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Apr 2012 · 869
The flow of thought
Jen Ayala Apr 2012
The veins in our face
Supply the white blood to our eyes
Making them blue,
And acting as kaleidoscopes
Warping the images into a shattering collage
Where out of every book ever written
Only one single word made sense at all.
Ringing through the buzz
Penetrating the layer of sense within.
The first heart ever made
Was filled with a ghost,
And a single nail held it in place.
I could feel the dust settle
In the creases that radiate from the corners
Of my eyes that see what I see.
And here we go
Running away from one another
To the exact same place
Like a meadow in bloom
For the first time.
The colors soaking up the heat
Inside of a tear
That made it all the way
Down to the belly.
Nothing made more of an influence
On my reasonings for what was about to
Bite me in the ***.
The longest joke ever told.
I sat in the orange plush chair
And sipped on my overpriced concoction
And they used my legs to hold up their janky table.
A dog barked from the corner of hell,
****, I can’t believe I'm going
To slip into this **** robe again
So you might think twice about me.
For once.
From the dark of the room
Came a noise unmistakable,
What happened to the cat and mouse mentality
Tip toeing to the edge
Of a bird’s wing and peering over
The glimmer of the chandelier
Hung too low for the average person to pass under.
My baby doll caught a fire
That began where the sun first shined.
Casting down my gaze to the coin
That fell from the hole in my pocket,
The one that paid for my old
Dusty memories and a yellow rose.
Sometimes my moments last too long.
I wish I brought that lens with me
To see the dreams that bleed
Straight back into the day,
Crashing behind my eyelids.
This, here, is my favorite song.
Lets put it on repeat and bob
our heads all night
like we were in water
made out of black stars
I once told you
Not to dream in silence.
Talk in your sleep.
Apr 2011 · 727
battle.
Jen Ayala Apr 2011
This is me trying to convince myself that I’ve fallen out of love with you
because that’s better than the inability to
(for fear of facing the giant it would become)
This pain is from the gradual decay of something once radiant
turning into something now devoid
Not the cringe of the fingernails-on-a-chalkboard sound
coming from the out-of-tune strings of my heart
Death is a slow process and
suicide is a quick relief
(but both leave an empty space)
Maybe I just need to fall into something less destructive
Or less insubstantial
Or more enchanting
Or maybe even myself?
I haven’t been myself for a while
and that frustration makes me want to scream
I feel like a rat in the sewer
Except for I’m not a rat, I just thought I was
What I am is a liar
Because I’ve either fallen out of sight,
or have never even existed in this place
But either way it’s too much for my chest, for my nights, for my fingers, for my eyelids, for my paint and my ink, for the air that I breathe, and for you to take.

This is me saying goodbye, for one reason or another.
Apr 2011 · 786
Concerning us
Jen Ayala Apr 2011
Cross-legged in tall grass writing songs about blues and trains and leaving
Tap-dancing on stone where below is the place they turn to dust
Capturing cringes and laughter and shadows and highlights
Hugging and fitting like comfort

It’s a cruel cruel tear,
I am deliriously happy for your wings to spread
And sorrowed at the anticipation of distance

You see, I love you more than I can explain
Which means that even I don’t know how much that is
So I could never use words or colors or music to tell
But there are some things I can explain, and I will

Here:

You are more beautiful than watching flowers fold to sleep when the sun sets
You are more contagious than green is to yellow and blue
And you act as a magnet to all the things I want to be within myself

It’s a prized prized life,
I share my blood with one so unique
While others can only scrape the foam off your loyalties

You are my companion and my friend and my white rabbit and my glass cased rose
And my sister
Feb 2011 · 661
musician
Jen Ayala Feb 2011
i could spot him in any crowd even though he blends into the walls

i want his warm hands and the way his fingers lace around mine
i want his soft lips and hard kiss
and how he would take violence and passion
and mix the most pleasurable serum i’ve ever tasted
i want his eyelashes to play my heart again like his fingers play guitar
                                                          ­                                                                 ­ beautiful

he told me he wouldn’t forget how our lips locked
                     i wont forget that either
and that if we lived in the same universe
we would be lovers like something rarely seen
                     i wont forget that either

did you know that when i see you my heart dilates
so to take in as much of your light as it can
and when i hear you i develop a fear of going deaf
because if i don’t get your notes, i'll be alone                                         
              ­                                                                 ­                         ******
                                 ­                                                                 ­      not high.
  
i’m not sure anyone can hold my interest the way he does
i wish i never let him go
every day

there’s something i’ve been wanting to tell you:
i couldn’t say goodbye to you and that’s why i didnt answer the phone
Jan 2011 · 794
Rambling
Jen Ayala Jan 2011
You’re going into that dark place again
I haven’t seen you in a few days, but I can still feel it
That’s what I get for attaching my heart to yours
The risk I took is a weight tied to my ankles
And treading the deep is no use when you’re so **** heavy
Lighten up
Life is not as hard as it seems to be
Not with two hands to make yours four

I’ve been feeling rather driftful lately
Walls and ceilings have lost their use and appeal
It’s curious that my heart has just as hard a time focusing as my mind does…
But back to the matter

Love.Heart.Lost.Found.Onward.Boundless.Alive.
Jan 2011 · 584
different now, better
Jen Ayala Jan 2011
My eyes changed color since you saw me last
I can tell because I see different
My skin is softer since you touched me last
I can tell because I feel different

My prints are still the same though.
Dec 2010 · 751
Hovering Hint
Jen Ayala Dec 2010
You don’t remind me of anything
because we don’t have any memories
But newly grown grass
and open skies remind me of you.
Dec 2010 · 951
Collide
Jen Ayala Dec 2010
I collided into a kindred man
his persistence was desired
My curiosity began
my imagination inspired
He asked me if I liked music,
Said he could play, mostly strings
I wonder if he knows my heart has strings
I wonder if he’s that persistent
Jen Ayala Dec 2010
I’m tired of missing you and how hard it is to tell you that I do
I have this built up illogical fear that your one step away from out of sight.
A dog fears lightning, curled up in a corner
yet a butterfly has no fear of the web its flying into
Fools
I guess fear doesn’t always make sense, it’s still real though
Real enough to make my insides churn anyway

It was my birthday yesterday
and an old lover’s birthday is today, but he died so I there wont be any celebration.
Makes me feel guilty I have such a hard time being alive at times, him being dead and all.
It also reminds me how hard it is to loose someone you care about
And how slowly loosing my grasp on you makes me ache

You are quite literally a drug to me
And when I don’t get you I go insane
I wilt, as quick as a plucked dandelion
and my petals fall and collect at my feet and I watch it and I hate it.
I need my fix, the disgusting addiction that you are
So ****. You.
Because I need you’re your hands all over me and your sweat dripping on my skin from vigorous *** sessions, once, twice, three times a night
and the bruises you make and mark’s you leave behind
Sweet intoxication on my lips
I need to kiss you and be adored by you...

I’m not sure if I’m in love with you
and I’m sorry I said that I was but I was drunk and you felt so good

Last night I told you I was dissatisfied. I might’ve lost you in that moment. Or maybe you lost me.
I’ll try to be alone,
even though I don’t want to be.
Maybe were only together so were not alone
cause being alone *****
Mostly when you don’t have the choice.
Dec 2010 · 487
Dr., Please
Jen Ayala Dec 2010
Dr., help me for I am your patient
And I’ve grown quite impatient
I need to increase my medication
LOVE
I just don’t get enough of it.
Dec 2010 · 608
Lets Pretend
Jen Ayala Dec 2010
I like to take lonesome strolls through the fog
Pretend it’s a blank canvas
I pretend that I’m not where I am since I can’t see where I'm going and therefore I could be anywhere
So I think up a different life, one where I haven’t failed at the things my heart wanted so
Or feel as though I’ve been plundered barren
Instead, I see colors around me, vibrant
And people around me, unique
Not the washed out Xeroxed copies that bore my vision

Would you call me pompous for thinking that?
Or that it is coarse of me to expect more and to refuse this devoid?
Well I don’t care.

I’ll mislead my mind for a moment, or two, or three…or as long as I can
And pretend I’m impressed by you
That you make me feel like sitting in my dim room with the cold rain outside is like sitting in a meadow with warmth beaming on my skin
And that trusting you and wanting you here is as easy as the smile on my face after waking up from a pleasant dream
Thinking of these things makes it easier to breath for a while

Those are the things I think about when I walk in the fog

But when it clears it’s not as easy to pretend, so I suppose now I’ll try the old fashioned approach, and don’t throw this letter away

*To whom it my concern,

I don’t believe in prayer, so this is not that
I don’t believe in fate, so this is not that either,

Please get me to a place where I don’t fear. Long for. Cry from. Disappoint. Hurt. Want more.  

Yours truly,
Jenny
Nov 2010 · 515
Gray
Jen Ayala Nov 2010
Legs spread, straddling the topic, and on either side of me is a dangerous fall.
What did you say? I captivate you? You tell me my soft lips and my hard kiss have you thinking of nothing else, my flesh and the way it feels on yours has you forever coming back for more, you love the way we fit, the way we contrast, the way the ink in our skin blends, and when we ourselfs blend were a distinguished shade of gray.
Oh stop, you’re too kind. Blushing babe.
I think its time for a subject change so I’ll dismount, to the left this time because its the side that’s more like following my heart.
I love it when you touch me like that. It’s like you’re feeling every last bit of me, and you like what you feel. Tell me you like what you feel; then again I suppose you don’t need to because I can sense it in the passion. I love this.
In this haze I’ve become malleable, so with every stroke and every word you are redefining my facts of existence, my reality, my subsistence. I'd take this plunge as sure as I'd take my next breath if this is what I could expect. But nights like these are few and far between. So if I’m honest, I’ll tell you I’m resisting this (but I'm not as honest as I should be). Its not black and white, its a distinguished shade of gray. It's us.
Jenny Ayala
Nov 2010 · 619
Downpour
Jen Ayala Nov 2010
I just need for the rain to start
It may be the only way to wash my heart
I’m melting here in this corrosive apartment
(This room cost far too much)
Apart is what is meant.
I’ve got questions spinning around in my head
like a hurricane uplifting nonsense to wound my sanity
Will love always break me?
Why does emptiness feel full?
How can “nothing” consume me?
Will there be flowers left after the storm?
Will there be someone to place them in my hair?
I don’t think it’s healthy to sit on this stool
surrounded by colorless mustard walls
How foolish of me to have lost my way
A way is all a wonderer needs
Away is where I need to be
What is it that took my pride
And my solidity, and my grace, and my height?
And my hands?
No, no more.
I just need for the rain to start
It’s the only way to wash my heart
Nov 2010 · 738
The Dead Hour
Jen Ayala Nov 2010
Awoke last night in the deadest of hours
From a visionless sleep
And in that deadest of hours
I began to weep
Perhaps it was the emptiness of the night
That caused the rivers in my eyes to flow
Perhaps it was my sick heart that decided to explode
But when the blackness I saw was the back of my eyes
And no longer the complete lacking of light
My mind revealed this scene to me:


Standing naked in the mirror
Flickering candles
Dancing shadows
My lover behind me, drawing nearer
Holding me warm, close, tight, safe
A kiss on the back of my neck
A fire inside, I need you
Stay
A sharp knife starts to cut
The kind of sharp not felt at first
My lover worked to filet my flesh
Dripping me hot, red, open, scared
He backed away and watched, repulsed
I wrapped my wounds, a slowing pulse...


Saved from my nightmare
By morning demands
My head knows,
Please help my heart understand
Nov 2010 · 1.3k
Nepenthe
Jen Ayala Nov 2010
I walked into a boisterous marquee

And ordered a shot of Nepenthe

What troubles you? asked the tender with a long goatee

I’ve pawned off all my treasures to the wretched blue sea

At this, with a puzzled look his neck did crane

To learn the love a starfish has for salty water, I explain
Jen Ayala Nov 2010
It somewhat looks like a bull-dosed waterfall
It’s a lot, but it’s neither great nor grand
Or hardly worthy of a standing ovation
Yet still, here we are
Glancing favored smiles in its direction
As if looking at a reflection

I advise, care less for the standard
Demand what is extraordinarily preposterous
Stop this nonsense of looking for a chest with an S
Or an answer that is yes
Or to somehow beat this test and be better than the rest
Of the leftover instuments placed here to stand and watch this empire crumble

Oh how lovely to feel humble
What am I to do? Sit here all day on my thumb?
Hearts are growing numb
Minds are decaying sick
And money drives the ambulance to recovery,
Or is headed straight for deterioration?

Sky above, changing weather
Look what’s been done in the name of something better
Hot young seduction dressed in the stench of power and red
Self preservation is what ticks time
The timeline folds around seeing eyes, blinding
All your knowledge means nothing from an undercast view
Mankind thinks, but cannot know
Some truth is sad, but still is so
Create beauty tare it down
Build the trust then leave town
I want more; a selfish wish
When the burn has reached the third degree
My intent is lost with secrecy
Nov 2010 · 1.2k
The Bird and the Beatle
Jen Ayala Nov 2010
There once was a Beatle and a Bird
Who enjoyed a cup of tea every hour of the 3rd
At whome, passer bys would exclaim “Absurd!”
“These two could never give what the other deserves”
But still the Beatle and the Bird
Remained ever so undeterred

— The End —