space

…I don’t understand this static silence. Dead space and cold ambivalence. I’m left with nothing but a canvas and painted bottle to house my thoughts. And I know I shouldn’t but I harbor the guilt, and take the blame. A captain must go down with her ship, as it were told. No lifeline, simply spine, no going back in time, no rewind back to when you were mine. But you can’t take back what you never gave away, and I can’t find a single thing to fill this space, oh how I’ve tried.

blank cds

I want to punch you with kid gloves… so delicate. Wings made of steel may be impenetrable but we both know they don’t fly. We were both safer together on the inside.

Currently

I’m sitting in my chair with no lights on. The sliding door is ajar letting the cool air in to chill my finger tips which makes writing this all the more slow. The rain is falling quickly and heavy, filling the air with its gentle yet overwhelming song. Dark clouds have all but obscured the sun and I remember days like this at yours. We never opened the curtains, we always kept the light out. We layed there intertwined in comfortable silence. I remember feeling your chest rise and fall under my head, and your heart beating softly in my ear. I fit perfectly in the crook of your arm like the last puzzle piece and as I exhaled you would wrap me up tight as if you were never wanting to let go. It’s always better not to think about, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

Thunder crashes and lightening follows a close second, it’s exactly like the first time when I could still smell your skin…

The Surgeon’s Warning

These sutures don’t stay in place too long
heavy beating tears them wide open
And the body moves to dull the pain
but we’re running out of medicine

They warned me of the consequences
to take heed of doctors orders
Risk it all or play it safe
you know I’ll always choose the former

Lift me up to drag me down
wind me up and spin me round
dive right in, get pushed around
and only heaven knows where I’ll be found

So we tread lightly on this fine line
between anxiety and apathy
And I gave it everything I could
’til there was nothing left of me

now I piece myself together bit by bit
an empty shell so battle scarred
I knew full well this wouldn’t be easy but
I never expected it to be this hard

the surgeon stitched me back together
though I’m afraid these threads wont hold long
I feel it no less than before
it’s not any easier since you’ve gone

Sinking softly

I came in to write tonight, but it’s just not coming out right. Feelings and memories lacking in their transposition to words. The swelling fades, but this is permanent. I partly blame myself for it all, grasping reasons out of the ether, something to try to make sense of. I want a hand that is as steady as my heart, but honesty is a siren, a serpent in disguise. The sweetest disposition chilled by a gentle touch. As the empty hallways echo with empty words that once meant so much. We only run from what makes us uncomfortable, as your footsteps echo into black…

Cold feet

I remember eating spaghettios in your kitchen
my feet were cold so I sat cross legged on the chair
you weren’t hungry, but you just sat there instead
and kept me company while I played with my food…

Someone To Love

You’re a Cheshire cat
You think a smile hides the rest
Ambiguity will always cover the facts
Where do you come from, where do you go
Must be lonely to be all alone

Oh honey…

Not the same…

I dont know how to feel about anything right now.
I shouldn’t miss you, but I do.

It’s staring me right in the face, behind every corner I turn, I woke up this morning with a hole in my chest, how it burns, oh it burns. A story left between the lines, the dead air that lies between, muted and unforgiving, watching things die that meant so much. A wounded animal in my open palms, breathing on one last breath of hope. But you’ve buried it deep below, the ground is too bitter frozen, and all the dirt under my fingernails is the only thing I have to show something that was so real.

Silence isn’t the closure some like to think it is.

And when it’s gone, it’s still there…

Erased & Replaced
All I wanted was to mean something to you
Sometimes we ask for too much without realising
And when the door shuts, there is always another way in

Encounters

She complimented me on my scarf as I was checking out at the register. “thanks! I got it at crossroads on the hill” I replied. Then the thought crossed my mind, ‘wait, your a rather large dyke butch lesbian, you don’t shop there, you probably do know or care where that is… I hope she’s not trying to hit on me… She might eat me.’. And then I instantly felt like an asshole for saying those things in my head.

Let’s Stay Together…

I want to sit and cry while listening to Al Green and eating cookies.
Well… not really I reckon… But for a split second it seemed like an excellent idea. And if anyone is to sit and cry, listening to Al Green and eating cookings while doing so is definitely the way to go.
I can never spell the word ‘simultenously’ right. See, thats wrong, it’s ‘simultaneously’… fuck.
I painted today, a canvas, but I feel like I ended up painting on myself just as much. I think my ‘nice’ white sheets need some oil paint on them anyway…
The inking is in T-minus 6 days now. Stay the pain.
I really have nothing of much importance to say, I just sit here and occasionally ramble about nothing important while I have hurricane force thoughts in my head writhing to get out. I think my sinus infection is doing a great job to quell their attempts.
Maybe I’ll think of something worth saying later…

3 hours from the ocean on both sides

The salty smell of the ocean stung my nostrils as I stepped out of the car, it was warmer than when I’d left, which seemed like a lifetime ago. The moon hid from the sky, leaving only the street lights to define my shadow on the parking lot asphalt.

I stopped and took a deep breath in the city silence, but it still doesn’t feel like home, it hasn’t for years. Stuck in a state of permanent jet lag where my head always feels better at 30,000 feet.

It’s safe but it’s not comfortable. It’s familiar but it’s not sustainable.

Some things you just out grow…

I keep searching for that place. It’s fast and fleeting when it comes, and pried from my hands as if it were a tangible object. It’s always harder when home welcomes you, with open arms and no judgements.

At least it’s real?

I sneak beneath the door and slide unnoticed behind the curtain, and life just seems to carry on as if nothing ever happened. Because if you don’t talk about elephants in rooms, they simply don’t exist. It’s the modern man’s magic.

I want to believe it’s a facade. That I made the right choices, and put my trust in the right person. That someone with a heart so seemingly big couldn’t turn to stone. But hours and days pass by, and neither heads nor tales are made, and all I have is what he said. Which doesn’t really add up to much. You were always quiet, but you said so much without words…

buried below

I remember when I was really little and my first cat died, we buried her in a cardboard box in the ground, behind the house under a tree. I was sad and angry because I didn’t think it was fair. How dare you take away something that I loved so much. It was fall, and I went out behind the house with a shovel and tears falling from my face. I went to the spot where we buried her, and tried to dig. To see her one last time, because I wanted my friend back, I didn’t want to feel so alone. But the ground was frozen and would not give. I remember a thin glaze of frost gently resting atop the solid dirt. And as I tried and tried to push the shovel deeper it was then that I learned that some things are better left buried in the ground…

Tracks

Someone asked me how I was today…
Now I understand why you hate the question, because all I could answer was “annoyed.” I think I meant to say “Hurt, confused, & angry,” But just the same it’s best to keep it surface and simple.
And expressing myself to you is just about as useful as trying to beat up a stone wall. Bloodied and out of breath, while the bricks are no worse for wear, I’d only leave pieces of me there. I don’t really see the point it that.

And you don’t want to talk, and you don’t want to hear it, you don’t want to take any responsibility for it. Because it was just a theory, a fantasy. Forget all the long haul speeches and testaments to steadfastness. Who are we to think people mean what they say. Nothing ever lasts and that’s exactly what everyone is afraid of. If you snuff the flame first you’re still the pupper master, even if you desire the warmth and light the fire brings, is safer that way because you made it so. You’re in control.

I hear a train in the distance, and the same moonlight shines onto my bed, and it’s all so close and so far away. So alive, but oh so dead. And we’d all be wrong to think it will stay in it’s resting place. Silence becomes thoughts, cylically it goes, and sleep never comes.

Easier said

While good, but partially biased advice, I find amnesia much easier said than done. A healthy fear of those who can easily flip the switch. This heart doesn’t stop beating easily, even after all the beatings, and I’ve always walked that fine line between pain and pleasure. One slip, one trip, one slight mistep and it’s back to the beginning. And I told my self I never wanted to feel like this again, that I’d never let anyone in like this again, that I didn’t want to end up meaning nothing to someone who meant everything. and they told me that it’s supposed to get easier each time, false pretences get you nowhere but a dead end.

It was a proverbial door in my face, a cold cut off the line. I wanted my borrowed time returned, but it was a choice and it was a gift, though now I’m second guessing my ability to discern.

I didn’t mean for it to get this long

Lost the moment.

threw the hook, spit the line,
there she goes, she bites,
and lost in my thoughts I can’t help but wonder
where you are tonight…

what was I saying?…

Random unfinished… fragmented prose

a few constants become variables
the mathematician shakes his snow globe
and it’s all just so intangible
nothing seems to add up right
these problems never solved themselves

locks himself in his room
with blackout curtains
no matter he can’t see out
more importantly, no one sees in
and it’s safer in dim light
cause you can be anyone in the dark

Because it’s funny, right?

I wasn’t aware it was just a game to you, shoulda known better ’cause they all saw how you do. You never wanted it to last, you were just passing through. Here to “give it a whirl,” and now push it forcefully into the past. Drop it, Watch it, a beautiful thing shattered like glass. Because if it’s funny, it’s just some sad joke, and I was just some object you picked up to help you cope. Makes you feel better, a tear shed in your name, a heart ache in the same vein. Lost promises, false hopes, left in a tidy stack of lies and wilted dreams. Rewind, to the first time, line by line, recoil back in my mouth, don’t let it out, never let your thoughts into my head, never listened to a word you said, never slept in your bed, never even got off that plane… and lucky you, I didn’t know what to say.

And I wonder if it’s a flaw in my own character,
to not be able to recognize a prideful contender,
another step back, another look over my shoulder,
and there’s no one there but me.
Too trusting.
thoughts echo off these empty walls,
and I’m bracing for this fall,
as floor turns ceiling, silent reeling,
and your blank stare just looks so appealing.
Just sleep through til the weekend,
night falls jump off the deep end,
in hindsight I see you played your cards just right,
and what stupid girl doesn’t want to believe it’s not love.
And don’t get your hopes up dear,
I claim no fights nor rights here,
there’s no vendetta, there’s no extra credit,
close out wholesale, you said it, I get it.

Twist it…

This feels like torture, maybe that’s a bit over dramatic, but I’ve always been a glutton for punishment… I hate your smile because you’re not smiling at me, but in that picture you are. And I really don’t hate your smile at all. Like a drug addicts heroin, you get under my skin and you make me feel so damn good. Difference is you’re actually good for me (I think, but that’s what they all say), skin smell. I… calm your mind, I… pathetically miss you. I can’t eat. Sleep seems like a distant thought that I left on the side of the road somewhere between I-95 & I-80. Wine is the nightcap that lulls me into a dull sleep that is interupted by cleanched jaw and night sweats. Compounded and compounded… I don’t want to go to work tomorrow.

I’m looking for a voice in the white noise, I’m trying to make a choice with the right boy, to lay me down into bed, leash the hounds in my head, Somebody to finally see me through with, somebody to remind me that I’m the quantum human…

the thing is… I’m jaded, a little broken, I don’t have rose coloured glasses, and I dislike most. But I don’t dislike you. That is quite an accomplishment. Wasn’t sure it was possible. Sure, you piss me off, and you make me really mad, and you push my buttons like a 2 year old on a see-and-say, but only because I like you so much, I dare say love? Yup, I guess that’s my wine induced honesty.

Whiteboard dreaming.

I was on your whiteboard once, we were on your to-do list. Those are just words you can erase… and the slate is proabably already wiped clean. But I hope not, but they probably are. A knock at the door, this waiting game sucks. Distance can’t be breached by only one person. I put my phone down, pull the covers up over my head, and hide from the daylight just the way you taught me for just a little longer, because I dream at your house.

At least its honest.

I’m re-reading the sent email. Not as if I can do anything about it now, if I wanted to, which I don’t.
over and over again, out loud and in my head, wondering if I’m simply something ridiculous or if I’ve found a heart string or two
wondering if and hoping that it’s perfect, could be my very last chance.
or something close to it
beating heart
your eyelids grace the words before you on that glowing screen
and I sit here looking into mine, you’re 2,778 miles away
Sometimes the distance seems like light years, right as it does about now
Othertimes I could almost feel you next to me
A soft breeze is blowing from west to east and I pray that it will life me up and take it with; 2,778 miles away
I’d rather feel it than run from it, head on in the fray
Like running into a burning building for your most treasured possession… yes, that’s exactly it.
Risk versus reward. It’s always safe in box, safe in a room, safer than on the plane, safe seeing everything from miles away.

410 Bordeaux

I forgot which was is up tonight, lost in this glass of wine
But it’s not like London anymore, drinking with you was fun then
staying up in my flat until the sun came shining in,
Time never mattered, we always had that,
more self control than you ever imagined, holding my own, away from the phone,
when all I want to do is find that 4, 1, 0 to 1, 1, 0, 8,
would be pathetic if I had, but I’m better than that, step away from the screen,
if it’s easy enough to erase someone, a few clicks of a button, why can’t I do it too
being erased, I wouldn’t do that to you,
They say treat everything with love, but I’m feeling bitter sweet,
I went all the way there and back, all you had to do was rise to your feet,
responsibility, initiative, lacking, lackluster,
I’m not saying thats you, just an observation,
why I choose my company carefully,
independance flies,
I think I’ll have another glass of wine…

I wont make you a meal ever again

Standing awkwardly in the entry of a bar, never wanting to go in the first place but just trying to save face, ready to make tracks and leave to get away from all the people
gazed fixed on the floor so shes set to ignore the wandering eyes and it’s really no surprise that the one place she wants to be is off limits for now

and he always asks ‘who’s still with me?’

Irony is, she is, but he doesn’t seem to care.
She goes to bed before midnight on weekends, no point in makeup anymore, the staring game with the phone is getting old and she’s beginning to lose hope that he’ll ever call.
It’s a damn shame, a waste of a perfectly good lady, encased in a frame of salvation or pain
Neither here nor there, hanging in the balance waiting for the tipping point
a yay or a nay and she’ll there or be on her way, but this dedication and patience is either real stupid or a blatant display of a love that might decay and waste away while he sits ignorant to the only one who didn’t care about the demons in his head.

Words and Actions

I always believe you when you say I’m not going anywhere

But never when you say I’ll be right back

Life should come with closed captions