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.
(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.
posted by hilary at Thursday, February 08, 2007
0 comments
