February 2010
32 posts
a phantom image of your name
appears to me on the phone.
it is not you, but for a moment
my eyes trick me into reading
what I want to see.
——————————
my life has turned into a
series of nothings that blur
into one giant nothing in
which I sit on a bed, couch,
floor, chair and do nothing.
be nothing. think nothing.
somehow I...
January 2010
53 posts
mom: Do you want to go to your bed?
brother: I am in my bed.
me: are you really?
brother: yes.
me: so you’re in your room?
brother: …yes
me: if this is your room, why is there a tv?
brother: because I’m fancy.
me: if you’re fancy where is your gold plated everything?
brother: on my left hand.
me: let me see.
brother: *falls back asleep*
My brother's Anti-Drug campaign
Say nope to dope.
Dope is nope
Dope is dope.
Say NOijuana to Marijuana!
darkness fell swiftly
under the threshold
of my awareness.
locked in a lightless
room, secluded by
choice, I sit &
blankly stare at the
monitor that is no
match for human
contact.
…but I can’t ever tell
you this because admitting
would destroy it all.
something has severed
the space in my brain
that creates emotion.
I stand and watch
situations occur right
in front of me. I do
not get angry or jealous
or upset. Only something
in me occasionally wants
to trade places with
particular individuals.
but that is not a feeling.
there aren’t any feelings.
unkempt bed
with not enough
covers that cling
to the edge,
falling to the floor.
only a passed
around hoodie
and boxers on.
i sit next to the
window where
rain throws itself
against the panes,
complementing
the beatles.
i pretend i am
in a loft apartment
and that i am
very very happy.
randy: I satisfy your needs! with the five seconds of intercourse and twenty minutes of crying.
There is a calmness
sitting alone on concrete
playing with shadows.
—————————-
1.24.10.
apple juice on the counter
bowl of pixie stix put away.
content because I’m wearing a
dress that I really
enjoy even though it’s odd and
far from matching. I
giggle as I
hold hands with people
I’m not actually dating,
just for fun…you know…
kids……………………….
laura veirs is singing to
me and my leg...
I am not who I once was.
I’m scared that no one cares.
No. No, I’m not scared.
I don’t feel anything at all.
Not really. Not anymore.
What is feel is what I
tell myself I feel.
It is a series of lies.
Lies and masks.
——————-
Last year you begged me to
not wear masks. You drew
me pictures and told me
pretty things that you
believed to be true.
Though I put...
“I write because I’m afraid to say some things out loud.”
Into the woods
to learn the songs
to see the sun
to bike for fun
to read the book
to get out of the house
to be accomplished!
to learn, to see
to bike, to read
to get, to be
to not feel useless!
“Well, I apologize for my agonizing ignorance.”
– just found that on my facebook. it pretty much sums up what my response to everything ever should be.
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish...
everything got quiet.
the television was silent,
rain no longer fell.
as my solitary state
became evident and
I started to spiral I could
hear singing from
down the hall::::::::::
someday you will be loved.
“We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One...”
– John Steinbeck (via delgrosso)
cardiogram asked: I'm really terrible at re-blogging, so forgive me--I'm just going to treat this feature as a message system. You send the nicest messages! I'm so embarrassed when I reread that old blog. But when aren't we embarrassed to read old stuff we've written? It's just funny to think how life progresses. How you viewed it, say, a year or two ago, and how it compares to now....
I watched the reflection in my eyes
through my reflection in the mirror.
triangles of light broke up
brown&green&hazel&almost blue.
blurry streetlights tugged at the
edges of the dark parts,
cars passed from my
pupil to my iris and then
into the white, where nothing
shows up anymore.
a sunday afternoon::: bare blue bulb coloured cloth&a desk above me. everything eerily lit. forts make me happy. good:::this is good. hello kitty pjs on. in this place january is suspended. karma and lust don’t live here. my safe place. no cuts, bruises or wounds here. pandora playing quietly through the rest of the room. sushi eaten, in the trash bag now. under paper&plastic. very...
If you're looking for something to do
because you have easy finals or you don’t want to study for finals or
you want to be intellectually stimulated or read beautiful things,
go here —————> http://shapesyouneed.blogspot.com/
I wish my life had a script.
An actual one, with all of the
lines and characters written down.
So I could practice and not mess up.
Or go back and see where I went wrong.
What I missed or what I
said or didn’t say to make
things fall apart and stray from the
perfectly planned story.
“I just came at your face so hard.”
– emma katherine classy lynch. and yes, this is in context.
spanish class, 3:24
coloured plastic seats around me.
shining monotony of metal
covers the expanse of this room.
all is familiar. expected.
but through the bottom right-hand
window pane, something catches my eye.
a bird, jet black, flying away
outside these walls.
Me: I can’t—-
Mom: Function?
Me: Yes.
To the Living by Billy Merrell
Listen, I am talking to you. William Bronk (1918–99)
I am afraid for each of us, daily, and often in more than one way— I am afraid for us all.
Not because we are not careful but because we are not safe. Living: heating left-overs, searching to match
that unmatched sock, letting the mail pile up. I am scared for each of us as we separate the egg white from the yolk. Not because
we are...
Today ended strangely.
I ate a brief meal with people I never
would have pictured myself with just
a few years ago, and held my own.
I was one of two, maybe three
in an unaltered state of being.
I wonder if they even know
how to be with each other
and just be with each other.
I never want to be like
any of you. Not ever.
