feeling naked and sad
not sure why
just am
my chest feels like it's caving in
again
maybe I need a cigarette
or maybe I need fresh air
but I must need something
because this hurts
and pain is generally a sign
of a need to change something
that's going on
whether it's removing
your finger from the hot stove
or pulling someone wonderful into your life
pain usually signifies
a need
and I need something
for this ache
in my head and in my heart
and nothing feels good
I thought maybe writing would...
but it just seems to make it worse
and now I can't even stop
and this poem is ridiculous
and all I'm doing is drooling words
and hurting
I think a nap would be in order
except that
I slept all day
I don't want to sleep anymore
I don't want to do anything else, though
and I don't even ******* know why
why I feel this way
it just happened
I know that sounds kind of lame
but it's true anyhow
I was really happy about ten minutes ago
everything was totally cool
and then
BAM!
I'm down
for the count
don't even know what hit me
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 9:53 AM UTC
There it was -
Among lost flowers
And drained cups of espresso.
Among corrupt cabinets,
And torrid affairs.
Among the soldiers and the artists,
Among the philosophers,
The drag queens and the disasters,
And T.S. Eliot and his mermaids.
There, in a smoky haze
Of toasts and time,
I found meaning.
Friends, lovers, actors,
Huddled together one cold October,
Not for pay, not for fame.
Drawn together merely to drink our fill
On the intoxicating elixir of humble creation.
It was there,
In those chilly nights
Of backyard theatrics,
In the raw camaraderie
Of presenting art for art's sake,
That I found myself,
Whole and true.
So many plays and shows
I have oft participated in,
And many days have passed
Since that blissful October,
But the vivid memory forever remains
Of the perfect cast of players bound together
In the pure glee of organic imaginings
As we explored the dark against the light.
Did we know?
Did we comprehend, then,
The magnitude of beauty to be found
Within the ties that held us together?
Perhaps the rest never did quite feel the current
Of the electric wonder we evoked beneath the stars;
Not only in our karaoke-laden performance,
But in our offstage whisperings and antics -
Friendships forged in a campfire flame.
I cannot speak for the others,
But as for myself -
A girl now disillusioned
By Louisiana cynics
And toxic hometown politics -
I am nostalgic for those nights
That I spoke of Michelangelo.
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 9:43 AM UTC
Maybe someday
We could sit on our rooftop,
(It's yours and mine together)
And we could watch the birds fly by,
The people drive by,
And we could talk till the moon is overhead.
Maybe we could wake up in the morning,
Coffee brewing,
Filling our kitchen with the smell.
And we could make each other breakfast;
Eggs and biscuits and sausage,
And perhaps a stack of pancakes
If we're not too sleepy.
I don't like the feeling I get
When I realize how far all of this is,
How far away we are from making this a reality,
And how far away you are from me.
My generation screams for instant gratification,
And the clock keeps ticking so slowly.
I don't like to think,
About the dollar bills,
And the exhausting months of work.
And I don't want to remember
How alone we both are now.
I just keep hoping that maybe someday
We won't have so much distance
Between us and dreams.
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 9:15 AM UTC
Sick of the emptiness,
Of the millions of burnt out stars
That we don’t even know
Lost their light
Hundreds or thousands of years ago.
Sick of the darkness
That we don’t even know
Envelopes us,
Even now.
Sick of the dead gazes
From eyes that have lost so much
That we don’t even know,
As we peer into the mirror,
Are our own.
So tuck me into bed tonight,
And let me sleep forever,
Because I don’t wanna live in a world
Where everything doesn’t sparkle
All the time.
And love never stops
Filling you to the brim
Till your face hurts
From smiling
All the time.
And life is just
One enormous embrace
That never feels like
You’re suffocating;
Just warmth
All the time.
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 9:44 PM UTC
A whiff of a sweet warm scent;
The corner of my eye
Catches that lean frame,
And I must stop myself
From letting go of the immediate real
And instead, falling
Through the ticking hands
of clocks
And darkness dotted with twinkling
pinpricks of stars
Into the translucent designs
Derived from the depths of my mind.
I must untangle myself
From the winding passions within which
I have seemed to conceal myself.
For the longer I chase after these enticing dreams
The more lost I become
Among the lies I tell myself,
The lies I wish to believe,
Because love makes a more beautiful illusion.
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 9:20 PM UTC
I want to take your breath away.
I want to slap you senseless with "meaningful" words.
I want to shock you out of your pathetic coma,
So that you may wake up and sense the beauty of reality.
I want to make you see pure love,
Anguished hate,
Inner peace,
World war,
Simple truth,
Brutal lies.
I want to show you things that even I haven't seen.
I want to take your hand
And lead you through life's labyrinth.
I want you to remember what I teach,
And forget everything else.
I want to help you spread your wings,
So that you may fly me somewhere new.
I want you to listen to me,
So that you'll be able to hear the music.
I want you to cry,
So that laughing will come easier.
I want to give you something,
And I want you to keep it forever.
I want my words to thrive in your heart.
I want you to live,
Because I've already died.
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 9:19 PM UTC
Tear up the sheet of music,
Let it float down the swelling river.
Cry as you watch it drift away.
Sway to the melody -
The song of wind stirring autumn leaves.
And kiss yesterday good-bye.
Make sure your life doesn't become
One broken promise after another,
Or a shower of shattered sentiments.
Simply praise the beauty of the tears
That fall from your reddened eyes,
As you toss the rose over your shoulder
And walk away.
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 9:15 PM UTC
You are not a dancer,
But I like to watch your mind do pirouettes
As you take to the page.
You are far too gangly,
And your feet are much too large and cumbersome,
To accompany me to a ballroom,
But I could watch you waltz solo for hours,
As you labor gently over your words.
"Natural grace" has never applied to you
In the physical sense,
But your thoughts could rival
Fosse's signature moves in beauty and brilliance.
You are not a dancer,
But I like to imagine
That we tango in the moonlight
With words tumbling forth
In our precision steps:
One, two, three, one.
I'm not nearly as graceful as you are
In this realm, but someday
I hope to be the Ginger Rodgers
To the Fred Astaire of writers.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 11:20 PM UTC
rain in the summer
is always the best
because
the wet doesn't make you
cold.
instead,
the humidity is like
a blanket engulfing you,
hugging you close
all warm and safe
just like
your lover does
while he kisses the top
of your head
plip plip plip plip
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC