Archive Page 2
Business As Usual
If he gets it,
Then that’s his business.
And If he doesn’t,
Well, then it’s still mine.
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Lost Soul
Ghost reflection stares you in the eyes,
Says nothing, means nothing, prophesies nothing.
It looks back as a mirror of youth,
Innocence, mistakes and lies.
In it’s hot pink strapless bra and lacy panties,
It’s a reminder of all that it can no longer be.
A reminder that it knows better now,
But longs to forget the lesson.
Tossing and turning in its bed,
It fails to recognize time, space or location.
In the abyss there is nothing to hold on to,
Nothing to believe in.
It blinks, momentarily human, then continues to stare.
It is hollow and void of feeling or expression.
The reflection’s hand reach up, grazes it’s face,
It cannot feel the touch, it is numb.
The arm raises again, the fingertips on its lips.
And I swear, I just raised my arm to my face
But I felt… Nothing.
Numb to the world now. Am I nothing?
Filed under: Numb, frustration, life, lost, personal, poetry | 2 Comments
Icy chills roll down my back as a breeze blows over my face. My leather purse flaps against my hip and I roll my eyes. I can hear my keys rattling and my empty wallet slap my camera. I reach for my phone.
“Thank God today was sunny at least!” I think, as he swears at me from two houses away.
I can discern a ‘yeah, you…’ and a ‘fuckin!’ and maybe even a ‘why don’t you just go fuck…’ I refrain from walking back with clenched fists and a possible thrown punch.
There have been two times in my life when I really thought I could hit someone. This is one of those two. But, ironically, it’s not out of anger. It’s to release the energy stored up in my body that can’t explain in words why I don’t care about him.
Because I do not care about him. Well, what I mean is that I care for him just as much as I care for the guy who sells me drugs. I care, but I just don’t care. It’s a baffling feeling really, to be told “I love you” from a guy you barely care about. I definitely didn’t believe him when he said those three stupid words, but he said them, and I sat there and did nothing about it.
Today, he finally saw through my mask. He finally realized that I was stringing him along. What he didn’t know was that calling me out was going to hurt him a helluva lot more than it was going to hurt me.
I mean, really, he was my toy. He was maybe the most fun toy I’ve found so far. It was way too easy to catch him, lure him in and manipulate him. When I said jump, he asked how high. It was just that easy.
I didn’t mean to do it. Honestly, I never intended on hurting or using anyone. I’m not that kind of person, at least I didn’t think I was. But as my eyes glared at my feet and I found myself muttering things under my breath, I fully realized what I had become through my ignorance of my own mechanics. I was a user.
I used him for companionship. I used him for sex. I used him because it was easier than not using him. I should have told him I wasn’t interested in him from day one. I could have prevented this if I had understood myself better.
I walked on. Past the man raking leaves in his yard, across the four lane road, alongside the rotting apartment buildings and as I approached that old tattered school building, I smiled.
I smiled because I realized the kind of power I held in my hot little head at that exact moment. I realized the ways in which I could mold and shape the people around me, the way I could beat men’s egos and tear up their hearts.
And as I climbed into that truck meeting me halfway across town, I smiled at my mom and said, “I should have known better than to let him pick me up.”
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The Holy (shit!) Trinity
the do’s and don’t of love…
don’t tell me what to do
about the current pickle I’m in.
Three options: door one, door two, door leave.
The tossing and turning
leave me with a yearning,
Love him, Leave him,
Go out on a limb.
When it rained, it poured,
the old man snored.
I went to bed
the boys bumped my head
Now I’ll never see morning.
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The political junkie in me just wanted to say, “Yay, Obama!”
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Contradicting
I looked into your eyes and I saw a flicker of something.
It was him.
The legendary, awful memory of him.
Staring, mocking, Laughing.
His egotistical, rotten confidence consumed my heart
And it stopped beating for a moment.
Then as my heart started up again,
I saw something in your eye.
Kindness, Interest, Adoration.
At that moment you were you, not him,
And my heart giggled, but froze.
Which part was an illusion?
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Unspoken Tears
You said,
“you know what I don’t get about you;
You put everyone else first.
You don’t think of yourself.”
And I thought,
“It’s because I don’t deserve to be happy.”
And you said,
“And you do that-
You open your mouth to say something,
And then you don’t.”
And I said,
“If it comes out, I’ll start to cry.”
And you didn’t say anything else.
Right then, I knew you couldn’t be the one to fix me.
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Instead, I Merely Exist
There are no more tears.
There are no more screams.
There are no more smiles.
Giggles.
Lies.
Cuts or bruises.
There are no more words.
I’ve lost everything I ever thought I had.
The love, the fears, the anger is gone.
It dissolved into the sweat and ran off my body with the rain.
And now I’m numb.
The nausea has overcome me,
I lay in my own filth, rotting in nothingness.
My eyes ache for want of tears,
My skin shivers for want of warmth,
My throat cracks for want of words.
There are no more words.
I don’t feel and you don’t know.
The sounds my heart yelps inside me,
Screaming for my stomach to hurl,
Because nothing is right and I’m all wrong.
And you’re all wrong because I’m not right.
I should be so much more.
I should be hopeful.
I should be dreaming.
Sad.
Hurt.
Angry.
I should be alive.
Instead, I merely exist.
Filed under: life, personal, poetry | 3 Comments
the happiness
I wish I could write a poem,
One with daisies and bunnies and butterflies.
A poem that made you smile, maybe giggle,
That made you glow with warmth and love.
I don’t rhyme with words like innocence
And my characters don’t fly or laugh.
All they hear are sadness and anger,
all they hear are tears and screams.
Filed under: life, poetry | 2 Comments
Creta. Bombs. Exhaustion.
If I carefully crafted my words onto a single spaced loose leaf sheet
would you understand how I feel?
Instead, I might carve out my fears and angers onto your skin with a knife,
You might cry out, screaming for an end to the agony.
I couldn’t stop, I wouldn’t stop because you need to experience
what I experienced.
And it’s easiest hurt the ones we love, so with that in mind,
you’ll know I won’t hold back.
The tears, the internal struggle,
the anticipation for the finale, for death, for a happily ever after.
How can we love pain like this?
You’ll love it when it’s all you know.
When I emptied my heart and soul into you,
I forgot to steal it back as I walked out the door.
The door that slammed shut, locked and whose key was thrown away.
My hopes of losing you are now overpowered by the hopes of finding myself.
I live in a tangled web of hopes, fears and failures.
Past Excursions and one night stands.
Regrets are tantamount to the bombs dropped at Hiroshima.
I’m a disaster.
It’s a scary feeling when the exact thing that you wish to escape
is the one thing you want more than anything.
And the internal struggle between want and hate ravages inside you
so you can’t hear the rationale that would end the conflict.
Peace is unreachable and I’m lost in my own mind.
[Post Script: This poem was inspired by The Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. I love his work, but be warned, it doesn't all make sense... maybe none of it does...]
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