The day my threads unraveled.

You watched me come undone in stately still and graceful ease, no more music my lips to sing, the notes have captured stray motes of silence, this heartblood floods in rivers from my insignificant sleeves.

Each weft slight twisted with worried rot fell completely in its time, infection caused by only sadness, and the neglect such reverie engenders, soft strands of thoughts wisped from my mind, my soul no longer compassion held, and numbly then, I forgot, all that I remembered.

As into mute clay I was melted, my earth which once was stable, shook and from my hollowed breast erupted the last vestiges of pathetic feeling; those emotions I imagined so high and pure… you saw the end of my feeble love, which I always gave and you never took. Until the last I held sure, mistaken naive girl I was- you watched me at last come undone, your face impassive with stoic mein- and when my pitiful show was ended, wiped your feet of my dust… and thought not at all on what you had seen.

Someplace to be flying.(02/21/2006)

It’s funny how one conversation is enough to shift a person’s perspective of another… one moment you believe you know someone, the next- you get broadsided by one thing that’s said.

Or you could be the one who spoke. Does it matter any more or less? The one who shifted gears?No it doesn’t. When you finally learn to step back and see yourself and the real world around you, there is a sensation of liberation…. and loss, whichever emotion you hold as the most important therefore determines whether you are willing to finally embrace your future.

People carry around their misperceptions and petty prejudices like handbags and accessories, flaunting their knowledge of current fashion and basking in their self-accomplishments… all the while screaming at the injustices of the world and the inequality of all human kind, perpetuated by pretty much everyone.

It’s amusing isn’t it when a person says everyone, that they do not include themself in that description, why?What makes an individual separate from inclusion in a generality? The way we think about ourselves? Or maybe the way we think about the space between us and the rest of the world… all those people are everyone and all those things are everything, but I, I must be different right?

?

So far from these musings will I now be transported and perhaps someone will read this and maybe someone will actually care about the things I say and maybe there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow but personally I would go for a pot of silver, keep the heavy metal for everyone else.

I was hurting so much, I don’t think most people truly understand how painful it is to keep a strong, uncontrollable emotion hidden and to yourself. Imagine slicing your hand open or burning your finger and not being allowed to either acknowledge that it happened or even that you need assistance, all the while your blood is seeping out and staining every aspect of your life and you go to brush away your hair from your face and when you pull your hand away you can’t see anything anymore because the red has gotten into your eyes but you have to keep on pretending it’s not there or else they will all start to notice.

And then I finally let it go and it was like patching up the cut by amputating the hand, then wondering why if it’s now mostly numb, the ghost of fingers past drum on my skin… a tattoo of a tune God never gave me permission to sing… love, love, love.

but oh well and all that jazz… just drop me and let me drift into the restless sea, where I’m sure my humanity will be shorn from me, or so I hope

eventually.

To hear you laugh, to see you smile; love letter to an unknowing focus.

I drive past this house that you aren’t in, down the street where your car is not….. walk past the places you have been  and find myself drifting in thought… all the things I ever tried to give to you without asking for a single return and realize how haunted I’ve become…. a ghost fleeting into the past recllections of ones who once knew me……and the music, it flys from my hollow breast to rest quivering on unsure notes swept up into the stormcast sky.

Love is the worst of all the four letter words I’ve ever heard or read, worst by far and harder to recant once freed in spoken word…. where it drifts farther out of reach as you find yourself sinking, falling, dragged down and drowning in the force of what you feel and hopelessly helpless because it was you who surrendered and now you can’t call it back ever…..

the things which mattered most to me while I was still alive was hearing you laugh and seeing you smile, smile at me…. something you rarely did, didn’t you know?

I wander away in a daze…. your absence hits me like rain and soaking with despair I walk without seeing my feet nor the path I tread and suddenly I have traversed all the years, the passage of time and I am come to my first memory of meeting you…. where in that space of time I never would have imagined how much I would grow to love you, or that it would be the death of who I am.

Years from now you will find yourself reading the things I wrote for you and a small frown  will furrow your flawless brow for then the perfect cadence of these words will mean something  and I won’t be there for you to tell me how, it suddenly is that you understand the things I said amd did, that you see now the one message I only ever tried to relate, unfortunately my dear, by the time you do…. it will be far too late. 

Coffee & Freaks (09/09/2006)

You’d think, after six plus years

I would not still be surprised at the measure of hatred

and ingratitude, posturing

and ignorance

spewing forth

in pursuit of coffee.

How entitled they all

believe

they are, simply because of course

Merecedes or BMW

is the make of their cars

which they double park

for double tall nonfat no foam two and a half splendas one hundred eighty-five point seven five degree stirred lattes three times EVERY day

yet complain about a twenty-five dollar parking ticket

they were definitely entitled to.

And trying to pay for a one dollar and sixty three cent

cup of coffee with a one hundred dollar bill

and then getting angry

because having just opened the register till

I absolutely do not have enough money to change it….

unless you don’t mind rolls of coins too,

what the hell kind of freak

goes to a coffee shop

for a one dollar sixty-

three cent cup of

coffee and tries

to pay with

a damn

hundred

dollar bill?

Final Symphony of Tristeza (09/24/2006)

The empty breeze has captured leaves to deposit in mindless abandon. Each leaf a dream of things unseen of fates both fixed and random. And all the leaves in their colored flurry, life no longer hold but each palette an autumn glory languishes in time, a story gone untold. No audience nor fabled voices cry their woes aloud, for life is indiscriminate in its choices taking both the humble and the proud. When long the leaves have been scattered and snows bank upon the streets, my tale woven becomes tattered and the notes fly joyful from their sheets. I wrote this music long ago and no one listened then, perhaps if just one had ever known, they’d appreciate what I gave to them.

The lines have all been written, the words have all been said, the time has passed away unbidden to put this play to bed. Farewell my constant “lovers”, farewell my unknown friends, I’ve passed into the forever, where every promise ends. There’s nothing left to sanction, no agreements to be kept, I retire with satisfaction and hope that someone wept. My words which hold no meaning to those I’ve dared to love, I hope are found as revealing, a soul who loved too much. Each thought I ever tempted, each face I adored, I hope can find redemption, in this my final score.

What do you all want of me? The one who is unwanted? There’s nothing left to pillage here and every word is haunted. I laugh alone at last and as always as I was; the light in life I strove to cast, mocks each and all of you because, you didn’t give a fucking damn. Goodbye. Thanks for just being human… thanks so very much for even once really caring.

beautiful nightmare

today was the day

when I finally tripped over

my own realization of

exactly what you are

and was at once amazed

that I did not know it

immediately.

You stare at me

hesitantly with your eyes

dark

even though they are the gold

of foam flecked ale,

how you struggle to stay in line

with the character whose

role you abducted

and refuse

to see me as I am seeing you,

refuse to see

how clearly I am seeing you.

How is it

I am content

to wait for the merest suggestion

of that sly

and secret smile

I have only ever seen you

smile

when I

say something to you and your thoughts in

response are painted

perfectly in that smile

which you only smile

when you have dropped

your gaze from

my own.

You are such

a delicious contradiction

with your opinions

and views conflicting

neatly one with the other.

It makes my

mouth water.

I can see you on canvas

but I’m standing too

close to

paint you myself

so instead

I’m painting you here

with words.

and though I know

the futility of such

wishing, I still find myself

hoping one day

you’ll be my

beautiful nightmare… I

would never wake again.