also

the most amazingly funny site ive seen in a while:
http://icanhascheezburger.com/

back in.

sorry that this post is a bit belated, but he and i are back together. i dont feel like explaining it here, or anywhere online. i'm not sure i'd explain it right now anyway. i'm not far enough away for the perspective or understanding that it would take to effectively communicate everything i went through for those three weeks or everything that was said in that late evening when he offered the bracelet back and i cried and pushed him away, and cried and finally took it and tied a shoestring back on his wrist. it's a bit of an open wound at the moment. quite tender, and not ready for the eyes, ears, and judgment of others. this part of me is raw, and held close to my chest; protected from an acidic world.

i love him more than i could begin to tell.
i miss that heavy, comforting feeling of his presence;
like standing beside the ocean with your eyes closed.
like feeling dwarfed by the ground you stand upon.

written sometime in june...

i'm out
it's over
i wish i could forget
after a few days, i was willing to try again.
i hate myself
he won't change
i need him to change.
needed.
i feel so alone now.
all i can remember is the night he held me.
he told me i'd be a wonderful mother.
he told me i was beautiful when i cried.
i cried for happiness.

it doesn't matter that his plans and my plans were once our plans...

the hem had moved from her knee to her hip, with little left to the imagination. she'd thrown up on the sidewalk outside the majestic. the lights were on and her keys locked in the car. we were standing outside the majestic, some smoking, attempting to find a distraction of some sort in the city in which we were strangers. they asked our help. we're not good people, mind you...we just have exceedingly loud consciences at times. she smoked a clove to get the acid taste out of her mouth. i took one and breathed the smoke in through my nose. we sat on the pavement by their car, waiting. they were strange people. perhaps because they were normal...the kind of normal jokes are made about. it was interesting to realize how different my friends and i are. not just different looking...but different. something elementally different from "the world" or "society" if you will. anyway, we stood there, then sat, leaned, and stood again; waiting for the arrival of AAA. We'd lied and said we had been riding with them. Better than them sleeping in the park i suppose.



it doesnt matter than his plans and my plans were once our plans...
i dont believe in being in love anymore.
i believe in pain
and an ache in that red fist
pounding away beneath my breastbone
and wanting to be with someone
when you cant stand them
just to be next to them
i believe in cynicism
sarcasm
and shitty cars,
betrayal
and wanting to believe so badly
that you sell yourself
to people who just want something
to shove their dick in,
or kids who would say yes
to a whatevernumber-some
to be accepted
to be loved.

love is a terrible lie
told by hollywood
there's something so much bigger
than being in love
or in lust.
i'm sick of it

i believe in two people
working hard
not giving up
or giving in
i believe in maturity
and strength
and the confidence i get
around the people
who used to intimidate me.
they are real
i havent seen real
in so long...

a meter strangely similar to mine

I do this thing where I think I'm real sick
but I won't go to the doctor to find out about it
Cause they make you stay real still in a real small space
As they chart up your insides and put them on display.
They'd see all of it, all of me, all of it.

All the good that won't come out of me
and all the stupid lies I hide behind.
It's such a big mistake
lying here in your warm embrace.

Oh, you're almost home.
I've been waiting for you to come in.
Dancing around in your old suits going crazy in your room again.
I think I'll go out an embarrass myself by getting drunk and falling down in
the street.
You say I choose sadness
that it never once has chosen me.
Maybe you're right...

(rilo kiley - the good that wont come out)

his hands were hot on my legs
the wine was dulled by the cigarette smoke
still hanging in my lungs
and throat
the smell of sulfur
and charcoal
lingered in my hair and clothing.
i was the one who looked
naked
in the light from the city below.
i was the one who was
naked
tonight.
and it burned with the sharp
searing
of fire from their fingertips
coaxing her from the machine

if tomorrow i asked you a question, would you answer?
if i asked for a beat or two, would you spare them?
if asked to name you, i couldnt
i'm no good at making things up.
the only thing i'm good at is feeling
the ache, the longing
that twists in my chest
shooting down my arms
to the palms of my hands
and pressing there
painfully
until i press my hands together
completing the circle
creating release
without escape

have i lied to you?
have i misdirected
empathy?

my heart is hard right now.
and far from God.
and this voice inside
says let go
when the longing comes
it says deal with it
when the anger comes
surging, hot on my nerves.
it says stand
do not kneel
and the flood washes around my ankles
stinging bits of sand and shell
cutting my feet
letting the stinging saltwater
bleed into my flesh

i never meant to keep your voice.
and i wonder at the fairness
of losing you
but keeping your criticism
losing your love
and caring
and comfort
while keeping the pain
and overbearing voice
with me.

that which i would wish forgotten
stays
despite repeated tearing
hardening
and distraction
your eyes when you smiled at me
your words that comforted and loved
through my tears and doubt
i wish it all forgotten.

{in your trunk, there was something for you...i dont know if you found it}

mendacity is a system we live in

so that disgust with mendacity is really disgust with myself.

just a few more hours

just a few more days

patience...