i write, sometimes it's not so bad.
meet the faceless name that has too much time on it's hands at 3AM
hold on and
that we can make it
through my fighting.
that i want to make it work.
how do i begin to tell you
how sorry i am
the way i am?
how can you do,
all the things i ask of you?
to understand my actions fully
love me completely?
maybe i was wrong to
share those demons.
i beg you to
believe in me,
like i have always believed in you.
hold on a little longer and
give me the chance,
to get back to the woman
you fell in love with.
he slides my shirt up over my head
and i hide my body against him.
that his eyes,
which hold such capacity for judgement,
are fooled by the touch of my skin.
the honest fear of last second
stands clear in my heart.
unwavering in the face of its own impossibility.
in that second,
i feel as if i am stripped
of the feeble illusion that has granted me access
to his desires and passions.
i'm truly ashamed in that moment
ashamed for having tricked him
i am so much more
then i truly am.
bringing me from the depths of sleep
a half tide type consciousness
to bang on the wall a few times
and fall back
into the welcoming depths
sharp and chipping
low on the floor
by the foot of my bed.
i'm awake now
my heart beating faster
as i notice
it really is.
i get up
turning on the light
to take a look around
i don't see a fleeting tail
or a brown fur ball scurry
so i stomp around a bit
fee fi fo fum be afraid little rat
out with the lights
and back to bed.
and as my muscles
unwind and i truly
begin to think i have won...
cracking and splintering
i try and ignore it
but the sound is maddening
throbbing behind my eyes
like he is boring into my skull
i yell like
he would understand
holding my pillows to my ears
heart pumping battery acid
unafraid of me
or my stomping
or my fits
and suddenly i'm the one afraid
my girlish unreasonable fear
but it chews
coming for me
of it's friends
to join the party.
it will be through the floor boards
any second now
it's piercing eyes
and sharpened teeth
looking for something else
rubbing my rummy red eyes
against the harsh hard light of morning
last nights laughs and loves gone cold and bitter
staining the satin sheets we shared.
i woke up alone
if you were really ever there
if anything really happened
or if the drink finally seeped into my head
and conjured up a wild night
laughing alone in the dark
naming the shadows and whispering sweet
to no one.
i would like to believe my own
imagination would be kinder
but i know differently.
straining the grindings out of day old coffee
i wonder where you have gone to
what your doing and
where you are....
but i know the danger and the
foolishness of such thoughts
so i toss them away along with the
of last nights wild war
sweeping up the leavings
helping along the hobbling thoughts
that last night was a dream
and you were never there at all.
this house is too big,
and the walls have been the same shade of
when he comes to me
he reminds me of everything
i ever wanted
it's not hard.
act the same way he does.
and we pretend,
she doesn't exist.
we haven't fucked.
but we stare,
and we watch.
and we fight the smile.
fingers linger while passing
we can't resist falling into
each others arms
and holding tight
for a few terrifying seconds.
smelling each others smell,
burying our heads in the sand.
that no one in the world
can see us,
is how it could
then we let go.
only our eyes, thoughts,
and those sweet smells
and maybe he is too.
and i know it.
but these days,
which i remember having,
aren't enough to make me say
and that's enough
maybe we can...
i haven't had a drink in months.
but the bottle in the freezer
tugs at my sleeve.
sweet and slippery
down the throat and into the gullet
it wouldn't be hard.
to take just one day to say
and lay in a pile
of my own
thirsty voices shout
about how all that is well
is bound to spoil.
and they remind me that
dawn is always followed by dark nights
and that tomorrow is my day off anyway.
give up and float in the only
steady arms you have known
in a long
just one day
of the old shine.
just one day
of the old you.
we never did formally say goodbye
and you would hate to be rude.
you are a shadow in the dark.
merely warmth and weight,
a delicious ebb and flow
that i float in.
my childish thoughts playing through the moment.
"look at me" you pant.
a heavy breathed plea
disguised as an empowering coital command.
i open my eyes and pull you close.
reducing you again,
to a set of lips and an unshaven jawline
to the soft connection of neck and shoulder.
you say "i love you" in a voice that
sounds more like "i love this".
i try my best not to notice.
and when the end comes near,
it's almost instinct to push away.
back into the soft embrace of cotton and fluff.
eyes closing once more
rolling back and staring deep
into an inner void.
into a place that needs this impromptu encounter.
a place that wants to forget the shadow that was here before.
where you can not follow.
i find fear switching sides these days.
suddenly lonely years don't seem as scary as letting someone
see past the reflection my moon shaped mirror gives off.
you were too good to be true.
reeking of my pasts poor choices and delusions,
but i decided to give it a try anyway...
don't we all?
when faced with those divine omissions that beg
for the permission to attempt to teach us those
oh so crucial life lessons.
alarmingly handsome, quick and sure footed in every stride.
wanting nothing more then to occupy your thoughts,
like you invaded mine.
you're as much to blame as i.
so quick to flirt and wink,
smile and marvel at my drollery,
soaking up attention and my
star dusted batting windows
with all their shine.
i wanted to believe it could be possible,
and you didn't want to lead me on
so this sorry soliloquy ends not in tears;
but in a content sigh and the warm embrace
from the oh so familiar despondency.
looking down the length of a desolate road.
my guts turn steely and i refuse
to give my heart the satisfaction of sorrow.
i was never one to sit and lick my own wounds,
and this unflinching night is no different.
it takes more then you to shake my sand.
you are discarded like a lone glove
and as the shadow of the man,
i know deep down is out there,
flees across the desert
i faithfully follow.
i have an affinity for being in your proximity.
and you don't see me,
but i'm here, taking you in slowly
sip by sip.
my water weary mouth relishing
the sweet undertones of your wine.
i tell myself not to guzzle greedy gulps
and waste those dribbling drops that
roll down my chin.
how do i explain to you?
how do i even express
that excess pressure in my chest
that only comes on when you
drop careless winks
like tarnished pennies in a beggar's cup.
making me the beggar,
a terrified transient just looking for a hand out.
unwilling to look you in the eye as i stand
with limp hands hanging, hoping to catch
the tender of your time
asking you to please
"that's what i want...a good hard rain"
and the next day it rained.
watching the heavy drops bombard
the small broken house i hide in. i wait
waiting for a leak to spring.
waiting for buckets filling up with rain water
making that uneven
music that drives me mad and puts the dogs to sleep.
waiting for the rivers to creep in under the doors
and dampen furniture so it wont dry till june.
waiting for the cold wind that blows right through the windows
and the power to fail
like it does,
every time it rains.
he wanted a good hard rain
and it's here.
he will walk in,
all smiles and dripping drops and muddy foot prints
"isn't it wonderful? isn't it perfect?!"
wrapped in yards of blankets and layers of ripped clothing
will agree and try to ignore his laughter
at my misery.
let's run, hand in hand, and promise not to look back.
we are young and lean with eager muscles and limbs,
built for flight.
let's run away and hide from peeping eyes.
let's not share the little we have
bodies burning and breaking down
while we gallop on rooftops
leaving a wake of suspicious whispers
and longing looks into the setting sun.
we will be leaping shadows against the
dusk's failing light. stretching long limbs,
dark expanding space
and wide wonderful worlds.
run with me till we find what we are looking for
or until we drop dead
with bloody feet and stretching hands
still begging for something to hold on to.
i'm tired of these walls
i'm tired of this life
take me away
or follow me into the night.
run with me,
and promise never to look back.
we had been standing in line for hours.
our good, respectable clothes had long gone from
neat and pressed
limp and sweaty.
they take us in
one by one
and ask us questions
that make us stumble and nervously
fidget while they scribble notes and
raise eyebrows, waiting for us,
to show them
deserve (out of all the other unwashed fools)
when it's done we thank them for
their time, even though they never thank us
and that night
they pick and choose
they skim over and laugh at bad handwriting
and the clothes we wore.
at the end of our day, we
the line of prospects,
lay in our beds,
in our homes,
praying to be chosen.
praying to ascend from this
to leave empty days
and worrisome nights
and when that phone call doesn't come
we (because there are always far more left behind then chosen.)
defeated and deflated,
we wipe our bleary eyes
and shuffle onto the next line.
trying like hell to
polishing up those old shoes
and stitching together that good blouse
hoping to get one more solid use out of them before
they fall apart.
“i don’t know where i’m going…but i’m not coming back here.”
you blurted out,
loud enough so we all could hear,
unafraid and unapologetic.
i was upset at first, but then
i was suddenly glad.
you were always bigger then this place.
i had to be happy for you.
you saw that big something
and you were the first to notice the freighting rate at which this town was drying up.
there are other worlds then these.
these dried up ghost towns hold nothing but rotting piles of memories,
discarded beer cans and
the few of us
i drown that part of me that wants to clamp down
and hold you tight before you notice the cage door shutting.
i know you are not a pet to be kept,
but the sight of your bright colors is enough to make me miss your song
and drunkenly beg you to stay.
fly away little birdie.
you were always bigger then this town,
bigger then this skeleton crew of
drunk could have been somebodies
who always remember way back whens, when things were better.
when we didn’t have to choose sides and
decide if we were staying or going.
fly away and leave us with the memory of what you were to us.
you can be the star of the stories
told over and over,
wiping our eyes and telling of the times
we were lucky enough to be there.
you were always bigger than us,
and we all knew this day would come.
look at me.
acting like a twelve year old with a crush.
all beating heart and starry eyed day dreams
this hasn't happened in years
and already i feel worrisome hands
patting down the wrinkles and torn edges
to be good enough.
i'm that scared excited that i was when i was little
under covers with flashlights
confessing and confiding in
a favorite bear.
trying on my big sisters makeup
giggling about what it is like to kiss
and who i was in love with.
it all boils underneath that thin skin
of cool that i'm positive you can see
look at me,
acting like the girl
i worked so hard to
grow up and away from.
look what you have done,
look at all those walls you have destroyed,
in a matter of days.
i hate the word potential.
it’s one of the few words that always meant well but was only ever spoken
by sad drunken mothers,
shaking their heads while whispering into the phone
about the child she always forgets to mention in the daily report.
they always had such potential
they wasted their potential
they never realized their potential.
my mother always wanted to play piano.
And as long as I can remember, we had one, a piano,
sitting fat and dusty in the entryway,
to be passed everyday on the way in or out like a sad dog
watching you pass by again and again without taking a second look
at its empty bowl or matting fur.
She paid for lessons that I hated
and as soon as my sister gave her a grandchild and that grandchild could sit up on it's own
she sat her down at the piano,
hoping that someone would finally pay some attention
to that damn dog.
i vomit out words on pages
I scribble faces on slate
I try to carry a tune.
Trying to see what she saw, what talented life did I turn away from?
What choice did I make that made it all turn sour?
Was it the homework I never did
or the drugs I tried
or the sex I had that suddenly turned my future from bright to dim.
Should I weep for what I could have been?
Should I beg forgiveness because I stumbled and lost the race?
I don’t want to.
I don’t want an office.
I don’t want an education.
I don’t want a husband.
I don’t want kids.
And I don’t want to play piano.
I can’t sleep again. On nights like this my bed makes me ache.
I’m tossing and turning in an ocean of hot itchy blankets and deflated pillows
I lie awake.
My mind is me caught in a small dark room burning at a madding pace bouncing from trouble to worry to factoids to be kept for the next day,
plans and lists that persist and insists that there was something
I forgot to do
or did wrong or
will forget soon.
I can’t sleep and it burns,
the night stretching thin long and lean threatening to last forever and hold dawn at bay.
I feel crazy at times like these,
when there is nothing left to do but lay there and let the day rest but instead I lay awake and let the troubles of yesterday infest the promise of the new today. I beg for smoke or drink or hell a heavy object
to bestow upon my brow blessed sleep.
I beg you night, find my restless worry and grant me leave.
I don’t want to meet the dawn, shy as she is, as she creeps into her place.
Her silent footsteps already carried on the wind and I fear she is close.
Let me sleep, let me dream; let me get away from all of this for a while.
Blessed night let me sleep. Too many nights have escaped my hands already and I fear I’m growing senile.
I see the things that were never there and my days run like diluted paint turning the big picture a muddy brown and fuzzy.
Blessed night let me sleep.
I want nothing more than to hold audience for or hour or two.
To speak my peace and be allowed to stay in your keep.
Blessed night, please, let me sleep.
Don’t tell me you love me.
Such things make me the shake.
My mind quakes and rattles and rolls as it unknowingly cooks up a bitter plan to turn your love into hate.
To turn those bright blue swimming pools of yours into the lowered shades I know how to deal with.
I can’t handle sweet honey dripping lips and lies of forever that taste just as sweet.
I’m broken and I will break you too
It’s what I do. Cause it’s all I know how to do to deal with a man who doesn’t lie or cheat or check out those cheerleaders asses as they pass us, drooling like hunger recognizing a steak and looking back at me and seeing last weeks meatloaf.
I’m not used to a man who doesn’t tell me to paint myself up or trim myself down or even one that isn't at least a little like that one who told me I was lucky he looked twice. And I was, at the time, lucky he saw me because at that time I wasn’t seen by anyone. A ghost, haunting the classrooms and and halls, a blooming wall flower, growing up and around her dark little corner, tendrils arching away from the light. He was god, a pitying punk rock priest that put down the word and walked bravely into the dark twisting gardens. A martyr who took one for the team and decided to look the other way when faced with this and this and these…you know, for my sake.
I admit it, I’m bruised, battered and beaten by those before you and you can’t expect a fair trial. I’ll do whatever I can to make you see what all the others saw. I will frame you like the pretty portrait you are putting the smoking gun in your hand telling you it’s your fault I pulled the trigger.
I try to be better but everyone knows I’m the worst, all bar room winks and smiles to just to test your line and flirting with a fate of dying alone cause I don’t want you holding my hand in public.
I couldn’t begin to tell you those deep down cravings for love. Those fears and tears that spill when no one is looking because I barley trust them to my tribe let alone a boy I barely met praising me as his one and only. A boy who can barely crawl into fray of my past issues. pages of time magazine caught in the wind each ad dawning a razors edge. cutting and tearing and stripping off the skin of anyone stupid enough to smell the buds in the middle of a brawl.
I admit it, I’m a fighter. I’ve been taught by bad teachers who make me believe that the second you take the time to find out the real me you’ll be gone. A shadow at high noon come and gone too soon thanking the lord you didn’t get in too deep before pulling yourself out.
Try not to get it twisted, I don’t hate the me deep down there but I do think it’s too much of me to ask you to peek in and be ok with that girl that can’t help but hide. That girl that talks tough but is sometimes scared of the dark that goes on and on forever inside. I don’t think she will ever meet anyone with open arms cause it’s easier to walk alone then be left behind.
I wanna believe in love, before the time has tick tocked away, leaving me the ancient spinner spinning long silken yarns about loves long lost and trying teach the young girls not to waste the years by talking the talk but not walkin the walk. I want to love and laugh and make memories but I'm afraid of choosing an end all be all just because I'm prone to some lonely nights.
so slow down speedy, and put the pot on simmer. cause if you mean what you say and say only what you mean we got all the time in the world before those four little letters need to be added to the pallet to paint our perfect picture. don't ask for those hidden parts too quick and don't try and be slick, don't give me a sleezy cheesy come on baby please and please me. give us the time to grow and sew all the seeds that need to root before I know if you're for real or just another joker after the loot.
come to me little one,
come into the fold.
far away from the world
that doesn't understand you
that doesn't want you.
there is nothing left for you there
the only thing out there
is more rejection,
come to me
escape in me
and don't question the dark.
don't worry about tomorrow
or the day after that.
only see me,
and let the only thought
that shimmers across your mind
be of our love
and our life together,
due us part.
they hate you,
i love you
they reject you,
i bring you in
wrapped together in our burning arms
heavy with fever,
we are one.
just you and me
and a lifetime of us
they will try and pull us apart,
but you won't let them...
they tell you i'm bad for you
but who hurt you?
and who made it better?
that constant babble of
they are desperate to make you
a rescued reject
they can pat on the head
and polish up for strangers
so they can be commended on their
all those plastic smiles
trying to hide the pity for you.
where would you be without so and so...?
you must be so grateful....
why, you would have been dead without us....
like the life they offer
is any real life at all.
i say drink deep of me
and do what you want
cause you want to do it.
be wildly wicked
if you want to.
be bitterly brooding
if you want to.
be a puddle on the floor.
they can't understand like
they can't cure
they can't help
they can't possibly see
or ever accept
the person i know,
you really are deep inside.
i have grown to love.
come closer little one.
and i will tell you tales
of great men
and strong women,
of lives lived
quick and fast.
come little one,
live among them
they are eager to share
the secrets of the
as it really is.
and help you cast off the chains
of the world that you have been forced fed.
and chest hurts.
i have a tooth that needs to be pulled
and a mole that needs looking at.
i can't sleep
and when i stand my knee pops.
i still can't find a job
and my bills are too damn high.
the roof leaks and the
washing machine tears up my clothes.
the dogs don't listen
and there is never any food in the house.
my last pair of jeans is starting rip
and i haven't had a decent
idea to write about for weeks.
i'm tearing through my
looking for my favorite shirt
and it hits me,
i remember now,
you took it with you
when you left.
swearing it was yours...
i look into the mirror.
after a long night alone with
a cheap chardonnay,
my hands run through my hair,
they rub the tired worry from
we stand there for a moment.
sighing a quick prayer and
trying to steady that shaking hand.
we start to raise our heads when
she stares back
she wonders what happened
blames the sickly color on the lights and
you can almost hear her voice.
"you can't run forever.
sooner or later you're
going to have to answer to
you almost wince and try and explain
but she continues to whisper
and plant those bitter black seeds
that take root so easily.
she laughs in your face.
she hates you.
you hate her.
she throws a punch
hitting you square, she shatters.
glaring up at you
from every bloody
shard and splinter.