writing

An End to The Means

I apologize in advance for the mess you’re about to read, I just watched a movie where the dialogue/thought processes of the characters were similar to this, a sort of ongoing never-ending cacophony of words. Sort of dreamlike where you start somewhere without knowing how, and end up somewhere else without trying to.

So afterwards my thoughts were following a similar pattern and that’s kind of how I’d like you to read it. (Or not that’s totally up to you)

I was going to post it without any kind of explanation, but I wanted you to know what you were getting into. A true word-vomit of a pseudo-intellectual run-on sentence fueled by memories and fears and whatever else was going on when I blacked out and wrote this.

Enjoy. (You probably won’t I don’t think any of this will relate to anyone except me lol)


Where do you stop and where do you end and how does anything even begin if you’re waiting waiting waiting

I come to the conclusion that this was all madness and a mistake and we got to but that was your ending not mine you act like you have a right to choose when I had no say in the matter it’s a choose your own adventure which should be something mutual you decide hey let’s go to page eleven not I’ve read ahead and this is where it’s supposed to end-this is where we go and drag me along to whatever future therapist appointment you put me through and there again I see a face your face in everything and everyone and I need to live in the present but what is the present anyway standing half naked in the bathroom fallacies running running in a head that’s turning towards nothing but guesses and wishes and fears

Suddenly the kitten is the cat and the child is the woman and oh she has so much to bear how can she know it all now when she has an encyclopedia written in Spanish French Japanese and she never took her studies seriously so what’s to learn where to go

A poet and that’s all a lover and that’s all a person and that’s all nothing more just friends just hiding behind things no one wants to say or feel or judge to be true if there’s anything to judge at all I would blame you for lying and what is that anyway but a sorry excuse to be blameless when no one can be

You put on a sweater and tell me run on poetry is meaningless coming from a mind half jumbled with numb thoughts of disaster of hope of certainty dashed by someone else’s fears delusions surviving on conditional love a tired old speech falling on tired old ears that never listened when they could deny deny deny any attachment any abandonment any admissions at all

Lying for the sake of it a mother ambassador cell warden general hopped up on concern dished out in quiet mumblings a beseeching of truths too dishonest to matter a frog in hot water doesn’t realize the lies its mother tells until they become its own

A speech from lips shadowed by another’s and who could go on anyway scrounging after love after acceptance after peace after misery after missing love connection home it’s winter and there’s no one to come home to

Not the right kind not the permanent kind always fluctuating nebulous none committal cyclical hypocrisy But that’s just it then toothpaste on the counter never a lover chirping to the sound of diligent waves and a love without conditions was too foreign to calm could not be enough

Figure it out a purring sense of broken edges bent into places you never said you’d take me

The trance is gone.

Poems · writing

Apparition

I think of things that scare me

Sometimes in the dark of night

A scratching at the window

Is all it takes to switch on the light.

I creep around, keeping watch,

Making sure every bolt is safely locked.

I know it’s a silly notion,

Living on the third floor,

But

Sometimes still I imagine a shape,

Silhouetted beyond the balcony door.

Poems · writing

Deep Breath

In the quiet

In-between zones

No one watches

No one judges

No one holds expectations

For a moment I don’t exist

And I’m grateful for the dark


Posting schedule? What posting schedule?

Oh my gosh I’ve been so inconsistent this summer. I blame the awful heat. Since school has started back up I should be back on track posting-wise though!

Poems · writing

Anxiety

I am indifferent

I am closed off

I am jumping to conclusions

I am a wrinkled shirt at the bottom of the dryer

Forgotten in a frenzied morning filled with burnt coffee and runny eggs

I am a thunderclap sounding a second too late

I am a friendship bracelet frayed at the edges

I am a stomach filled with squirming snakes

I am a June night where you can’t get comfortable

No matter how many times pillows are flipped, sheep are counted, eyelids flutter. Still awake.

I am late acceptance letters

I am sleeping until noon

I am “all in your mind”

I am breaking into pieces as I shudder you apart

And as long as you let me, I will stay.

Poems · writing

Do You Find It Alright?

How did I get here

How do I know

Which way is up

When will I…

I’m temperate I’ll have you believe.

You hack at me, start it off

One two three four

Who is knocking at my door

Temporal, always, yes.

Buried deep in my chest

Gently tugging,

Whispering

“Have we made it yet?”

Don’t do that here.

Five six seven eight

Resistance, entreat me. They can’t be late

Interesting, be too full.

Every feat, every way, every turn. Undeveloped.

In the morning I’m silver

You’re always light blue

Why do I move. Why do I move

Finish without me I can’t take the cost

Nine ten

Late again.

Shut me off


Been doing homework all day, so here’s one circa January 12, 2018 at 5:39pm. (I like knowing the time. Frames it better for some reason. Better guess at my mindset for weird shit like this)

Poems · writing

Lover’s Descent

Orpheus, I’ve often wondered, why did you look if you knew your love was behind you?

But time and distance, silence and pain are enemies of love.

You feared she was gone.

I understand now. That longing, burning sensation of loss. You won’t know if you’ve made it until you see the light, or turn around and watch your life taken away.

Small mistakes tumbling down and piling up

Unfortunate lies soon discovered bury us under their once insignificant weight

Where were we living that we were so free?

What ever gave us the idea of exception from pain?

A child’s naivety

A Romantic heart

We’re torn apart

I do miss you.


I forgot to post yesterday! That’s my April Fool’s prank, I suppose. This is one from a couple months ago

Poems · writing

Whispered Things

I’m afraid my heart is closing up

I’m afraid the love I gave was never enough

I’m afraid of Time

Of the lines it furrows deep between, under, outside my eyes

I fear the timidness lurking inside, a meek spirit waiting to take over any liquid fire slipping passed my lips

I’ve felt it entangle me, encouraging every doubt, stroking each insecurity.

A russet hound, sickly and old

Begrudgingly, I allow these feelings to take hold

Scarcely aware of the inequities.

Poems · writing

Internalizing

Waxing Moon

Guide me to a night in June

A memory, distraction so sweet

May cannot come too soon.

Tears crack rivulets into skin

The salt water begging to wash upon every wound

A genuineness in its violence

Love as an act of defiance,

Where does it leave you?

A broken heart, this crippled tune.

Skipping beats, rhythm undone,

No longer aligned, the war is won.

I spark and these words ignite,

Setting alight flames inside this washed up soul of mine.

Hope is something I’ve indulged in,

And nothing has left more scars.