August 2012
6 posts
4 tags
“If it happened three months ago, it’s not a part...
“I’m going to flush you out the only way I know how: I am going to write you away. I am going to ache intensely. But I am going to pour it onto this page and never, ever look back. I don’t know how long it will take but I will write it everyday until it is no longer true and until you make no sense and until you aren’t real anymore but just someone so made up that I cant even remember your name....
Theres something to be said about speaking to a good listener. We all claim that it’s what we want. But to speak to someone who listens, thoughtfully and methodically- is terrifying. Here is someone, not waiting for you to finish your thoughts, but genuinely holding on to your words and cradling them until you want them back. Until youre done with them. someone who will let you slur and mumble...
When you wrap a piece of tape around your finger tightly, it leaves a beat red trail. You can watch it fade away quickly soon after. Words, have the same effect on me. that’s why I make sure to cup them in my hands until they shake me senseless. I wont waste a good hurt on words that don’t swell.
I stuck a needle in my finger and dug around until I felt something that wasn’t you. I didn’t care if it hurt. In ffact, I welcomed the pain. I wanted any feeling that wasn’t tinged with any trace of you. the needle mustve piereced my bone because it stopped. I couldn’t force it any further and it felt hard and stuck. I lifted it up and down and up and down until the blood tethered out. I felt the...
I have no way to explain how I am so connected to people—to the world—that I can feel everything in the palms of my hands like pulses that never slow and only ever quicken. It’s exhausting for everyone, I’m sure, but I’ve never looked at it as a flaw. It’s just a human trait like extroversion or introversion or laughing a lot or never cracking your straight face into a grin. Your pains are my...
I don’t deal well with rigor
Or structures too tightly bound
I will pull them apart
Pull them out of my shirt seams and shoelaces if I have to
If it fluctuates, then let it
There is no structures to the beats
No syntax in a heart
If its hardened, we can melt it
Wither it down to butter in a sauce ban
The mechanics of it are the same
Get it to the right temperature and watch it burn, burn burn...
April 2012
1 post
It's starting.
It is true that I am tied to you.
but bound by bone, I am not.
You have not pierced through my marrow
Nor crept up my blood stream
You have yet to purge into my lungs
I do not inhale you.
There is no you, residing in me
It is true that you’ve got me tethered
to you
But into my bones, you have not seeped
Steadfast and true
I will rid myself of you
March 2012
3 posts
Some days I talk so much my head feels like it’s going to explode because my jaw’s been working overtime and my brain needs a second to breathe. I kept saying that I miss having intelligent conversations that shake my floorboards, but I spend too many days in the quiet of my room and my ears can’t recall how to hear without bleeding or pumping red-hot, heartbeats at the side of my head. And today...
(mis)directions
I keep thinking about the routine. About the constant ruts of nothingness that we find ourselves stuck in only because we don’t get out. I don’t want to live here, on repeat. I want to chase my arrogant limbs until they’re too tired to keep on. I want to run across streams of sanity and into shiny white pavements. I want dust and gravel and grimy film stuck under my nails and an acrid taste left...
If you’re still a bit broken, we can mend and we...
If you let me, I can lead the way and we can tiptoe through this
We can sit in subtly.
If your bags are heavy, I’d like to help you unpack.
I don’t mind being hunched over with their weight, as long as I still get to linger around you, gently.
We can lean and laugh into each other, catching uneven breaths of fear and shaking them away.
We can bounce back and forward between fragments and...
January 2012
1 post
December 2011
1 post
3 tags
there is no time to dwell.
Hello, I love your soul. The one that folds into tiny pieces and rearranges itself to be whatever everyone else wants you to be. The same soul that stirs in uneven breaths of warm, sticky air. You, you are not your failures or even your triumphs. You are a culmination of every beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ever thought, ever wanted. You are a soul, and I love you
November 2011
1 post
October 2011
5 posts
August 2011
2 posts
Victories are small, but their stories are loud. I’ll tell you mine, I’ll let you breath it in through all the debris. We all have tiny stories to tell each other. In the dark. In wine and conversations. In silly slurs and tired ramblings. I want to drink up everyones stories and just lay with them awhile, you know? I want to hold them so close, so deep that they become my own. So close that tiny...
I want you to shake the salt of your lashes and run. Just run until your bones are warm and your skin is pink. Until the pulse in your fingers run through the edges of your mouth and into your lungs. I want you to paint your secrets along the crevices of your canvas. I want it all, for you. I’ve never been one for certainty, but I am certain of you. I’m certain of us, forever.
May 2011
1 post
it just hurts in all the right places, you know?
i do not fear the dreary colors that lurk in the fall and come out in the winter. The blues and mute tones of rust, they speak to me. they light a fire so bright that my smile emits their warmth. I don’t need to wait for spring to start over, to thaw out.
That time is now. I am Aching and bruising, while healing. I am feeling. Stepping in the right direction leaves me feeling a little disoriented....
April 2011
11 posts
Semi conscious, my eyes opened
Found your breath, and held it
I was awake for sometime before you
Watching your chest expand, and your eyes rest
Youre so beautiful then
You are always so beautiful
But its then, that I love you the most
Before you have a chance to wash the night off of your skin
For the few moments I get to just watch you
Then your eyes start to flutter, your voice rises with the...
Shower after snooze
Biscuits in the morning.
and for dinner, just booze
I cant keep breathing if you dont keep speaking
I cant keep breathing if you don’t keep speaking
Cranky coward on a complex search
Salty sins, im nothing but a basket case
These Rhetorical bandages are taping up my face
A bitter cringe. A tart taste
I cant keep breathing if you doing keep speaking
I cant keep breathing if you...
Tranquil lighting and this Settling sun
Sand in my pocket, it’;s yours
Stutter in your speech
Its mine
When youre awake, I’m asleep
Theres a cup of water on my table and youre thirsty
Theres some bread in your cupboard and im hungry
Its too hot in your head, you need to cool down
But my thermostat is broken
When im awake, youre asleep
Its too cold on my face, I need to warm up
But youre blanket...
I will savor your splendor. I will bend and I will bleed into you, we’ll create something unrecognizable. I will love you. I will love you endlessly.
Home? I find it in the flecks of amber in my best friends eyes. On the damp concrete of my porch and the cigarette smoke protruding from my fingertips, lounging in my clothes. I find it in my sheets, in the morning stumblings and the snooze alarms. i find home in strangers that smile with their eyes. I find it in a nice cup of tea before bed, that warms up my organs just right and coats my brain...
It’s all so heavy, you know? I want featherweight pins tugging softly at my fingertips. White sheets slapping against my knees and acoustic trembling alongside the corners of the room. I want traces of laughter soaked so deeply in my pillows that they echo through the night, lulling me to sleep. I want sweet insignificance flowing through my hair. and I want your eyes. Yes, I want your eyes to run...
You think I’m over-sensitive and that I take things too personally, but I have no way to explain how I am so connected to people—to the world—that I can feel everything in the palms of my hands like pulses that never slow and only ever quicken. It’s exhausting for everyone, I’m sure, but I’ve never looked at it as a flaw. It’s just a human trait like extroversion or introversion or laughing a lot...
I want to tell you about my best friend’s smile and how it makes me whole again after being broken into tiny pieces of silly worries. And I want to tell you about the insomnia that allows for these words to be pierced down. also, the half of the cigarette I have finished because im too much of a coward to coat my lungs with an entire roll of black filth. The simple sunrises that I don’t see, but...
Fitzgerald called it “holding your breath.” Hemingway called it something like sitting down at a typewriter and bleeding. He also called it a vice, an addiction, a hell of a disease to be born with. You are a creator, a fanatic. Whether it be to catch your breath, to silence the chaos of life„ to wrestle things into something you’ve got more control of- you are a creator. This fact is found...
Disasters don’t dictate. You do not become your mistakes. You do not even become your triumphs or your accomplishments. You are not these things. You are not even the photographs and the words and the music. You don’t have to prove to me that you are something- you are something without trying to be. . And I am not here to hide anything from you, im here to give you my flaws. My bare, blinking,...
There are always running words. Running out. Running into each other. Running alongside one another. But always running. Running away from. running to. The cardinality makes no difference to me. I just like to let them run. A breath from my lungs, and a run with words. There is really nothing better.
December 2010
1 post
November 2010
1 post
will you keep my heart heavy and my bones light?
You italicize your words when you speak.
Poison!
I want to suck the bad right out of you bones
and spit in out onto your feet
but you’d never give it up.
August 2010
4 posts
It’s a grain of sand between your thumb and index finger, rolling off the tips, rolling on the tips. But that’s as far as it gets. The sand never reaches your palms, never gets inside your fingernails. That’s how I feel everytime I try to write lately. Like the sand and the words get stuck rolling off the tips of my fingers but never get to go anywhere else. But I think I’m okay with that now....
sleep wa(l)king
I want the foggy ramblings of tired eyes drenched in sleep to guide my actions. I want early morning half awake and half asleep states of mind to make my decisions. I want pink fingertips numb with nostalgia to hold pens and scribble illogical dreams and thoughts. I want the creamy fragrance of morning light to lace itself upon my day. I think there is something to be said about the first glances...
Conversations don’t mean a thing beyond the last breath and the last syllables they hold. But when we talk, when we rant about nothing in particular, each sentence flows seamlessly into the next. Our words blur, running into each other with a familiarity that allows them to keep pulsing through the dark, to find each other. We are smiles and laugh lines embedded in our face and in our thoughts. We...
That picture you have on your dashboard, It’s me. the girl in the floral printed mini skirt and dangly hoop earrings, it’s me. you asked me about the look on my face. The calm, collected, and blissful smile painted on my face. Well that the look on my face is all my own. It’s me, overcome with my own personal brand of happiness that I produced. Produced it from scratch. Or rather, produced it...
July 2010
2 posts
rinse and repeat
I hate the way it happens. The cycle that spins like my clothes in the dryer when they come out too hot and too ready. We tiptoe to bed and retreat in our sleep. We wake up to forget and scrape the night out from under our fingernails. But its written all over our faces. So we scrub them dry and wonder what we were possibly thinking. Then we dance in our fresh faces and do it all over again
swordfight
I will not force your words. I wish not to make you spew them out at me in heated syllables that you don’t mean. You will not mouth the words I want to hear, the ones im placing on this silver platter, giving to you to give back to me. I will not force your words. But I can make you feel them. I can press them against your skin where they will tattoo into your bones and shatter the shield you’ve...
June 2010
2 posts
quite quiet
I want to tell you about my best friend’s smile and how it makes me whole again after being broken into tiny pieces of silly worries. And I want to tell you about the insomnia that allows for these words to be pierced down. also, the half of the cigarette I have finished because im too much of a coward to coat my lungs with an entire roll of black filth. The simple sunrises that I don’t see, but...
April 2010
1 post
2 tags
ctrl alt del
I don’t want the cold in my bones to ever go away. I like being so passionately in love with the world that I see it through the eyes of a five year old girl. I enjoy my sense of wonder and the fact that I lack any sort of common sense. I like that I constantly have to be taught things that most people just know. I even kind of like having the hand eye coordination of an eighty year old. I love...
March 2010
5 posts
please teach me gently, how to breath
I never wake up early enough to start the day right. When I try, it’s too late and theres already been that negative thought that I can feel on my tongue and it leaves a bad taste and makes me not want to leave my bed anymore. then I get up anyways (sometimes) and try to make it better. But on these days, I cant really make it better. And the more I try, the more insincere it feels. And I hate...
Bruises in baskets, and Baskets in tow.
Lovers in love and nowhere to go.
Conundrum.
Morning sunset
Dry eyes, wet heaves
Bottles in the corner, boys with rolled up sleeves
A Split screen down the middle, a split scheme laced in riddles
Your Panting, too heavy.
Thin girls in the corner, so unsteady
Not ready
Lashes on a pillow, a blanket soaked in night
It was an overnight delivery, an...
