rude awakenings

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 ...

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.

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 w...

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...

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.

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.

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.