One white rose because you are an amazing friend
One pink rose because you are an incredible lover
One red rose because I love you and want to make you my wife
I am  catastrophically in love with you! 43

Catastrophically beautiful,
Like kissing a storm,
and expecting,
Not to get blown away.

Such sweet songs
Fall from faces full
Of open
Hearts holding hands.
Generally great groups gather
Quixotic questions,
Ponder personal perceptions,
Emulating ever entranced emotions.
Love loses leaps, leaves
Broad bruises bypassing
Catastrophically closed creations.
What wonder, what wildly whimsical
Rejoice remains?
In individualistic idioms.
As all allowed anatomical
Differences deal dictations,
Juxtaposed jesters join
Monstrous masterminds
Trivially tinkering, tryingly,
Near non-subjective nothingness
Under unusual
Vectors. Vivisecting voracious,
Zeppelin-esque, zygotes,
Xenophobic
Yodels yell,
"****! **** kindheartedness!"

Do Not Tell Me “everything will be okay”

I will not feel relief
my inside’s stress tsunamis don’t have an off button
they will catastrophically annihilate anything I believe to be
okay
I wish they didn’t
Oh fairy godmother, Oh yahweh, god, ******* jesus himself
grant me wishes, grant the whole ******* world wishes
because we’re tired
I can’t even imagine the fuel debt of starving african children
or stockholders losing what they haven’t bought yet
when I, a financially privileged and well fed college student
can’t get through 3 hours without trying to prevent
another stress tsunami

Do not tell me everything will be okay
It is not what i want to hear
I want to hear bullets in my head
girls, screaming at the sight of my right arm
gushing niagra falls of blood
I want god to **** my ****
I hope every therapist and so called good friend
can understand these words when i say
Depression will never be okay
Feeling hundred year old brick buildings
crushing upon my chest, my brain
ransacked by rubble
and my heart, an empty sack
will never be okay

I am burnt to a crisp
I am too old for this ****

The beat, the snare, the drum
Starting in at the floor and flying to my brain
**** all the people who say I’m numb
I’m sane, oh so sane!

My thinking, once a cloudy, congested, coagulate of incoherent thoughts,
Now flows free from its once catastrophically, closed chasm,
Bringing fourth meaningless, mindless motions and movements,
Showing all, that you are who you are, don’t be afraid to fall.

As the smoke clears, the crystallized casts of crushing vocals
Radiate to my ears; all we hear is the hate, the hassle, the hustle
The bustle.  Look beyond what has spawned to see what you find fond.
Blinded we remain; we fight, frightened and furious against this foe.

Conformity hinders our ability to show individuality.  They attack us
With ambidexterity to keep us statues of our own subconscious design,
Yet we continue to follow these wrongly deified prodigies.  They’re using
Us as antibodies to cleanse what are others conformities.

Enlightened I will stay to ensure Elysium for my fellow enthusiasts.
Free from these prodigies, my persistence will not fade
To grey, black, white, withered, wretched wasted thoughts.
My mind is free, my soul deep, this music is the up-beat.

I saw myself sitting on my knees, hunched over, clinging to a pile of rugs beneath me. Precisely three. Each rug was much like the other; slightly different in shape, but all of the same tone and texture. 


One by one, each was pulled away from underneath me…


My dad came and stole the first rug. I hardly expected it to have been snatched away. In my innocence, I thought I could somehow seek comfort there. Somehow I thought, I could feel it’s warmth for the remainder of my life not knowing much of the past, nor the future. With its displacement soon arose great fear. My mind started to alarmingly ring. What if all my other rugs are taken too? What if I have nothing soft left to lie on anymore? And what if all I feel is the bare emptiness of the ground below me? An emptiness, in which I am nothing? Inherently nothing…?

I clung to each rug that followed in dire fear of unanswered questions. In dire fear of all unknown. 


A few years thereafter, another rug I had grasped was snatched from underneath my base by T–. He did so in such an insidious way, I hardly expected it to have happened either. He had such invisibly cold hands that he told me were warm – a series of lies masquerading as truth. When T—’s rug went missing, I fell in much the same way as when my first rug was taken. Except this time, I fell to a position I had already felt so keenly, and so now, fell much more intensely. Doubly hunched over and in pain. A feeling of dejection and despair so intense from having already carried a previous stain; a previous memory. 


The next rug I encountered, I thought to be real. Actually, I thought it to be the most genuine I had ever encountered in the universe. It had seemingly inexhaustible warmth. I could hardly help but cling in ecstasy, though also in hidden agony, in cognizance of how transient all my other rugs had been. Finally, perhaps I had a home for me to lay my head upon? A home which would grant me stable rest? But here too, I was mistaken. Like each rug that came before, this rug was indeed transitory and full of uncertainty. Perhaps more soft, perhaps more real, perhaps more warm and embracing – but he too had to go. After all, he was another rug I had clung to; an attachment like all the rest.

–

When this particular rug was pulled, I was so terrified of soon touching the ground below me, that my body contracted in a frenzied, desperate agony. I tried so hard to make whatever warmth remain; strenuously clenching with all my might to staple it down in place. However, as hard as I did pull to hang on, an unknown force pulled away at a greater intensity. I found myself in a tug of war I could not win and sooner or later, the weight of my frustrations gave in. Mournfully, I failed to control its inevitable movement. My last remaining rug, yes, he too, went away.

And so I had nothing left beneath me… 


The cold floor exposed bare was the hard reality with which existence presented me. In the past, I had tried to search for other rugs to hide in. I thought to myself that other rugs would do, that perhaps I just needed a different few. I clung to some alternate variations; some made of others’ skin; half-hearted relations or validations, some of money, others of drugs or work or pastimes and pleasure. Despite all my attempts however, I could not evade the emptiness of the floor beneath me. I had felt it repeatedly with my own body. Its coldness had visibly scraped and scarred me. And I knew; each rug I had clung to was a cover-up so transient. Despite their initial warmth; each stood porous now – exposing the cold, and digging holes in any of my attempts not to feel what lied beneath.

Upon these realisations, the floor which held me and my previous rugs soon started collapsing. With its fall, I was taken into an empty, dark abyss; seemingly endless and all-enclosing. Seemingly perpetual.

Mid-fall I was so catastrophically uncertain, I wanted to close my eyes and no longer wake. I berated myself for continuing to be conscious and pleaded for existence to **** me in my sleep. How dare I still be alive while falling in such suffering and sadness, I lamented.


I lacked the courage to feel the thud of my final landing and its location.

From past experience, I was almost certain that what lied beneath was infinite pain; dark abandonment of course, for miles without end.


–

To be continued (as I learn how)…

Hazel eyes lost in seas, of red ruby wine lips,
Drunk love lusted after, crimson caress,
Parted lips tasted, sweet my love, thy love, my love,
Open heart, surgery retreating for the risk the unknown,
Arms wrapped ivy, anaesthetize beating hearts heard,
Coming undone, to be made complete soul struck,
For I choose, freely with will to love each day,
You, you, oh yes, you.

That old cliché, setting the one free letting go,
How I died, a thousand times over, over, over,
Letting go, letting go, letting go,
You never flew from me, you flew towards me back,
Aching, shaking, soothing, beats pounding freely you returned,
No restraint, chains, locks to keep you so you stayed,
Thousands of; ‘I love you,’ ‘I love you,’ ‘I love you,’
Penetrating cold hospital air, waves crashing to shore returning,
A Thursday fell upon us days later, as you followed me home.

Colliding we fell, such deep velocity impulsive desire,
Those weeks blew up, nuclear blasts polluting air,
And on the Saturday you flew, it felt like coming home,
I wanted you, I needed you, oh, how I needed you,
Because of course, I was so catastrophically in love,
Loving you not because, I needed you,
But needing you because I loved, you,
And I had waited, for you, again, again, again,
Never believing so openly, your wings would spread back to me.

A week passes, speed shaking on amphetamines,
Walking through the door, your eyes hit me diamonds,
And nothing mattered, you become me, I become you,
Bubbles closing in, fantasy reality merging marrying,
I say; ‘you need to take your gum out so I can kiss you,’
And you smiled, giggled as an eternity passed by,
Secrets unknown land, wrapped encased feeling,
I felt, I had never been kissed before that very moment,
Leaning into you craving you wanting you, more enough,
And I knew; knew it then know it now, crazy eyes withheld,
For only, only, only, you,

And I could never had known, that one day in May,
I would love you,
                            could love,
and
                           did, love you.

© Sia Jane

The only light in my room is the blue of my skull lantern, red of my lava lamp and flicker of candle. It's hard to explain but it's surprisingly beautiful. The blue is making colors normally left unseen in the daylight pop off of my fuzzy pegasus blanket. The red glitter casting lights around my room like a million little supernovas. The candle is flicking light across my black curtains sweeping through my room pushed by the night winds like the souls of the lost. Will i become on of them? It's raining hard against my open windows and i can smell the damp earth a ****** throw away from where i sit under my luminescent posters and black and white photos depicting people torn and broken finding redemption. Will i ever be one of them? I have the overwhelming need to walk out into the dark blanket of the night, let my bare feet sink into the soft green blades beneath me, these ones wont cut me. I want to walk under the heavy moon resting like a jewel in the fabric of space, I long to wander these 23 acres wading through ankle deep currents, crawl through sharp thorns, run with the deer and howl with the lonely coyote. I want to treat the stars like old friends, tell them my woes and lost loves, my regrets and deepest fears, confide in them my scariest dreams, insecurities, joys, sorrows, loves. I'll beg the universe to put it's faith in me, ask it to recognize my existence because it sure as hell know i recognize its. But I'm not out there wih the rain washing away my fears. I'm lying naked atop a fuzzy blanket feeling the swirls of wind licking the skin of my legs, stoumache and face raising goosebumps like an old lover. Half of me shrouded in cold half warmed by the softness beneath me lulling me to sleep the other is begging me to stay awake, keep observing the world aorund me. I wont give into the warmth. I'll lay here awake ears flooded with the sound of sad guitars and tired voices, looking at the illuminated colors smelling the soft earth and nights perfume, feeling the dark run it's hands over the half of me i give it. Maybe I'll give it the rest of me, I wonder what I'll find? Only now do I feel at home under fluttering feathers of broken dream catchers, next to faceless angels and fantasy heros. They say everyone has a happy place, I finally found mine. In the middle of the night surrounded by pale light while only those who think like me are awake, looking at the same stars begging them for their own forgiveness. This is my place of peace how long will it last until somone finds it and taints it or takes it away like everything else? THis is the only place soft on my brittle bones, tender on my aching muscles. Yhe only place with enough air for my colapsing lungs. The night swoops me up in it's arms twirling me in the moonlight, dipping me in the stars. When I'm with the dark I dont have to confront the empty side of my bed because it fills it. The night is my lover and I'd give anything to stay in it's catastrophically beautiful embrace. The bittersweet dismay is I cant stay. So tonight I'll crawl into the warmth of my bed, drift into a deep sleep and pray to one day be nocturnal and join the night until the ends of my days. When my body gives way to the dust, I hope the night absorbs me, turns me into a shining star for wanderers to pray upon, and welcome me home.