rude awakenings

Mother II

2012-01-29T00:15:00.001-07:00

The only good thing coming of this never ending situation is that there's always material for poetry.

I don’t remember the last time you did something nice for me. Can’t you see why I’m upset? I guess I just get this way after too many days of no thank yous. I wish you’d put yourself in my shoes, so you can see what you’re doing to us. I don’t like to fuss because I’ve learned it won’t make things better, but then the feelings fester within me. I can’t see a solution. No resolution is possible; you’re always so hostile when I speak my mind. I guess I can never find the right words to explain this pain that seeps from my chest. The best I can do is write poetry, for me only, because I don’t have the balls to show this to you. I know what it will do; it will send you into a depression.

You’re so full of aggression; you have a tongue like a whip and no filter for your lips. You spit insults without thinking; I think it’s linked to your drinking. You sink to new lows, dishing out blows because weakening us makes you seem stronger. I can’t stand this much longer. In arguments, you’re the first one to shout, but you can’t take what you dish out. If I say something harsh you blow up, storm off in a huff. I’ve had enough. It’s time the queen was thrown from her throne. You have shown me no compassion but fashion your life around asking it from me. You live ridiculously, gone too long with no one to keep you in check. You forget that you need give and take to make a family last. But you ask so much of us, and give nothing in return; you’ve turned this house into a monarchy.
And I think we’re due for a mutiny

2012-01-23T00:06:00.000-07:00

It was an odd experience. Obviously enhanced by the illicit drugs in my system, but there was no mistaking the power of the experience. The pull of the tears were fierce, piercing me, pulling me down with a frown, it was frightening, felt alone and helpless, griping, fighting, trying.

…...............

I saw the warm light dancing on the right side of your face; I tried to chase the pain away. Push it, but I was weak. I tried to teach you how to heal me. Feel me, hold me fold your arms around me. And you astound me. With your everlasting light, you gave me sight in darkness. I saw you helped my cloud get lifted; I am gifted with your warm embrace. I touched the right side of your face, traced the skin from your temple to your chin.

I shed the walls and let you in.

open your fucking eyes

2012-01-08T01:46:00.004-07:00

It's people like you that make the world a lesser place. You pollute the pallet with your selfish habits but your self-esteemless self portrayal. You believe your happiness more important than a million other species, yet you think your actions invisible in the grand scheme. You think can keep running water and loving oil, and nothing will happen. Or you know what will happen but you're unwilling to give up the smallest of insignificant luxuries; to change your habits just the slightest. You think it's ok to keep doing what we have always done. Why cant you see? Why can't you open your fucking eyes to the state the world is in. It's not a hoax made up by peace loving tree hugging granolas. There are statistics. There is tangible proof; forests are being torn down to make room for our endless appetite for meat. Cities are growing wider, catering to the exponential multiplication of humans. The biodiversity is steadily decreasing because we keep monopolizing huge areas of land for our own monetary gain. 90% of all large fish populations have disappeared from our oceans from over fishing. One hundred and fifty species go extinct every day due to human activity. One hundred fucking fifty. We are responsible for destroying countless works of evolutionary art, crafted over billions of years, that will never exist ever again. We are spewing out chemicals and pollutants into the atmosphere; the co2 levels are higher than they've ever been. We are wasteful, cutting down more and more trees when recycling paper saves 60% of the water cost for manufacturing new paper and 100% of materials. We are wasteful and we consume blindly, thoughtlessly, just because we can. We could stop it, but not enough people care.
I just wish people were aware of these facts. Then maybe the real world and our impacts would feel a little more real, rather than a distant inconvenience, separated from us and our plushy homes, indoor heating and two car garages. Maybe then people would feel guilt when over induging instead of seeing us hippies as a nuisance, a fly that wont buzz off and leave them free to live in content consuming ignorance. Maybe we could change the world for the better, steer it in a good direction.

2011-12-31T01:32:00.002-07:00

I see past these walls the city builds. Like a rat, standing on hind legs, peering over the maze. I am still a rat, but I have seen things that cannot be unseen. I know the world is full of wonders, past the maze of humanity that we've all gotten lost in. I know not what greets me at the exit, but I know it will be better than these mindless meanderings through this every-day drag-on. I am freed from these shackles with the key of a broader mind.

cactus

2011-12-29T03:53:00.002-07:00

slippery slime slips, drips, sinking slinking and you're thinking you could be sick, but the thick slips down with a frown, but stays, plays, eyes wide, smiling. laughing. feeling good. good mood food. nibble giggle repeat. sip, skip and smile, for a little while. magic cactus, bitter citrus slips in cutting muck, slimy, stuck. sticking, licking lips, taking sips.

happy chrustmas

2011-12-25T21:18:00.002-07:00

my room is a mess. my head is a mess. This holiday stress has left no room for sanity. It was go go go; preparations for today. Christmas. And every year I wonder why I bothered. it isn't the same as when I was a child. this day has lost all of it's magic. But the only magic there ever was, was from the plethora of presents I saw under the tree as a child. It was all about the presents, all about getting. Now, it's more about giving, but I want to give more than consumer goods. So this year I crocheted most gifts; put time and effort in, instead of money. But the inner child still lives within, expecting more than I should. And every year I am disappointed. it's more than just the gifts, it's the unfulfilled Christmas spirit in this home. We are a dysfunctional family, and maybe I'm a terrible daughter, but at times I can't stand my family. I cant stand when my mother gets drunk and acts immature, when it's all about her. I can't stand the feigned family togetherness. the day drags on and on, and i am stuck between an ill fitting duality of expectations, jarred edges, the myth that christmas day will be different than any other day. But nothing has changed, the day has no magic to rectify our family dynamic, only magnify its faults. And I am left grappling in the gap created. An abyss of absent-mindedness.
And then like that, it's over for yet another year. Like it didn't even happen.

1111

2011-11-06T23:42:00.001-07:00

November 6th 2011
11:11 PM
I wish that I’ll never have to come home to my father taking refuge in the cold garage in his black sweatpant and teeshirt after-work wear any more. I wish that for once things will be ok. That I wont need to recede into invisibility behind my closed bedroom door and pretend there isn’t a lion pacing its lair on the upstairs floor. I wish that I won’t need to cram my schedule full of extracurriculars so I can pretend this doesn’t exist and I am not a part of it. I wish I’d never be sad again. Never let the tears wield their terrible power over me. Never let them choke me and punch me in the gut until I can’t stand strait and I crumble. I wish I could be stronger; That I could be better with dealing with everything, and anything. I wish I could be simpler; Easier to understand, so that my partner could read me like a cook book. Find the right recipe to make me happy, and follow the simple steps. But I am Shakespeare to the high school drop-outs, I’m impossible to interpret without hours of mental input, and it drives so many away. I wish there was a spark notes for me. So the ones who cared could decipher, filter and figure me out. And I’d be simple again. I wish I had never grown out of make believe. Wish I could still cook recipes in the bird bath and drink from the hose when I got thirsty and escaped into a safe world. I wish my world was smaller. Wish I wasn’t aware of the horrors of humanity, the greed and the apathy that has driven our race into the mud. I wish I had more faith in myself. Wish I could share my thoughts in real time, instead of writing them down and hiding behind a poem in order to speak.
I wish for a lot of things. But I only need one wish to come true. for the strength to grant my wishes myself.

2011-10-30T22:36:00.000-06:00

I’m walking around like a haemophiliac in a knife shop. One slip and it could end badly, the tears will never stop. I can’t clot my emotions and let them dry up and fall away. They stay with me, seeping deeper until they poison my bloodstream. And I wish I could scream, convert the pain into sound instead of drowning in the sorrow. I’ll be fine by tomorrow, I know, but right now I’m bleeding. Reeling on an ocean of emotion and the storm isn’t slowing.

chakra test

2011-10-30T11:33:00.003-06:00

your Root Chakra is CLOSED you tend to get stuck in an unfulfilling and unrewarding career, and you never seem to have enough money, which leaves you worried and in debt. Spending money is a harrowing experience for you, as you doubt your ability to budget effectively. You suffer from weight or body issues, which leave you feeling unworthy and uncomfortable in your own skin.

your Sacral Chakra is STRONG, you see sex in a positive light, as a glorious, pleasurable and healthy activity. You enjoy passionate, frequent and long-lasting sex with your partner. Orgasms are mind-blowing, and you and your partner often orgasm at the same moment. You make time to have sex at least a few times a week, even if you've been married or attached to the same person for years. You are always able to attract the right partners; compatible people who nourish you, fill you with joy and make you a better person.

your Personal Power Chakra is CLOSED. you tend to struggle with self-esteem issues, and feelings of unworthiness. You tend to question yourself when faced with important decisions like whether to move to another city, change your career, get married to your partner or to have children. You feel like a victim in the world, and often feel powerless to circumstances and other people's desires. You may also suffer from frequent stomach pains and stomach anxiety.

your Heart Chakra is STRONG, you enjoy comfortable, loving and empathic relationships at home, at work and in your community. You get along with your family. Your friends see you as a reliable person. At work, you're known as the one people can talk to. You feel a heartfelt sense of gratitude for how wonderful your life is, and feel compassion for all around you.

your Throat Chakra is CLOSED, you constantly feel like nobody cares about your opinions, and that you have nothing of value to say. You're likely to be known as the 'quiet one' in your professional and social circles, and you frequently settle with following other people's opinions. You often suffer from a blocked and sore throat.

Iyour Intuitive Chakra is WEAK, you have the tendency to feel helpless or lost when faced with decisions and judgment calls. You are indecisive, uncommitted and unconfident of the decisions you end up making, because you have a history of making the wrong ones. You feel spiritually lost, and your true purpose is unclear to you. You often get headaches and feel tension in your brow area.

your Crown Chakra is WEAK, you tend to feel little or no connection to a higher power, and always feel alone. You feel unworthy of spiritual help, and perhaps even angry that your higher power has abandoned you. You often suffer from migraines and tension headaches.

2011-10-16T19:39:00.004-06:00

Found this today, snooping places I shouldn't, because it is like quicksand. Your blogs freeze moments, emotions in static time, I can read them, and like a photograph, be back in that time and place. Back to those feelings of guilt, the pain and the confusion for both of us. Life went on in a seemingly different universe. Parallel to everything now, slightly overlapping, and yet forever away. And since it's so close but so far, it's always there, a shadow over my shoulder, but I can't grasp it, rip it up and destroy it. it is like the air I breathe. For as long as I live I am breathing the same air as you. And you are always there. intangible but always fucking present. I can almost recognize your face in my clouded exhales.

anger sad happy depressed are only a few of my feelings
04:24pm | Oct 29, '09 | Public
Indian Giver (I turned my back)
Share
Today at 12:00am
You are a shadow now. And I can't conjure the image that was printed on my eyelids after each breath between us. The words I draw are heavy and reluctant, hanging onto the tissues of my mind with tiny frozen fingers. I feel I need to put you to phrases. But I've thrown all my effort into forgetting it all. Pushed my shoulder against the door to keep your memory out. Put the blinders made of distance up because I didn't want to hurt. I didn't need to see the destruction lain in my wake, the razor blades of silence, pins and needles of new love. You're numb and alone and So thick in my dust as I sped off that I don't see you. Because I turned my back. Out of sight, out of my mind, but I know I sit in yours, fermenting, stewing in God knows what. And I've rooted a poison in you. because I turned my back. And I tore you down, I ripped you up and sent you to the wind. And I have searched for those fragments but the time as snatched them away from me and it served me right. Because I turned my back, and the world went on behind it. I didn't want the problems of another clamoring in my head, trying to prevent the premature death of my found soft silence. I turned away from each piercing smile each sodden tear each silly word written on paper and sent to you. I took away those promises of forever and the poems of true love. Obsolete ideas, I paid them no mind, they held no weight. Turned away from the safety in your arms, hidden in the eye of the storm as hell broke loose around us. I blamed it on change, the inevitability as time passes and tears the canvas down with relentless fingernails. I can't say what's to blame but I know I'm the only one at fault. I want this to speak I'm sorry. I don't know how I wrote this, it was not planned. But now that it's out the first step has been taken.

from dre

iv read this over and over in my head....upsetting me more and more every time =( im lost in the words again, of what used to be... a cluster of feelings and emotions all trying to express at the same time; but since they cant escape i shut down. hoping that reading it again i will understand. hoping that id see it how your emotions would express it. do you want me out of your life for good?? or are you saying the opposite¿¿ i honestly dont know... but im glad you do understand that i went from #1 to ignored in a matter of 1 day and im glad to hear that you just pushed me out......... what were those ilu from behind the door?? were they just words? what do you mean the 1st step has been taken? to hurt and cofuse me more?!? i dont know im so lost and full of mixed feelings....i care to much and i wonder if i should care the way you do? but y would i force a friend away................

^^ from brent's blog.

xxxxx

tell me,

03:39pm | Aug 19, '09 | Public

what would you do if you put your life blood, your sweat into making the ones you loved happy, so much it ran you dry. so much you didnt know what it was like to make yourself happy. What would you do when you were drained and no matter how hard you tried to put it behind you, tell yourself it's worth it to hurt and bleed for people who only half notice, you can't make yourself happy? What would you do?
It's like shoving a puzzle piece into an empty spot that doesn't quite match up, yet you try and try because you want to feel whole, you want to feel complete. But in the end the edges of the whole you foolishly tried to fill start to throb and hurt and you feel emptier than you did before, all you've managed to do is draw attention to the gape.

Wow. I wrote this over two years ago. It's hard to believe the choices I made. The things I did and how I justified ripping myself open every day for this one person. What sort of fucked up mental illness did I have that made me turn my back on myself to please someone who would never be saved? Why did I throw myself into the middle of a busy road to make sure he wouldnt be harmed? how many times did I almost kill myself? No, I was never close to death. He was my reason for living, even though every day drained the energy from me. I dried myself out, withered and weak. He was an emotional vampire. feeding off my love, but never changing. only sucking dry my limited stores of compassion. I don't understand why I let him do this to me.

What fucked love spell was cast about me that I became practically suicidal? Slitting my happiness for his. I wanted to help him so fucking bad. But he didn't understand. Didn't understand the gravity of what I was giving. He was a man dying of thirst who let water slip through his fingers. Stupid. foolish, thinking the flow would continue forever. But even love has its boundaries. and he pushed and kicked for so hard and long that they broke one day. and the water crashed upon the ground and was absorbed in seconds, leaving him parched, and leaving me broken in hundreds of pieces on the gasping ground.

I will never understand why.

BP

2011-10-10T00:00:00.003-06:00

you're never gone. why can't you fucking leave?
I want so bad to be free of your memory. I don't want to keep thinking about you, but I can't help it. It's not because I miss you. Not because I still care. I don't. I'm cold as a fall morning for you. Void of feeling. Yet you still have the ability to have my heart in a choke hold. You seep back in when i reveal my cracks. And you will make me crumble. You confound me. Why do you hold this power over me, two years after? Why did I have to ever meet you. Why did I subject myself to you, or was it to me? to my weakness, to my faults, my love. My goddamned bleeding heart. You hypnotized me, moth to bright obscuring light. debilitating. You found me when I was young. Soft and shape-able. you held firm, until your fingerprints were printed on my flesh, impressed upon me permanently. And when I finally left you I hardened my skin, became rigid baked clay. But I didn't think to smooth your marks away, and now I am left with them. And I want so much to just sand my edges down, but I'm afraid I will be reduced to dust, because you run so deep I can't even find the bottom of you. And now I must find a way to rehydrate my skin and smooth out your wrinkles once and for all. And this is where I am lost for where to begin. I open up the wounds, talk, write, share, in a hope it will disinfect and stitch up with string that leave no scars. But there is no end to you. And you are so enweaved with my brain synapse highways that I will always stumble across you, trip the switch to bring it all crawling back. Like a zombie, hungry for me. emotions dead yet undead, unwilling to ever give up.
What did I do wrong?

In a rut

2011-10-08T22:57:00.000-06:00

I bite my tongue, suck it in and swallow. Let words wallow and wilt in a cell that I build for all those that never made it out. Silenced by my doubt and left to sink down my esophagus, seared by stomach acid, they smolder. Growing older, growing stale, I fail to cultivate, to mitigate the weight of words solidifying, not trying to save them from a useless state.

I’ve got indigestion from all the unconventional confections I've been ingesting, testing my limits. I’ve got heartburn, because I never learned to chew my food. I swallow whole sentences in one bite despite it being rude. But it’s a habit I’ve fallen into, a pit I’ve slipped into and can’t escape. I can’t shape a sentence worth sharing, not caring to be a part of the conversation. I have no declarations I deem fit for telling, no ideas that I’m selling at any price. I think twice about speaking and by then I’ve lost my chance. It’s a dance I don’t know the moves to.

Like changing lanes in heavy traffic, if i hesitate i am lost, so at the cost of raising questions i chose to stay in my lane. not changing my habits to fit into the flow. i slow down and turn down a side street where i can breathe, sit, park and watch as others lead the chase. I can't seem to face up to being part of that race to nowhere. I can fake it but I’m always half a beat behind, and I find it easier to just stop, take the time to think, and if the words sink to my stomach half chewed once more, at least I’ll have stores of ideas for when winter comes and they’re hard to come by.

But stomach full and mouth shut,I'm in a rut.

dog walk

2011-10-08T22:47:00.002-06:00

This evening, as me and my sister were walking the dogs around the block, an old lady commented on their beauty. having heard this a thousand times, I laugh and say thanks, and we keep walking. but she calls back to us, asking us where the bus stop is. Then she explains why she is here; she works with the disabled, and came here after work because her girlfriend had smokes, but she couldn't get a hold of her in the end, and I forget why, but she was headed to the Rocky view hospital. She told us she had breast cancer, had both her boobs chopped off. We reply with the usual "oh, that sucks" but she stops us, and tells us its great because she's on powerful painkillers. Then she turns her attention to our dogs, and told us that she used to house sit for a 110 year old man who worked in the oil rigs and was gone for long periods of time, and he had an untrained Samoyed whom she would cuddle up with at his big fireplace. but the dog would drag her on her stomach 20 yards when they went for walks and it saw a rodent. Then she went on to tell us about her pets: 19 wild feral cats, 5 of which she owns, two parrots, one macaw, and a couple rabbits. her house is full of poop. And on that note she left to follow our directions and we turned the corner and went home.
Twas an interesting and enjoyable walk.

last ma phone

2011-10-05T22:55:00.003-06:00

And im lost. left grappling, reeling in this absence. i feel... empty. alone and unprepared. what if i miss something. someone is trying to contact me and I cannot reply. But why does it vex me so? i am tense, to borrow a word, ever wondering what is happening on my cell, which lies somewhere in a house on the other side of town, found or unfound, sitting. possibly ringing. probably silent and no one is missing me or me their messages. yet i can't relax. How will i contact my friend tomorrow on break? how will i tell the time? Why did i ever stop wearing a watch? because my cellphone was always there. it was dependable, a part of me i never left home without. i was constantly in the thick of it. at the touch of a finger i could summon anyone. plan anything. meet up with anyone without a hitch. but now....i've dropped off the grid. I am untouchable. i should revel in this, my few hours of freedom. i have an excuse to be absent. relax and not bother with anyone. let them find me if they so wish, but it will be harder. and only the truly important will be communicated. only with true need will i be called upon. no flimsy hellos and how are yous and i'm bored please talk to me's. back to basics. but still. i am afraid of my invisibility. I quest for the meaningful interactions, the things that make time float easier by. i have created a second state of being, of being here nor there, but in both places half way so. never quite truly dedicated to my state of being. my presence was split, sitting on a fence between two places, barely balancing. but now i have the chance to immerse myself completely, take a break from the habit that ripped my concentration in half. it was an excuse. an escape route. i could check myself out at anytime when life wasn't all that I wanted. it was a habit, i'll admit it, a treat when each text arrived, and id dive for my phone every time it showed a sign of outside life. i couldnt quit it, couldnt see why I shouldnt have it.
but here i am. unable to connect with this other dimension, and i'm starting to reflect, This is a good thing. Free my mind so i can focus on the now, not always one step ahead, head in the clouds, eyes looking down as i walk eyes fixed on this hopeless little screen. I can look up. And i think i'll like what I see.

free write, still on my mind >:(

2011-09-18T23:06:00.000-06:00

I remember the walk to your house. Well almost. I remember the walk past the superstore, where you had been banned from for stealing eyeliner. I remember your parent’s basement. The bar couches, a tv, the pictures of you as a child with mouth gear. I remember the way your teeth looked when I first met you. I was disgusted. And it took so long to fix, but if it hadn’t been for me they wouldn’t be salvaged. I never understood a lot of you. I was too young, and too in the middle of it to realize what was happening. You intrigued me so. And now you’re just a memory. Scraps of you float through me once in a while. Like I’m living in a minefield and you could be set off at the slightest touch and I’d be assaulted with recollections. I never thought I’d be free of you. You clung to me even after death, with clamped fingers. You would not lose me. And I wanted to run, far away, but I couldn’t do it. Only now have I deleted you off facebook. Now there will be no contact to you. None of your random comments, because a comment always leads to more. You find a way to grasp me again, and attempt to pull me back. But you are truly a memory. I will never see you again. Never have to be subjected to your powers of pity, of energy draining. I loved you tirelessly, but inside I was exhausted. Drained of my will of my own life, you always mattered more to me than me and now I don’t understand. My past is a stranger to me. I cannot relive the way I thought things, weighed choices. I don’t know how I loved you. If I met you today I would not fall as I once did. I have wider eyes now. A bigger heart now, a better life now. You caught me at the perfect time; When I was vulnerable, naïve and lonely. Scared for my future at too young of an age. You got me at my weakest. A lion weeding out the sick.
we both fell harder than we had expected. In different ways. You loved me ridiculously, like a lost puppy. And I was the one who took pity and couldn’t resist those eyes.
you’re welcome for the help. The thousand dollars gone and never returning, spent on nothing of any use. You’re welcome for my attempts at helping you. getting you a dentist to take off your braces, you didn’t even go to the last appointment. My parents too, helped you tirelessly. My mom, trying to find you jobs, or get into government help programs. You turned it all away. You weren’t smart enough to realize what a great thing you had. You were so entrenched in your horrid ways of life, finding more enjoyment in getting stoned and blowing your” paycheck” on useless paraphernalia. You took advantage of me. And it worked. You got what you wanted. Someone who loved you too much to not try and help, by giving you bus tickets, money for your phone card, inviting you over for free meals, and so much more.
Fuck you. I want to be rid of your memory so bad. But you keep popping up, because so much of who I am today is because of you. You thickened my skin and wizened my mind. You’ve helped me grow up. Too bad you never did.

stupid rant.

2011-09-16T09:31:00.003-06:00

sigh. it's friday, 9:20 am, i'm watching the daily show before I go to school, and i'm on the laptop playing a silly fb game. my mom comes down stairs, and says good morning whilst in the middle of a loud yawn. I didnt reply because it sounded like she was making some of her odd stretching yawning noises. then she irately repeats it, and as i reply, she gets angry with me, thinking i didn't reply because i was distracted by the computer. then she proceeds to tell me her kids are driving her crazy. then she brings up europe, and how she drve us crazy. trying to alleviate the tension i joked "so we're even then? :P " she didnt pick up any humor and retaliated with "well you were driving me crazy, as was dave, and that's why i drove you crazy. so no. we are far from even." hooray, it's all about her, always. She complains about spending two hoours cleaning the counters in the kitchen, cleaning our bathroom etc, but she never asks us to do it, and now that I'm taking 5 courses, working 3 nights a week and going to chiropractic twice a week, I'm supposed to have time to find every thing that needs doing and do it without her offering a suggestion? it would be a different story if she'd asked me to help out and I didn't, but I am not a mind reader. i am not an amazing child who can put all my troubles aside and go out of my way to find chores instead of doing homework or resting.
blah. maybe i can refine these feelings into a poem instead of a boring whiney rant.

free write of September 14th

2011-09-14T13:24:00.002-06:00

I enjoy mushrooms and acid, and could see myself using them in the future for various escapades. Just that coming up, the butterflies in my stomach already high, flying in a frenzy that almost makes me lose my lunch. I guess that’s what you get for introducing a foreign substance into a body so fine tuned for reality. I don’t know why humans are so entranced by altering what we regard as normalcy. Maybe we are constantly dissatisfied with what we know, and those of us unfit for scholarly expansion of the brain take to drug fuelled expansion of the mind. Then there’s me, who’s a happy mix of both. I guess I always want to learn; both about the planet around me and the world inside my head. It’s a weird mix. I don’t know what I’d classify myself as. A scholar, only by the fact I’m spending more time in university than any of my other friends. I’m a learner. A ponderer; I am constantly attempting to quench some intangible thirst I feel, for anything. The world around me will never lose its wonder. I could learn for my whole life and still not know nearly enough. So I pair academia with my own teachings. My philosophies, brought on by altered views from illegal substances. When I’m buzzed I see the earth in a whole new way, a way that sciences can’t teach; only I myself can discover. I’m left wondering about the energy particle duality of electrons in the context of the human duality of physical and soul. I make connections no course can supply me with, and I will never get the answers to, but the sheer questioning is all that is important. I am a constantly unsatiated (screw you red squiggly line, I can make up words if I want), always have a roiling hunger inside me that I can only guess what to satisfy it with. So I take pieces of anything I can understand and place it there, and piece by piece I am becoming full. But never enough to make me stop searching.

free write

2011-09-09T19:59:00.002-06:00

richard, my poetry teacher, encourages free writes. letting go of all pretences and planning and
just writing, not correcting words or anything. so this is mine for the day, randomness included.

Im fucking empty. Of motivation, of anything to do. I sit on my bed and wait for life to happen. The house is empty too. My phone sits like a stubborn friend, unwilling to talk to me. Dinner sits almost ready on the stove but no one shows. I haven’t been outside for 5 hours. I’m supposed to go to a party, but once again my phone has ducktape over its mouth. I’m hungry but I don’t jknow what to do about it. Eat of course would be the logical solution, conclusion, w/e. but I have no energy. Im in a depressive state. Tv shows and alternate realities affect me in a way im almost ashamed to admit. Im so emotionally invested in these characters that I fall directly into what they “”” want me to fall into. Ill keep watching of course.

I just spilt oils on my desk. Or it had fell over and I just noticed now because of the smell. My room is a mess. Another thing I cant find the energy to do anything about. Guess the universe’s laws have won this time. No energy will be spent to save me from chaos.
I guess the laws of physics relate to human life as well. Energy is needed inorder to maintain order. To keep up grades, your job, relationships. But once you stop inputting energy, in accordance with the universe, things will naturally lead to the most disorganized state. I think I only have enough energy for certain things. School, only because money is a factor and that’s always a great motivator. My few friends, though that easily slips of the side of the table. Then my boyfriend, who I could never give up on. I think because he gives me energy, we seem to convert useless “other word for energy” lmao. Into some magical propellant. Maybe I’m getting high off the fumes. I don’t know. Love’s the only engine of survival, according to mr cohen, and it’s true. Through love we find the power to move forward through time and space, regardless of outside forces that sap our energy through friction, gravity, and slow us down. I am constantly being fed new fuel by my partner that I can use it in other aspects of my life. But if that well ever ran out I would have to find another source, or learn to love everything which I do, which is no easy feat.

2011-09-09T00:24:00.004-06:00

today i was almost hit by a police car who had turned its lights on as I was almost passed him in an intersection. He turned the corner onto my road and nearly tboned me because he had taken an unnecessarily wide turn into the second lane (the one I was in.) I slam on my breaks before he acctually hit me, stalled the car, and the police officer pulls up beside me and yells in my window"when my lights are on you stop! stop means stop!!!" and I blabber a "yes, im sorry im sorry" and he drives away. This shock sent me into tears, and as I pull up to the next red light this guy pulls up beside me and tells me I was in the right and that the cop was being a giant douche. I thanked him as best I could through sobs. My heart was pounding and I felt like such a bad person, and totally frazzled and freaked about almost getting in my first accident and with an effin' police car to boot, that I can't stop crying. And Scott beside me tries to calm me down, and I could tell he didn't think I should be crying. This of course made me cry even more, and the cycle deepened until I couldn't keep my eyes dry without a constant deliberate effort. Every now and then the too-fresh memory would creep back in, and I'd feel a twinge and let a tear slip, trying my best to keep it secret. Then the fact that I had to try and pretend like I wasn't still upset made me feel worse. The only thing that got me out of the rut was weed and a show by taylor cochrane.
I cry alot, more than I should, and I'm aware of it. I've been getting better, but every now and then, especially in such extraneous situations, I can't hold it in any longer. And the best thing for me is to get it out, and then on my own time I will breathe myself back to normalcy. But I guess I get self conscious in such a fragile state, that I can't handle anyone's disapproval. It just rips another wound for me to bleed from.

ill elaborate when im not dead tired

2011-09-08T23:47:00.002-06:00

he said we are all vessels but I am like an urn.
holding ashes I've collected every time I've been burnt.
I'm full and I'm heavy with these cindered reminders
unable to empty out and start over.

mother

2011-08-31T18:36:00.002-06:00

i don't know what it is but i cant stand you anymore. maybe because I've been with you for 6 weeks straight. then i got two weeks of freedom, glorious freedom, and it's hard to come back to living in this house, with you, with whom i now associate all the wonderful memories of arguments that you could never bare to lose, the days spent waiting at each corner for you as you lagged behind inconsiderately taking pictures.
my friend told me last night, in alcohol fuelled praise, that you were real. that she had incredible respect for you. and i just couldn't agree. you're real only in the sense that you let us know exactly what is on your mind without bothering if it upsets us. but you don't take the time to listen to me, to consider my opinions, because everything anyone else thinks is completely illogical and a waste of time. you can't grasp that you're views aren't one size fits all. they don't work for everyone; especially not me. You can't let me make my own decisions without screening them through your radar first, and so many of them I need to fight in order for them to make it through. You disregard my efforts to be selfless and help people in need because you deem them illogical. you always put yourself first.
but the worst thing is that now you're back to drinking. You and daddy both. You had done so well in your program, and I had begun to think that things were changing. But the allure of european liquor was too much, and you got caught up in it, using the trip as an excuse to relapse. and now that we're back you haven't stopped. I'm glad I havent been around to see if any fights have arose, as they always do, thanks to your drinking. All I know is I see way too many of my dad's beer cans around the house than i'd like to. and there is always an open bottle of wine in the kitchen. you guys drink more than I do and it's sad. I just wish you could have had the willpower to stop once you got back, to realize the vacation is over and it's back to being parents, not alcoholics. I'd hoped that you would do it for me and my sister, but i guess your selfishness spreads to this too.
but I'm just as bad. I'm never going to talk to you about this. never going to tell you how i feel, because I've given up hope. every time I try to let you know you're hurting me you turn it back on me, pretty much telling me I'm a baby and I should be mindful and just not let it bother me that much. Well life doesn't work that way. you've somehow gotten away with living in your own world where you're queen and you don't have to compromise with anyone. It's because we're all scared, and tired of opening our hearts to you only having them ripped apart or ignored, and nothing gets resolved. so why even bother right?
ugh this is so unhealthy. I don't know what I'm going to do. All i can do is pour out my feelings here so i can not explode when it becomes too much to handle. i have an outlet and you never have to hear it. win win right?
:/

2011-08-30T21:32:00.003-06:00

the house is empty but my mind is full. rampant with every day ramblings forming a kaleidoscope collage of every day living. i think that's why I've had a headache for three days. and scott's got me feeling guilty for taking Tylenol. which is probably a good thing. I enjoy painkillers, because I am so often in pain. and so often i can't handle it. there are a few things i can't handle. pain, conversations, people being angry with me. I try and avoid conflict as much as possible, but that's a fool's errand. I'm living a lie, but I do it well. But every now and then the walls crumble and I'm left asphyxiated in the dust. choking on my tears as the all too familiar depression worms its way in to my chest. I often find myself wrapped in Scott's arms running a broken record through my head. The sadness is addictive and I'm lured in, but then i hate myself for it, for scaring my lover, for hurting him. this then makes me cry harder because I'm too weak. It takes a lot to pull myself out of that quicksand. But last night, in my first episode in a very long time, I broke free. I focused on deep breaths and eventually the tears stopped. It's so tempting to let the negativity engulf me; it feels good in a sick way. But it felt so much better to look at Scott and see pride, see relief instead of concern. I could be strong and pull myself out all on my own, through will power and love for him.
we've been living together while i house sit, and it's been a fun social experiment. we work well together and our relationship is evolving. a couple days ago i used the word boyfriend and it seemed wrong. it seemed like we'd outgrown it, which i liked. we settled on partner, because that's what we are. we help each other, offer support, love and stability at all times. we are equal, above all. It's a beautiful thing. something I never even imagined I'd be experiencing.
I've told him a lot about my past relationships, and looking back with perspective they were pretty unhealthy. I was a young girl desperate for love and so happy that someone liked me that I was willing to put up with an unnecessary amount of emotional wounds. they've healed but they've left scars, to always remind me of what I went through in order to get what i truly deserved. I don't regret it, but I'm really happy that I'm no longer that young girl, instead I'm a woman who's finally found her man, and above all finally found true happiness.

2011-08-25T22:06:00.002-06:00

I've been collecting feathers
in the hopes that I'll fly away.
but my feet stay planted in the ground
I haven't found enough to overcome gravity.
so I make them into earrings
in hopes that they can at least help me hold my head high

2011-08-24T16:28:00.002-06:00

we are weaved in with telephone wires, 'chemtrails', patchworking the sky.
and the world doesn't look so great behind prison bars

2011-08-17T22:28:00.002-06:00

i cant quite get a grasp on you. you've built a protective web to surround you, but you let it slip when shit went down around you. problems with the girlfriend, now ex. you did your best to play the bigger man. but i saw the stilts where your feet should have been. i don't want to be mean but i feel someone needs to get the truth out. cuz we know nothing about you. The funny thing was, your ugly side was predicted in a tarot spread. i shook my head and said that cant be. but the reader could see the real you that came through not long after. i let out disbelieving laughter when your guise fell. you broke the spell that had me transfixed like a moth to a bright light. but in hindsight, you played the game well. no wonder so many fell in love with your words and your wit. you knit yourself a pretty little sweater, but we found the loose thread. so think ahead before you plan to trick another girl into thinking your world is the place to be. Because she'll see before long that you're wrong. so wrong.

2011-08-16T17:58:00.002-06:00

i feel so disconnected. And I'm infected with this feeling, reeling in this madness, trying to deflect the coming sadness that comes with deprivation.

ah fuck it.

home

2011-08-14T16:09:00.002-06:00

I saw him, the first time in 40 days, like a dream coming to life. Grin brimming, I unlocked the door and rushed like a magnet to my main attraction. He looked different since I'd left, shorter hair, longer beard, but those eyes shone with the same intensity, those arms grasped with familiar fervor. And those lips. Heavenly warmth that melted the world away and I was lost in an ocean of dripping skies, holding him close, my rock, my safety, anchored after an eternity of strange seas. I vowed never again to let distance drive a stake between us. If I ever leave he will be my partner through it all and not a correspondence at the other end of a skype call.

poetic rants.

2011-08-10T13:22:00.002-06:00

Her camera shoots a thousand victims, capturing them, imprisoning them in a memory card thatll never again see the light of day. Shell stash them away, where theyll stay because no one will want to waste their time watching slideshows of the slow progression of twenty thousand frames. And its a shame because all this time she spends is in vain, all the painful waiting as shr takes her pictures taking her time. Amd its a crime to complain or to blame her for our pain because her wrath is worse than the acursed sound her shutter makes.

Despite your 'mindfulness' classes you cant be mindful of us as we stand in the italian afternoon sun, waiting for you as you lag behind. Dragging your fert as you hold your camera to your face in a constant vigil bexause youre terrified of an opportunity for photography to pass you by. You ignore our sighs and complaints, for they taint your perfect mood, and our moods mean nothing at all. You fall behind all the time, because your pictures are worth more than our feelings. And im left reeling in this conclusion, filled with confusion why yourr being so frigid, why your will is so rigid and theres no room for compromise. Cant you see it in oyr eyes tjat you upset us so? No. Because your eye is firmly set in your view finder, finding no solutions.

2011-08-07T04:31:00.002-06:00

Less than a week left, and im itching to be home. My sister left to poland to be with her bf for the rest of the summer, and im stuck solitary with my parents, no siblings for solace. I feel a stranger in a strange land, in germany, where the language sounds too hostile for me to feel welcome. So many foomps and ahcks and stressed syllables. But we are returning to france today, back where i can speak and not feel terribly touristy. And ill get to see amanda! How exciting :)

2011-08-05T02:24:00.002-06:00

Had a most vivid dream last night. Hung out with marysia petra and erin, like old times. Then me and mash went shopping and lost pet and erin. But we went to a party and met up with erin again but petra was gone. There were guys being stupid and jumping off balconies and staircases and one hurt himself and became unconcious. justine appeared out of nowhere and we decided to call 911. But it was in french and i couldnt tell them where we were. Meanwhile people were desecrating the unconcious guy, putting him in embarassing positioms, like sticking his hand down his pants. I was the only one concerned for him, cuz the 911 call was useless cuz i was on hold. I ran to erin who was teaching people to apply lipstick and getting ready for a date. I asked her for myphone because i had given it to her cuz i didnt have pockets. She told me she had lost it and had to go change her clothes. I wanted my phone to call scott because i thought he had been jumping off things as well and i wanted to be sure he was alright. But i was never able to find him, then i woke up. It was a very stressful and hectic dream and i dont feel rested at all

2011-08-02T11:17:00.002-06:00

I've forgotten about this blog since ive been away. There's always so much happening, and yet nothing is changing. These places we see are fantastic, but I view them through clouded eye for my mind is elsewhere. I am the in-between, always. Present but always looking over my shoulder, the link in this family chain holding everyone in sight. My mother is always far behind, in her own world where life exists in film only and she must capture as much as she can before leaving. My father and sister glance only around them and make haste through these streets. And I am between, making sure my mother can tell which corner we turn down, if ever she looks up from her lens. She tells me it's her favorite sight, watching me watch out for her, head swivelled, searching. But i grow tired. It always takes twice as long for her to accomplish anything and we are left lagging around as she slowly makes he way to us. But regardless of our annoyance she continues without a second thought to us, happily eating through memory cards with unprecedented efficiency. (46gigs to date. How is that even possible?) and so now I long to be home, where there is nohing at all interesting to photograph, and if there is I won't have to be with her while she does.

vacationing

2011-07-28T15:26:00.002-06:00

I have little options for escspe, no physical reprieve,
locked in a car with four people, wishing i could leave.
The streets we travel are gorgeous but their beauty has no hold,
because im locked in a car with four people listening to arguments unfold.
My mothers will is rigid, convinced shes always right
and we have no legs to stand on, crushed beneath her might.
And so we sit in silence, me with my headphones in,
no point in waging war if theres no way you can win.

2011-07-01T00:15:00.000-06:00

you have such beauty but you're too blind to see.
the only explanation for it is that your soul emits such bright light it's given you cataracts.

2011-06-23T23:59:00.006-06:00

you have fire in your veins and you burn the air as you breathe it in. you are incinerating. creating beauty in the mere form of thoughts, caught behind your eyes, they make them shine like embers. I remember the first time I met you, the tips of your hair were bright red, and you said your father was a hairdresser. I thought that was rad. because my dad just worked for an oil company and I never thought it was interesting. But you looked like you had stories that needed telling. the way you carried yourself was compelling, as if you'd locked so many things in side you you couldn't help but drag your feet as you walked. But they were things you never talked about. I tried to pry them out but you clung to your secrets like a drowning man to a raft in a turbulent flow, afraid to let go. And one day i realized the only way to know, was to dive in with you. So i took off my shoes and swam in to that depth you kept tucked away, hidden beneath your wing like the whole world was hungry prey. But i wasn't just another hunter. For what it was worth I was more of a researcher. documenting a rare breed of woman, a seed fighting to germinate as everything threatened to terminate your determination, exterminate your foundations. and though your roots were resilient it still weakened you. I could see the cracks peeking through. hard as rock but soft as stone, you had grown in the hardest environment. fighting disillusionment in a world full of sinners by screaming from rooftops "listen world, I'm a winner, so don't try and take me down!" you've made a crown of flowers and you wear it like a queen, so much power for a girl of only nineteen

and it doesnt matter if you fell off that roof, because you had the strength to walk again. and its that very fact that makes me proud to call you my best friend.

2011-06-23T12:56:00.000-06:00

groucho

2011-06-23T12:55:00.001-06:00

Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?

2011-06-23T12:44:00.002-06:00

'advertising has us chasing cars and clothes. working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.'

I don't want to fall into their traps. All I want from life is a reliable car to take me to far away places; a reliable body, stronger not skinnier, to carry me where cars cannot; a reliable house where I may rest at the end of the day; and a reliable man to be there by my side through and through.

2011-06-23T00:25:00.003-06:00

i havent been able to write in forever. i set myself up, on your marks get set go, but I never hear the gunshot. I'm too busy planning what I'll one day write, fighting with myself when i cant get my legs moving properly. I stagger stupidly down the track, attacked by all my feeling of inadequacy. I haven't been able to find that perfect subject. I'm saving my poetic virginity for that ellusive mr right, but in reality im getting fucked in the ass by my pickyness. every subject is only as good as I'll make it, and i hate it. I have no inspiration because I'm holding my breath, waiting for the day something will take it away. I walk with tunnel vision, missing the details, the tidbits of life that happen constantly. I'm ferociously searching in all the wrong places, pursuing the wrong chases. I am running so fast, everything is a blur. I've forgotten how to sit still, patience has evaporated and been replaced with anxiety. I'm fighting a constant battle with my past and future self. My past endeavours hang around my neck like heavy gold medals, and they weigh me down. root me to the spot and I am unable to shed them and walk forward. I am in the shadow of my best, towering over me, taunting me that I wont write anything any better. And I'm tempted to believe their whispers. then i wont constantly force myself to squeeze out written diarrhea. And if I do manage to shit out a gem, then i'll be a welcome surprise and not a hemorrhaging affair.
...
I just used an extended poop metaphor. That's a first.

There are many things that I would like to say to you but I don't know how

2011-06-21T23:22:00.003-06:00

ever since school`s been out i`ve neglected my poetry. I never find the time or the inspiration to write. I feel like I`m saving myself for the perfect theme, but in doing so i just get fucked by the elusiveness of said subject. I need to write about the mundane. about the everyday, keeping my motors running so that when that certain perfect idea comes along my gears will run smoothly and not be clogged by the rust of disuse.
Easier said than done.
But lets give it a whirl.
My head is fuzzy from wine, and my heart tumultuous with emotion after a phone call with my love. I had left the party early because as always, when I drink I am drawn to him, and yearned to talk to him. I called him right as I left, hoping to squeeze in as many precious minutes before sleep ensnared him. In total I was granted 11 minutes and 31 seconds, talking about normal these and that's before he was engulfed in drowsiness and had to hang up. I don't fully understand how my mind works, and I really wish I did. Then maybe I could explain why I teared up as he was telling me he was tired and the conversation was about to terminate. the tears rolled down my cheeks as we said our I love yous and our good-nights, and I managed to feign normalcy until I hung up. Its times like these when I would love to be tough skinned, less sensitive, then I wouldn't break down at the slightest emotional upheaval. It's nothing new to me. I'll find myself unstable even talking with my poetry teacher, or anyone who seems to show genuine support and kindness. I am fraught with complexity. Maybe it's because I was under exposed to any emotional hardship when I was younger; no fights or drama to toughen my skin and teach my feelings how to behave. But it's more than that. I feel so emotionally attached to my lover that when our time is cut shorter than I wanted, or when plans change and I can't see him, it drives a stake through my heart. It's one of the things that can affect me so deeply. And I haven't yet decided if it's good or bad. I've sorta just accepted it as it is.
I'm unsure of if I want to change. It would be nice to have rhino skin, but then I would miss the soft touches that life offers me. the brush of lips against skin, the tug of a breeze through my hair, the slow heat of the sun overhead.

2011-06-18T00:54:00.000-06:00

my imperfections have been exploited to fund the police department.

warning: personal stuff :P

2011-06-17T00:34:00.003-06:00

Tonight I had my first encounter with the law. I had just made love to my boyfriend and we were relishing in the warm feelings of connection as we held each other close. When a rap on the side of our westfalia, followed by a voice 'city police, open your door.' knocked us from our heavenly perch. we scrambled to redress as inconspicuously as possible, and while scott got fully dressed i only managed to find a sweater to put on, and wrapped the rest up in blankets (how obvious that was.) so we open the door and they don't hesitate to tell us that the park is closed (oops..) and continued to ask if we were having a "shag" (who calls it that anymore?) and if we were smoking weed. They already assumed both these things and were determined to charge us for both. so they asked how much weed we had and we said not that much. They asked for all of it and scott gave them his newly purchased eighth. Luckily they believed that was all, and didnt take my three roaches and pipe other various paraphernalia. they ask us all our personal information, where we live, work, our phone numbers and our IDs. I'm thinkin oh shit, please dont call home. but they didn't, instead they make scott crush up his weed in a puddle then went back to their bikes and wrote up our tickets, leaving me to scramble to find my pants. we waited for them to return, wondering about our fate. they came back in 5 minutes, telling us they wont charge us for the weed or call our parents, but they'll give us both tickets for it, as well as having sex in a park (100$ there) and another fine for being in a park after they close (another 100$!) and we have to pay them in a month or else they go to warrant.
well aint that just greaaaat. We are both trying to save up so we can make expensive repairs to scotts car or possibly buy a new one, not to mention paying security deposit on a house and save money for europe. this couldn't have come at a worse time. and for the stupidest crime. I'm sorry that me and my boyfriend are in love and he has a bed in the back seat. sorry that we had great sex and that the stupid fat po po can't get laid.
Since when is love a crime? obviously it is in a park at night, but i don't think it's worth 100$. we didn't hurt anyone, we weren't vandalizing or selling illicit substances. we were two teenagers in love at midnight in a deserted parking lot.
Goddamn coppers thinking they're better than us.
gah. rant over.

flying away.

2011-06-14T00:11:00.004-06:00

The sky was beautiful today. columns of cloud spinning and bending slowly, sun streaming, rain falling, stretching out for further than the eye could see. When i look up i forget myself. losing myself in the sheer vastness, so much space enfolds me, surrounds me. and i am smaller than a speck on this great earth that expands from where i stand for miles and miles and miles and miles. It's a beautiful feeling. that so much exists around us that we can't possibly be that important, and my actions will have no great reactions. my problems send no lasting waves to distant shores, only ripples that fade before spreading too far. we often get caught up in human activity, entrenched in our lives, our duties, our dues, that we take ourselves too seriously. sure it's good to be a functioning role in society, but there's so much more to life. and so much less. life is simple in the wild. you live each day to survive, and humans have taken life for granted because of it's accesability. we have medicine at the ready, we have houses to protect us from the elements, we have fresh water always at hand, food in our fridges. and with these basic needs met we can focus on creating bogus rules and plans to fulfill our lives, getting that high corporate job, buying a big house and living 'the life'. but for me the life is just pure living as close to every other creature that shares the planet with us. life is not separating ourselves from nature, but embracing it. loving the tumultuousness of the seasons, learning about ecosystems and the multilateral cohabitation so that we can live the best we can in balance with all other life; sharing this planet and not hogging the resources. we are not the greatest beings of this earth. every living thing is as equally evolved as us, for they have made it to this present age. everything has its own way of staying alive, and we are not ones to judge what we do not fully understand, but to love it for what it is.

2011-06-13T23:49:00.002-06:00

you're living a lie. threading falsehoods into a spindled web, catching your little prey, wrapping them up with your words. you spin us around, convincing us you're the bigger man. when you are nothing but a child trapped in a man's body, young and temperamental. you talk a pretty good game from the stage, but you've just built a castle with your pen, enclosing yourself in a fortress of love poems, happy poems of your conquest and your skill. but at the tallest tower is a boy sitting in a throne too big, wearing an over-sized crown.
You've been bested, and you're wounded, but unlike an injured animal stalking away to preserve your dignity, you wont have it. You lash out with your pride guiding you, aiming to hurt she who has overthrown you. And what a shame. you act in bursts, letting your emotions control you. your ego is engorged and you fight blindly, seeking to make right but all you're doing is digging yourself a grave, until we're all looking down upon you in your pit, and wishing you'd stay down there.

2011-06-11T11:17:00.001-06:00

(5) Tumblr (clipped to polyvore.com)

our year and a half :")

2011-06-05T01:47:00.003-06:00

I just had the greatest day ever with my lover scott. we went to supertramp high on mushrooms and though it was a rough start (i felt like puking) it got great once they came on stage. the music was so great, and the crowd was trippy, and just being there with scott, all bubbly and smiley in his shrooms high, it was just such great energy all around. then after the freaking amazing set and encore we shuffled out and we were still a high and the night air was so refreshing and just the perfect temperature for a walk, we took the long way home, walking the scenic route back to the car, then rolled a doob whilst reminiscing about how great the music all was. then we went to the ramsay view over downtown and smoked it and had a mind blowing discussion about pretty much everything. i realized in that moment that i could never forgive myself if i settled down in a city. Calgary will not be my home for very much longer, i hope. I need a place with nature, that's for sure! But after the crazy talk, which probably lasted a good 45 minutes, we drove to sandy beach and proceed to have some alone time ;)
but it was just so beautiful
I felt like i had found my second half, and the pure bliss at having him back again, was like filling a hole i never really knew i had. it was an extremely emotional and pure lovely mboment. i felt completely sure that this was the man i would spend my life with, if he left my life it would be a catastrophe. and thanks to the mushrooms i started to cry because of the overwhelming emotion. i went to apologize for my tears, but he told me not to worry, he understood. and it hit me, and i said 'right, i dont need to apologize for this.' and it was a beautiful moment of pure acceptance, feeling safe and free to be our complete selves. we were holding each other and it was hard to tell who's appendages were who because we were one complete being. and when i closed my eyes i could see weird alex grey-esque images about being perfectly connected on so many levels. It was beyond amazing.
Man, i hope we can keep topping our anniversaries and make them as memorable as ever.
Scott if you're reading this, I love you so very much :) <3

Goodbye Groove

2011-06-01T22:28:00.002-06:00

I feel that familiar tug of emptiness inside once again.
I can feel it spreading, pulsating through me.
It sits in my ribcage, chewing at my heart.
It corrupts my blood and sends it surging through tired arteries.

The Groove Shack is now empty and mangled. Filled with the debris of crashed-through ceilings and bashed down walls, broken glass from smashed windows. Most of them self inflicted wounds from those who knew the house best, who felt the need to have a part in its destruction before it was out of their hands. The house was scheduled for demolition, to make way for a more profitable abode. Knowing this, the house spiraled into disrepair, wounded by raucous parties and no motivation to clean up the next day damage. The walls were covered in crude but enjoyable drawings and spray paint tags, souvenirs of everyone who'd visited and left their mark. The last few weeks I noted how each room's old charm disintegrated slowly, each gaining unpleasant qualities. Garbage was scattered around; the sink was always full of dirty dishes; the hard wood floors were sticky and the carpeted floors were dank from spilled drinks. Near the end it was hardly liveable.
But before the Shack had descended into filth it was my favorite place to be. It was a place to waste the afternoon playing video games, smoking weed, drinking beer. It was a place to hang out with the crazy roommates and friends, and laugh at their never ending antics. It was a place for romantic homemade meals with my boyfriend. It was a place to get wasted and dance at their epic parties and a place to fall asleep in a warm bed at the end of it all. It was a place to listen to KGB practices or Taylor's solo work. It was just a great place. It stood for everything I loved; freedom, comfort, convenience, amusement and privacy when we needed it.
And now it's gone.

It's left a gaping void in me, because gone with it is my boyfriends home. He's back at his mom's, an acreage 25 kilometers out of the city. Gone are the days of going for a bike ride and ending up at his house twenty minutes later, gone are the days of a 5 minute drive home. Now seeing him means the distance eats an hour out of our time together, and with him working 5 days a week, that time is already so sparse. I suppose I took his closeness for granted. I took the whole house for granted, and now I'm feeling down. I knew the day would come when they'd have to pack up and leave, but I wasn't prepared for it. But I'll have to get used to it that's for sure.

dreams

2011-06-01T11:26:00.002-06:00

Ive had this reoccurring dream that I'm in a dirty public bathroom and it's crowded with both genders and its huge and the stalls don't fit properly and I have no privacy and I really have to pee. I just though it was about my fear of public bathrooms, but apparently not:

To dream that you are in a public restroom with no stalls or that there are a lot of people around while you are trying to do your business, signifies your frustrations about getting enough privacy. You are always putting others ahead of your own needs. As a result, you are lacking a sense of personal space. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you are having difficulties letting go of old emotions. You are afraid that if you reveal these feelings, then others around you will judge and criticize you. If you dream that you are in a bathroom meant for the opposite sex, then it suggests that you are overstepping your boundaries.You have crossed the line in some situation.

take away this pain of knowing, fill this emptiness with light now

2011-05-28T00:47:00.002-06:00

I left the room without saying goodnight. i mumbled something incoherent and unimportant and turned away and left. I felt bad, sort of. As if saying good night was something so hard to do that I'd rather just walk away. But the thought of any personal connection was uncomfortable. It made no sense, but somehow it just ended up that way.
There had been a time of crisis, of trauma, that left our communication breathless. And starved of oxygen, cell by cell, it began to die.
But as the heart restarted and air once again passes through us, we have escaped death.
But with the price of dead nerves, never letting us grow closer. scarred tissue stopped us from speaking as we once had. The confidations of a young daughter to her mother were lost forever, replaced with the wounded distance of an estranged teen.

2011-05-26T23:30:00.000-06:00

i love the wrinkles you leave on the bed sheet in the morning.

brain damage

2011-05-25T00:48:00.002-06:00

there's someone in my head, but it's not me.

and it kinda feels good.

I've had a sort of realization. That beautiful places exist, with beautiful people. And I can have my mind blown in the most amazing way. I have now tried every drug I wanted to, now it's just time to refine my highs and lows. and only the best environments will do. Windswept cliffs with wave-cut caves in which we blast pink Floyd into the natural surround sound of sedimentary sand and ocean pebbles. Forgetting time, only told by the rising of the swirling tides and the setting of the western sun in a bed of water. where nothing mattered but the basics. that we had food in our stomachs and shelter from the wind, because our hearts were full of the freedom of nature, bursting like balloons, floating through the forest trails. swiftly we ran through knotted ground, down rivers that streamed through the trees, upon trees upon trees. red dirt made from wood upon wood. cool green shadows shiver through trunks, slither over roots. ancient forests dance to the rhythm of the wind. I ran my fingers over melting bark, moss carpeted and smooth. i planted myself in crystal sands and turned my leaves toward the sun and grew to the beat of the waves dragging their fingers across the beach. i carved faces into the ground smiling up at me with gaping eyes.
I did alot more. But mostly I had the time of my life.

self pity rant, dont mind it.

2011-04-19T14:25:00.002-06:00

ive concluded that my body hates me. after realizing I'm newly lactose intolerant and cant eat the slightest bit of dairy without my intestines wringing themselves into knots and keeping me up all night, i find out i have a UTI. it took a week to get the medication for it, and after i take it, it fucks up my kidneys, a rare side effect. Not wanting to feel the pain of a sore back and tender internal organs again, i hesitate to take the second dose. But my parents demanded that I do, so here I am again, unable to stand without feeling pain all through my back. and on top of all of it, i'm getting sick, because the antibiotics are destroying my immune system. wooooo.

2011-04-08T12:32:00.001-06:00

Less than a week of school left. Motivation is dwindling in the face of a program change, and the irrelevance of all my current credentials. Though i should keep up my gpa, maybe get a scholarship. I could do with the Jason lang. But I feel good lately. Though it’s unfortunate I’ve wasted two years and over five thousand dollars, I feel unchained with the revelation that I have the freedom to do whatever I want. I need school to be interesting, tailored to what I really want to learn. And I plan to find that perfect degree that will teach me everything I want to know. Environmental science is looking great right now, because it’s only a 3 year degree and I get to work and get paid the last two semesters, getting my foot into the door of the earth’s job sector. I just hope I can work for something great. Something where I’m outdoors and I can surround myself with the simple beauty of nature while getting paid to protect it.

You know what would be great? If I could become the next David Suzuki. I’ve been brought up on the knowledge of the natural world around me, taught to love it and cherish it. I could channel my passion into my profession, teaching the world to love as I love, to appreciate as I appreciate, this truly astounding planet of ours. To educate the masses of the simple truths, that we are all one and humans are no different, we are animals that need to re-immerse ourselves into our environment.

When I think of the poor souls who chose to work in an office downtown, it makes me sad. How people will sacrifice their sanity, their time and their happiness to slaving over a computer in fluorescent lighting so that they can make the most money possible and live out a ‘lavish’ life. I will never work an office job in my life. I would rather make minimum wage and work every day in the forests of British Columbia than make ten times that and subject myself to the hollow existence of the profiteer. And this understanding has blessed me with the assurance of a life well lived, distancing myself from the damaging mind frame that is capitalism; the religion of the mighty dollar, where money is king. We’ve put all our faith in the omnipresent economy, a fictional fabrication of man. But I have wisdom. I’ve been told by many I have the talent of seeing the bigger picture. Seeing past the obstacles that clog our everyday lives into the vastness of the world in which we live in and our place in it. I can’t get distracted by fame, seduced by profit.

I am in love with the earth and I am a faithful woman.

juss one o' those moods.

2011-03-16T21:19:00.004-06:00

rant: commencing.
oh how i wish you could read minds. so i dont have to bother you with my problems, you could just know they existed and be the knight in shining armor. but i don't want to bring you down to my level. dont want to tell you what's bothering me because i feel like i'm just complaining, and im afraid it bores you. that's my biggest fear. is that my problems are so frequent they become a burden instead of an opportunity to heal. i just really need you. i remember when we first started dating i told you i never wanted to need you, but i need to be wanted. i need you to want to help. and i know you do. but there's always that fear. that unloading myself upon you will bury you and you'll be helpless, pinned like a butterfly and having to watch as i struggle on my own, because sometimes you're clueless. but that's fine. you try to and you've been getting better, but i am a complex woman. a fragile woman who is built out of sand and comes crashing down at the slightest wave. i am needy. i'm sensitive. i cry about fucking everything. and knowing that it makes you nervous makes me not want to cry, but that makes me feel bad for crying which makes me cry harder. oh woe is me, aint it? i make big deals out of everything. i know i do and i know you think i'm overreacting sometimes, and i am, but it kinda hurts to know you think so i guess. i dunno, it's hard.
I've always been that good girl. the one that no one can ever be mad at. and no one really has. i've successfully evaded many types of conflict, but all it's done is made me weak. i havent built up a tough outer shell as a defense mechanism. I'm naked and squirming and able to be wounded by the slightest scrape. i guess i need to work on that. but it's a huge process, and sometimes i just need someone to let it all out to. I've lost my best friend to long distance and you're the only one i talk to with the slightest amount of candor. so sometimes i just need you to hold me and let me cry, let me complain, let me be a big baby, because that's how i cope. after a good cry i feel great. light and clean, like a new clothes, waiting to be dirtied again. it's not a great cycle i've got going, but it's me. and if im gonna have the courage to start changing, i need you to be there every step of the way unconditionally. and i know you will be. but part of me, the vile weak and scared part, is so horribly afraid you wont.
i dont know why i wrote this. just one of those moods where it's been a horrid day and all i want to do is talk to you, but the only talking between us is you calling to say the plans have changed. i guess that was the icing on the cake, and having so much to say and no one to say it to, i just let it out all here. i wasn't planning on showing this to you, but after the counseling i figured it would be good to share as much of what's going on in my head with you. hope it doesn't scare you. sometimes i just need to write it all out and have done with it.
i love you.
and i learnt something else after writing this. you wont always be there to help me when im sad, and i need to be able to help myself. i don't need to always unload on you. i am strong, when i want to be, and i need to be self reliant. having you beside me or on the other end of the line when i'm feeling down is amazing, but that's not always going to happen. and it feels good to be able to work through my sorrow and foul moods on my own, because i don't have to bury someone beneath all my rubble in order to relieve myself of my loads.

2011-03-12T23:38:00.002-07:00

http://bl00dysunday.livejournal.com/

he (?) has some crazy things to say. puts me in a weird mood. like i'm awakening to something that's always been in front of my eyes. he states the blunt in a hopelessly misanthropic manner, but there's a hard edged truth to it all, held against my neck with the intention to cut. his words sound like cigarette smoke and fill my ears with cottony apprehension.

city of poets

2011-02-26T14:36:00.001-07:00

so yea, pretty damn stoked for this tonight. it's going to be quite an experience. first time being a featured artist, it's gonna rule!

vdaypoem

2011-02-06T22:42:00.003-07:00

I've come to realize the sun is in love with you.
she is ever lingering at the corners of the sky
never wanting to see you devoured by darkness
she keeps an eye on you
and your eyes are always filled with her light.

to me, you are the sun.
illuminating everything with your radiance
helping me to see the beauty
and I've come to realize you're in love with me
Always lingering in the corners of my sky
never letting me live in darkness.

dumptruck

2011-02-05T17:09:00.002-07:00

Ive been really clumsy lately. breaking class, then cutting myself with it trying to clean up. knocking things over, dropping things, slipping. it's really frustrating. i think it comes with stress. like there's a problem syncing my mind and my body and it's resulting in miscommunications to my fingers and lots of broken things. I was always that kid who'd spill her glass of water at the restaurant. the hopeless case at times. it's frustrating. because the more it happens the worse i feel, the worse i feel the more it happens.
I'm in a funk. things affect me so much, and I've been overloaded with food for thought lately. the drummer of the KGB has waning interest, and I really don't want to see them compromised, the KGB is such a good band, and it means so much to Scott, and by association, me.
and of course, Kaeleigh is now the mother of a healthy baby girl, Aurora. It wont hit me until I meet her, and that most likely wont be for quite a while. Everything is happening all around me, and I'm sitting still, surrounded by it all. I feel like such a bum right now. Sweats and a flannel plaid shirt, slumped on my bed in my dirty room with my laptop. When I start to feel sorry for myself, then it starts to get bad. I can't do that to myself, but it's so god damned alluring.
I need to do something artistic. I need to write a poem, paint a picture, play music, or dance my heart out. I have so many options for artistic voice but i haven't really committed to anything. Art projects bloom in my mind and rarely every make it to the physical world. I have the beginnings of a painting sitting on my floor that's been doing just that, sitting, for weeks. I've written two good poems lately, but cant write anything new that I can bring into my poetry class and work on proffesionally. I got a piano book for christmas and havent opened it since.
ugh. ok, computer, you hopeless little screen, time to get turned off so i can do something productive, and get my hands dirty with paint.

I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me

2011-01-27T23:33:00.002-07:00

she said the poem has two silences. the one preceding and the one following. But the silence I search for is the silence during. the captivation, complete and resolute soundlessness, stillness that seeps through the room like a blanket of snow. i long for my voice to take control of a room full of listeners like a boa slowly twisting but not killing. only holding each ear in perfect attention. and the silence remains, in totality, as I stop talking, taking a half step away from the mic, for a second longer than normal.
before the spell is broken and the pause button released at the sound of a hand clapping, and then more until no one is still. everyone is moving and making sound. As i skirt shyly back to my seat at the back of the room.

free write

2011-01-22T15:27:00.003-07:00

the thoughts you instill in me are poisonous. and i try to extract them like venom from a snake bite but i cant seem to get the right grip. i cant suck, i just sip until the poison fills my mouth. and I want to scream at you as if i could convert this rage into sound and lose the negitivity around me. but i've never been able to speak my mind, i act like a mime trapped in a box i've bricked with my own trepidation. I layed down the foundation thinking I could protect myself if you ever threw another bomb my way. the way you throw away any sliver of effort I give. so i live behind my walls as if I'm Pink. And you think it's because I dont care. when you're upstairs watching tv with your headphones you break bones in the skeleton of this home. so I sit alone because I'm tired of being shut out. im tired of being cut out from your life like a piece of rotten fruit. You say you salvage anything. but when you threw out your ring I started to question your devotion. you throw an ocean of guilt onto the shelter we've built to try and keep out the rain. because every time it pours i feel like the sky is crying for me. as if it sees the biger picture and knows how to stitchure the wounds we've let get infected. but we sit licking them tricking ourselves into thinking we're doing any good. i know what i should do. but the truth of the matter is that laughter doesnt live here anymore. you've locked doors and melt down keys to fill the cavities caused by the sweet flavor of self pity. you've built a city around your heart and there's always gridlock trafffic on any street that leads to you. I need you to clear the roads. I need somewhere to dump the load because im tired of carying around bricks tricking myself into thinknig I can just keep building these walls higher. and I'd be a liar if I told you I'm doing everything i can. because I'm not. I've forgotten how to speak. and tears leak from my eyes every time you betray some closeness. i've spent months thinking it's hopeless and hoping I'll be able to escape before it's too late. but it's been 3 am for who knows how long and i've missed my last train of thought. i've forgotten how to talk. so i just walk away with cheeks wet hoping I'll forget how to feel. hoping I can seal myself away with wax and mail myself to anywhere but here. but my biggest fear is that you wont come after me. that your laughter will haunt me with dreams of a simpler time. and when I'm alone I'll sometimes dream of when I was younger. when there was no hunger for escape, only a wish for a cape so i could fly like a super hero and save us all. but I fall off sky scrapers like paper crunched into a ball. later i learnt that a smooth sheet would have fallen slower. would have lowered itself to the ground safe and sound. if only i knew how to uncurl this fist into a hand again. then i could float instead of plummet, could climb to any summit without fear and i could scream from the highest peak for all to hear.
that I do still love you.

air blower

2011-01-20T21:28:00.002-07:00

Had a talk with my mother, or rather she talked and i stood in the kitchen with eyes firmly planted in the soil of a piece of paper. I held the pen to the surface and let ink bleed in to the fibres the way I wish I could bleed out the guilt and let it exist on the page and not in me. I understood her every word. Had felt each emotion she spoke of, thought each thought she had thought. I lived in the country of her mind. I was a seed planted and grown from her earth. I knew the land for I was born from it. I absorbed her state of mind through my roots when I was most thirsty, sadness seeping like rain water. And I lived with it. I lived through it. came to love the familiarity of the vines that wound around our home like a slow motion boa, constricting the room for growth. I staked my own ground as it spilled out around us. the gaps getting wider like melting northern ice and we all ended up on our seperate pieces, floating away. I had found the beginnings of a new life. I found someone to be all I needed, an island to land on. new ground to plant seeds of my own, creating a home. I rarely looked back, and I should have. Should have created a bond elastic enough to stretch the distance. but it was brittle and splintered away into dust.

A psychiatric disorder characterized by an inability to
concentrate, insomnia, loss of appetite, anhedonia, feelings of extreme sadness,
guilt, helplessness and hopelessness, and thoughts of death.

2011-01-16T22:51:00.002-07:00

today was a bad day mentally and emotionally. i broke down hard. couldn't hold anything in and i sobbed until Scott was hushing me so people in the other room wouldn't hear me. i felt unbearably pried open. We'd watched leaving las Vegas and a scene seeded itself in my mind and wouldn't let go. I tried to heal my past wounds but they will resurface regardless. now that I've muddied the waters of the subconscious, it may be a good time to pan for gold. find the strength to channel it into a vehicle of voice. find the words to build a bridge to cross the water for ever.
Ive never felt him hold me the way he did after it all spilled out. so close. so strong. so comforting. as if his arms were brick walls hiding me from anything wrong in this world. warm and soft as sunshine. his anger. his wish for retribution. his testosterone fueled instinct to protect. and me the helpless doe crying. yet the love in his eye and how his fingers found mine. so gentle. when he held me everything was bearable. everything was ok. I opened up so deep today. to a depth i'd forgotten i had. a darkness I'd hidden. but white light has its way of finding its way into anywhere.

create

2011-01-13T19:36:00.001-07:00

‘Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn’t really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That’s because they were able to connect experiences they’ve had and synthesize new things. And the reason they were able to do that was that they’ve had more experiences than other people.’

— Steve Jobs

2011-01-08T15:12:00.003-07:00

ever get that urge to write because you have more than enough inspiration, because you're with someone who lights up your whole world time and time again,
and then when you attempt to create the magic that would do him justice
you just can't think of the slightest thing to write?

girl with the sun in her eyes

2011-01-07T16:18:00.002-07:00

sun casts petals of light across the open window.
parts lips and inhales.
her eyes open upon her first sight
as she rises, dripping luminose urges,
to all who drink her liquid light(?)
She descends upon a golden staircase
dances in thin legs across sleeping skin
tip toes down the bridge of the nose
slides onto the lips and off the chin.
twists down strands of hair
until
with a flutter of a feathered lash
she's pulled into the vaccum of your empty eye
and is trapped
firefly in a jar.

you bring me the sun
every time you look my way

2011-01-05T01:06:00.001-07:00

I love you always
I love you all ways.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

2011-01-05T01:01:00.005-07:00

it's getting better all the time.

i love you a thousand different ways.

ive adored you during countless days

this love is happiness

this love is pure.

something amazing happened today.

2011-01-03T23:31:00.003-07:00

Unbridled desire. Wild horses running into the eye of a hurricane without fear. suspended in a moment of pristine stillness. The world crumbled and everything fell away in a wave and we were submerged. A sand castle disolving against the tide.
I caught his eye and lost my balance. I fell past him, past boundaries past my walls and landed inside. Spilled into an ocean. Tipped into an emptiness that inflated me. Cracking from the fullness and seeping into skin. Bleeding dye, dancing through him.

And the wall's forever broken down.

I was a heavy heart to carry but he never let me down

2010-12-12T19:37:00.003-07:00

long ago it must be, I have a photograph
preserve your memories, they're all that's left.

Been thinking a lot about that next step. About finding a place to call a home of my own. To be able to fall asleep only saying goodnight and not goodbye.
Our one year is coming up soon. Two weeks away. It's been an incredible year, and I've grown substantially in these past 12 months. But I'm still that shy little girl, timid and afraid. I have my anxieties, my fears. I know he's mine as much as I'm entitled to him, and I am his as much as he is willing to have me. But the smallest of things sends tears down my cheeks, and I often don't know why. I suppose, having so much of my heart on the line, if something were to cut that line, a large percentage of myself would be gone forever, fallen to the bottom of the lake. But it's not even that. It's that I think I've found the right one. the right key to unlock me.
Every day spent by his side he opens another door inside. I've developed a strong attachment to him, to say the least. And I don't want anything to ruin that. The smallest of things that sends tremors through our tough foundations will unsettle me. and the floodgates dissolve in the acidic fear that sets in. I get anxiety attacks, and I cry for such silly reasons. But in the end everything gets resolved, the flood banks patched up, and life goes on.
I know that our love is stronger than any earthquake, any flood or any natural disaster. I'd brave a hurricane for him.

Oh no, I'm getting horribly cliche.

Let's wrap this up, shall we?
If I ever have to say goodbye, I want it to be with my last breath.

just a dream,

2010-12-11T23:48:00.003-07:00

I had this dream. infact I've had many dreams like it. There is always water. Usually a lake, surrounded by forested hills. Similar to a lake in the Shushwap. But smaller, and the water is always warm. I usually find myself swimming in this lake. Last night I swam out, and it appeared to be peter hope lake. I was swimming with a guy that I had feelings for. Not scott, yet he seemed to turn into scott later. We were swimming, frolicking, having fun, then something changed. We had to get out right away. We swam extremely fast across the lake and got out and found ourselves at a dirt road leading up from the shore. We followed it and it took us to a hotel that overlooked the lake. It was packed, with all my friends and some odd movie characters. Erin had befriended the leader of the mean girls, and they were all sitting pompously in the hall. I can't remember what happened, but I'd lost scott, and I was extremely angry at that mean girl. I lashed out at her, grabbing her and showing her no mercy as I slapped her. I was torn off her by someone, and I procceded to run down the hall into a room. Into a dining room, and I somehow sat upon the wall on a little outcrop and watched the people eat, unnoticed. Scott was in the room and he saw me, but I told him not to come to me, and I recoiled into myself, a little depressed. Then Petra came out of nowhere and took my hand and led me away. I was angry at her, I remember saying 'You've been here all this time and you didn't bother to talk to me once?' But she led me away and calmed me down and we sat together and talked. Then things get hazy, but I remember feeling the faintest brush of lips upon mine. Some mumbled words, I may have told her I loved her.
and then I woke up.

2010-12-09T15:35:00.002-07:00

I am learning how to cook.
I am learning how to forget
I am learning how to dance
I am learning how to cut hair
I am learning how to write
I am learning how to work
I am learning how to love
I am learning how to live
I am learning how to photograph
I am learning how to draw
I am learning how to theorize
I am learning how to be assertive
I am learning how to make friends
I am learning how to regret nothing
I am learning how to knit
I am learning how to listen
I am learning how to be receptive
I am learning how to learn

Home

2010-11-30T20:22:00.006-07:00

I looked back at blog entries, and even though the subject matter was less than pleasant to be reminded of, it was still good, I'm glad I have written reminders so I have points of reference to gauge my growth. And I've come far. I often feel like I've had three stages in my life. The first was with Brent, and though I was a newborn in love's eyes, I soon grew to an extremely old age. My heart was always cracked and my spirit became dulled. I became clogged with darkness, became tired and dragged myself through the days. But I never stopped. I stubbornly sacrificed myself each day for someone whom I thought it was going to help. I was wrong. The first day of my second stage was the day I stopped caring about him and finally focused on myself. I was free, and I was drunk with it. Too drunk. I dove into something that made me happy, too quick. I soon realized there were other ways to get hurt. this stage wasn't that defining, though I began to learn to take things as they come. The third and present stage began the day I met Scott.

it was also the day my best friend moved away. It taught me that there's always an opportunity to find new love. It taught me I can be happy, without someone else being unhappy because of it. That day was 11 months ago exactly. So much has changed in my life since then. So much change for the better. Every day I am reminded of this. Even something is simple as getting a drive from school. Or going over to Scott's house in my break. Stability and reassurance are things I've been craving my whole life. I've found them. Here is someone who has their feet on the ground. Who has a car, can hold down a job, is renting a house and going to school. Being responsible. This may sound weird but it's a big turn on. I crave for security. I know this man of mine has a head on his shoulders, and I can count on him, but more so he can count on himself. I don't have to watch over him like I've had to in the past with others. It's a beautiful, freeing feeling. There's so much I don't need to worry about, and I can finally relax. I don't need to worry about finding my way home, or having a place to hang out, because Scott is there for me.

I'm really excited for growing up, becoming responsible.
I'm no longer afraid of the future, because I realize it wont dump itself on me all at once. I've noticed small changes. I can make decisions for myself without seeking others help. My parents are letting me do more, and I'm not taking advantage of it. With Scott and his roommates having their house, I get a heartwarming feeling of self reliance. That even though these guys are incredibly immature, they're growing up as well and faring well. They're almost a family, a family which I'm slowly working my way into. Finding a new older group of friends is exciting. Being accepted is even better. I feel welcome with them. I feel relaxed. I used to be so anxious when I was out of my comfort zone. When I was up in the North East with Brent walking long distances stoned to train stations and bus stops. Or finding myself in Ogden at a high school party, not sure how I would get home. I would panic, but most of it had to do with my parents, when they wanted me home. Now, I can stay out till 3, and as long as Scott's with me I can do what ever I want. It comes back to stability. My parents trust him, they see he's responsible.

I've finally found the right one. I've found that person who makes me happy. Who makes me feel safe, beautiful, and in love. He's the one who makes me want to be a better person. He makes me want to do all that I can for him, not because he needs it or wants it, but because it's the least I can do. It's because I want to. Because making him happy fills me with simple joy. This is a love I see going far, and going places. I can see myself slowly making a home. Not a physical one, but a mental one. He is my roof and my four walls. Our love is the foundation. Our love is a catalyst, the wind in our sails. I don't know where it will take me, but I know it will take me somewhere good. Because the future doesn't hit you hard. it comes one day at a time, and as long as I always stay in places that make me happy, the future can be nothing but bright.

the tower

2010-11-08T17:05:00.003-07:00

lightning strikes as the tides swell.
engulfing the tower in a plague of uncertainty.
she bears down upon the querent
in the outcome position, betraying no insight.
The night is dark, the only illumination from sporadic lightening
licking the tower with impending disaster.

disclaimer: sex related :P

2010-11-06T11:51:00.005-06:00

last night I had a most amazing theory (or a few) come fully formed into my mind.

The meaning of life, in scientist terms, is to reproduce. And despite the cold clinical feel to it, it's true. Why else would sex feel so good? why, after wards, do we feel inexplicably attached to our partner? The climax, the orgasm, is an incredible amount of sexual energy, but energy none the less. It's the activation energy needed in creating life. That energy fuels the sperm and the egg to join, and that energy of the two parts is manifested in the newly formed being, and helps drive cellular division and growth. The child feeds of the raw emotion felt between the mother and father at the moment of conception. This energy, this emotion, is alive in each cell of the new creature, and becomes their soul. It is the spiritual energetic side to the physical life. Unable to be separated from each other because they're fused down to the microscopic level.

The formation of new life is something we share with every single sexual organism on this planet. It is not something reserved for intelligent life, sex feels good for every living being. The only separation humans have made is removing the reproductive aspect and making it solely an act for pleasure. But the act of intercourse is over a billion years old. It is a universal act and therefore a universal uniter. In humans, we associate reproduction with love, with a life-long partner. Though our social habits are by far more complex than other animals, love is not exclusive to us. Animal mates share a bond between them, and I can only assume it is a form of love. It is a feeling of being connected through their young, having a physical being as a product of their love. And since love is such a universal emotion, I deem it God. God is a uniting force, something relate-able that brings life together.

Religion is an insanely complex version of parental instincts. When talking about animals that raise their young, they teach them right and wrong, in the sense of "do this because you will survive," and "don't do that because you'll die." In modern society, most risks have been abolished, but the instinct to teach our young what is "right" and "wrong" still remains. Due to the social nature of humans, a universal code of conduct was created, warped and complicated throughout the centuries. It became mass produced and very particular, and many people chose to do without it. But because people (me included) don't follow a religion does not mean they're not religious. I have a strong tie to the earth, to life and to love. Religion is an instinctual feeling, an aid to through life the best way possible.

spoken

2010-11-03T22:24:00.003-06:00

Sometimes, when I hear your poetry,
I don't hear the words.

I just listen to the rhythm of your speech.
Like waves upon a beach
I let them wash over me.
Not getting me wet because I forget each word the moment you've spoken it.
Yet you've awoken me with the strength in your voice.
If I had a choice I would play in your waves for days.
watching your tone pull my tides closer to your shore
And I'd explore the forests you've created with your rhymes
following your heartbeat, keeping time.
Let me be carried with your flow.
I don't need to know what you're saying
just let me keep playing with the sounds
of your machine-gun-mouth firing rounds,
like an attentive warrior on the battle grounds where words meet ears.
let the rhythm still ring through me when the silence reappears

Though I won't remember the words,
an image remains like ink blurred by rain.
Your poetry leaves an intricate design painted in my mind.

though I won't remember the words, I remember everything else.

2010-10-23T15:33:00.002-06:00

The sheets he wore as his toga were the sheets on which I'd lain by his side all those Wednesday mornings all those months ago. A secret understanding only me and him knew. The softness hadn't changed, and it brought it all tumbling back. All those mornings where we hung like statues in the dark. I don't miss it. I don't regret it. I only wish we'd had more courage to acknowledge what was there for what it was, without trepidation. But life lept on, we both found the people we were looking for. We were an intermediary stage. Caught in lifeless limbo and then cut off with a sleek blade the day he left. Clean cut that left no rough edges that couldn't be softened by the passing time and the finding of true love not two months later. It's all over now, baby blue.

2010-10-01T22:59:00.003-06:00

The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles,
forget all your cares and go
Downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown, no finer place for sure,
Downtown, everything's waiting for you

I thought I saw the moon but it was just an empty penthouse suite, an eye wedged into the form of a silent sentinel, cloaked in the dark.
An out of service train slides by, a slain serpent dragged through the streets to be ridiculed.
Gutted matchbooks lay ravaged , sprawled in stagnant dissaray.
Police siren rips night's skin, painting it's path in red and blue as it screams down the street and around the corner.
Empty store fronts stare out with Moloch's thousand blind windows.
And people walk on, hollow chambers of shuffling feet and dead eyes.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn.

2010-10-01T22:49:00.002-06:00

you're mean. you're selfish. yes you are you're selfish. you cant think about anyone but yourself. thats why we should get a divorce. inconsolable differences. you're not cut out, you're not cut out to do a man's job.

and then she laughs, after he's retreated with his tail beneath his legs, at a tv show. As if she had no remorse for the heart she'd just cracked yet again.

2010-09-11T00:45:00.003-06:00

You dont realize how much I need you. Sometimes neither do I. Not until I'm left swaying in the shockwaves left by the closing of your door, and the silence and the loneliness consume me, devour me in greed as I crumble. You hit each one of my fault lines with that one vibration, the hum of your voice speaking those two syllables. Opening the road to destruction, my shelter caved and became my tomb. A safe place only for that which has died.

I've been waiting ha;f the night

2010-09-11T00:42:00.000-06:00

I've been waiting half my life away

imagine this

2010-09-10T14:17:00.002-06:00

We are all pebbles. When we are born we are thrust into the air by the hand of fate, landing where we may into an ocean of time. We all create ripples, and they all fade with time. And on the journey to the bottom we may encounter other stones, just passing by at different angles or at paths similar to ours. They become lovers, friends, or just acquaintances on our journey to the depths. You'd think that life ends when we hit the bottom. But life ends only when our rise of mud settles around us, when all the stones you passed have also been covered up by the sludge the bottom offers us and by other pebbles who fall upon us, after us.

2010-09-08T20:25:00.002-06:00

empty. That's how my inspirational drives feel.

Nothing is ever completely empty. Only filled with something other than what we want. We rarely realize that we are surrounded, because we cannot see the air surrounding us.

2010-09-07T12:19:00.002-06:00

Your body heat

and my body heat

together

makes me melt.
And as my edges soften they cling to yours,
melding to your curves
pooling in your depressions.
Until there is no going back;
there is no separating me, warm pools of melted chocolate,

from you.

the lines of definition have blurred
There is no more
you

or me

there is only us.
Two solids turned homogeneous liquid
Through the slow heat of an embrace
we fall into each other.

Marbled
White swirls through the rich brown, until only faint traces mark their existence as two seperate beings, a past life.

Good night.

2010-08-19T23:03:00.003-06:00

The kitchen lights hung red it and glowing, as if I sat in the glare of two taillights, always reminding me of what was receding. The cars where tired lovers leave you perched on the empty front steps steeped in the red light of a departure, until they turn a corner and the swollen dark consumes you. And you turn keys into ever blacker halls that blind you,
until you flick on the red glowing lights and sit.

Silence crawls through me and settles in my mind as I bathe in the glow of the burning goodbye that burns me to ash when the light fades.
And I sit.
No matter how bright the day had been, the nights are always dark, no light from your sun to guide me; only a sliver of moon peeking out from behind the solid distance between us.
In the hum of the taillights I can still hear your laughter. Like liquor dancing through my veins, like wildflowers, wildfires, live wires. Infecting me with the electricity of the sound, scraping mortar into the cracks where I broke down under the impossible weight of separation, pouring cement to rebuild my foundation after your earthquake hit. And I'm not saying that we shook cities to the ground. Those rumbles were just the sound of two solid masses moving farther apart. And though the distance was nothing more than a week, it weakened me. Ripped the seams I'd sewn tight between us and I fell apart. But above all, I missed your laughter. A lullaby that lays my weary heart to rest. The way the corners of your eyes crease at the corners as you try to hold it in, before you tilt your head back and let it loose. Bathes me in a rich flow of contentment

And I can still hear it echoing through my emptiness and I sit in the red glow of my kitchen.

2010-08-19T21:50:00.003-06:00

the sounds: the hum and groan of the tired laptop, the obedient ticking of the mounted clock above the muted television, and the desperate silent begging of the two goldfish in the large glass bowl on the cluttered table; making trickling noises as they open and close their mouths on the surface of their water though there is nothing there to eat, anymore.
The smells: stale sweat from the old teeshirt hanging limply on my frame, the traces of yet another left over dinner, old vegetable soup. A bouquet of night sented stock attempting feebly to elbow its way to the front of the crowd, but I only catch a glimpse of her sweet and soothing perfume.
The sights: An empty kitchen at night time. orange peels litter the counter by the sink, two pots of soup sit on a dirty stove, the ladles resting on their rims. dirty cups and slowly rotting fruit sit on the cutting board, a fruit fly their only company. Four cupboard doors open, my mother's pet peeve. (Good thing she isn't here.) The tv, muted, on the family channel after an unsuccessful surf through the hundred something possibilities. Two hanging lights cased in red glass give the room an eerie glow remminiscent to the glare of taillights, reminding me that everyone I loved was off on the road, and I was left here.
The feelings: arms resting on the cold granite counter, goosebumps raised on my arms. the heels of my hands on the silver laptop keyboard, slightly warm and humming from the day's work. Something had my stomach in a knot, and it wasn't hunger, but I felt that too. A fatigue headache had set in as the clock continued to tick on and on into the night.
The emotions: Dead and empty as the house I was in, I was unable to lift myself from the sludge I myself had created. Call it what you want, bipolar, depression, or just spineless self wallowing, I was as hollow and alone as a pumpkin on the first of november. And I couldn't take it. Mind numbing silence and time stretching loneliness were my poisons, and I drink them almost greedily. I can't help it, I'm addicted.

2010-08-07T17:44:00.003-06:00

Lets make love.
Let's make the dark night shine
let's make bliss and happiness,
and I will make you mine.

Turn our scabbed hearts into rubies;
our tears into diamond skies.
burn our fears to embers
and watch the ashes rise.

We'll complete the circle,
fill in all the cracks
with our heads held high,
never looking back.

an excerpt from the book I'll never write.

2010-07-15T22:08:00.004-06:00

The sun had set and a golden haze hung in the air, as if each airborne particle of dust and pollen was illuminated with the summer sun while the ground I walked on was bathed in shadow. The sky was still a persistent blue, streaked with a large swath of watercolour pink and the air was thick with the scents from various white flowers growing throughout the field in which I was walking. The wind spread its wings and gained speed, leaving the young poplars to dance in its wake, their leaves creating a faint rush of musical sound. I lost myself in it momentarily, almost able to drown out the sounds of nameless faces driving countless cars on the distant freeway. I breathed deep the perfumed breeze, so deliciously different from the smog and exhaust of the inner city, and relaxed. How could one exist day to day beneath the thick layer of grime, when such beautiful pockets of wilderness existed? They don't want to, but they need to. Need...right. Their perceptions of wanting and needing were quite contrary. They need to breathe the unclogged air once and a while. But they want to make money so they submit their body to a thin layer of pollution each and every day.
I laughed inwardly. Here I go again, making my social and political commentaries to no one but the birds and bees. It was a silly thing to do, but I found comfort in it. I figured, if I could see the bigger picture of our stay on earth, that it would make me above it all. That I could not be counted as a statistic in the hapless crowd of billions.
Billions. A number so big I could never relate to it. An adjective to explain away our breadth, as if the fact that we'd copulated ourselves into twelve digits made us any more illustrious. I could never fathom it, so I disregarded it. I cared not about the goings on, the minor details that got other people so entwined, so fixated. It tired me, to be honest. I preferred the slower pace of nature. How a tree could stay rooted for centuries and never cause a war, never murder another being from jealousy or spite or pure hatred. There was no drama and no tough life altering decisions, which university to attend to, where to get a job and whom to marry. Life comes to the trees invariably. They age with no concern and no control; they are peaceful.
In that moment, I craved their peace so emphatically that I stopped my endless walk to nowhere and sat down and closed my eyes. I focused on perfect nothingness, felt the sweet breeze back again, and let it push through me. In that moment, I felt one with nature.
In that moment and that moment only. A siren's cry sliced through the stillness and I was pulled back to my reality and with a sigh I stood up. I will never be one with nature. Not when I wear shoes that protect me from the grass, clothes to protect me from the wind, glasses to help me see as if I wasn't flawed. Every innovation humans have made in order to bring them closer to ease has brought us further from where we started.
In that moment, I felt staggeringly alienated. Not only from my peers, my family and friends, but from everything else. I belonged not in nature, I belonged not in civilization. Though my mind escaped the traps men had set to reel in the new docile candidates to take on the jobs of the older generations, it was hard to escape the habits. The human mind is so impressionable, and I could not live without these frustratingly important amenities. Spoiled, is what I was, whether I liked it or not. All wishings and hopings were futile. I was not different. I was not one with nature nor would I ever be, until I'm naked and dirty and free dancing on a wild hilltop miles away from any human civilization, freed from mortal quarrels and grief-causers, blissfuly light and alive.
But until that day comes, I'm just another nameless face walking the streets on summer nights, simply enjoying the weather.

2010-06-21T11:11:00.003-06:00

There are ants all over my counter. Climbed out from the crack between the dishwasher and the wall. up the lip of the granite counter top and strait to a lid of sugar water where twenty or so ants have drowned. but these ants are smarter. They perch on the lip, their feelers moving frantically as they slowly lower down and drink. Drink till their abdomens are swollen and golden when the light passes through. they depart in a line the way they came, their heavy bodies only making it slightly more difficult to descend the sheer vertical edge of the countertop. More and more come, seeking this oasis to bring back to their colony, but little do they know it will soon be the end of them. They taste the sweetness, not the sharpness of borax, the stench of death they're carying back to their children and their lovers, assuming the dosage isn't to high and they die before they make their way back, having travelled many ant miles only to be burned from the inside with the harsh chemicals of human creation.

I need you to need me.

2010-06-16T22:42:00.003-06:00

I want you to want me to be the me you see when I'm free to be the me that got you next to me.

I kissed your forehead as we fell back down to earth.
purged in the fire of a pheonix's rebirth.

I opened your third eye and drank your dripping energy
held you so close I felt your heart clammoring behind your bones
I let it's rhythm and it's tones run ripples right through me,
your energies renew me.
And as our hearts beat against our ribcages
it gauges the incitement of excitement we're making,
taking the time to find the beauty behind each caress
we posess the capacity to escape, in reckless audacity.
See I've got a pretty decent cape in my closet.
we can don our suits in the noble pursuit of preserving this world
we're endlessly creating, shaping it with our minds
when we take the time to find the beauty behind each caress.
We've been blessed with an amazing connection,
an undying affection, a corporeal reflection
of a divine creation, a sacred collaboration,
condensing energies into constructive vibrations
a manifistation of the love that we share,
together on oneness with the bond that we share.

just call me when you need me.

2010-06-13T22:21:00.002-06:00

Do you need me?
I am here.
Slipped into your pocket with your car keys
my breath staining the fabric of your thoughts.

I've never been more sure of something and yet so utterly confused.

Why must you be so easy, and be so perplexing too. Everytime I sit down to write about you I cannot get it right. You're grey area. You're everything-white and nothing-black, mixed and mingled. You're a walking contradiction, living breathing paradox. Catch-22 and I'm caught in your web.

swing

2010-06-13T22:17:00.002-06:00

Now that I've seen you
Stripped to the very core
I know that I need you
More than I did before.

I steal their phrases

snatching ideas like they were pliable

concrete and holdable

My mind can''t string the words together.

Today is all we see.
So tomorrow
-it seems to me-

is only an illusion we believe.

rant

2010-06-03T10:29:00.002-06:00

Saw an awful commercial. New Kleenex hand towels.
"Why use the same dirty hand towel over and over?
Now you can forget about the bacteria, with a new towel every time!
With new Kleenex disposable hand towels."

GAH! if you don't want dirty towels, it's called washing them.
You don't need to fill the landfills with needless trash,
just because it's convenient.
As if there's no repercussion to becoming a waste producing clone.
But we've been lead to believe that there is no downside
Why would anyone buy something environmentally unfriendly?
If we knew it was damaging, it would be way harder to sell.
[even though this is so blatantly unfriendly of a product.]
So the businesses simply sweep that part under the rug
attempting to catch us on the hook of convenience.
It's been the same thing, time and time again,
for the past seventy years.
We've slowy been turned into consumer drones,
through the driving force of convenience.
Not caring about our impact from our dependancy on materialism.

Same old song and dance

2010-05-29T16:05:00.002-06:00

You never notice how we've changed until we're placed into the same situation of time's past. We always grapple for a chance to redo, to press the back button on our lives and do it all again. What people don't realize is that the opportunity is handed to us on a silver platter. because we've lead ourselves inevitably back to what we know, what we've already known. History repeats itself more times than I'd like to admit, both in my life and in the collective experience. And now I stand where I once did, many times, from grade 11 to grade 12. on again and off again. You wanted to hang out. I delayed, but my conscience got the best of me. A hopeless pleaser of others. But something's changed. I could not look at your face ever again and be perfectly content. I've become privy to it all. See, you run in circles too. You hate me and then you inevitably love me again. You hurt me, because I hurt you. But you've always got that sickly smile on your face, somehow forgetting the past and we're back where we started. truth is, I don't want to run another lap in that world of yours. I forfeit.

Dream me

2010-05-26T21:50:00.000-06:00

I've been living a dream.
As if the moment your lips met mine
you pushed me into a deep slumber.
Where the trees are made of sugar
and nothing matters.
I walk on a bed of moss with bare feet
not needing to fear the cuts of unpleasant circumstance
no worries of disease or danger.
I slipped into the glistening pools of your presence
conjuring only ripples that faded before they reached your distant shore.
We were so alive in eachother
but so softly, as an angel's breath,
that none of us noticed.
You are the western winds,
dancing with my hair
leaving nothing but goosebumps.
Intangible dreams of a sacred place
mossy stone archways leading to a silver lit pool.
I asked you if I was dreaming,
once upon a time.
You held me close and said this was real,
discarding my question,
an apple core in the Garden of Eden.
But I couldn't shake it so easily.
The surface too clear,
begging for something to destroy its slumber,
for a western wind to pull it toward some distant shore.
I never told you about my fears.
About a sickly forboding,
an impending falter.
In the beginning, when this newness was too new,
like fingernails cut too short,
it consumed me.
Curling about my fingertips like smoke
staining my skin with it's intangibility.
But now, when your breath is my own
and our heartbeats march in tandem,
your winds blew the grey tendrils far away.
But the scent of confusion still lingers in my hair.
And I still don't know, is this a dream?
Everything seems made of pillars of sand
faltering with the flicker of an eyelid
awakening from some deep slumber.

You came up to me so easily, took my crown of thorns.

2010-05-24T17:28:00.003-06:00

I had a most spiritual weekend.
three days, two nights in tunnel mountain village 2 campsite with Scott.
Fresh air, peace and quiet, good food and endless possibilities.

I put everything to rest as we entered the park.
Alive in the energy of each new possibility.
Fog on the ground and lightening in our hearts, we came together.
As our bodies melted I felt your mind among my brain cell synapses.
The air escaped, bringing us inexplicably closer, unable to draw ourselves up.
We conversed with no words
and flowed in each other's footsteps as if it was always this simple.
And as the snow fell through the sunny skies,
I climbed more than mountains,
discovered more than trails.
I felt more than the rain on my cheeks and the heat of burning coals.
We laid each other down to rest on a bed of mosses and
watched the trees dance to the rhythm of our heartbeats.
We smoked the earth and steeped our laughter in waters that flowed through our lungs.
Found shelter from the storm in each others eyes,
breathing the heart connection,
speaking in tongues about electrons and Plato,
uniting science of the brain with the beauty of the mind.
We roasted our inhibitions to a fine crisp on the flames of easy existence.
threw away the shreds
cut away the threads
sipped on the dregs of tea made from juniper.
Loved in the early sunshine
Lived in the evening mist
created more than just fires
chased away more than just squirrels.
Smiled till it hurt and held each other close
as the world turned, had our fortunes told.
Loved life and lived love.
Hypothesized and prophesied
realized, and, energized, stained our souls together.
forged paths that could last forever.

Take my hand and come with me?

2010-05-19T11:54:00.002-06:00

This would be so hilarious if it wasn't so devastating.

The past little while I've noticed as I grow up I become more like you. Your logical mind, your intricate brain. In some ways I enjoy it, excites me. Other times it freaks the hell out of me. I don't want to inherit your anger, your convoluted logic and your chemically imbalanced brain.
I was privvy to one of your lovely arguments with my father, as he came through the kitchen door I heard you scream, as if you were scolding our dogs for something. My dad, possibly trying to ignore it, continues walking. You storm in, slamming the door in a fit of rage and, stomping your feet, signal to my dad to stop walking. You ask what's wrong, and he says "I guess i just can't do anything right." "You know that's not true! I'm not trying to make you feel that way." My dad walks away, down the stairs, and you follow, the convorsation becoming muffled by the drywall between us. I laugh despairingly, as bits and pieces float up. "Yes, it's alll my fault is it?!" I don't even bother to continue listening, I've heard it all before, time and time again. Truth is, it is your fault. But you refuse to see what your bursts of uncontrollable anger do to us. Or maybe you do see you just refuse to acknowledge it. You make him feel like crap, plain out. You nag at him like he's an incompetant infant, a blubbering fool, and then complain about his depression not being as serious as yours. You criticize his weight, tell him to excersize more and to stop eating, without realizing he can barely stand because of his bad back. And when any one of us tries to shed some light on your clearly askew logic, you think we're attacking you, try and turn it all on us, making us the bad guys for wrongfully accusing you. "I'm always the bad guy, I'm a terrible person!" I think you believe it, atleast halfheartedly. But I've given up on trying to decipher the twisty turns of your inner brain. Mainly because I think you've given up too.
"Hear the point! but you can't. And that's the problem."

2010-05-16T19:49:00.000-06:00

anger

2010-05-14T22:20:00.001-06:00

it feels so good to feel so bad. it boils over like a pot of rice set on too high heat, and before you can stop it it's made a huge mess all over. But , it feels so good. You know it will pass quickly, maybe that's why you relish in it, let it take over you for those few moments like an emotional demon. You relinquish all good thoughts and respect for cheap emotional highs, how it shakes your foundations. And suddenly, it flies away as quickly as ash on the wind, in the absense of the earlier flames. And you feel foolish and weak, and empty, and life goes on as it did before, as you set about cleaning up the mess of the rice water all over the stove.

to me atleast

2010-05-14T21:01:00.002-06:00

How do you write a good poem?
There is no manual, no how-to for dummies.
Poetry has a million forms. It is intangible, it is beautiful.
It has existed since the beginning of civilization, in each culture.
There may be rhyme schemes, iambic pentameter and strict rhythms,
but the true poetry is what fills these lines, the words.
There are 171,476 words in the Second Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary.
Countless ways to twist them to your will.
There are thesauruses, rhyming dictionaries and grammar books to aid you in your quest.
But true poetry is what fills those words, the emotion.
Happiness fear, surprise, sadness, anger, disgust.
Countless ways to combine them, twist them to your will.
And when the emotion is strong enough you don't need thesauruses, dictionaries or guidelines.

The words melt their way onto the page
as you break down the flood banks of your inner core.
words bend around the powder blue lines,
ink seeps through the fibers
and before you know it,
a spew of words lay breathing softly on thin sheets.

This, for me at least, is poetry.

pash

2010-05-11T18:20:00.002-06:00

Time has stolen you away from me. You left me at the begining of the new year, it hasn't even been five months yet but I miss you like nothing else. You are my soul mate, I'm still convinced. But you've been gone for such a long time. Making new friends and not able to even send me a message, let me know how you're doing.

But now you're coming back and I can't even express my excitement.

It won't be long, yea!

2010-05-11T17:01:00.002-06:00

The mind works in mysterious ways. Today two things threw rocks in my pond that I'd finally gotten smooth. Crazy, how the past can just creep up on you, tap you on the shoulder and rear its ugly face. Because no matter how much you've progressed, the past still happened the way it did. It's been six months since I've seen you and I haven't thought of you in much of a way since then. But I hate how it all changes. I get that nervous butterfly feeling all over again. I'd much rather ignore your very existence; but that's not possible. Lets see how well I can keep my stupid stupid heart at bay. I know I can do it, I'd never do anything. Never have and never will. I stay true to the ones that I've given my heart to, and it is now taken by the most amazing man I've ever met. There's no fear. It's that silly crush feeling that never amounts to anything, yet my brain seems to think it's something worth attention. I hate it. It's the feeling that got me into his mess in the first place.
Why do I fall in love with every man I see who shows me the least bit of attention?
You weren't right. I memorized the contours of your face as you laid beside me with your eyes seamed shut. Your skin reflected the light, a pale statue lain in marble, immovable. I wondered if I could feel your pulse if I tried, but I let you be, and I laid you to rest for good as you laid your feet in the south eastern hemisphere.
But now that you're back the memories keep flooding back as well, memories I'd rather forget.

I don't even know why I wrote this blog entry. Guess I just had to get it out of my head. Well, it's gone now, but you're not. I guess the real test is seeing you in person to return you what you lent me, I'm just hoping it'll be in a big crowd of people so I don't have to talk to you that much.