<br />For the most part I have learned that this is you<br />And not to ever take it personally<br />But, at times, I can't help but think<br />Maybe if I were not the person in the place that I find myself<br />Would things plateau the remarkably quick way that they have<br />At least in my eyes...<br />What do I do in this position?<br />How do I tell you<br />That I love you and that I just want that returned<br />Where do I leave this?<br />How long do I keep this in me<br />Before you or I decide that this is going nowhere<br />Do I know in what way I could have stopped it?<br />And what could I have done?<br />That I just love you... that was supposed to be enough<br />When that someone on the other side of me<br />Turns to realize that silohuette has replaced me<br />How long before he realizes<br />That what was good for only him<br />Was what I tried to live up to<br />How many times has he watched my fight my own words<br />Without ever even knowing that I really had something to say each time<br />How many forgotten words will he suddenly remember<br />Only to say them when I am too far to hear<br />What will he do when I let him know<br />That all I really ever cared about was to know that I was something<br />He cared about<br />What will he think when he knows of all the times I exhibited a stronger self control<br />When all I wanted to do was leave the logic<br />And love him unconditionally<br />And I do<br />Though I am learning<br />That I do...<br />What does he do in this position?<br />Does he speak with everything that is inside of him?<br />Does he tell me that my patience has been all at once rewarded<br />Does he love me? Does he thank me for my time?<br />Where does he leave this<br />Or does he leave it at all?<br />Does he connect that way I've hoped for all this long...<br />Does he know in what way he could have shown me this?<br />And does he know what on earth he could do?<br />Does he just love me?<br />If so... that will always be enough<br />And without limit I love him<br />Regardless of his blindness<br />Whether self-induced or out of his hands<br />When you read this will you realize<br />That the good in me is for you<br />And that I cannot wait a second if I had to<br />Just to see your face<br />That I imagine you with me, sometimes<br />That I have someone to be grateful to for more than he knows<br />And that he is you<br />That I love you<br />That I am hereChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-1627113845742522052009-07-11T14:53:00.001-07:002009-07-11T15:16:07.797-07:00If I Were That ManShe looks to me and sighs<br />Before she sings<br />She says, "You're about to hear it all... all of my honesty."<br />She sings a lonely song<br />And I can't imagine<br />The calm on her face could ever hide the pain in these lines<br />"When I know that I am here for nothing<br />I will know that I've truly found home<br />And he loves me, yes, but in his own way<br />I know the truth inside, but sometimes it feels as though it's gone."<br />I can't help but to glance at the curve of her back<br />And long to make a tension released there<br />I wonder how he loves and what keeps it so far<br />That she can feel the way she does now<br />She says, "I have been bruised<br />I have been cheated<br />Being kept at a distance is better than hurting."<br />But what if I could be that same man for you<br />With a different complexion and a haven for you<br />If you would stay here with me<br />Only a few hours<br />Not forget, but set aside what you know to be appropriate<br />You would see everything that I have tried to tell you<br />And the choice would still be yours<br />Because if I were that man, I would love you<br />Not only in my own way, but in the way you deserve<br />And you would not have to doubt<br />That I am here, the I am true<br />That I care nothing for the world, but to make it a good home for you<br />The tiny lines on your hands<br />The curve of your fingers<br />And ever blossomed freckle on the skin of your face<br />These things are beyond what they seem<br />You are a creature your own<br />Something I would desire, but something I would never know<br />I care for the days between here<br />And when your heart stops it beating<br />To make them exactly what you thought they would be<br />I care for the way that you walk<br />That you do not stumble<br />Or take paths marked by promises that will never be kept<br />Because if I were that man, I would closer to me<br />And not high with comparison<br />I would give my own heart<br />To have a creature such as you<br />Wander onto my grounds and find shelter in my home<br />If I were that man<br />I would have thought so much more<br />Not only of you<br />But of how I could make the moment better<br />I would climb out to the farthest branch<br />And risk what I know<br />Just to hear you sing something<br />In a happier note<br />When I am that man<br />I will love you<br />You will not sing to yourself<br />Because you won't be aloneChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-18598145914516025972009-07-08T12:44:00.000-07:002009-07-08T13:09:04.856-07:00Ah, To Be Different... Like Them...My tongue must have tripped slightly in my nervous state<br />When I requested changes brought about within myself that only outside forces could shape and being<br />Between Illumination and Lunacy some small syllable was sadly lost on its way<br />Between my lips and their ears<br />And the outcome of my fervent pleas remains a great let down<br />You'd think that for all their omniscience they could have read a feeble mind<br />You'd think that for all their concern they'd have repeated it back to me<br />But now, uncorrected, the course has been set into unalterable motion<br />And for all foolish struggle, I can't seem to salmon up through these pounding waves<br />Or maybe this just happens to everyone at some point in their lives<br />Possibly multiple episodes of this same exact questioning arises<br />Who would have thought that your problems are not your own<br />That this isn't unique<br />That the same fears have crossed all different thoughts<br />All these years<br />Yet, for the similarities between in flesh and in blood and in mediocricy<br />The element that blends is the driving force to envision ourselves set aside from the shapeless sea of bipedals<br />Something astoundingly new<br />But the name that they gave you is... You<br />A jumpstart of the heart to the willing<br />And no one with equal time to talk when searching an engagement<br />But, too many creatures the same when all goal is to be strange<br />I am the intentional difference!<br />Hear me(!)... blend into the everyday mumble of this perfect, running engine...<br />.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-41807171453044154432009-06-30T08:56:00.000-07:002009-06-30T09:10:59.455-07:00Goodbye to BeliefThere is something so extraordinarily unsettling in knowing that you could have said something when you didn't.<br />There is something so unequivocally sad in the pursuit of a real freedom.<br />There is a pain in the realization of a truth you have been trying to bury.<br />Suffocation occurs most by attempt to fill void souls with cotton like beliefs and words.<br />I am taking your name from the docket.<br />I am suffering myself no more.<br />I am severing the one steel silk thread that connected your problem to mine,<br />Which in all of its strength, really wasn't that difficult to do.<br />I am okay in recline, and I know this well.<br />You, at times, say that you're fighting, but for what?<br />I am the only decay to myself and I know this without having to research the medical terms.<br />Honestly, this isn't helping matters much.<br />I don't feel as though I should speak today.<br />I go on stealing my vices and I certainly pay the price on the dime.<br />Stop believing in predestination and judges... and suddenly the sky seems so much bigger...<br />Suddenly the world is filled with so much wonder...<br />Suddenly you realize that you alone fight or embrace this.<br />Because you are alone.Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-29022122888647716312009-06-28T12:14:00.000-07:002009-06-28T12:34:18.193-07:00I Could Have Continued... and Then There Was YouThough I can't be certain where I should be<br /><br />I know when I should speak<br /><br />And keeping quiet until spoken seems a test of endurance<br /><br />I am taxed on all sides by an equal diversity of thought<br /><br />When awe and horror collide in such a way<br /><br />To mix epiphany with frustration<br /><br />Well, it's something you've never known<br /><br />Something you really don't have to understand<br /><br />You haven't the capacity for this as well<br /><br />So, close your eyes and your ears to the manifestations of all that I have felt as of late<br /><br />I don't blame you<br /><br />But it still is rather a lonely bench where I find rest<br /><br />"Nothing ever happened"<br /><br />As you so deftly rearrange all of my grief<br /><br />Coast me to avoid what you and I both know to be real<br /><br />I could find a kindred spirit<br /><br />And we could deteriorate together<br /><br />We could loathe, but allow, the decay of this world<br /><br />And aid in the demolition of one another<br /><br />We could feel sorry for ourselves<br /><br />And plan a selfish escape from all the reasons<br /><br />That we've been here this long<br /><br />But I wanted to live, you know<br /><br />I wanted you<br /><br />It is much easier said than done<br /><br />Living the present gentle and ravenous disposition that I have been dealt<br /><br />These are things that I prayed you would never once have to waste a thought with<br /><br />So I smile when I answer the telephone<br /><br />And avoid you when I am forlorn<br /><br />Suddenly you realize why at times<br /><br />I won't speak for days<br /><br />I could find someone who knows my troubles<br /><br />But those who relate are are the kindred cursed with this<br /><br />And that is a disaster just itching to happen<br /><br />I could find another selfworthless someone<br /><br />A mind as mine in one other distant and present form<br /><br />And we'd fight by the hour and love when we're done<br /><br />Just to feel anything but the reality that even together we are alone<br /><br />And when it all becomes too difficult<br /><br />We'd end more than our union and give up the ghost<br /><br />Instead of believing in tomorrow<br /><br />In ourselves<br /><br />In true love<br /><br />But, no... I have come to find<br /><br />That I wanted to rediscover reason<br /><br />I have come to find you<br /><br />And that is reason enoughChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-44417825514775970232009-06-26T15:35:00.000-07:002009-06-26T16:07:45.969-07:00The Dear Wait (For P. J. B.)A pane of glass that views the world in return<br /><br />The cracks that stem from memories of it<br /><br />And movements that bring out<br /><br />The broken innocence<br /><br />An equal force of dark and of light<br /><br />Crashes at a time in life<br /><br />When not else matters but to see your face<br /><br />As patience is key in this<br /><br />I will stay a planted fruit tree<br /><br />Stationary on your landscape<br /><br />And strong in anticipation of your return to me<br /><br />To care for me<br /><br />And to reap every <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">benefit</span> that life has <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">provided</span> me<br /><br />Just to give them back to you...<br /><br />Beauty in a sense of thinking<br /><br />Is product of nurture and nature in action<br /><br />And tiny gestures that have made their way across this vast land<br /><br />Have had something to do with<br /><br />A growth in me<br /><br />Of a lush sense of wonder in seeing the way that your face takes shape<br /><br />When you laugh<br /><br />There's no need to worry, fret, or fear<br /><br />Over fate or the stumbling flukes that led me to you<br /><br />As patience is the only use of time at this moment<br /><br />I'll remain as a taken picture<br /><br />On the wall that looks northeast from all hurt that lies in the past<br /><br />Framed in the finest circumstances that surround us<br /><br />And our progress in this<br /><br />To be kept in the house of your heart that remains<br /><br />For your certain return<br /><br />From a hard day of spending the life<br /><br />Of a man in this world<br /><br />I will thrive on the thought of composing you into my arms<br /><br />And the love that I only just have learned is able within me<br /><br />To gather up the every blessing that time has allowed me to produce<br /><br />And refine them all<br /><br />Just to give them back to you...<br /><br />The Dear wait in a loved existence<br /><br />For one another again to be within reach<br /><br />And the Dear Wait is a worthwhile time<br /><br />In the value of the touch of your handChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-91753357157328541152009-06-21T15:50:00.000-07:002009-06-21T16:11:23.706-07:00Thoughts on Thoughtfulness (Thank You, Solomon. Thank You, Father)While <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">listening</span> to his hands<br />I can only think of yours<br />Weathered with the work of a lifetime<br />The constant building of yourself<br />The foundations of all that we are in turn<br />An intern to the true ways of living<br />I have learned<br />I am learning to apply<br />The high notes are the soft tones that your voice was so well known for<br />Never by surprise<br />Every piece of a love that you were making in me<br />In hopes that the rest might one day see<br />My hands are taking to a mold<br />That you so <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">inexhaustibly</span> perfected<br />Heroes are not just figments of my mind<br />Though the way I remember things sometimes seems to be<br />And very possibly is<br />I would rather know it all that way<br />Early evenings<br />Porch seranades<br />The many fathers that I have had in the few years that I have been<br />All of them missed<br />You were the impenetrable force<br />You are now safe inside my impenetrable walls<br />Your words and actions are the mortar that holds this structure in its place<br />I know that it was this<br />And that it was you<br />That gave the orders to let it stand<br />Even when the demolition attempts came from so close to home<br />Outside of the body are so many occurences<br />Inside the body are so many assassins<br />And yet I stand<br />I give you some of the credit<br />Because I know not to whom I should offer<br />I am angered at times<br />I have not yet thanked you<br />But I am persistent as you, now<br />In an attempt to keep me here and aware<br />You never read these words<br />Or any others that I may have written<br />And, while you never knew where my mind was leaving off to<br />You knew it was never here<br />It is with you, now that you are not<br />It leaves off to find you<br />And as a consequence to the situation<br />My body never will<br />It has tried<br />And without rejection<br />You have denied me that much<br />So the day goes<br />So the holiday goes<br />In your absence<br />As any other day<br />The gratitude I have is only to the endless choices that you made<br />While you had the time<br />While that time was falling short<br />And then, when there was none<br />And as I begin my every day with these words<br />Goodbye again<br />God<br />Hero<br />King<br />Saviour<br />Titles that you could never have lived up to<br />Erroneous being that you were<br />Now, in death, you have seemingly mastered...Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-15497293563033517862009-06-21T15:03:00.000-07:002009-06-21T15:36:06.763-07:00HereAh, and here...<br /><br />Here is to the tumultuous waves of great disappointment<br /><br />And the happiness in between<br /><br />To the thrilling, sickening throwing of the world at ourselves, and ourselves at the world<br /><br />And to the feeling of <span style="BACKGROUND-COLOR: #ffff00">ricochet</span><br /><br />To the memory of the collision<br /><br />Here is to remembering<br />By God, remembering anything at all<br /><br />Here is to the thorn and the honey<br /><br />To the rusted sweetness of those who pursue it<br /><br />Here is to the music that medicates all ills<br /><br />Whether to the better or to the worse<br /><br />Here is to the lonely state of things<br /><br />For, in fact, only then are you really free<br /><br />Here is to realizing that truth is difficult<br /><br />That hope is commendable<br /><br />That worry is abhorred<br /><br />That both are useless and void<br /><br />Here is to nonexistent time<br /><br />Nonexistent future<br /><br />Nonexistent past<br /><br />To the understanding that the one is beyond reach<br /><br />That the other is selective<br /><br />It never really happened the way that you remember it<br /><br />Here is to patience<br /><br />The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">birth child</span></span> of hope<br /><br />To the idea of someday<br /><br />That someday you will see me as a necessity to your life<br /><br />As a key addition to your already complete existence<br /><br />As a desire to your side<br /><br />Here is to the unmentionable<br /><br />Which we will not mention here<br /><br />And to the different meanings that it will take on<br /><br />Ear to ear<br /><br />Here is to death<br /><br />To the years upon years that I will not be<br /><br />In contrast to the short time in which I am<br /><br />To that education only do I owe my present vision<br /><br />Here, they say<br /><br />Take it<br />If you please, or don't<br />Take what has been given<br /><br />And endless portion of whatever confronts you<br /><br />And do with it<br /><br />What you will<br /><br />Do with it<br /><br />Anything and all<br /><br />For, ignored<br /><br />It will remain<br /><br />Utilized<br /><br />And the constant turns of supposed waste<br /><br />Will flourish your garden<br /><br />To blooms you had never knownChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-47066468696707571252009-06-14T08:44:00.000-07:002009-06-14T09:17:42.180-07:00Every Sad FarewellThe girl that I knew once<br />The woman who made me<br />A little more of who I am<br />Changed in ways<br />For the better<br />Even in the things that I learned from her<br />As she disappeared from my every day<br />Those every days when I watched her move<br />When I wondered what she was doing<br />The times when she was not in sight<br />She was beautiful in the morning<br />Sitting outside with her cigarette, or sometimes just the new day's air<br />An artwork so still and so simple<br />The appeal lay on her face<br />Along with the landscape of her contemplations<br />Where her every emotion<br />Her every fear<br />Her every joy<br />Flowered new blooms and grew into a world<br />And I, I could only see what the surface of her features allowed me<br />I wanted only to know more of the place she appeared to be<br />Every living thing she touched<br />Responded to her gentleness<br />Every stoic object<br />Seemed to do the same<br />Or to be made more alive my the tracing of her fingers<br />The way she held her spoon as she stirred her coffee<br />The lips that seemed to say so much when sitting comfortable against each other<br />Her eyes have told me a thousand different tales and truths<br />That I have only begun to understand<br />Now that she has taken them away indefinitely<br />She listened to music, and it moved her<br />The piano seemed to trace outlines of her soul<br />So now I listen to the music, and it moves me<br />As I try to grasp on to the remainder of what I knew of her<br />Little memories start to flood<br />There are times I pretend long enough to believe<br />That I have no qualms with the fact that she's gone<br />There are times when every pretty, sad song makes her come alive in me<br />When she smiled near me, the world joined in<br />From person to animal to rock<br />At least, to me<br />Though I try to recreate it, it does no good to me<br />Every word within my grasp doesn't seem to be enough<br />Every thought of her, as strong as I will it<br />Cannot manifest her to me again<br />We had a life, one life<br />One that I would like to live again<br />And the fighting, it was all from me<br />I was ever angry only with me<br />For the simple fact that I changed her for a moment<br />From whole to hurting<br />For the things I think of now that I could have done for her<br />When I had my whole life to do them<br />But every present second mattered more<br />I imagine her days now<br />With me where I am, in the past<br />I envision myself as her shadow<br />Just to watch the artistry of the every way she moves<br />And the independence that surrounds her in the smallest of way<br />My favorite piece of music<br />My delicate, lovely, variable canvas<br />The most eloquent and stirring verse I've ever had the chance of reading<br />I know that i was veritable, now<br />I know everything that it meant to me, now<br />I know what I would do to turn this world around, now<br />I know what I love, now<br />And that it is her<br />Now that she and it and everything with it<br />Has said goodbye<br />Has walked away<br />Is goneChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-15031535215443173642009-06-07T14:52:00.000-07:002009-06-07T15:23:32.661-07:00All the Same (P.J.B.)There is nothing quite like the feeling<br />Of the realization that one is once and always<br />So totally alone<br />The fear and the freedom that come with it are equally as strong<br />Forgotten, avoided, abandoned, ignored<br />I know not which category I fall into<br />For that matter... if any at all<br />But I do wonder at times, why<br />If I am always a thought on your mind<br />Simple gestures toward me do not seem to cross it<br />My love<br />Ah, my love<br />All of it, you know you had<br />And still do at the slightest of efforts<br />And at a moment's notice<br />But if you have no use for it<br />If you do not want it<br />Or if there is simply no room for it now<br />Well, then that is a new reality that I, alone, must face<br />Once again, I, alone, must face<br />I continue to live my life<br />Not as though I had never known you<br />But I continue to apply the changes you have inspired in me<br />Where to realize the aspirations that I had a potential for<br />The courage was lacking<br />That extra push that I needed to see and attain these things<br />You supplied<br />And I continue to love you<br />As though you were here, beside me<br />I continue to bless you<br />Because you are the dearest of friends<br />And if this love is a love that you can be better by<br />If you will that this is a love to grow stronger<br />Well, I would do no good to myself by waiting or expecting on your word<br />But know, while I am living, I am thinking of you<br />And when that word decides to come<br />Oh, if that word decides to come<br />At whatever hour it might be<br />I will be elated to receive it and respond<br />All the sameChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-40227460005609712722009-06-03T19:26:00.001-07:002009-06-14T10:42:27.571-07:00Lost Love: Thoughts From Another to Me. (For P.J.B.)Who's got you, Dear?<br />What's holding you back?<br />When you know, Dear<br />We'll launch a full attack<br />Because nothing can withstand us<br />When you and I both coincide<br />Whatever it is, Dear<br />It's not stronger than you and I<br /><br />Who's got you, Dear?<br />What's taken your love?<br />Careless demons<br />You've given your time to taking care of<br />Though, for now, you can't give a name to them<br />They are taking the light from the smile<br />That was my sunshine<br />And I need that warmth again<br /><br />Who's got you, Dear?<br />What's taken your smile?<br />When you find it<br />We'll bring it backover mountains and miles<br />I would love to see it<br />Because it feels like it's been seven years<br />But I have patience<br />And I'll be waiting with you here<br /><br />Who's got you, Dear?<br />What's keeping you down?<br />If you're lost, Dear<br />At least you still know where I can be found<br />If the climb is too much for your legs<br />I will be there to take your turn<br />And carry you with me<br />Until we see you again<br /><br />Who loves you, Dear?<br />Who's pushing you on?<br />Lift your head, Dear<br />And you'll see someone who wants to see you strong<br />Whatever it is, Dear<br />You are still who I want in my life<br />And this sadness will pass, Dear<br />You'll be back to us in no timeChelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-53273729291427809072009-06-01T11:09:00.000-07:002009-06-01T12:17:02.164-07:00From the Lost ArchivesI 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, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">patterned</span> 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.<br /><br /><br /><br />I give way, now, to these things, though not altogether without a bit of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">embarrassment</span>! 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!<br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Young</u><br /><br /><br /><br />If I am too young for you<br /><br />Why do you try so hard<br /><br />When I'm still, in sight<br /><br />A girl<br /><br />A little girl<br /><br />All you gentle men<br /><br />Who have love<br /><br />You'll have to wait until I come of age<br /><br />It's just as well this way<br /><br />It just wouldn't be right... or legal, you know<br /><br />This girl<br /><br />Little girl<br /><br />Why do you still bring this up?<br /><br />Why are <em>you </em>making <em>you</em> old?<br /><br />I never wanted to be the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">pedophile's</span> prize<br /><br />But I'll agree to be your medicine...<br /><br />When you need some...<br /><br />Little girl<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Shampoo</u><br /><br /><br /><br />You have her hand<br /><br />Be careful with it<br /><br /><br /><br />She uses a gentle shampoo<br /><br />That should say enough<br /><br /><br /><br />I swear to God<br /><br />If you hurt her<br /><br />I'll kill you<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Untitled</u><br /><br />He killed a bird<br /><br />A bird<br /><br />A bird<br /><br />He killed a songbird<br /><br />What if it wasn't one?<br /><br /><br /><br />He knows he killed something<br /><br />Sitting on his window<br /><br />Possibly just because it had a song<br /><br />And a song was more than he was<br /><br /><br /><br />He killed a bird<br /><br />But what if it wasn't a bird?<br /><br />A bird<br /><br />What if it happened to be me?<br /><br />Me<br /><br />Me<br /><br />What if it happened to be me?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Queen</u> (For J.L.U.)<br /><br />You wore platform shoes<br /><br />And glittered<br /><br />You were once a child, too<br /><br />Believing in pictures<br /><br />Believing in mirrors<br /><br />Believing in your reflected makeup masks<br /><br />Felicity, was it fun<br /><br />In you suit, tie, and eyeshadow?<br /><br />Felicity, you cry<br /><br />Holding your youth<br /><br />As the smoke goes away<br /><br />Everything fades with it<br /><br />Felicity, a doll<br /><br />Felicity, you cry<br /><br />You've covered your suit and tie<br /><br />With a party dress<br /><br />You were beautiful<br /><br />In a hologram<br /><br />Still, the memory of mothers<br /><br />And the things they say...<br /><br />You were beautiful<br /><br />You would take the world<br /><br />Felicity<br /><br />If I spoon fed you tears<br /><br />Would you rain again on me<br /><br />Loving with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">picture show</span>, theater faces<br /><br />In an air conditioned room<br /><br />You left the keys in the door<br /><br />And it was cold enough for winter snow<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Words on Waking</u> (For D.L.S.)<br /><br />I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">found</span> your words in my bed<br /><br />Your body with me<br /><br />In my small outline, you seem to fit perfectly<br /><br />And there are stains on this paper<br /><br />From other lives I lead<br /><br />Where it rains<br /><br />Falls, and I, too<br /><br />I miss you when I have to go there<br /><br />And I love you<br /><br />Nothing between our souls<br /><br />Everything between ourselves<br /><br />That could make life,<br /><br />And you, happy<br /><br />But I won't let you see another life<br /><br />Only the world with you in it<br /><br />And I'll hold to things that drive away the rain and all thoughts, but you<br /><br />Pain<br /><br />Did I tell you that I woke up to see you<br /><br />And that I could only love you more than words<br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Plate</u> (For C.A.H., D.L.S.)<br /><br />Hello<br /><br />There is no real love<br /><br />There is no real peace<br /><br />In the way you talk<br /><br />I hope that every word you say<br /><br />Ends up back on your own plate<br /><br />Where I and my friend stand<br /><br />Already half-eaten<br /><br />Or at least having been in your mouth<br /><br />So... be male!<br /><br />Be a man!<br /><br />I still love you<br /><br />This is just how I am letting myself feel right now<br /><br />And I hate that<br /><br />No, I don't want to talk about it<br /><br />It will be gone tomorrow<br /><br />And I want it to be<br /><br />For the first time<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Distraction From the Sermon</u> (For S.R.E., C.T.T.)<br /><br />Strangers, entertain my angels<br /><br />With electricity<br /><br />Inside your soul<br /><br />Inside your hand<br /><br />You hold your own love<br /><br /><br /><br />I'll break you<br /><br />If you ask me to<br /><br />With your silent lips<br /><br />And you won't know who<br /><br />Until you do look for me<br /><br />And your feet are on the wall<br /><br />But you won't let it go<br /><br /><br /><br />Angels carried you this far<br /><br />You can live through this<br /><br />Sand is not gone<br /><br />It is only time<br /><br />And sifts through your fingers<br /><br />Like the trains in your head<br /><br /><br /><br />So... smile for me<br /><br /><br /><br />Strangers, entertain my angels<br /><br />You said something about clay<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Untitled</u> (For C.T.T.)<br /><br />I'll climb out of myself, tonight<br /><br />And use your spine as a ladder<br /><br />We'll be safe to stay the night<br /><br />Inside the thought that I could be wrong<br /><br />You are that thought<br /><br />The complete lack of judgement<br /><br />That makes me wrong about most things<br /><br />But not about us<br /><br />This is an aquarium<br /><br />And I'd rather swim than walk, anyway<br /><br />You know this<br /><br />You are the only one<br /><br />Who has spelled my name out in my freckles<br /><br />And I owe you my head<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Pockets</u> (For C.H.)<br /><br />I have something small to tell you<br /><br />But please don't think it so strange<br /><br />And don't you dare worry an ounce<br /><br />Or at all<br /><br />Because it was all in love<br /><br />Just as I am now, with you<br /><br />And it only hurts for a second<br /><br />A minute<br /><br />From prick to heal<br /><br />Instead, if you should ever ask how I can think at all<br /><br />As much as I do of you<br /><br />You'll have an answer<br /><br />Something to know<br /><br />I've made a small pocket<br /><br />Well, a few<br /><br />Sewn a small pocket into everywhere<br /><br />Attached to every place I can think of<br /><br />To think of you<br /><br />For every small way I remember you, a pocket<br /><br />And sometimes, a pocket just to make a thought<br /><br />In the back of my eyes, a part of you<br /><br />Your face, to see as clearly as possible, whenever I close my eyes<br /><br />In my ear, your voice to keep me warm when it's so quiet around me, here<br /><br />In my heart, every little thing that can be thought of<br /><br />To make you as you<br /><br />As much of you as you are<br /><br />Sometimes overwhelming<br /><br />How happy, abnormal we once were<br /><br />And should be soon, so soon<br /><br />Not soon enough...<br /><br />Again<br /><br />Whee I lay, one to keep your body<br /><br />Or the ghost, thereof, while you're away<br /><br />I keep it there , safe and warm, until I should need it... tonight<br /><br />Another small, cold night<br /><br />On my tongue, the words play over and around<br /><br />And through my head, life, and day... to day... to day...<br /><br />And speak like you would to me, just to have you there<br /><br />And in each of my fingers... the tips... a small pocket<br /><br />They were the first, you see<br /><br />The first to heal so the rest of the job may be done<br /><br />These scars that you see are not scars, but my thoughts<br /><br />That these tips may be used someday to patch up those pockets of yours as they need it<br /><br />And, as every pocket does scar<br /><br />And bleed<br /><br />For a moment the pity is well<br /><br />Received<br /><br />As they do become one with the skin that surrounds them...<br /><br />You'll be there<br /><br />A permanent fixture on me<br /><br />That no one can replace<br /><br />One that I cannot leave, and would never wish to<br /><br />You will see, I am willing to do this one little thing<br /><br />As I wait...<br /><br />As I wait...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>She</u> (For J.L.U.)<br /><br />She can't be love<br /><br />But maybe enough<br /><br />To last me through the weekend<br /><br />His arms tire me<br /><br />And make me scream<br /><br />I feel so tied up, but find no threads<br /><br />Make me love you<br /><br />Make me cry<br /><br />It's just what I'm needing to get me by<br /><br />Make me want to hurt myself<br /><br />Then I will use up someone else<br /><br />Sitting alone is probably better<br /><br />Than spitting all my pain out at her<br /><br />She complains of being wet<br /><br />Crying when I've done nothing, yet<br /><br />You don't know what I could do<br /><br />Taking one piece, and making two<br /><br />You would never walk again<br /><br />If you knew how I feel by the end<br /><br />Blend the break with your acid words<br /><br />And burn the places where you know you were<br /><br />All this time you've spent alone<br /><br />And missed your chance to be my home<br /><br />How I love you when you cry<br /><br />Like I'm playing reaper<br /><br />How I love her when she sings<br /><br />And <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">helps</span> me breathe in deeper<br /><br />Breathe<br /><br />Breathe, my friends<br /><br />Tonight we're together<br /><br />Tomorrow, we'll end<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><u>Shelf Life</u> (For J.K.H.)<br /><br />I'll be on the dustiest shelf<br /><br />Of the room you never touch<br /><br />With the dusts, the dirt of another time<br /><br />The particles left behind<br /><br />From stories unfinished<br /><br />Or, in fact, completed<br /><br />Or, even still, continued on where the mountain didn't<br /><br />Where the story had simply fallen off<br /><br />And should have died sooner<br /><br />Which makes one understand<br /><br />That some medication should never be taken<br /><br />Some lives should not be sustained<br /><br />Nor pain prolonged<br /><br />Please, have the dignity to let me go<br /><br />Then again, my love, how will we tell the difference?<br /><br />Who will be writing; telling what should be told?Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3631443578998264250.post-36410160636099730482009-06-01T06:33:00.000-07:002009-06-01T12:15:06.724-07:00Self Imposed EvilsIt could have been so unfortunate<br />And it very probably was, or was not<br />But for all your vexatious efforts<br />You cannot remember a single thing<br />Whether the night was light or dark<br />You will never recall<br />Above knowing what really happened<br />Your cause for caterwaul<br />Is the squandering of that inestimable thing; precious awareness<br />And the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">repetition</span> of unscrupulous acts under the shadow that only you have cast upon yourself<br />And the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">repetition</span> of a day to day, unchanging sequence; revolution, destruction, defeat<br />And the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">repetition</span> you appear to both resign yourself and blind yourself to<br />And the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">repetition</span>...<br />Well, it continues on<br />Much as an unconquerable weed<br />Interloper on your, once, somewhat peaceful landscape<br />Marring the very ground that once held you so firmly up and erect<br />And for miles upon miles<br />You see nothing but the transformation<br />Of a beautiful home into a desolate wasteland<br />And all because you, yourself, passed by<br />Without uprooting this unholy blemish<br />Stupidly neglecting it for sheer harmlessness in size, or so you chose to believe at the time<br />And, in the absence of a fight, it grew<br />Or, perhaps, became the many<br />Until the problem, nourished on the generous donation of neglect<br />Had become too great a structure to move alone<br />Or had suffocated you in an overbearing crowd of its clones<br />Such a horrible way to die<br />Knowing that you could have prevented it<br />Misplace the soul... and the mind and body are sure to follow readily after<br />This if going to take more strength than you first anticipated<br />Are you ready to begin?Chelseahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06925625261504307026noreply@blogger.com0