I know this story
Two broken toys
Lives miming parody
A girl behind glass
We can't touch our
Hearts live in the past
We could press up
Against the pain of glass
It doesn't matter what we want
When your broken you just can't
I know how it is
Fate whispers tragedy
It can't be I want to die
Living dead presently
I see the world through glass
A world of people to see
They're mouthing words I can't hear
I scream but they can't touch me
I'm disconnected and distant
Shadow soul ghost echo
Ephermal intangible animal
Easily confused by what's real
Surviving starts this prison feeling
Crying staring at the ceiling
With every fiber of being
Longing to feel anything
I could sleep with you
Never touch soul just body
Fickle fates heart is a tyrant
One of life's little ironies
So you'll always be
The girl behind glass
Pretty snowglobe to stare at
Cold winter dream untouched
Secret hidden heart hurting enough
Find enough snowglobes
You'll learn to let go
We only have what we hold
Was it you we'll never know
But I'll remember you fondly
In your time of winter and trees most
Memories of hope I'll keep close
The last time someone touched my heart
These days I don't have many of those
We're throwing flowers at glaciers here, with all of the corresponding efficacy you'd expect :-) Sometimes it's not what works but that you're still capable of trying.
What you walk away with is something like hope, rescued from tragedy and you cherish that momentary happiness until it collapses and time elapses and you walk away dazed and confused with pleasant if misguided memories of having your heart touched, even if it was for the briefest of moments.
old makeup spilled on my floor
dirty clothes strewn on my floor
I have a new, thousand dollar laptop
less than two hundred ($) in checking
no groceries, yet plenty of prescriptions
(but they are needed, much and every day)
where did all these bills come from?
suddenly, it costs money to breathe.
Eating? Oh pshaw, that costs money.
I get what I ask for, and it always comes, at a price of over a hundred dollars,
and more bad luck than a couple broken mirrors smashed over a black cat.
Quick! Let's do designer drugs with the paltry change given by our parents!
Wouldn't they feel proud of our feelings of entitlement and adult decisions?
Break open my mother's back,
or my father's checking account
so long as I get to swipe down
that magnetic strip of their love
(that proves that they love me)
and we will buy strawberries
for five dollars and nine cents
and eat like the bourgeoisie (!)
flicking the tips of eyeliner up
like a little tail, the ends of eyes,
black as my tightest velvet pants
and I'll come call, prepaid, with
a voice that is thick and ripped,
bags under eyes, a little anemic,
(I think it adds to the glamour)
I will put on perfume and furs,
silken drawers, fine gold jewelry.
I will gamble with you in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas,
just as long as you pay my rent at $695 per month,
until I die, or something else.
I can’t help but utter a curse
Or two, after the strap of my purse
Breaks and my things begin to roll
On the floor. Or my cereal bowl
Decides that it wants to fly
Away from the counter and die.
When my computer shuts down
And my work doesn’t save, I frown
And want my laptop to feel my pain
Cuz I don’t want to type it again.
When I trip over air, but I swear
Up and down that there was something there.
When I stub my toe on something
And hop up and down yelping.
It’s the little things in life
That tend to cause so much strife.
It's the silent sound of years in pain
Shedding tiny translucent tears the world can't see
When hope is a dream within a dream
I can't discern the difference...
...between bitterness and me
Blurring the lines of reality and rationalization
There's no hope in bleak grey sky
Lonliness a monument to the ruins of civilization
I can't recall abandoning hope...
...let alone ask why
Ambulatory motions of existence
Cynical functions of persistence
Analyze. Explain. Define.
Live. Love. Die.
Perfunctory day to day living
Hand to mouth every moment existing
Losing myself to routine rote repetition
Clouding the emptiness of internal division
I was afraid of nothing...
I had nothing to lose...
...until I found you
Some days I wish I was a piranha where
I could snap at anyone who pesters me,
Which on days like this is everyone.
How can this be called a life?
Staring past the glass each and every day
Is enough to make anyone go crazy,
Year after year chums come and die,
Why should I bother with the trivial dance of friendship
Especially with that stupid goldfish
With those big and innocent eyes
That annoying childlike eagerness
That only lasted so long before
I took a bite of those juicy black orbs.
I don't drink because I like it,
I'm just giving CPR to my dreams.
Love means just being an idiot.
Friends come and go.
Work. Earn money. Keep on running
because you choose to exist.
Create art. - Vomit your feelings.
Who knows if there is God.
What comes after death?
Follow the rules.
Be unhappy. - You're living the life correctly.
I don't drink because I like it.
I'm just giving CPR to my dreams.
Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell
1st Delirium: COLLAPSES
Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice
2nd Delirium: DECENTS
Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted rum
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb
3rd Delirium: FATES
Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks
4th Delirium: LOST SOULS
Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they’re none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight’s days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn’s begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won
5th Delirium: INTROSPECTION
Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs
6th Delirium: THE VOID
Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore
7th Delirium: SEARCHING
Martyred monks haunt runic ruins ... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
Midget dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow
8th Delirium: NIGHTTIME
Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free
9th Delerium: EMPTYNESS
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: ALIENATION
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: JETSAM
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: RELIEF
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
You will have a moon-faced child who is good at keeping secrets. She will be a piece of the the sea, ruled by the sun, and afraid of the dark. She will start to explore and never stop. More than anything, she will be frightened of being settled, getting stuck. She will say, "No, I will not", but at what cost?
I have terrible nightmares. I dream that I am running, trying to defend my truths against immoral powers. In my sleep, systems corrupted by the complexity of control try to steal my simplicity, try to make me dirty and compliant, things I will never be. In my dreams I am persecuted time and again for things that make no sense to me. It is a feeling of choking claustrophobia, worse than any coffin. The injustice insults my soul, and I wake with heaving lungs and an aching heart.
I am obsessed with knowing myself. Maybe if I can understand that much, the rest of this will start to make sense. We'll see.
I worry. I worry about dentists. Pharmacists. Business marketing majors. The dispassionate masses. People content to do things for money. For little bits of green paper that aren't particularly attached to anything but false notions of power. I have no religion to reassure me that it will all even out on some other plane. I have here, I have now. I will not fritter and waste the hours that make up the dull day, I will not be made to be afraid.
It hurts my heart to see how easily my brothers and sisters accept the notion that we are destined to spend most of the precious hours of our existences working at jobs we don't care about just to stay afloat in a drowning economy, and how easily judgments are cast upon those who don't conform to such broken logic. It's easier to judge than it is to think. Thinking is so uncomfortable.
It makes me want to scream, to rant. Don't they see? We pave the way for each other to be lazy. We have created technology that we use to save time so that we have more time to spend on the important things, like trying to figure out how to get our hands on more money, so that we can buy more things. We aren't paid to create, repair, discover or teach. We are paid to entertain, not question. We survive by serving. And that's a little too close to indentured servitude, wouldn't you say? Planned obsolescence. Wage slavery. Stockholm syndrome. Electoral College. War on poverty. From the makers of Agent Orange, corn! And no, you can't heat up your burrito, you think you're fucking royalty? That's right baby, keep voting. You have a voice. You are free.
Our entire system is obsolete if the air we breath, the water we drink, and the food we eat are killing us because we've been so busy saving time that we forgot to remember not to poison ourselves. We create disease, and then spend lots of time and money "treating" it. Treating and treating and treating, fixing things by breaking things. Quality of life be damned, we want to live forever! It increases our GDP, don't you see?? When it's my time to go, plug me into a wall for a few years and then bury me in a big fucking box to make sure that the nutrients in my body won't feed the earth. Spend a lot of money on all of that. I will look down on you lovingly from my cloud, stroke my chin and proudly ponder my legacy. The end goal, it seems, is to die old and rich and fat, surrounded by things. To leave no mark of love on anything, not even our own hearts. It hurts my heart to see my people so removed from their selves and their truths that they think they are right.
So much of what I see around me hurts my heart.
i am drowning
and all is fine.
you are my friend
i ask nothing of this vast sea
this vast sea asks nothing of me
i wish the air
could be here too
to see the world
from waters view
but air wafts
far up there
a flow I thought
i must look down
to see what is
near the ground
to my surprise
none at all
just more sea
i slowly fall
into the sky
a late night
light swims about
ebb and glow
down where I
can never go
MY MIND YELLS!
for me to breathe
and of this
i cannot conceive
for to breathe is to die...
...and breathing is
a part of me
as the wave
is of the sea