soul mate[s]
how boring
to be wholly understood
by any[one]
individual
-----------
----------
misplaced
i was born
in a country
that was not my home
now
it reminds me
it never wanted me anyway
----------
----------
i run my fingers
across each strand of my hair
every day
just to feel
unruly
----------
----------
when do we stop falling in love with other people
----------
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Sunday, November 8, 2015
a plea for self doubt.
Fall, autumn, rain, dark clouds, and crisp air. These feed my purest me.
I've struggled with self-doubt for as long as I can remember. Sometimes when people say that, I think "really? as long as you can remember?" I mean this, truly. My self-doubt has manifested in various ways, as well as been fed by things completely uncontrolled by me.
My first struggle with body image was when I was five or six years old. I always had a little pooch for a belly and I always had a heightened awareness of the way clothes fit me. I can honestly say I don't know what it's like to have the coveted flat stomach, and probably never will. At that time my mom was grossly obese. It was heart breaking. While running errands together strangers would yell to her, "fat bitch." She struggled to breathe, ate poorly, and was often sick. One day this all changed, but that's another story. However, I learned very early on that being overweight was socially unacceptable and apparently, if you were overweight public shaming was fair game.
Most of my young childhood years I had little-to-no friends. After my dad died, my mom and I attended a very small church that took advantage of its congregates in various ways. She worked a ton, and tried to go to school while I was in the care of the church's head pastor and wife. At the time, our church most impacted my inability to be a carefree kid. I tattled on people for sinning, and I told the teacher when girls in my class were "being seductive" by putting stickers on their bottoms for attention. They were called butt-stickers from some secular country music station. Oh yeah, and I used the word "secular" constantly. Yeah, I was a weird kid who consequently had no friends and was often made fun of...perhaps I was asking for it. The thing was, I loved talking and connecting; but when you don't have friends to share your thoughts, anxieties, and hopes to, you start to live in your head. I became my own best friend, second only to my cat, Pinto Bean.
Living in your head can breed creativity or can cause a person to painfully disconnect with the world. I craved intimacy with someone, anyone--I was disconnected, but not by choice. I practiced conversations with kids in my head. The next day I'd put my plan into action, but it never went as I thought it would. So, alone in my room, I was back to plotting my first real friendship. Eventually, my mom became my primary guardian again, we left the church, and switched schools. This was it. I'd reinvent myself. These kids didn't know me, I could be whoever I wanted. I could listen secular music, and dammit I'd stop calling it secular and call it by its rightful name: hip hop.
It worked. I made my first real friend, but I never learned how to stop living in my head, or how to stop second guessing every word that came out of my mouth or every action I took. My adolescence sucked, but most peoples' adolescence sucked. It's that time when you're first sorting out the worst parts of yourself. Self doubt manifested in the aforementioned ways, but my insecurities were just on overdrive. I had severe body issues, I was convinced that no one liked me, and I spent hours in my head identifying every flaw I had and ways to amend them.
Let's fast forward to now. I am still that girl. I am woman, self doubting, and sometimes self loathing. However, now I am able to discern things that are within my control and things that are not. Yes, self doubt at its worst is truly debilitating. However, it is because of my self doubt that I have strived to become the best version of myself. And while I wish I could say that becoming my best self has been something I've done only for myself, or for my mom, or God...that's just not true. Constantly worrying about what others, what you think about me has fueled me to speak with more tact, to exercise often, and to never stop learning.
Self doubt no longer hinders or dictates my every move, but it's always whispering to me softly. With confidence I expose, "I struggle with self doubt and constantly worry about what others think of me." What's often unheard in this reveal is the strength it takes for someone, for me, to admit this. I divulge not to incite sympathy, but as a plea for understanding. Self doubt has shaped me. Mostly, it's bred a genuine concern with others' feelings, interpretations, and insecurities. I love that about myself. I'd even say self doubt blossomed into one of the best qualities I have: unending compassion.
Thus, I ask of you...
Don't deter me from self doubt, let me revel.
watch me
as I prove it wrong.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Here's a picture of me, my mom, and the pastor's wife who I called "Mama T."
I've struggled with self-doubt for as long as I can remember. Sometimes when people say that, I think "really? as long as you can remember?" I mean this, truly. My self-doubt has manifested in various ways, as well as been fed by things completely uncontrolled by me.
My first struggle with body image was when I was five or six years old. I always had a little pooch for a belly and I always had a heightened awareness of the way clothes fit me. I can honestly say I don't know what it's like to have the coveted flat stomach, and probably never will. At that time my mom was grossly obese. It was heart breaking. While running errands together strangers would yell to her, "fat bitch." She struggled to breathe, ate poorly, and was often sick. One day this all changed, but that's another story. However, I learned very early on that being overweight was socially unacceptable and apparently, if you were overweight public shaming was fair game.
Most of my young childhood years I had little-to-no friends. After my dad died, my mom and I attended a very small church that took advantage of its congregates in various ways. She worked a ton, and tried to go to school while I was in the care of the church's head pastor and wife. At the time, our church most impacted my inability to be a carefree kid. I tattled on people for sinning, and I told the teacher when girls in my class were "being seductive" by putting stickers on their bottoms for attention. They were called butt-stickers from some secular country music station. Oh yeah, and I used the word "secular" constantly. Yeah, I was a weird kid who consequently had no friends and was often made fun of...perhaps I was asking for it. The thing was, I loved talking and connecting; but when you don't have friends to share your thoughts, anxieties, and hopes to, you start to live in your head. I became my own best friend, second only to my cat, Pinto Bean.
Living in your head can breed creativity or can cause a person to painfully disconnect with the world. I craved intimacy with someone, anyone--I was disconnected, but not by choice. I practiced conversations with kids in my head. The next day I'd put my plan into action, but it never went as I thought it would. So, alone in my room, I was back to plotting my first real friendship. Eventually, my mom became my primary guardian again, we left the church, and switched schools. This was it. I'd reinvent myself. These kids didn't know me, I could be whoever I wanted. I could listen secular music, and dammit I'd stop calling it secular and call it by its rightful name: hip hop.
It worked. I made my first real friend, but I never learned how to stop living in my head, or how to stop second guessing every word that came out of my mouth or every action I took. My adolescence sucked, but most peoples' adolescence sucked. It's that time when you're first sorting out the worst parts of yourself. Self doubt manifested in the aforementioned ways, but my insecurities were just on overdrive. I had severe body issues, I was convinced that no one liked me, and I spent hours in my head identifying every flaw I had and ways to amend them.
Let's fast forward to now. I am still that girl. I am woman, self doubting, and sometimes self loathing. However, now I am able to discern things that are within my control and things that are not. Yes, self doubt at its worst is truly debilitating. However, it is because of my self doubt that I have strived to become the best version of myself. And while I wish I could say that becoming my best self has been something I've done only for myself, or for my mom, or God...that's just not true. Constantly worrying about what others, what you think about me has fueled me to speak with more tact, to exercise often, and to never stop learning.
Self doubt no longer hinders or dictates my every move, but it's always whispering to me softly. With confidence I expose, "I struggle with self doubt and constantly worry about what others think of me." What's often unheard in this reveal is the strength it takes for someone, for me, to admit this. I divulge not to incite sympathy, but as a plea for understanding. Self doubt has shaped me. Mostly, it's bred a genuine concern with others' feelings, interpretations, and insecurities. I love that about myself. I'd even say self doubt blossomed into one of the best qualities I have: unending compassion.
Thus, I ask of you...
Don't deter me from self doubt, let me revel.
watch me
as I prove it wrong.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Here's a picture of me, my mom, and the pastor's wife who I called "Mama T."
Saturday, May 19, 2012
something bigger than me.
birthdays are good for a few things. for me, i usually like to take time to reflect on how influential the person is to me, how much i love them, and how their qualities make them fit perfectly into my life.
i like to dwell, so i dont forget.
saturday was my mom's 50th birthday.
and this is what i dwelt upon.
i wondered. this year, does my mom know i love her more than i did the year before? has she forgiven me for the horrible things ive put her through? does she know ive forgiven her for the same? i am so blessed to have a mom who believes in such unconditional love. my grama taught her to love like that; and that's how i learned to love. without question, despite ourselves.
does my mom know that she is truly my best friend? or of the terror i feel when i think of her absence? she knows that she's the only person i tell my secrets and unflattering desires to, but i just hope she knows i appreciate it, and that i dont have a back up plan yet.
despite our ups and downs, and there have been a lot, i am grateful for our relationship because our closeness is not common.
i see that now.
ever since she got diagnosed with cancer she has taught me so much about how to do life. she's an example of strength. here my mom is dealing with painful chemo sessions, adjusting to her colostomy bag, working full-time, without a car, and yet she still finds time to just comfort me. i want to push everyone away, steal my mom, and just kick and scream, but mostly cry. she tells me that's okay, but encourages me to not worry, to find humor in sad things, to pray, to allow myself to let go.
she mothers me.
i just dont understand how she does it. how she finds the time, has the energy, or patience for mothering when her life has been turned upside down yet again.
she's miraculous.
i dwelt, i dwell. because my mom has given me so much.
my mom is my world. i just wanted you to know.
happy 50th birthday again, mom.
i like to dwell, so i dont forget.
saturday was my mom's 50th birthday.
and this is what i dwelt upon.
i wondered. this year, does my mom know i love her more than i did the year before? has she forgiven me for the horrible things ive put her through? does she know ive forgiven her for the same? i am so blessed to have a mom who believes in such unconditional love. my grama taught her to love like that; and that's how i learned to love. without question, despite ourselves.
does my mom know that she is truly my best friend? or of the terror i feel when i think of her absence? she knows that she's the only person i tell my secrets and unflattering desires to, but i just hope she knows i appreciate it, and that i dont have a back up plan yet.
despite our ups and downs, and there have been a lot, i am grateful for our relationship because our closeness is not common.
i see that now.
ever since she got diagnosed with cancer she has taught me so much about how to do life. she's an example of strength. here my mom is dealing with painful chemo sessions, adjusting to her colostomy bag, working full-time, without a car, and yet she still finds time to just comfort me. i want to push everyone away, steal my mom, and just kick and scream, but mostly cry. she tells me that's okay, but encourages me to not worry, to find humor in sad things, to pray, to allow myself to let go.
she mothers me.
i just dont understand how she does it. how she finds the time, has the energy, or patience for mothering when her life has been turned upside down yet again.
she's miraculous.
i dwelt, i dwell. because my mom has given me so much.
my mom is my world. i just wanted you to know.
happy 50th birthday again, mom.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
independent
i am alone.
but ive forgotten what it is to feel lonely.
the difference: longing.
and i do not.
sounds are louder now. and i prefer them to repeat once theyve caught my attention.
words echo and reverberate in my mind longer than usual.
longer than usual...
there's more to look at, and i look longer.
chairs are more comfortable, and i take up more space in my bed.
food is more succulent, so i savor my food as it travels through my mouth, down my throat, and into my stomach.
the season's change teases me, and i like that. i wait for its turbulence, as i have none of my own to ride.
dreams are the only thing to haunt me. and it's the only place i choose to visit you. but i wish i didnt.
id rather be awake and alone because in my wake i am not lonely.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
i feel a terrifying softness within me coming to surface. a softness coerced by a gentle acceptance and remorse.
then a resilient bitterness harks, you know better.
oh but this soft forgiveness reminds me this is who you are. the fire always a'glow, the sun no longer casts its shadow,
the softness murmurs a gentle hint, with which bitterness agrees.
if you cannot erase, i say replace.
create a new memory to yield its place.
then a resilient bitterness harks, you know better.
oh but this soft forgiveness reminds me this is who you are. the fire always a'glow, the sun no longer casts its shadow,
the softness murmurs a gentle hint, with which bitterness agrees.
if you cannot erase, i say replace.
create a new memory to yield its place.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
walk the line
as of late ive noticed myself walking fine lines. where are these lines? (they sneak up out of no where.)
are they boundaries? or meant for guidance?
am i supposed to walk the line?
can i cross it? (would you mind?)
do these lines intersect? (can we?)
do they run parallel? (will we never touch?)
and most of all do they have an end?
these lines are tangled. and so am i.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
father's day
you are never easy. you sneak up on me when i am alone to remind me why i am alone...while everyone else is celebrating father's day and i am not.my dad passed away eighteen years ago. i dont talk about it a lot, because i'm not sure what to say. i still hate having that initial conversation when someone finally acknowledges that i never mention my dad. i preface my explanation with: i was four, almost five years old, so it was a long time ago. i say that to assure the person, and myself for the thousandth time, that it doesnt hurt anymore. then the next inevitable and painful question comes, "how did he die?" i've never learned the right delivery for this answer. do i pause before i tell this person the truth? do i just rapidly spew it out? i dont know. i dont know! but then i answer: a drug overdose. i feel small and helpless immediately after. i want to explain to them that i understand his choices, or at least the explanation of those choices. i want them to unconditionally love my dad just like i do, even though he made a mistake.
a brave or curious person will ask me if i remember him very much. and i do, i so do. "it's a blessing and a curse," i add always feeling shamefully cliche. i shouldnt reduce my dad's memories to a cliche. but i do remember him, and it makes it hard.
father's day and the anniversary of his death sneak up on me like a sickness. at first it's a subtle tickle in my throat and i wonder what is wrong with me? i grow increasingly sad for what i think is no good reason. then one night it haunts me in my dreams. i see my dad, dream the same haunting dream i had after his death for years. as i grew older, the dream frequented me less, but it never left my subconscious. then the tickle in my throat becomes a fever, then chills, then i cant get out of bed and im down for the count.
the illness traps me and i am a four-year-old girl again. i am hiding tears from my mom alone in my room. she cant know it hurts this much. i am calling to the moon because that's where heaven is, right? and just because he died of a drug overdose doesnt mean he didnt go to heaven, right? and even if he is gone, i can still be the proverbial apple of his eye, right?
i was a daddy's girl. and i still claim that title.
these days dont come at me with grace. rather they shake and shock me to remind me i am just a daddy's-girl who lost her dad. and while im convinced i am a strong woman -- sometimes, these times, this time i am a delicate little girl and i miss my dad.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
honesty, you beauty.
honesty is so much more beautiful than hiding behind silent lies.
i do not want to hide from what i want anymore.
if i want to talk to a person, they should know, and i will tell them.
if i miss a person. i will tell them with the sincerest eyes.
if i feel negative toward a person, i will let them know with my heart on my sleeve.
this is beauty and intimacy. even if it's not reciprocated, the honesty that is, it's still a rare form of beauty. though honesty unrequited is another sadness.
a vulnerability expressed should not go ignored. it should be relished. understood. held in your arms and rocked to sleep. why dont we all do this? we should take extra moments to validate a worried heart, a tormented soul, a wounded spirit, a mind going a thousand miles an hour, feeling empowered or discarded...yes, you too, should be validated.
i am a new woman.
an honest[er] woman.
and you are the same. you are not new and not changed, not quite yet. youve yet to see the beauty that honesty radiates.
so my love, i simply feel sorrow. so much sorrow for a person's inability to know honesty on a first name basis.
one day your hands will be rid of all the dishonesty youve felt, built, and hidden behind. dishonesty's tales will be untold. and honesty will piece together the true story of a dishonest life lived by a conflicted soul.
youll desire to share your honesty, in all its newness. and my dishonest friend, i will be here to validate all the secrets honesty revealed to you about yourself and everything else.
with a God-given softness i will repeat the honesty you never heard in your years of dishonesty. and you will hear it and ask for more; never to shy away from the pain that comes with honesty.
honesty will come out the beautiful victor. and every person sharing theirs will be heard and validated. how honest, you healed soul, they'll say.
i do not want to hide from what i want anymore.
if i want to talk to a person, they should know, and i will tell them.
if i miss a person. i will tell them with the sincerest eyes.
if i feel negative toward a person, i will let them know with my heart on my sleeve.
this is beauty and intimacy. even if it's not reciprocated, the honesty that is, it's still a rare form of beauty. though honesty unrequited is another sadness.
a vulnerability expressed should not go ignored. it should be relished. understood. held in your arms and rocked to sleep. why dont we all do this? we should take extra moments to validate a worried heart, a tormented soul, a wounded spirit, a mind going a thousand miles an hour, feeling empowered or discarded...yes, you too, should be validated.
i am a new woman.
an honest[er] woman.
and you are the same. you are not new and not changed, not quite yet. youve yet to see the beauty that honesty radiates.
so my love, i simply feel sorrow. so much sorrow for a person's inability to know honesty on a first name basis.
one day your hands will be rid of all the dishonesty youve felt, built, and hidden behind. dishonesty's tales will be untold. and honesty will piece together the true story of a dishonest life lived by a conflicted soul.
youll desire to share your honesty, in all its newness. and my dishonest friend, i will be here to validate all the secrets honesty revealed to you about yourself and everything else.
with a God-given softness i will repeat the honesty you never heard in your years of dishonesty. and you will hear it and ask for more; never to shy away from the pain that comes with honesty.
honesty will come out the beautiful victor. and every person sharing theirs will be heard and validated. how honest, you healed soul, they'll say.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
intimate infatuation.
i am infatuated with intimacy.
my infatuation with this is specific to a disconnection connected.
such as eye contact eye held too long with a stranger.
we want to feel, and be felt.
connecting.
people look forward to it, it makes a girl's day, and gives a boy just a bit more confidence.
i know we just met but i want to put my hand on the small of your back.
the connection, the surprise, and the discomfort of a line crossed forms the brief and intimate bond.
allowing yourself to be fed by another. you are vulnerable for those two seconds.
i am crossing that line. and you just let me.
a question that sincerely asks "but why?" sincerity in a head cocked to your comfort.
a face that reads through your longer pause.
can you feel it?
i know we just met. but this is all so beautiful.
and you just let me cross your lines. so here are mine.
my infatuation with this is specific to a disconnection connected.
such as eye contact eye held too long with a stranger.
we want to feel, and be felt.
connecting.
people look forward to it, it makes a girl's day, and gives a boy just a bit more confidence.
i know we just met but i want to put my hand on the small of your back.
the connection, the surprise, and the discomfort of a line crossed forms the brief and intimate bond.
allowing yourself to be fed by another. you are vulnerable for those two seconds.
i am crossing that line. and you just let me.
a question that sincerely asks "but why?" sincerity in a head cocked to your comfort.
a face that reads through your longer pause.
can you feel it?
i know we just met. but this is all so beautiful.
and you just let me cross your lines. so here are mine.
Monday, April 26, 2010
erika's letter.
dear erika.
you are leaving. and it feels like it is time.
this time it feels right. you leaving.
i owe you this. i owe you this much.
you deserve to read what i feel.
how much i feel for you.
in my wakened weak.
there is you. i look for you.
to hear my weak.
for every word i do share.
you know there must be more.
and though you so care.
because you do care.
you do not beg for more behind latent words.
you let them be.
you let me be.
your ears are the pathway to your soul.
inside you compartmentalize all that you hear.
all you that feel but do not understand.
you set this there and that here.
to help you understand.
you tell happiness to stand next to emptiness.
next to desire you file passion.
so that one day.
you will understand.
and so will they.
how they belong hand-in-hand.
you dream in color.
and have seen many shades of my pain.
because if you dream in color.
you know the bold red that reveals my cruelest desire.
and still you show me no shame.
you see through my masks and say.
honey, today you are beautiful.
tomorrow you will be too.
just like yesterday.
you are an unconditional lover.
and you are my best friend.
Love.
alicia.
you are leaving. and it feels like it is time.
this time it feels right. you leaving.
i owe you this. i owe you this much.
you deserve to read what i feel.
how much i feel for you.
in my wakened weak.
there is you. i look for you.
to hear my weak.
for every word i do share.
you know there must be more.
and though you so care.
because you do care.
you do not beg for more behind latent words.
you let them be.
you let me be.
your ears are the pathway to your soul.
inside you compartmentalize all that you hear.
all you that feel but do not understand.
you set this there and that here.
to help you understand.
you tell happiness to stand next to emptiness.
next to desire you file passion.
so that one day.
you will understand.
and so will they.
how they belong hand-in-hand.
you dream in color.
and have seen many shades of my pain.
because if you dream in color.
you know the bold red that reveals my cruelest desire.
and still you show me no shame.
you see through my masks and say.
honey, today you are beautiful.
tomorrow you will be too.
just like yesterday.
you are an unconditional lover.
and you are my best friend.
Love.
alicia.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
"do you want to go to the seaside?"
at night, when the cars pass by the road nearest my window, i listen and pretend they sound like waves brushing against the sand.
in the morning when the birds chirp, i close my eyes and pretend i am six years old again. when i go outside there will be a big green hill that i can roll down for hours.
when you roll down a hill, it's hard to control your direction. i like that. the only goal is the bottom of the hill. and if youre brave enough youll make sure your speed is so quick that you lose your sense of up and down.
when i drive to wherever, on whichever freeway, i debate throwing all responsibilities to the wind and heading for the coast.
every day i do this.
i blame the sun and its rays. in all its glory, it beckons me.
this sun has been such a tease. im not asking for heat, just more sun and the ocean. my desire was sparked and is now a rising flame. i want to leave and not tell you or you and especially not you.
not for very long.
just long enough to see a new day.
in the morning when the birds chirp, i close my eyes and pretend i am six years old again. when i go outside there will be a big green hill that i can roll down for hours.
when you roll down a hill, it's hard to control your direction. i like that. the only goal is the bottom of the hill. and if youre brave enough youll make sure your speed is so quick that you lose your sense of up and down.
when i drive to wherever, on whichever freeway, i debate throwing all responsibilities to the wind and heading for the coast.
every day i do this.
i blame the sun and its rays. in all its glory, it beckons me.
this sun has been such a tease. im not asking for heat, just more sun and the ocean. my desire was sparked and is now a rising flame. i want to leave and not tell you or you and especially not you.
not for very long.
just long enough to see a new day.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
guilted.
i differ but do not beg.
and with that there is no counter.
the verdict is in.
the jig is up.
the suspect as expected.
breathes bleeds and wreaks of guilt.
but knows no shame.
the victim's soul.
once blue and black.
stood self convicted.
the Guilty pled her insanity.
she did concede.
took his fall.
and did believe.
she did inflict.
and with that there is no counter.
the verdict is in.
the jig is up.
the suspect as expected.
breathes bleeds and wreaks of guilt.
but knows no shame.
the victim's soul.
once blue and black.
stood self convicted.
the Guilty pled her insanity.
she did concede.
took his fall.
and did believe.
she did inflict.
detox
there is a control
so calm
this cruelty
i dont need to yell
i state
the outdated
pass-due revelation
afterward
i feel clean
my blood is not boiling
no you cant even get it to simmer
so must we deem this honesty cruelty?
for the intent does say otherwise
these words shared may be years belated
but never is not an option
thus i inform
so foul a creature
so sneaky a scoundrel
the sorriest of soul
i do not pity
rather slumber
on the whitest bed-sheets
because i feel so cleansed
so calm
this cruelty
i dont need to yell
i state
the outdated
pass-due revelation
afterward
i feel clean
my blood is not boiling
no you cant even get it to simmer
so must we deem this honesty cruelty?
for the intent does say otherwise
these words shared may be years belated
but never is not an option
thus i inform
so foul a creature
so sneaky a scoundrel
the sorriest of soul
i do not pity
rather slumber
on the whitest bed-sheets
because i feel so cleansed
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
viva mexico.
each day i feel more alive.
because i live.
i am living.
and i am leaving.
feeling so alive.
in my lone.
i leave to live.
i am pumped.
because i live.
i am living.
and i am leaving.
feeling so alive.
in my lone.
i leave to live.
i am pumped.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
courage to leave
wait for you.
ill leave.
courage spread.
so softened.
only melt.
wait for you.
ill leave.
and harden.
selfless self,
absorbed.
she lives inside.
and out,
she beckons.
hopeless ear.
selfish self
beats her down.
her heart beats down.
quiet pound.
hidden break.
for your sake
wait for you.
ill leave.
and linger.
ill leave.
courage spread.
so softened.
only melt.
wait for you.
ill leave.
and harden.
selfless self,
absorbed.
she lives inside.
and out,
she beckons.
hopeless ear.
selfish self
beats her down.
her heart beats down.
quiet pound.
hidden break.
for your sake
wait for you.
ill leave.
and linger.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
declarations
i do declare the state of being
to be sprawled and exposed
disre-g[u]arded is the shape of her body
she breathes
what was confided
to only take away
an arrogant confidence
can you blame him kinda girl
beings drunk away
now she cowers like a stupid teenage girl
full blown with insecurity and hatred
relying on signs
and consistency because it's inconsistent
rather than the air
that snagged so many
those are yesteryears just yesterday
a word would keep her going for days
a look for weeks
and both for months
now she has it all
to keep her going
but she's gone
she doesnt believe
his air he longs to breathe
to reshape her body
he does declare
to be sprawled and exposed
disre-g[u]arded is the shape of her body
she breathes
what was confided
to only take away
an arrogant confidence
can you blame him kinda girl
beings drunk away
now she cowers like a stupid teenage girl
full blown with insecurity and hatred
relying on signs
and consistency because it's inconsistent
rather than the air
that snagged so many
those are yesteryears just yesterday
a word would keep her going for days
a look for weeks
and both for months
now she has it all
to keep her going
but she's gone
she doesnt believe
his air he longs to breathe
to reshape her body
he does declare
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
this is for your own good
i want you to know i have a free spirit, and wild heart.
sometimes my mind takes me places i should never go. i get mad, but mostly sad.
i go crazy, but not on the inside. i let it out. sometimes, only some, i let it all out. all that crazy simmering inside of me; i just let out. it's never dainty. and rarely in the "right way."
i can cry and yell with the best of them, and beat the most. i get nervous and spit things out that are best left unsaid.
i will always laugh. even if it's inappropriate. it is my one safeguard, safety net.
when i cry. i mean really cry, the aftermath is written on my face, still, days later.
i can go up then down. and in my mania resolve and acknowledge that ive jumped to ill conclusions. but that's just the way my brain works it's not like yours, with your calm rationale.
i am woman, and this nature reminds me that it's in my veins. it keeps my pulse, though rarely steady, beating heavily down
my thoughts stream rapid. flowing and gushing down my riverbed that doesnt look to rest.
i want you, no i need you, to embrace this wild life that i set free. it's free to be had, shared and learned. but hardly understood.
so understand:
this crazy, let it live
sometimes my mind takes me places i should never go. i get mad, but mostly sad.
i go crazy, but not on the inside. i let it out. sometimes, only some, i let it all out. all that crazy simmering inside of me; i just let out. it's never dainty. and rarely in the "right way."
i can cry and yell with the best of them, and beat the most. i get nervous and spit things out that are best left unsaid.
i will always laugh. even if it's inappropriate. it is my one safeguard, safety net.
when i cry. i mean really cry, the aftermath is written on my face, still, days later.
i can go up then down. and in my mania resolve and acknowledge that ive jumped to ill conclusions. but that's just the way my brain works it's not like yours, with your calm rationale.
i am woman, and this nature reminds me that it's in my veins. it keeps my pulse, though rarely steady, beating heavily down
my thoughts stream rapid. flowing and gushing down my riverbed that doesnt look to rest.
i want you, no i need you, to embrace this wild life that i set free. it's free to be had, shared and learned. but hardly understood.
so understand:
this crazy, let it live
Sunday, February 1, 2009
i cannot sleep as sound
as you
tossing a turn without the warmth just wont do
too stunned to shake in my wake
these bones ache
to be nourished
allowing the hunger
what's there left
to feed on
but the leftovers and passing ups than downs
i lie leftover; disregarded
my mouth shares a few quiet lies
to rock me to sleep
as you
tossing a turn without the warmth just wont do
too stunned to shake in my wake
these bones ache
to be nourished
allowing the hunger
what's there left
to feed on
but the leftovers and passing ups than downs
i lie leftover; disregarded
my mouth shares a few quiet lies
to rock me to sleep
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