Sometimes breathing is the only function I can manage.
An automatic process.
Meanwhile you're paralyzed by the mess
A cardiac arrest of the mind,
Nothing solid.
Out of reach, out of mind, didn't know we'd run out of time.
I dreamt of something I no longer need.
A memory of a time when you were still here to talk through it all with me.
And aren't you?
Are you?
I've been here before and I've never been born and I don't know how to think of the sea anymore.
If the skies could give you back to me,
If you could just lend me your shoes,
I promise I'd get them back to you
But only if you'll stay,
Only if you'll stay.
Tag: short story
I don’t know if I’m mean or petty but I’m definitely something and it’s all in here.
My aux cord is broken and every song on the radio reminds me of things I want to forget.
You stayed away when I asked you to,
Kept up with me to see how I’d bleed.
Fond memories curdle at the influx of regret.
Why do I bother wasting my thoughts on you?
It wasn’t enough to ruin the Fall for me,
You had to go and take December too.
I lie and say you stayed away because I told you not to come back.
What a lovely little game we played,
Moving chess pieces around in your reality,
It was always on the terms of another.
I gave up everything but I always lost you, didn’t I?
You don’t care.
And, after all, when you were gone, the earth still moved.
Somehow I’ve acquired peace,
Fallen safely in love again.
A gentle caring thing,
Sweeter than I ever dreamed.
Laying in your arms I lied about anything being fine.
But now when I say it,
I’m right.
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.
I am Sam.
“Where were you last night?” The tears rolling down her face felt like acid burning through his skin.
“Deborah, I know you don’t believe me, but I swear I’m telling the truth.” He watched her put her head in her hands, “I wouldn’t lie to you! Come on, would I make this up?” Sam took a deep breath, reaching out for her hands. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she looked up at him. “Please. I need you to trust me.”
Deborah stared into her husband’s face a heartbeat more. She sighed, resigning to the fact that she could no longer argue. “Okay. I guess I don’t have any other choice.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, “what do we do now?”
Sam took her hand, forever by her side. His eyes glittered, gazing out at the world before them. Out to where he knew they’d find all the answers. “We get those green eggs and ham.”
An extremely silly warm up I wrote a long time ago that still makes me laugh.
Soothsayer
In misting steps I gather
In quiet there is sown
In mounting quakes I wither
And evil lies below
Upended Voices
Really all I’d like to do right now is laugh.
Just laugh and laugh until I can’t remember what I was sad about anymore.
Sometimes I think if I laughed enough the whole sky could come down and I’d jump around in puddles of cloud, and the blue would be like an ocean that never boils any fish or bleaches any coral.
Once it was nighttime I’d be able to collect stars like little lightning bugs and put them in a jar, and I could swim through the inky universe and pretend I was just another galaxy floating by.
I would especially love to hang out with the moon, since she doesn’t give sunburns and always seems nice.
Anyway.
I hope it rains tomorrow.
Random prose?
Ripples in Time
Echoes fade in and out of consciousness, preserved only by what we cannot see. Beyond the cat-eyed rulers of intricate tombs, before the brick-makers learned to tame the rivers in that blazing heat.
You can see it there, in the crook of an arm, the gentle tilt of a neck. We’ve tamed it now, yes, but are we not savages to our children and theirs?
Whispers reverberate now, bouncing off the interior of our minds like a lilting tune sung by a sweet sparrow.
Scenes come into focus, here. A mother hums, a child laughs, a father sighs returning home at last. Burdened by nothing, the ancients receive a blessing envied by this modernity: an untouched world.
Grasses sing in the breeze, secrets passed along by orange blossoms to the willow trees. Rivers gurgle and boil, racing each other down hills and through ravines.
Mysteries swirl in the heavens, stars too bright and numerous to number, they sit and wonder, telling stories of all they see. Myths from a mythical existence, how can we question all that is within them?
Dusty fingerprints scatter through lifetimes, gently guiding, may we never lose the stars in our eyes.
[Jan. 17, 2018]
I really like finding old things, because it feels like someone else wrote them and I have to figure out my own thoughts again. This was due to a prompt/drabble that had something to do with Time and how it flows through people.
The Cephalolad
There once was a cuttlefish named Inky, who, waiting to hatch, was very excited to explore the ocean with his brothers and sisters. Inky waited patiently in the comforting grotto, squinting through the thin film of his tiny universe as each egg around him gave a little pop! and out came a new baby cuttlefish, no bigger than your thumb. (note for Juba: kids’ fingers, even thumbs, are very small. So Inky is a lot smaller than your thumb, but just the right size and source of wonder for anyone of a more compact stature.)
Inky counted on his tentacles to pass the time, one, two, three, four, five, six, until suddenly… pop! Inky was shooting away toward his siblings. When he reached them, he was a little tired, so Inky watched as his brothers and sisters darted around, changing color and figuring out how to blend in with the things around them, which is how the cuttlefish do. Inky drifted towards one of his sisters, who was trying to match the color of some deep green seaweed she had found.
“I wanna try that!” Inky said, drifting closer. He squinted at the seaweed and then closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could, and when he opened them…nothing. Inky was the same grey color as before! But how could this be? He looked at the cuttlefish around him, not one the same shade of blue, orange, green, or purple. It seemed so easy for them! “Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough”, his sister shrugged her tentacles, which were a lovely shade of green. Inky frowned, starting to get a little worried.
He moved over to to his big brother, who was in the middle of blending in with a purple sea anemone. Inky was determined to get it right this time. He closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, picturing the sharp spines and dark hues in front of him. When he opened them again, his brother was laughing, “how many spines do you think an anemone has, squid-for-brains? That’s like, ten too many!” He said, sporting a very purple and very correctly-numbered-amount of spikes on his back.
Inky turned an immediate shade of pink and scooted away, doing his best to smooth the bristles.
After unsuccessfully blending in with a coral reef, (turning what appeared to be checkerboard, rather than orange), and after interrupting (quite by accident) the neighbor mantis shrimp, who he mistook to be a colorful brother, Inky floated sadly to where his parents were floating watchfully nearby. He stared after his older siblings, all flitting about and changing every color imaginable in the blink of an eye.
“What’s wrong Inky? Why aren’t you playing with your brothers and sisters?” His mom drifted down to him. Inky told his parents how he couldn’t seem to blend in with anything. His dad laughed, which Inky did not think was very nice of him. “I think I might have an idea of what’s going on,” His dad held up two tentacles, “how many are there, Inky?”
Inky squinted for a long time before answering, “there are…three? No, four! I think…” He replied, not quite sure.
Inky’s parents gave each other a knowing look, and disappeared briefly into the grotto behind them. When they returned, his mom was carrying a pair of glasses! Inky hesitated, “what if everyone else thinks they’re silly?” He wondered.
“I promise they won’t! And even if they do, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what you need in order to succeed!” Inky’s mom said, chuckling at her own little joke, and placed the glasses over Inky’s eyes.
It was like taking a deep breath after a particularly nice nap. Everything was so bright and clear! Inky immediately tried blending in with the sand below him, turning a delightful sandy-tan. “It works!” He laughed, swimming off to show his siblings.
As soon as Inky jetted into the group, three of his siblings rushed over to see what their brother had on his face. Inky excitedly showed them how easily he could change now. Orange, green, red, purple, blue, polka-dot; he was a kaleidoscope of colors! His siblings ooed and awed, asking Inky if he could show them how to change colors so fast. One of his brothers asked if he could have glasses, too!
And so with time, Inky became well-known across the surrounding reefs, with astounding colors brighter than anyone else on the seabed.
A Conversation
I feel stuck here, sometimes.
“Where?”
Earth? I guess?
“Couldn’t you just leave?”
I mean, sure, but what if I get to space and I get fat from carbon dioxide inflating my body or something
“I don’t think that’s how that works.”
You don’t know everything. Plus I might end up missing home probably.
“Have you ever left?”
Not really.
“Then how would you know?”
That sounds like a trick question. I did say I wasn’t totally sure.
“Well, if you want to leave, but you don’t want to go to space, maybe you could go on a vacation.”
Doesn’t that cost money?
“Why would I know that.”
You’re supposed to be super smart!
“Like you said, I don’t know everything, and I choose particularly not to know about money.”
Oh.
“So what are you going to do?”
I don’t know. Probably just stare at the sky for a couple more hours instead of everything else.
“I see.”
You can sit with me if you want
“Sounds like an acceptable plan.”
Sara
My teeth scrape across my glasses
They prickle against my cheeks
I squint and I sigh but I try not to cry as they poke the inside of my eyelids
What a horrible sight to see!
A girl with such teeth like me!
In the wrong place, upside of my face, where fluttering lashes should be!
Winking is so very painful.
Sleeping is always a gamble
Butterfly kisses? Don’t get me started.
I tried it once, now he’s dearly departed,
And all that is left here is me
This is a completely silly poem I wrote to prove a point to someone. I thought you guys would get a kick out of it
Woolgathering 