Thursday, February 08, 2007

You

Today was wastage
(I ate a muffin)
my thoughts are harmless
but they damage my ego.
i'm self-preserving, phobic of failure.
Do I ever jump, really in deep... (?)
No. I gently role out of his bed
and walk into my Snow White universe
To Wait.
My eyes are half-open. Half-alive
My memory is made-up logic.
And I ate too much today
Scales will jump, and I will fall backwards
into cycles.
Lacking other cycles...
monthly nothingness.
Numb. Did he feel my hip bones when I was numb?
Did he feel the bones crawling down my back?
I imagine each notch to be a milestone.
when I'm tired my words are crazier.
Because I think clearly creative.
Finger paintings
cold finer tips, cold on his face, cold in his hands, cold inside my mittens.
Running, running, running.
RELEASE.
A sign. Something, its not nothing.
People try to feed me.
Yogurt, Jack Daniels, Potatoes.
Please, just realize that while he was thinking of her, I was thinking of You.
far away.
in a city where I live, not now, but it is my my home.
and this is not. Home, it is not.
Home.
East Coast? Home?
Central, my heart is linked. But I know that
the continent in the center of the map is where I belong.
Heaven. The Hell of the world is my heaven.
Because there is only hope in hell.
Look past my coldness.
Look past my thoughts of You.
Rejecting his handfuls, I really just want to be beside You.
... the blue-eyed one.
In an electric charged air, in a stadium, in a bed with your sister on the opposite end.
I remember eating pasta and finishing wine,
and snacking on fish and chips.
Now, this notion that I can only reach You if I'm ethereal.
I can somehow float into Your world.
Surprise. I'm sitting naked on the edge of his bed, smiling but not happy.
6:30 am.
I should take these caffeine pills for breakfast, and rip my thoughts apart the whole day long.
Again. Detroit suburbs. summer, and then winter.
Feed me, but with Your god-damn beauty.
Your games, Your joint rolling in Your father's bachelor pad.
People see me as a weak-willed fairy tale character.
A big-boned stepsister.
East. Eating cookies. Listening to music on the beach, thinking of You.
Waiting. Do You know that I wait?
Like a universal traveller. Can We meet half way?
I keep writing. Trying to find what it is I need to say.
Words are so bloodless.
Protein bars, so that my silhoutte emerges.
Do I want to disappear? Or become beautifully visible?
Neither. I want to float to You.
without a trace.
without my weight pulling me into the Earth.
I'm just your regular Taurus.
reading horoscopes, magic eight balls. watching tea leaves in my empty mug.
Fixed to the soil.
A tourist in my own city, trying to conjure up clarity.
Someone once told me I was Jaded.
I remember eating Melba toast for lunch that day.
And a Power Bar and coffee for dinner.
To angel my jaw. To sharpen my smile.
To sit at the edge of the right bed.
To avoid fingers down the throat.

Monday, February 05, 2007

lovely bones

again:

rushing down corridors, and through open doors, and never sleeping well, running lull on the treadmill, miles in a null neutral, on auto-pilot, thinking of nothing and everything all at the same time. and wanting something but not knowing what it is. maybe the morning will be better, than this sleepless night. an orange in my hand, and caffeine in my soul. a piece of yesteryear, a slice of pie on the counter. not in my stomach. but in my mind. and then, humming fridge, the trickle down of the tap dripping. i'm glad its not silent, that would be eerie. healthy democracies, background music, my humming eardrum, the distance between. here and there, nowhere. and happiness, somehow. a smile in the darkness. a 5 minute nap. a single piece of paper on my bedroom floor. random thoughts. an agglomeration of useless words. procrastinations. and the wish for lovely bones.
things that should make me happy
make me sad
nostalgic. for something.
for everything.
for nothing.

my heart is a cave, an open cavern
ready to be filled with something malleable
please, please
soon
because its getting hard to feel this way.

because its getting hard
to fall asleep again.
my insomniac over-active, unfocused mind
is back and terrifying.
i don't ever dream, my sleep is wakening.

a solitary selflessness
a selfish jealously
all combined together
in me
in my cavern-heart

Sunday, February 04, 2007

humdrum.
this is so all over the damn place.
is it going to be messy?
or is it going to be nothing?

i think that your arms are beautiful
wrapped all around me
they make me feel beautiful too
like a golden wrapper around a stale hard candy
minty
exciting
or nothing much.

the mind is a trickster
it reminds you of the old during the new
no one knows why
summer days come sliding back, and februaries of last
rush into my heart
its not a broken thing, but its sad sometimes
the feeling of never knowing
but always caring

he's not in this city, and i'm not in his.
this is not my city.
it is a city i hate
for dreamers like me, this city just loses luster
and hopes become stale
like an open box of uneaten chocolates from last december