547

I’ve seen a Dying Eye
Run round and round a Room—
In search of Something—as it seemed—
Then Cloudier become—
And then—obscure with Fog—
And then—be soldered down
Without disclosing what it be
’Twere blessed to have seen—

Dizzy and uncontrolled, I open my eyes to see the smoke crowding the air.
For, my body has just become a safe haven for your hands.
Temptation has won tonight.
Moonlight is dancing upon our bare bodies and I am immersed in pure satisfaction.
Our lips have synced with the circadian rhythm we possess and the fire has started to erupt.
As the flames get more and more intense, so does the love we pretend to have for each other.
It continues to grow until we convince ourselves it’s real.
The bedsheets serve as our common ground for our broken hearts to rest on.
As we are climbing and pretending; pretending and climbing,
The fire is getting hotter, the love is getting cloudier, and our bodies are getting heavier against on another’s.
Faint whispers of phrases we dare not say otherwise fill the room.
Finally, the fire is extinguished and we are left to lay with nothing but reality.
Clutching each other for protection from yet another fire, we doze off hoping to wake up in love with each other.

When I was young,  school was my place. As an awkward oddity I found solace in words and reading.

Wasn't long 'til I was being called brilliant. Those days were some of the few times in my childhood life I felt strong and confident and worth something.

I was sent to an advanced school. I ate books like candy. I had a passion for knowledge and wisdom.

So what happened?

As my head got cloudier, I fell more and more behind. Well, behind for me. I was still an AP kid, so nerdy and there. But I was also quiet and, for AP, pretty average.

I stopped excelling in sciences and math as much as I used to. Everything got so much blurrier around then. As my head got more and more uncontrollable, the less brilliant I became. And the more I hated myself for it.

I could barely take time to feel everything but the raging inferno of emotions that was slowly taking over my life. I had learned to lie too well about it, so well that it was nearly my entire being by the time I finally got to stopping it.

For years I had to accept going from brilliant to average, and I accepted it as just my place. That I excelled in youth but dropped off and being good at writing would be my last, final brilliancy.

Then, nearly a decade after things began to go nuclear,  my head began to cool.

I sometimes fear how clear everything feels, how the touch of my fingertips on my keyboard still feel beautiful but in a less insatiable way. How the sky is blue and everything makes sense and how my mind craves to know more and more.

I am excelling. I am standing in front of classes that I am clearly not as qualified for and doing well. And, by god, the whole beauty of it is that doing well does not correlate to this buzzing going on in the back of my head as if its about to explode. I just feel it. This energy coursing through me that loves to know and remember and learn and do everything in my power to make everything I do wonderful. Its like magic but I know its not, its me. I didn't know "me" could be brilliant anymore. I was nearly certain "me" couldn't. I was a writer, and I was content.

But now there's this thing inside me I haven't felt in years, that has two wide eyes and wants to feel the world. Its curious and strong. I didn't think I was that strong either. I thought I just knew emotions and pretty words.

I sit here, though, and I am brilliant. It feels so arrogant and cocky to say, but I'm me again. I'm the little girl who got lost in the fire, but I thought she burned and died.

Yet as my head finally cools and the ashes fall, she reemerges and she's like some unbelievable phoenix inside my soul.

I thought I had to accept I could never be anything like the brilliant little girl that got swallowed by a monster inside of her. That I had to accept losses like I accepted losing everything I loved in my life for 18 years.

But I don't have to lose everything. I don't have to assume all that is lost is gone.

I am reading, and I am learning, and I am growing. There is this new growth in the old, weathered forests of my consciousness. It didn't have to resign to its ways, it can be anything. I can be anything.

Because finally, after years of forgetting, I am brilliant.

The guitar is out of tune
and the pillow frowns at him
on this cold February morning.
Books lined along the walls,
Spanish poetry, lonesome travellers
wait to be read on halcyon nights,
have their spines cracked by weary hands.
Solemn Jazz filters out from somewhere,
blue in a room where blond light
pours onto the floor.
Asparagus eyes struggle to stay open,
so much to do but no zest to get up,
crispy buttered toast lies half-eaten on a plate,
ochre tea still needs to be drunk.
He has plenty to say but does not know how,
his intellect cloudier than any lemonade,
track two begins and there are still no words.

I love the train, but especially today.

Today it is early in the day and the train is not rattling through darkness like a bullet.

It’s 3:25 and the sky is very blue on the left and cloudier to the right,
but the right is prettier because it has the lakeside, which from here looks like sea glass.

The waves roll in staggered and carelessly since no boats come by here.

We are the ones who get a coup d’oeil at this uninterrupted place.

Trees stand bare still, and the ones which are on the shoreline are washed and bleached,

looking like bones.

Some evergreens come close, but they are a little brown.

Yellow grasses freshly uncovered of snow look rather beautiful beside the blue and periwinkle skies.

I love blue panelled barns and houses which match the water and sky, and seem to remind me of wholesome people.

I catch a glimpse of a pink jacket and helmet as a little ******* a four wheeler waves to the train. How quickly we left her behind.

They wanted to refer me there again.
It was my second time,
sitting in the ****** room.
How are they oblivious
to the fact that
western medication
flattens you out
in no colours.
That your emptiness,
gets heavier,
and your days get cloudier.
They said,
i need medication.
They don't know that the countless prescribed pills you force down your throat,
isn't far from drugs you'd normally abuse yourself.
You still sleep third-quarters of the day,
or you get so ******* edgy and jumpy,
you got insomnia.
That the very same pills they give you,
didn't make you feel better.
They turn you so bad,
it feels like an
ad infinitum of numbness.
Trust me,
i know.
I've been there before.
Sitting in the ****** room.

( FAH )

A steady post lingers in the distance, reading "Allied Road." It's been abadoned for quite sometime now and the ruins are filled of relics. Dust.
We burned it down together, dont you remember?
With our propane tongues and Zippos the size of patches used to cover one eye.
Covering one eye, as we always did. You know it's true.

Sometimes when I'm alone with my thoughts of being alone without you, I take a barefoot stroll there.
This may sound abstruse, but letting my toes get lost in the ash reminds me of warm sand widow's-peaking an ocean shore.
Golden.
Wavy.
Blue.
That picture in my head alone reminds me of you.

It's much cloudier there. Dimmed. Gloom, almost as if the sun is too scared to go near it or the sky is relflecting the ground.
Either way, I try to keep my eyes closed as often as possible and let my imagination take control. Partly because the embers blow into and bug my eyes, but mostly because I simply want to.

The moon is on fire,
The earth is on fire,
Her hair is on fire,
Her body, is on fire,
I wanna put it all out, but I can't touch her,
I can't kiss her anymore, I can't feel her anymore, I can't look at her anymore, because it hurts,
It all hurts,
We gave and we took and we loved and we broke

A quick bump up the nose, straight to hell and never looking back,
I wonder what it was that made her never look back,
Was it the ring slipped off her finger or was it the abuse that still lingered,
I leaned in quick to kiss her and I swear not a single force on earth could stop the trembling in her fingers

Eyes like a hawk,
Eyes blood shot,
Eyes with tears in the dark,
Eyes with locks,
Eyes that'll tear you apart,
She's seen some ****,
I just wanna know who it was that played the part,
Who shot the arrow, who turned the lights off,
Who didn't give a **** when a single **** was all she could've ever needed,
Who cut the circulation, who choked her enough to never let another breathe near her,
Who stole her

I've lived so uncomfortably, darling comfort me,
Comfort me,
Look at it in its face,
Stare at its eyes,
Smell it,
Taste it,
Love it,
Hate it,
Become everything it's afraid of,
Become everything it loves,
Be weary of it,
Embrace it,
Think about it,
Think less of it,
Trust it,
Never trust it,
Never **** it,
Never,
**** it

I'm exhausted,
My head is cloudier than the thunderstorms you made,
My teeth are yellow from pack after pack of cigarettes,
I'm exhausted,
My liver hates me more than my grandfather hated running out of alcohol,
I can't tell anyone that I love them,
Heaven forbid I trust anyone,
I can't stop apologizing,
I'm exhausted,
I can't keep my bandages on,
I can't clean my blood up,
I'm exhausted,
I'm never satisfied, I don't know how to be, and I so badly want to be tough


Come back to bed, you're thinking too much

Our night is to end. It's been foretold by those who mend, note to self: don't you dare break, remember no one knows who made the mistake.

Can we still stay in the darkness? Hold as the moon dies away.

The end is on our tongues now. There's no point for explanations. The cloudier it gets the more clear, but always remember who I am dear.

Can we still stay in the darkness? Hold as the moon dies away.
Even the brightest star fell from grace and no existing can take its place.

There a piece of me that's missing
I'm not sure how to begin
but there a piece of me missing
It's lost with no way to retrieve it
It's missing in the endless sea that is me
trying to be someone i'm not
I've gotten so lost
I feel like I've just tossed
my life right out of the window  
there's a piece of me missing
I can feel my heart break as I breathe
all the while the world keeps turning
and the piece of me keeps yearning
forever lost in the sea that is me
do we ever look deeper
deep enough to see
what's missing inside you and me
there's a piece of me missing
I can't but weep
let a little tear seap
to grieve the lost
of something so pure
that I feel has been thrown on the floor
there's a piece of me missing
as my heart beats louder
and memories become cloudier
there a piece of me missing
do you ever look inside
truly deeply inside
or are you scared of what you will find ?

First there is September
Still warm from the summer
Every now and then, gets cloudier
Saying such as the warm season's over

October is the next in line
Leaves go yellow, along with sunshine
Pumpkins grow, time for a dine
A season for harvest and warm wine

Nowember, is the last of all
Trees go bare, leaves fall
Sun is gone, its getting cold
There you have it; the season Fall

Looking through the rain
I saw the skies cloudier
Rather than grey
Guess I was wearing sunglasses

All I see when I look in the mirror,
Is a reflection of his ghost.
Is the dullness of his eyes
And the crookedness of his teeth.

I don’t remember most of it.
It’s easier to forget when
My skin, like his, is awake

—So I stopped sleeping.

All my memories of him
Have baptized in blood,
My own blood.
Perhaps my mother’s too,
And that of my sisters,
Maybe his.

I stopped wearing my glasses.

Maybe if I don’t see the crystal of the mirror,
I won’t see him either.

But it never works.

The truth doesn’t get any cloudier.
I still feel his breath on my battered back
Laced with liquor and some
kind of rotten.

I stopped washing my hands

Because they get more calloused
And more like his.

Sometimes,
When I stare at my feet,
I still see cherry wine
On the cold floors.
I still feel glass
Puncturing skin.
And curses thrown
Through
My mother

I started drinking.
But now I feel more
Like him.
Like the waves of beer
In glass bottles
Is him
Trapped
In a monster.

I started drinking.
But now I feel more
Like his.


I wonder if I will ever be anything but
His.

lately the smoke in my head has been getting cloudier

i’m afraid i can’t keep up either

In watching light flood
through a window,
there's a sort of
haze
It's sleepier and cloudier
extending
length of
days

I somehow miss the
   orchestra
I want to sit next to a
stranger
Or hold my
sisters' worried hands
and believe that there's
no
danger

I want to step into a
crowded bar
and tip toe to the
counter
Then tipsy, laughing,
saunter back
when all of this
is
over.