I'm crying. again. i don't like being a girl. i talked to my boss. he talked to me. i think i'm quitting. haven't talked to nick in four days. am seriously considering moving to greece. and did you know that when it snows, i'm thinkin of you and how you don't drive in the snow you just sit home and say, 'i cannot go anyplace today.' maybe i just needed a change. and maybe i got it. and maybe now it's time for another. Arrr. I almost made it. I almost lasted till he went to bed without saying anything, without breaking the delicate layer of sweetness, but i opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue and licked the sickening wall of sugar that stood between us, me and him, preventing unpleasantness, and with my words I *broke* it. Crunch. The sound of music boxes breaking, children falling through the ice covered pond, horses slamming into brick walls, are all so eloquently condensed in his upset confused wide eyed innocent face. Copyright. on the face, copyright. I am horrid and demonic and slipping a mad mask over me, because the one underneath would be too terrible. I am angry with my father so we may avoid pity. November Eight They should not give me days off. My mind doesn't want me to go back. October 30th, 2001 Like that date means anything. It's just another day, another fucking day, when i sneezed a little more, and didn't paint. I came home to paint, have you forgotton? I have. It's just another fucking day when i realise that i lowered my standards to a kiosk in a mall and typing the word fuck into a computer to be recorded for future reference. it's just another fucking day when no one emails and you feel put out, like humperdinck y'know, that the one day you have free, you have no emails to ponder over. it's just another day which you spent inside without the touch of the sun on your forehead, or the touch of a lover, or a friend, or an infant. it's a day when you realise eventually you're going to run out of those, days, that is, and then you will be truly fucked. because you will be Done. It's just another fucking day.... I found a poetry marathon emma and i did. i like it. seveneightseven the neck is sore the head is down the feet are cool and white the eyes are pained the hands are still the voice hushed in the night the day is spent without pretence of purpose, thought or form the evening breeze allows the bees to hurry to their home where art thou? and why art thou? and when will you return my eyes are dim with waiting and my heart has ceased to burn doing naught never hurt so much actions ne'er did seem so futile i sit and wait, you sow and reap rain floods the windowsill i cannot live a silent statue am not a beauteous lass i never said no questions but indeed, you've never asked. SevenEightEight?? my eyes are dim with waiting for this time to pass hit reload, refresh only refers to the page You're there, but neither of us are paying attention we didn't know we should, and this is just so hard, this filling in your inflections and laughter myself it's not like coloring in a coloring book it's like trying to finish a Degas or the Mona Lisa with a wide roller and a bucket of bright red paint seveneightnine and we didn't know we should we could have should have didn't the time came the time left the time stood still we smiled and stepped aside let it pass and we didn't know we didn't fucking have a clue and though now it is painfully clear now the time is yet spent. our song is left unsung the time came the time left the time stood still. SevenNineO?? we smiled and stepped aside dodging your smiling perfectly made-up blows and inside we cursed you and -ohmygoodness- you wouldn't believe the things you were called you wouldn't believe the wrong you did me you wouldn't believe the hurt you had no right my anger's fiery, is consuming me and all I need to breathe live around me it feeds on itself, damning me for spending so much as a thought on you if you were here right now i'd punch your teeth in without so much as another thought sevenninetyone so much as another thought will pay i will take so much as another breath will cost i will pay so much as another glance will break my will to love i will break the will, take the glance, pay the breath, take the thought, if it means i can live one day freer i have killed my dreams to put the freedom back into life i will trap moonbeams to put the dreams back into life SevenNinetyToo?? i have killed my dreams i don't know where to turn to next what to grasp to keep from falling what to trust to save me and what to pile all my hopes and expectations on now naturally there's some way out something that will bring the world to my feet find it go west gotta be somewhere ...no? shit. another empty life. SevenNinetyTooToo?? i have i have i have walked so many miles, spoken so many words, written so much poetry, lived too many lives, i have killed my dreams, to stop from shaking, i have held moonbeams, in the shape of your hands, i have heard sprite's voices, in the disguise of a child's, i have done and done and done, and tried and tried and tried and the world just keeps coming and coming bring the world to my feet! cry the slave to kneel at it's mistress! it obliges, for a moment, for a joke moment spent. the world walks on. in the shape of your hands i see the potential in your legs i see the speed of your mind in your arms i see your embrace in your neck i see the concentration in your cheek i see wind and weather in your shoulder blades i see your wingspan in your lips i see words unsaid in your eyes i see the divine sevenninefive in the shadow of the sun in the corner of the moon light is coming i wait. as the dawn breaks as the night flies love is coming in your eyes looking forward in time i see your embrace october something, 2001 and you take it all one day, one way, you say it'll all work out but what if it won't and you know there's a sweet sort of wholeness to that thought, it's all a beautiful tragedy. We continue to differ, you continue to cry, or is it me, I've forgotten. Maybe I'll move to England after Christmas, hell why not? This is the time to do something besides sitting around the house. I have grown tired of being loved so hard. Friday, October 12th 2001 Slightly Fucked. Returned home late late last night. Dad drove the motorhome out to Washington to pick me up. This morning I called every job ad in the paper that looked promising, bounced on the trampoline with my sisters, looked for children's hospitals to volunteer at on the net, looked in phone books for decorators, to see how they advertise and how big a market there is for decorators in the chicago area (wouldn't it be fun to decorate houses for christmas for money?...), and that's when my mother walked in and denied the use of it all. We've had this discussion so many times, with dad, in our head, on paper, with friends, and now mom wanted her turn. I need to be productive and busy. I need a job, a car...I left the room. 'Your skirt is stained' she called up the stairs after me. I've never cried so hard. It is ridiculous to say this, and I'm sure I will regret even thinking that I have been raised as a rich brat and given no inheritance. But my choices now are: complete the cycle by going to university; or getting a fulltime job at a department store. I was having trouble explaining my last few months to myself and Avi, the last person who asked about them. But she...blows all explainations to shreds before they even leave my lips. I am slightly fucked and not sure what comes next. Obviously, I get a job...I have to, whether I move out, stay here, or go to university. My idea when I got home, as I remember it now, was to volunteer at children's hospitals, get into face painting, clowning, storytelling, that sort of thing, with the objective of it leading into more entertainment and then doing face painting at toy stores, and studying circus. I can't say that to her! She's my worst critic, and now that I'm an adult, I ought to have my act together. No more brainstorming with mom. This is the real world. Wouldn't she just love it if I went to Madrid and sold my body, or something really...yeah. Damn this world we live in. Damn the competitive chaotic masses of reams of shit we have to wade through to get food. Just for food... She raised me this way. And now she expects me to just...just be the way of the world. Just go with the flow. But I was grown spiky, thorned. No matter how hard I compress, I'll never fit... I am an adult. This sucks. I think maybe I should be a writer or a pilot or an actor but all I really want is to be a gentleman and a scholar, don't you know we're all seeking all we're seeking is rest and I thought I could come home and get it but baby was I wrong and I never understood before why why they're all moving out and finding apartments and jobs and now I do and I do and dear God does it hurt. Yes I could use some peace some adventure Yes I am ready for it to be over. Yes I could use a hug. ConfuSion this is the stuff of midnight wandrings...someday it shall be translated to man's speech... Some thing hidden go and find it. Go and look beyond the ranges. Some thing lost behind the ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go. ~Rudyard You have never done anything Except that which you wanted to do. Damn you and your whole being. you are unworthy, unredeemable in my eyes which are hard green never forgiving i guess not really do you love me? was it about me? he asked? did you write that about you and me? no. she said. good. he relaxed for i would never ever hurt you. she was silent. his eyes widened. aw, babe. Idle hands Empty hearts Sparkling smiles and...something that rhymes with hearts... Don't you know You are poeticall And you Shall never Win me. Flishes, flashes, rainpuddle splashes, wish to God you'd let me in, but if you did I'd not begin, I'll start out here, where I am, and if you're kind you'll let me at him... Truthfully, I don't see any reason for selfhate. But when I see myself and others around me sinking into it, it fills me with dread. Starshine moonshine YOU are beautiful LIFE is beautiful just Because and YOU can find happiness IF you just look for it YOU can ring loud again wait you will see. Give a mouse a cookie, give a friend a newname. laugh at a kid's joke, find a kid and make 'em tell you a joke. don't get trapped break free. bring donuts. make coffee. give backrubs. wave exuberantly at someone you know. or someone you don't know. The Optimistic Kim. Hey! my name looked pretty! how'd it do that? You act this way he squeaked back in his chair, spectacles en nose, brown leather sighing under his nominal weight Because you think it will get you what you want He leaned forward now, elbows on knees, spreadlegged under his capricious belly, completely serious. He enunciated everything too clearly, cleanly, slowly, and he wanted everything to be clean and under control. Whose control... It is not true. The only way you can get what you want is to seize it But what if it rejects you?... The smell of dank leather and books filled the air. All else compulsions, disorders, obsessions is merely a diversion which causes annoyance for others and pain for yourself. His beady black eyes penetrated everything. Seize it. If it rejects you, you may accept the rejection or comtinue seizing it. Those are the only choices. I love your arms, strong and sweet and swift and godlike Did you know you were like a god? Did you ever have anything in your head but dirty jokes and girls? I know I'll never have you, wouldn't want you But the god you're made to be like, him I want. If you are what you eat, I am either an apple, a cream chocolate or an avacado. Oooooh or corn on the cob, in season, raw. Yum. What do you Want? sleep. adoration. joy. freeishness. no school. no worries. no restrictions. love. God. You. Clean hair. I had something but I forgot it. the world drifts by as morning sky caresses your sweet face and the stars that shine say you are mine as the bats fly all over the place we wished to seek in only a week time travels quick, love slow I tried to glimpse but could not fit into your brooding soul we watch for time, we watch for space we wait for love to come and all the while when the usual trials present themselves, love runs my life drifts on, our love divine grows faintish, cold and dull til late last night you spoke to me I fell for you once more. 5-16-1 Oooohkay. Deep breathing. Dry eyes...Now. Too dry. Clean hair and feet. Too clean. Strawberry fields and all that. I love jazz music. I love boys when they're sleepy and looking at you lovily, I love potato salad and icecream bars and old garlicy funny aunts. I'm done crying now, I'm done falling apart, and I'm practically back together. It won't happen again. It won't happen again and I'm not falling into love again until July. Uh huh. And life goes on and I go too, but where? How Long has it Been? Much too long. For we should be kissed and take risks and tell pretty girls they're pretty everyday. And it's been too too long. Maybe tomorrow I'll tell someone, love someone, risk something. I love anything when it's off guard, not on edge, willing to be hurt but not wanting to. Reading poetry wondering if it was meant for you. everything is meant for you, my dear. call to the actors Entertain us! the people call for we can no longer cope with the miseries we have invented for ourselves. entertain us! for we long to be merry and youthfull again entertain us. for we are nothing without you. Tears blur vision. Amazing. How she makes me feel this way~ alive, jubilante, fighting. I need her. Very badly. I need someone, just barely outside daily life, to sparkle me up a bit. Not to say she's always right. Oh no. Or kind. Kindness is like dessert with her, not the main meal. As it should. She is amazing, there is no other word for her. She is one of the most beautifull strong people I know. My Grandmother. Jeanne. Midnight. moonlight. White curtains flutter and devour the darkness. Feather stuffed pillow looks like a duck. Cannot sleep. So I'm sitting here airing out my dad's office which hasn't had its windows opened in weeks (won't he be pleased?), eating the last ice cream bar, which doubtless belonged to someone else, and thinking about my life. Lick. Where will you be in ten years?...wouldn't you just love to say that to someone, and meet them in ten years for a temptuous affair in Greece. Or Portugal. In ten years I will be president of no. I don't like the word president. It conjures up images of a cow. Creator of a clothes company, designing outrageously down to earth streetwise clothes for rich parisians and poor americans. Street theater/circus performer. Tap dancer and opera singer. Speaking french, and auditioning for francean theater. Oyy.. this is way theatrical. Herbalist. Healer. Purple-turbaned massuesse/therapist. Storyteller. Holder of small children and infants. Indian. spoken by a five year old girl. Sometimes I just wake up and that mornign I don't want to go to school or out or anywhere, and I don't want to do anything except jsut leave and have an adventure and then I think I could just leave and maybe I'd bring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in case I got hungry, and I'd just walk and walk and maybe I'd meet a witch or a prince or a frog or something or maybe I'd meet some mean old kidnapper and they'd take me back to their den and it would be scary and maybe they'd never let me come home if I left so maybe I'll stay. because we laugh when it's funny and cry when it's sad. so you locked me stole the key and never looked back. NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 1 times, last edited on February 3, 2002 by wind@nbtsc.org. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
