I might just wash away and
drown, a sea of sound and color;
there's a spark
within the water.
Sprinkled from a wrinkled sky.

Eyes undry, outward scrying,
tears that lie
in pools and puddles, endless
grays reflecting something
of truth:

unsmooth, rippled,
dancing with chaos.

All is one,
no string undone, all sung
from the same throat,
and raw with it, raw
and alive--

this IS life.
Let's live it.

Ethereal and worn thin, maybe
just a shadow on your here-and-now:
do you believe in ghosts?

But you're the one who's
corpse-cold with
empty eyes and words and a nothing-life,
hollow and frostbitten-numb.

I just wish you could have let
sleeping cats lie,
and never lit the fire
that burned both bridges and my hands.

But who knows? Perhaps
this was the inferno that purified,
clearing out the dead wood and
cracking pine cones to reseed the forest.

Dear boy who was always too glib:
this is my lipstick-note goodbye,
my dear-john letter--
smeared and a few syllables late--

but all the same:
regretfully no-longer-yours,
the one that got away.

What are these tangled words
but the musings of the lost?
Bone weary and tempest-tossed,
confusing thoughts;
run in place, watch every face
become familiar, however strange.
Each rehearsed expression
predicted with precision
as structure becomes a prison,
a poison that rots from the inside.
High tides of pride,
empty promises and disguised lies,
with every clone caught up in
dreams of individuality.
Back to reality, real mediocrity,
comedic tragedy:
self-made chains and
willfully chosen ignorance.
I lock these lines on pages
that age with bad grace,
sounding staged and overplayed,
hidden away with all false prophecies,
remaining only as a vague sense of apprehension
in the space between waking and sleep.

Yep.

Same old same old.

Gave up on life. Found a ray of sunshine. Walked on air for a few weeks. Crushed by disappointment, lies, and the others' failure. Gave up again. Felt fine. Found ray of sunshine. Walked on air for a month or so. Crushed by disappointment, and others' fear. Giving up again.

Feeling so empty, used, worthless, greedy, restless, hopeless, underappreciated, ungrateful, plain, normal, tired, weak, angry, forgotten, ignored, misunderstood, afraid, behind, excited, apprehensive, impatient, awkward, nervous, unsure, calm, accepting, happy-for-you/sad-for-me, and...

 "Nobody could feel all of that, all at once--they'd explode!!" -Black Jewels Trilogy, Anne Bishop, read it.

 I'm tired of people telling me that they love me and not meaning it. If you don't love me, DON'T SAY IT. What a novel concept. I'm not going to hate you if you don't feel the same way I do. I'm not going to be hurt, or upset, or anything negative at all, unless you LIE to me, you fucking morons.

Oh, and Kelsey? I. Don't. Care.

Don't ever call me at 2am again to say nothing. You're worse than a woman. And I sometimes wish that I'd never allowed you to get close to me. Do you know when you fucked up? When you broke the last straw? When you kissed me. You crossed SO many lines with that move. Half the time, I don't even consider you a friend anymore, I'm just waiting for the next way you're going to try to take advantage.

Foxx:

You're an idiot.

Storm:

You're a moron.

Jesse:

You HURT me.

Chris:

WHY?

James:

I hate/love/despise/need you. Why can't you love me? Why can't I be good for you? Why can't I reach you? Why do you make me want to kill myself, or you, or both? Why can't I get over you?

Brian:

I can't stand you.

Mom:

You're a weak, pathetic, stupid, blind, ignorant excuse for a woman, and I hope you overdose on your fucking coke while cheating on your AMAZING boyfriend with a douchebag who isn't worth anything at all.

Sean:

You're so...sad. As in, "pathetic." Oh, yeah, and...I don't care.

Gena:

I want you.

Jordan:

I want to help you.

Hyatt:

You're an asshole.

Me:

All of the above.

Now that I've said all of the things that I can't actually say...

I don't feel any better.

I have to work tomorrow, I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm sad, I wish I could cry but I can't, I wish I could find the motivation to hurt myself, but I don't even care enough to do that. So I'm going to sleep now, and I hope tomorrow will be brighter...because I can't go on like this much longer. 

Hello again. As no one I know even knows about this site, much less that I have an account, or what my screen name is, this is where I come, pretty much biannually, to confess my dirty secrets.

The truth is, sometimes, there are issues that need to be worked out verbally (ish), and there is no one I can talk with about them, and I'm tired of listening to myself. Of course, the answer is blogging. But everyone reads the myspace thingy, and I've almost given up on obscure poetry about..whatever. So here I am.

And even here, honesty might not be total. I want to try to preserve at least a little dignity. Y'know?

Once again, I come to the realization that there is no beginning to any story, because I get so caught up in tracing things back to the roots that, every single time, I end up going back to my earliest childhood memories of...we won't go there. See? I'm starting already.

So, as usual, I'm going to start in the middle and wing it.

We'll start, of course, with a boy. THE boy. Kind of. (Did I mention that this was kind of part of the recurring theme? Maybe I should just start posting "dido.") More correctly, the boyFRIEND. Foxx. Adam Foxx. mm...pretty--gorgeous, even--insecure, smart, clueless, charming, childish, codependent, passive-aggressive, kind, pessimistic, loyal, distrusting, young...the list could go on. He would like to be selfish, but I have a problem with cages not of my own making, so we have an agreement. I can do whatever I like, as long as I don't tell him about it. (I think it was an effort to guilt me into saying something like, "No, that would be dishonest, and I couldn't do that to you. Thank you for making such a sacrifice. *sigh*" But whatever.)

Did I mention he was clingy? But I love him. Usually. I'm comfortable. Most importantly, I've come to realize, I'm in control.

God, I really suck. I'm going to start bitching about MY issues now, just so no one thinks this is a one-sided bash fest.

I'm a bitch. I'm picky. I think far too highly of myself, except when I'm being all mopey, and then I'm just insecure. In a word? Bipolar. Oh, and obsessive compulsive. And not passive aggressive really, just with tendencies (I blame Foxx's influence). And a control freak. So yeah...there's more...but I'm too tired.

Lets jump around a bit.

My friend is dying. Well, kind of. He goes in for heart surgery in an hour or so, and most likely won't live through it.  He's in love with me. Or that might be impeding death talking. I didn't have the heart to bring that up, though. Y'know? (God, I'm a bitch...) I like him...a lot. But...there's Foxx. And the fact that, well, I'm a control freak, and used to wearing the pants. Couldn't do that with him. He'd want to take care of me, god forbid. Put me in a gilded cage, that whole deal.

Okay, that's where the story stops. No more details. Basically, I'm just put it really vaguely. I have a horribly guilty conscience about some things right now. Most things, even. I'm not a good person. Maybe I never claimed to be, but once upon a time, I wanted to be. And I'm not. Maybe I still want to be, but I just can't see the sunshine as anything more than a source of skin cancer, these days. I'm bitter. I'm old. And I'm far too young to be either. I feel myself dying every day. I'm fucking selfish, aren't I? Here's my good friend, who loves me, dying, and all I can think about is how much it sucks for me.

But maybe it's just because I don't know how to deal with it. I'm a hypocrite. I don't believe in hope. I can't. I can't handle feeling like I've been suckered, even by my own brain. And yet, I feed everyone else these bullshit lines about how no one ever really dies, and there'll be a better day, etc. And every time I say it, it makes me sicker, and then they try to feed it back to me, without even having the decency (intelligence?) to let their eyes say they're lying. I think they actually believe that crap, really. But I can't. Because I can't be suckered. And maybe, just maybe, I'm the biggest sucker of all.

I don't even like writing anymore. (Here I go about myself again. Oh, fuck it. Who cares? Not like anyone reads this goddamn piece of shit to begin with.) Nothing is beautiful anymore. Everything makes me sick. Sex, drinking, feeling good, sunsets, movies, books...anything that I used to like. I don't call anyone I used to hang out with. They make me sick, too. My family, my friends...what's wrong with me?

Do I even care?

I've joked for a long time about seeking mental help. Now I think I should get serious. But I don't need somebody else to tell me what my problems are, or how to fix them. And I can't do meds. If they even worked, I'd forget to take them, or I'd lose them, or I'd become dependent on them and not have them and be worse off than I am now. So what's the point? I know what's wrong, and there's no fixing it. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, fucked in general, and who gives a damn? Not me, not really. I'm just being crazy again...fucking crazy bitch whore...

I'm so confused...

Obviously, right?

And I'm supposed to be so smart, so strong, so goddamned worthy, right? Enlightened, above...this. Once upon a time, at this point, I would have grabbed a bottle of something (whiskey, probably), or a razorblade--most likely both--and settled for slicing myself up and feeling better. But I've discovered, in my walk through life, so many much more painful things to do. Like this. Or maybe I'm pussing out. Copping out. You know--being weak. Why am I so afraid of that? Because it's true? Or because I can't let myself be otherwise, because I'm afraid that I'm really a coward? I can't be the ray of sunshine, because I don't want to live in a fantasy sugar-coated world where everything turns out happy ever after. So what, I create my own hell? Pretty much.

And maybe I could use someone like me, right about now, someone smart and beautiful and seemingly successful, to talk me out of it. I HAD that, you know. Found someone who could do all of that. But then he wanted to go and make demands, throw down ultimatums about dumping my boyfriend. Fucking liar. Told me "no expectations," but after the second/third time at his house, pretty much said, "are we going to fuck, or not?" Is it any wonder I feel like I do? I was in fucking love for three weeks...and then he blew it, like I knew he would, like they always do, and now...

God, I hate that bastard right now. And I didn't even realize how much until this very second.

Maybe it's really about James, though. Fucking psycho that I am, went and got a tattoo for the bastard AFTER he dumped me. Yeah. What does that say? Psy. Cho. Yeah. Um...not like he isn't, though. And not like I'm not still madly in love with the fucker, right? The thought that he might be moving back to my general vicinity makes me all giddy...I'm pathetic. His voice...ah, yes. His words. Fucking words. All of them lies. Everyone lies, about everything, or makes ME lie, to avoid...all of the mess. Because I know what people think, I know how they are, I know how to play them. The finest instrument, the one I play best...the human brain...

I'm a nutcase. Someone, please, save me. Oh yeah, I won't let you. And I won't do it. I'm fucking fucked. Fuck, fuck, and fuck. And fuck.

Goddammit, what am I, 14?

And do I feel better?

No. Not in the least.

Did I really think I would?

"Is this the heaven we were promised?"

Fuck this noise.

You fail. 

Currently listening to: My voices
Currently reading: My words
Currently watching: My life dwindling away
Currently feeling: bipolar/insane

EVERY SINGLE GRAFFITI SCAR

I have to wonder,
are all people so red under their skins?

So much color to fill such a tiny space;
such a fragile case
to hold
so great a thing as a soul--

and does your spirit fly away,
a piece at a time,
through each tiny opening in your outer layer?

Does your heart bleed away
with every single graffiti scar
that mars your baby-face?

You’d leave it all behind,
but you’re chained to this addiction
through repetition,

seeking pain as a thrill,
slicing with such skill on this beautiful canvas
as art steals your soul,

purple and crimson intertwined
with emotions you have bled
onto parchment white as snow
and cold as ice,

warmth a luxury you can ill afford
in such a harsh climate as this world seems
to each lonely teenage survivor of a troubled home.

7.15.06 

IMPRESSIONS

Touch a heart with a sad look
or a smile like sunshine through the clouds,

let them think for a moment
that they mean something,
however small--

eyes meet,
lives twine for an instant,

and then move on,
flow of time and space
sweeping away
mysteries,
never to be solved,

unanswered questions glimpsed
in a stranger’s momentary glance,

a second in which you know
there’s still something new out there,

waiting to be found.

7.15.06

TOP PRIORITY

Serenity is this morning’s
top priority,
smooth features and lack of tension,
a tiny island of self-control and zen-like calm
in the raging storm,
tidal wave of people and their frenzied rush
from point A to point B
with no regard for the beauty that lies between—
no time for the scenic route.

Take the time to take a breath
and ignore the stench,
focusing on the little things—

the guitarist on the corner,
clink of change in his open case
merely a fantasy of his hopeful mind,
but perhaps soul will help make up for lack of talent.
Would that I were so comfortable in myself.

Escape for a moment
from the pressing business that never ceases to interrupt
and encroach on
meditation, contemplation
of situations and decisions,
leaving reassurance of self for peace of mind
an unfinished task that weighs on the unconscious,
bringing knots and nightmares long after
the cause itself is forgotten.

But today will be my Saturday,
my day of rest
[as I rearrange time to fit my liking],
because this is my world,
and it is good.

7.15.06

ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

I know why I feel so awful.

Well, a lot of reasons.
but let’s start from the top,
and go from there.

I have the “grass is always greener” syndrome,
and old heartaches to bear,
issues galore and then some,
scars I’ll always wear,

but let’s drop the cheesy rhyme scheme, shall we?
Let’s talk plainly
of the reasons
I ought to
        [slit my wrists
with the shards of my heart.]
Yeah, pull some pity-party bullshit,
fake a suicide attempt,
[or maybe even grow the balls to really try it,]
rake in the attention.

Fuck that shit.
Drop the victim mentality.

We all know where that leads.

Right to where I am.

That fork was wrong,
led us right back where we started.
The road less traveled was still paved, you moron.
Take the game trail next time.

Try to be original.

Of course you’ll fail.
With however many billion people in the world
at this point in time,
not mention the billions that have gone before,
you think an original idea still exists?
Of course not.
But it shouldn’t stop you from trying.

But there’s where my problem lies.
That’s what being human’s all about.
Failing.
And relishing it.
Flaunting weakness as strength.
Flashiest one wins.
In the animal kingdom, though…
Showiest gets eaten.
Only the invisible survive.

So humanity’s destructive,
Even to itself.
Thus the burning desire,
inescapable,
inexplicable,
for recognition,
for glory.

Go ahead.
Go for the gold.
Get yourself killed,
let your dreams be crushed
because you were foolish enough
to reach too far.

I’ll sit here in my quiet corner and sulk,
and never lose
because I never played.

[never live
because I was dead all along.]

Is that the life you want?
Trapped by your fears,
swallowed in wave upon wave of what-ifs and maybes,
inundated by terror and self-doubt,
losing yourself and all you could possibly be?

Wasting what small potential you have?

And so I’m caught
between a life of safety,
invisibility…
and going out with a bang,
a blaze on the horizon
before a frozen eternity of oblivion.

A rock and hard place.

[two sides of the same coin?]

 7.15.06

Currently listening to: traffic
Currently reading: Ship of Destiny, by Robin Hobb
Currently watching: the screen...
Currently feeling: Poetic

I know why I feel so awful.

[well, a lot of reasons.]

[on an upnote (I think), at least he's back again, saying things for me once more. hooray.*sarcasm*]

I never appreciate what I have 'til it's gone. The worst part is, I realize this fact, and yet can't seem to do anything about it. A flaw in myself?

[surely not.]

[not possible.*sarcasm*]

[there he goes again.]

It almost seems I despise anyone who cares about me, until they don't anymore, and then it's, "I'm so so sorry, please, please," as if I could ever make up for the shit I put people through.

I'm a terrible person.

And there're people who'll take that either way. Some will say, "No, no, you know better than that,"

[mouthing empty platitudes]

and others who'll agree, "You stupid cheating whore, of course you are." And still others who will simply tell me to stop having a pity party and start valuing myself, accepting who I am and simply dealing with those who don't like it, instead of whining and beating myself up over bullshit about myself, real or imagined, that can't be helped.

But there's the problem (or several of them, in fact).

I don't like me. And it can be helped, I just don't know how/can't seem to do it.

Anyway. I digress. I was telling, in vague (yet still obvious) terms, why I currently dislike myself so very much.

I love someone, and so I treat them like shit. Why is that? Am I afraid that I'll just get hurt again, so I'm trying to push them away? Do I want to hurt again, and so am creating the circumstances that will bring me the most pain? *sigh* Is this my masochism/matyr complex at work once again?

I love Foxx.

[just like I loved all the rest.]

[so easy to love.]

[so easy to use and abuse and walk all over.]

I value him, both for who he is and how he feels about me. We should be happy. No, scratch that, I should be happy (as he, apparently, is, as much as circumstances allow). But I feel so...

angry.

Discontent.

Bitcy.

I hate feeling bitchy. I hate being bitchy.

Admitedly, I've (we've) been under a lot of stress lately. That could be it. But I've felt this way before. And it always ends badly.

I don't know what my issue is. I hate being alone (single), but I almost can't stand to be with someone. Perhaps the whole Sagittarius "grass is always greener" syndrome.

[yes, cast the blame, honey.]

I know what I'm doing. I can see it happening, as if it's someone else, and I'm a voice in the back of my own head, an observer, unable [unwilling?] to put a stop to the things I do and say.

Nothing is ever good enough. He can't do anything right (or so it must seem to him). And for someone with his background, that's the worst possible thing. [only what he's always dealt with.]

Only everything that I should be striving to do/be the opposite of.

Maybe it's his view of himself that's coloring mine. Maybe if he had more confidence...

No. Not casting blame here.

And not saying I'm unhappy. Because I am.

[freudian slip...]

I am happy.

So why do I act like I'm not?

Why do I snap and yell and...abuse? I don't mean it. I know I don't. And I hope he knows. I hope he knows I love him, so very much. That I don't want to be doing this, don't mean to, it just...happens. *sigh* And that's just it. I let it happen.

But how to stop it? How does one just...stop?

I used to have more control than this. It's disgusting, how far I've slid back into complacency, in my quest to just let go and let things...slide. I can't do that. I must be in control, at least of myself. I have to actually take a hold of this and BREAK this fucking habit!

I WILL appreciate what I have while it's still here! Else it will slip farther and farther from my grasp, until this is what I fear it will become. A name, a game, nothing but...someone to take out my anger and aggression on, while I look elsewhere for people to idolize and look up to.

"Never look too closely at God..."

*sigh*

I need to sleep.

How is it that I can't be how I want to be? I think maybe it may be the proof of my growing maturity, because the way I want to be right now is petulant, weak, able to lean on and count on someone else, to feel sorry for myself and slice my arms all to hell, cry in a closet about how unfair life is. But what do I do? I got some bad news today (my friend died), then some more bad news (can't stay where I've been staying), and then some worse news (they didn't even SEND my birth certificate, they don't even have a request on file)...

And when my world started fading out and my heart felt like it was going to stop from the pure despair and my eyes should have gone all tear-filled and hopeless...I looked up. I got angry. I got a hold on myself without even really thinking about it. I called Dad. I went to NAFY, and managed to get myself accepted, regardless of the fact that I have more resources at my disposal than I should to be able to get in there. While in screening, I got a call from Northwest Legal--they have a job for me, and the people are desperate enough that they may temporarily overlook my lack of an ID. Then Bill told me that they need me tomorrow.

Basically, I kept my head in a crisis, and things turned out fine. And I may have a job as a "researcher"--doing phone surveys. But it's a job, it's money. I applied for that today, and Caleb said that with as fast as I type, they'll probably ignore the whole ID thing.

I've had a lot of wierd thoughts recently. One thing crossed my mind because of an unfortunate incident from about a week ago. I randomly met a bunch of people and went drinking with them at Washington Park. Foxx was at an interview, and called me while I was on my way. I told him to meet me there. He finally got there, I went down and calmed him down (he was nervous and upset about being in a new place alone). We went back up the hill, and had barely sat down, our asses almost hadn't hit the ground yet, when two of the girls walked up. "We want you to leave," pointing at Foxx. "We know we don't know you, but we don't like you, there's just something about you we don't like. And as we're both the sponsors of the party and the Sensitives of the group, we want you to leave. Sorry, you're cool," pointing at me, "but we don't like him." It was really fucking wierd. And I was really fucking angry. I wasn't even tempted to stay--they'd really pissed me off, damn my protectiveness! But on the train, I thought of something.

Everybody has what I'll call "average human value," or, "AHV." The things they do, say, whatever, either adds to that or subtracts from it. What they'd done, by insulting someone I love, was erase all value whatsoever. But I couldn't let what they said/thought/did anger me, because...well. Look at it this way. Remember "absolute value," from math class?

-4 = -4, but |-4| = 4.

If I get angry and allow them to bother me, that means I'm assigning them more value than they're worth. I can only allow myself to be really angry over important things.

I blame the sudoku puzzles for this. My brain is working on overtime since Foxx got me hooked on those.

Damn, my Milkyway is frozen, and really hard to eat...

Okay, I'm done now. Well, not really. Quick bitch session about people and their interference of my life...blah blah blah, blah blah. *BLEEP*

Okay, NOW I'm done. Later, people!

God, it's been stressful lately. They say the top three most stressful things are moving to a new place, starting a new job, and starting a new relationship, and I've done all three in the space of the last month. There are so many things to worry about, and I can't talk to anyone anymore--as usual, everyone has their own problems, concerns, all that bullshit. I haven't written in ages, maybe that's part of the problem.

Ever feel like you've already reached the highest point you possibly can, and it's all downhill after that? You'll never be as good as you've already been? That's how I feel right now. Like the best I can do I've already done, and it'll never be that good again. 

I miss James. I miss Rheo. I miss Mike. I miss California. I miss being crazy. I miss........everything I don't have anymore. And it's hard to think about tomorrow, because I'm so lost in the past these days. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I don't feel good at all. I just feel sick...

I should get some sleep. I'll feel better tomorrow. 

Currently listening to: Drift On a Dream
Currently feeling: Tired