that tall hoodied...
|i am who i am; i will be who i will be|
the world is beautiful
my eyes see only grey
hope stirs the soul
fear yet holds its sway
caught in wonder's wake
all i do is break
Victoria is beautiful in all the ways
that other girls dream of being beautiful:
beautiful in her cheekbones,
beautiful in her flashing eyes,
beautiful in her matchless mind.
Victoria is subtle, like wind over water,
sweet and longing for sweetness,
bold in the face of chaos, brave like a warrior,
strong like a superhero,
fragile without breaking.
Victoria is powerful in all the ways
that other people dream of being powerful:
powerful in her conviction,
powerful in her anger,
powerful in her desire.
Victoria deserves better than what she gets,
deserves worship like a goddess,
deserves accolades like a war hero,
deserves love that flows like a river
without ceasing, without hesitation,
These cracks go deeper than I knew.
I've forgotten how to trust in you.
I don't know what I have to give,
or how to live and let you live.
Sleepless when you don't come home,
I don't know how to be alone.
Restless when you're here with me,
I don't know who or what to be.
I am grasping at something that isn't there,
clutching at meaning, coming up with air,
homesick for a fantasy, wreathed in despair.
I try my best to believe, to play pretend,
as if money weren't the closest thing to magic in the end,
and the only spell I'll ever cast is 'spend.'
I miss missing you, it gave me something to do
and now nothing has meaning, drifting askew;
I have all this potential, but still don't have a clue.
I'm cursed with this freedom, burdened with choices,
different paths call to me in myriad voices,
but my own is malicious, don't believe what that boy says.
I am so tired, desperate for meaning,
caught up deciphering being and seeming;
dreaming of having something worth dr...
I am afraid of this comfort,
We are shedding energy
like we have energy to spare,
but we don't have any to spare
You push and prod
You jab and jibe
Probing for chinks in the walls
For cracks in the armor
Desperate to prove yourself right
To justify your fears
What will you do if you're right?
What will it take to
Make you believe?
I just want to see you fly,
whether by yourself or with me by your side.
While you're aloft, enjoy the view
and know that I am glad for you.
I have burned before.
I have trembled 'neath the tread of the savage and frenzied zealots who flew on raven's wings over the the sea to pluck my riches.
I have burned before.
I have boiled over against the tyranny of the mighty and turned my hand against the powerful until my streets became veins carrying their poisoned blood away from my Holy Heart.
I have burned before.
I have groaned under the weight of the violent and proud as they held me hostage to their delusions of grandeur.
I have burned before.
I have been suffered the outrage of blood-soaked banners of hate flying o'er my hallowed halls.
I have burned before.
Now all the ashes have blown away, the blood had been driven to th...
I want you to be drawn to me
want you to fall for me
like forces too big
too mysterious to grasp
Like what used to be
when I was a fool
begging for enough space
to die quietly and alone
It feels like it's been years.
It's only been a week,
but I am so weak,
wracked with tears,
trembling all over.
When will this be over?
When I can't breathe,
when it crushes me,
I have to remind myself
that it was like this for you
Poetry hasn't changed
since Sappho sat by the sea
It hasn't changed
since Enheduanna made hymns
Not since Hughes knew rivers.
Not since Rumi spun words while spinning.
Poetry hasn't changed.
I'm sorry I fell asleep on you.
I'm sorry I fell out of sync with you.
I turned into such a creep and you
bore it all on silence, in sadness.
I'm sorry I didn't keep up with you
and everything you were trying to do.
I didn't let you be my muse
because I was playing a game
that I was afraid to lose.
And now I've lost.
I'm awake now,
know what's at stake now.
I know it's too late now,
but I want you to know how
I'm desperate for you, I bow
down before you, begging,
let me try to be better with you,
better to you,
help you, help myself.
It was raining so hard
the drops shattered my world,
and the loss only made me feel lighter.
I was dry as a bone;
I was cold as the seas;
I was poor and carefree as a beggar.
The world swirled all around
in the freedom I'd found,
but what I needed most was an anchor.
The enchantment was vast,
but a fix never lasts;
Overindulgence leads to a canker.
Egg-shell thin and spiderwebbed with hairline fractures,
egg-white soft and tooth-scarred with many fleshy wounds,
egg-yolk yellow and nutrient rich, a sacrificial offering to some vampiric, vicarious higher being,
potential life is fragile, fear-frought, fingerlengths from omelettehood.
My potential life, well-salted and -always- sunnyside up, is being portioned out and served up to mildly disappointed critics and would-be hipster foodies.
** "A bit bland"
* "service was adequate, but lacked confidence "
*** "I give three stars on account of the /potential/"
* "No amount of pepper can spice up an uninspired dish "
** "atmosphere was... eclectic... and not in the good way"
Haven't found a reason
to get out of bed yet,
so I lay here caught
in lethargy's net.
They say that in life
you take what you can get,
but all that I've gotten
is pain and regret.
I need to wake up
and get out of bed.
I can't sleep knowing you're not sleeping.
I want to help, but know it's not my place.
So I just lay here barely breathing
and try my best to give you space.
And you'd think I'd feel fierce joy at this discord,
but I only feel sad and afraid,
and ashamed to admit this is what I'd wished for.
Now I just wish I could have stayed.
I feel like I'm failing, whatever I do.
I just want to somehow be there for you.
I keep bleeding my love for you in great messy dollops all over my life,
staining the pages of my diary where I have sketched out plans to be a great messy genius.
My mind maps, outlines and charts all cataloging my would-be rise to stardom have become height maps and warped, wavy graphs, a topography that tries to mimic the harsh landscape of rumpled sheets where once was merely a quagmire of hopes.
I am drowning in time.
Days crash down like breakers
and drive me under
to strain against rip tides
as unfelt currents carry me
ever farther from familiar shores.
Many waves will surge up, thunder down, and crackle back into an immensity of Sea.
A child playing teasing and shrill games of tag with these unkind waters will ask why they're so salty. Mostly it's from minerals carried by run-off or injected by thermal vents. Partially it's from swallowing me and everyone else. More succinctly, child, you'll understand when you're older. Then you'll die.
I don't know what I am
to you, or if this is just a sham
to keep me quiet, keep me near.
I feel such hope, feel such fear,
such nagging doubts, such lucid dreams,
but things are so frayed at the seams.
I don't know what I am to you
and this is someplace wholly new.
I've never been in such a place,
balanced on the edge of grace.
Remember us together when we're gone,
whether our love was right or it was wrong,
down whatever pathways our lives do run
if you speak of us, speak of us as one;
be it inscribed in stone or sung in song,
remember us together when we're gone
I don't know how to navigate you.
I am lost in these murky waters,
wrecked on your jagged shoals,
wrecked on your rocks and reefs
and shattered into flotsam.
I am wrecked, I am lost, in distress.
Will anyone hear my S.O.S. ?
All my life is behind curtains.
No one gets to step inside
the Hallows of my Temple,
though many yet have tried.
My heart is behind curtains,
My heart is a Buddhist monk
repeating oms by rote.
My face is behind curtains,
veiled and hard to see.
People gaze upon my visage
but are not seeing me.
My rest is behind curtains
where I fall asleep alone,
and yet sleeping find no peace
and resting find no home.
All my faith is behind curtains,
so subtle, so abstract,
in a different space than my soul,
without the power to act.
Will you tear aside my curtains,
and will you pierce my veils?
Will you part the sheets, and come inside,
and enter my travails?
In the darkness
you come to me,
in the blackness
let these wounds begin to mend,
to grace me with these
and I am terrified,
worried that some real thing-
my morning breath
or some word ill spoken-
will break the spell that you have woven.
The worst and lowest part of me,
my shadow self, my toxic ego
would have me win you back
and then, complacent
like a lion having chased away
all rival suitors, rest, languish,
luxuriate in possessing you
as my dearest object, my treasured prize.
The nobler, more magnanimous part of me,
my better self, my upward striver
would have me win you anew each day,
find new joy in you each day,
find new reasons to be grateful each day,
knowing that I do not possess you at all,
that you are no object, no prize,
but my partner and friend whom I admire.
My highest self, my inmost being,
knows that in the Heaven
they are neither married nor given in marriage,
but all are joined and one in perf...
2. Awash with
3. raw, I enter
9. Do not burden me with this life of pain.
8. If I must be here - and I must -
9. give whatever love you can that I might remain.