Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
1.1k · Sep 2010
Like Vines
Shazi L Sep 2010
I met you by the terrace walls when we were young
I was more graceful and prettier, but you were more interesting
And from then, you'd snagged my heart
I found myself entangled in you and we became inseparable—
The tightest pair of friends that wall had ever seen.

From there, I moved on to my father's pergola—a beautiful sight
Surrounded by cousins of daisies and roses with thorns
You didn't feel special when we were not alone
And craned yourself away from me as far as possible to listen
To the wind and our cousins below.

Next you found me stretched against the columns
Of my mother's porch—as if we were playing a magnificent
Game of hide and seek. You climbed up
To meet me more than halfway and promised never to leave
My side again, be it for the wind or my cousins or solitude.

And at the end, I chose to rest on the walls and columns
Of my balcony and you followed me as you said you would.
We had grown so much although you were much bigger
And I could see how much we'd changed. Still, we were
still entangled. We were still the same.

And like vines, we intertwined.
And slowly began to droop with age.
Shazi L Sep 2010
Father!
Father, I’ll join you!
I’ve brought you wreaths of orchids and daisies to compensate for lost time.

O Father, I am lost without you!
No sense of direction have I.
Left to wander empty fields with an equally empty mind
And expected to get somewhere with it.

How are the cold grounds treating you?
Is Death an ugly, tortured thing? Oh, He never would answer this question for me.
Him. Father, Father, Father – it was He!
He cannot be forgiven. He cannot be loved.
And yet…

Ah, He’s given me no reason to stall. I’ll make haste!
This was not my plan, but without you, I have none.
It makes sense to come with you and follow in your footsteps, which are still freshly pressed in soil.

You were right Father and I was right to listen to you.
I heeded. He only wanted my body. He said himself that he was not worthy.
Why do I conceit of Him still? He is gone. He has left me.

Or have I left Him? O Father, it does not matter, does it?
What’s past is past, and soon I will pass as well.
To fall from a tree as if to fall from heaven.
An angel in mermaid’s clothing.
Let my fin soak in the waters as I sing like sirens do.
And I shall summon Death upon myself, like any self-slaughtering siren would.

And as I went through this phase, I will go through life in song.
Father, I am coming. You won’t have to wait very long.

They will watch me in my unconscious state
And wonder if I left it when my spirit left me.
I am unconscious with you gone.
I will make sure they will see me as I glide and continue to sing strong.
They will not come for me – I am already too far gone.
They will have but one thing to say:

“Alas, then she is drowned.”

And drowned will I be.
749 · Sep 2010
2 AM
Shazi L Sep 2010
if you’re only truly yourself at 2 A.M.
then i’m *******.

because i’m all never ending nonsensical babble
and maniacal hysterical laughter
and psychedelic daydreams
and unconsciously conscious
and loose lips.

and i’ve got heightened senses and it scares me sometimes
it scares whomever i’m with sometimes too

i find everything hilarious
from the ceiling to the floor
i’m absolutely delirious
and i run my mouth more than i should

i tell secrets, i share gossip
my brain takes a short vacation
and my filter shuts down
and even my subconscious seems to have the day off

and there i am
on a bed, on the floor, on a couch, in a room
in somewhere, with somebody, doing something

and i go crazy.

so if you’re only truly yourself at two o’clock in the morning
i’m gonna sleep through the night every night
and hope i don’t wake up until it’s nine.
618 · Sep 2010
Still Living
Shazi L Sep 2010
A short pause in my life in which I’m still breathing.
Ten minutes, one hour, two days—we’re going on a week here.
Pushing on in the hopes that ****** functions will resume as normal.
There’s something tearing at my lungs, stinging my nose, blocking my eyes.
My heart feels just about ready to collapse—the final straw is bending in my gut.
I close my eyes and pretend it’s all a dream.

Everything is sore.
It hurts to move, hurts to breathe, hurts to try.
But I know it will hurt much more to give up, so I keep on pushing.
Pushing on in the hopes that ****** functions will resume as normal.
All I’ve got to do is give it time (but I don’t have time to give).
I’m still breathing (*******, it hurts so much).

I am so frail.
I hate being so fragile, so insecure in the one structure I own.
This structure is mine and they have taken it and reconstructed it and now I am left to rebuild.
I have no blueprints and no real tools. All I have is imagined support.
But I cannot rebuild on imagined support. I don’t have time for that.
All I’ve got left is cracking and I can’t even tell when it’s going to break.

But I try—I try so hard—to reassure myself that this is simply a short pause.
A short pause in my life in which I’m still breathing.
But dear god, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!
Painkillers aren’t killing anything but my spirit.
Please, I just want to restart.
I just want to resume.

This hospital bed is not a home.
596 · Sep 2010
Cycle.
Shazi L Sep 2010
Restore
One click and it’s gone
A library of knowledge at your disposal, you’ve finally disposed of

A past
A past that has passed
Like an old lover, like an old flame that you want to burn out

She said that time has no meaning tonight
But we’re on a schedule and I’ve got no time

She said you always leave when it gets good
But I don’t think it ever gets good until I leave

Deny
What once was the truth is a lie
What once was becomes altered with time and changed to fit the deal

A day
Envelops the beginning and end
Includes both the night and the dawn of today

She said you always leave when it gets good
But I don’t think it ever gets good until I leave

Until I’m gone this world will turn for me
But it cannot turn for me while I’m gone

She said that time has no meaning tonight
But we’re on a schedule and I’ve got no time

Until I’m timed this world has no meaning for me
But I’m on a schedule and I’m gone

She said that time has no meaning tonight
But tonight I just want to write about the meaning of time
581 · Sep 2010
Stories
Shazi L Sep 2010
There’s a story on her arm, weathered and worn
A story never to be rewritten, always to be retold
Black ink stands stark against pale skin
Waiting like an open canvas for life to spill

To brighten the day, she adds a colored feather
Details will happen, they unravel as she goes
The wordless stories crawl up her thin arms
And wrap around her neck to create a necklace of thorns

A devil on her shoulder, a friend on her back
The angel is missing, empty silhouette outlined in black
Quoted Plato round her ankle, Frost lingers on her hip
Her body is her temple, her only place of worship

Her temple to create and her temple to destroy
A temple of enlightenment, a temple of unknowns
Painted pictures, lightly freckled, stain upon stain
Plump, young and tender, yet unaffected by the pain

There are stories on her body and stories in her soul
Stories never to be rewritten, but always to be stored.
Shazi L Oct 2012
She found bruises,
bruises she didn’t remember getting.

She gave herself a pinch
for
each
one.

This body was borrowed
This body was going to be returned

(This body wasn’t hers.)
(That body wasn’t hers. It was never hers.)
(This body wasn’t hers. Hers would never.)
(Hers would never?)

She found bruises,
scratches,
shadows of kisses pressed.

She gave herself a pinch
for
each
one.

— The End —