If Everyone Was Listening

In dedication to the living

2011-08-16T22:53:00.004-06:00

Hello! It has been a long time indeed. I hope you are all doing well and enjoying the summer months. Many changes are arising in my life as this new season approaches. I am sad, excited, and patient for what is ahead.

How is your heart?

2011-03-31T20:07:00.000-06:00

Time can make more rubble
out of dreams than anything.

I think I just found the weirdest cake of all time.

2011-01-30T00:44:00.000-07:00

2010-12-07T09:43:00.002-07:00

Sharp cold winter
soft warm fire
snowflakes falling to the ground
harmony of holidays
December it is now.

Ruffles.

2010-11-23T22:04:00.004-07:00

It was late in the day when the woman awoke, lazily blinking away sleep from the crevices of her eyes. She noted that her gown was torn, and upon sitting up, that the entire contents of her room were in disarray. She shed the dress, and pattering into the bathroom, ran a hot shower. There she stood, letting the hot water sink into her bones. It was only until a few minutes later that the shuddering of her shoulders signified anything out of the ordinary. Then came the sobs, the pressing gulps of air, and the complete collapse of the woman onto the floor. There she sat, arms curled around her body as if in protection. Her hands fumbled, searching for a band around her finger. They fluttered as if grasping onto that ring would give her reassurance, certainty. It was only until the water had begun to run cold did the woman get up.
She put on some dry clothes and slowly, methodically, began the long process of cleaning up her apartment.

Well, what she considered to be her apartment.

Doritos.

2010-11-18T20:57:00.001-07:00

She was sitting on the windowsill; her bare legs hanging off the ledge mocking the pouring rain and the seventeen floors that separated her from sanity. Thunder broke the air as her eyes went upwards; goosebumps pulsed through her skin. Makeup ran down her face, uniting her tears with the rain. It was then that she shrieked hysterically, and sliding herself further off of the ledge she finally looked down. Below, the umbrellas and cars looked like rectangles and circles moving in harmonic waves. The woman threw a golden ring down onto the streets below, then taking one last look at the cataclysmic forks of light, eased herself back into her apartment. For a minute the woman stood there, gasping for air as she laughed, tears flowing down her face. It was then that she smiled, and after closing the windowsill, she crawled into bed and passed into a blissful stupor.

2010-10-26T21:51:00.004-06:00

Time hung limply on the clocks hands; the wrists of which were broken and mangled. She sat in the living room, her fish eyes grasping no more than the lights of the bow was flashed and spoke and coaxed her into a half-remembered lullaby. Her hands held a glass of snow - the snow of man, snow which falls on the heart and mind and pulls you into a blissful stupor.

How much she wished she didn't remember.

Sleep too, changed. Finding solace in sleep was a luxury reserved for the forgetful. Now it sharpened its teeth on her smile and made her remember. It fed off of the pain, it grew with her hatred. The more she stayed awake, the more it crept into the land of the living. There is no haven for those who wish to forget.

She awoke; moved on She got ready and walked three blocks down to the bus stop. There she stood, shoulders crumpled, knees crumpled, heart crumpled. She stood, shifting her weight from side to side. A small child with his mother stood not far off, his small black eyes staring relentlessly at the woman. A minute passed the ten, then an hour. Finally a bus - new and red - drove up and stopped. The mother and her child got in. Still the woman waited.

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

The sun was now at its blissful peak, rays of sun playing a sonata to all that would listen. The woman got up, and walked back to the apartment, back to the room where the television was still shouting out its usual juxtaposition of nonsense. She turned it off, picked up the glass off of the floor, hid the crystal bottle full of snow, and turned to the table. There, a spread of papers with a singular pen lay. If you took a glance, you might notice that the writing the pages do contain is sparse, and in short bursts, like a fragment that you might have heard while walking through a room with the radio on. She picks them up, one by one, and stacks them into the corner of the desk. On a clean sheet of paper, she wrote: bus didn't come.

The woman stared at the page, stared at her hands. Stacked the page in between the one which read morning is kind at first and he didn't come home today. She got into bed, fully clothed, and looked up at the ceiling. It too contained a sort of static reminiscent of a television screen. Snow fell from the ceiling, and onto the mind of the woman. Sleep came, and with it the laughter of her memories.

She was standing at a bus stop. With her stood Christopher, sucking on a candy stick. They both had been much younger at the time, she about five and him about seven. They had been given change to go to the store for bus tickets and a few sticks of candy. She remembers how sticky the ticket had gotten from her fingers. The sun had been blessing them with a heat only remembered in that summer.

Now it is fall, a few years later. Christopher no longer held candy between his lips; instead, cigarettes adorned him with their grey lace trailing out of the tips. She remembered him the best like this, his floppy brown hair and leather jackets and halfhearted smile. She remembered how he came and went with his cloud of haze, which only enhances the mystery of that smile.

She woke up vividly, sweat drenched the sheets and her clothes. She got up, ran to the living room, and grabbed the bottle of snow with rain on her face. Drank one glass, then another, hoping the snow would cool the heart. But the rain kept on falling. Hacking sobs of rain, which melted the snow. Rain which burned through all the snow and came to the earth.

And in the earth a cigarette butt still smoldered, grey smoke encircling it like lace from a half-forgotten dream.

Koalas

2010-10-16T00:25:00.003-06:00

Hello everyone.

It has been a long time since I really wrote anything with real substance here. So, I thought I would write something tonight...straight from my own dysfunctional mind. I have been totally bummed out for a solid 3 months and I am not totally sure why. I think it is just this time of year that makes me feel this way. It is too hectic. I have way too much to do, and I am just not getting enough support. But how can you even bother asking anyone for anything, when 90% of the population is just as busy as you are. So...I move forward and life goes on.

Anyway, the purpose of this post is for me to share something interesting that popped into my mind 5 minutes ago.

Do you ever have a moment where you think that you must be going crazy? That you honestly must be losing you mind to be in the state that you are in? The good news, is that if you are actually going crazy you will be the last one to know. Isn't that awesome? For everyones viewing pleasure I decided to look up the definition of crazy on Urban Dictionary.

Crazy:
1) insane,psycho,high,loony,absolutely awsome,free-willed

2)often used by people to describe what they do not understand or think is not how something or someone should be and or act

I think I am done with this post. Sorry to get you excited for something awesome. The font has changed all of a sudden, and I am unsure of which font I was using before. Oh well.

Happy Friday night everyone!

2010-10-06T10:46:00.002-06:00

And then they wonder why...

2010-10-05T21:53:00.003-06:00

2010-09-22T23:22:00.002-06:00

Hello stranger.

2010-09-21T20:17:00.002-06:00

You are the most beautiful person I have ever met -
when I see your eyes, the depth behind them entrances me,
when you smile, I see the broken heart that forms it.
You are perfect,
you are smart,
you make me believe in the good.
I may not know you,
but I would trust you with my life.
I love you.

I had a lot of spare time.

2010-09-19T13:31:00.000-06:00

2010-09-19T13:16:00.001-06:00

2010-09-13T20:45:00.002-06:00

HELP! i've lost my brain -
have you seen it anywhere?
it's pinkish, and soft, and it has all sorts of wonderful
thoughts, ideas, and memories inside.
if you look closely maybe you'll see when my daddy
and i dug for worms in the back-yard -
these long, magestic worms that oozed so pleasantly between
my tiny four-year-old fingers.
or maybe you'll find the time when I gave my doll a haircut
and then dyed her barbie hair green with markers....
oh.. no? sorry miss. make sure to keep an eye out!

excuse me, sir -
have you seen my brain anywhere?
The last time i saw it was when... don't go sir!
i'm not crazy, i swear i left it somewhere..

have you seen a missing brain lying around anywhere?
if you look inside you'll see the time when i was on vacation
in mexico with my family; and out of the blue I decided to hop onto a bus
and go into town all by... i understand you are busy, but you have to understand,
it's my BRAIN i'm missing

excuse me -
(a sharp breath as i look up, only to see YOU
here, with your floppy hair and sunflower eyes, holding my brain ...
and my heart)

2010-09-11T13:41:00.004-06:00

Touch.
Touch the one you love.
Love.
Love the skin that envelops the hungry wanter.
Want.
Want the life that life gives you.
Live.
Live to feel the simple ecstasy of half-forgotten dreams.
Dream.
Dream of a technicolor reality where death sings us lullabies.
Happy, sad. Sleep, awake. Blink, look. Laugh.

Feel.

Absolute Harmony

2010-09-10T10:20:00.005-06:00

In the serenity of the restless leaves, I feel love.
Beautiful colours swirl around as the wind hits me with gentle force.
This is the absolute harmony, and it is alive.

2010-08-14T23:44:00.001-06:00

Give me fiction, fill me yellow.
Paint my eyes, make me a butterfly.

2010-08-05T02:56:00.001-06:00

I'm sorry world,
no one told me it would end up this way.

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

2010-07-22T20:51:00.001-06:00

Poster of a Girl.

2010-07-15T21:49:00.005-06:00

Nicole, Crissy Field Parking Lot (I)

Katy Grannan (American, born 1969)

I went on a Museum of Modern Art splurge today and went through their archive of photos.

Here are a few that struck me as particularly fantastic.

Self-Portrait at 17 Years Old

Gillian Wearing (British, born 1963

David "Chick" Chicone, Portland, Maine

Phillip Pisciotta (American, born 1970)

Sam, Bedoin, France

Nicholas Nixon (American, born 1947)

Bebe, Brookline

Nicholas Nixon (American, born 1947)

Untitled from the series On the Sixth Day

Alessandra Sanguinetti (American, born 1968)

And that's only a taste. I highly encourage you to go scouting through the collections yourself. So long for now.

Some brain food.

2010-07-15T21:06:00.002-06:00

When you wake up, is it real life you are waking into - or is it really just one long dream interrupted by spurts of real life which we hardly ever remember?

When you fall asleep, are you actually entering a state of interconnected consciousness with the people around you; or is it only you in your mind, opening it up? Which truth would be scarier?

You decide.

Must go faster.

2010-07-04T13:59:00.002-06:00

Canada Day

2010-07-01T23:03:00.003-06:00

Hello friends!

This post is dedicated to anyone out there that still reads this blog. You are a hero.
Posting has been a bit sparse lately. I know that personally...I have just not felt motivated or creative enough to write anything. I am breaking the silent trend.

Today is Canada Day. I had to work, but hopefully you didn't have to. Hopefully you spent the day covered from head to toe in red and white, screaming loudly, eating food, and watching fireworks.

Keep shining. There will be much more to read soon!

Not Such a Stranger Anymore?

2010-06-17T22:55:00.001-06:00

2010-06-06T22:46:00.001-06:00

Bliss?

Why, you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerf herder!

2010-05-21T12:26:00.006-06:00

Who's scruffy lookin'?

Is there a good way to live?

2010-05-15T21:15:00.003-06:00

Or do we just survive?

2010-05-05T22:50:00.000-06:00

Why are you searching?

2010-05-04T22:40:00.002-06:00

Boy you have let yourself down
relax it's only water
why have you let yourself drown
you know how much you matter
someday we'll go to the carnival
and we'll feel what it means to be safe
I'll climb through the tunnel to your open door
and we'll fly away from unanswered fears

Someday we'll go to the movies
And preserve our mem'ries in tears
Is it yours or hers or mine or his?
Doesn't matter... we're all gone and dead.

Help me
I see fish in the air
Won't you help me
You know that I'm scared
God oh help me
The sink's clogging with hair
Please just tell me
tell me that you're here

Boy you have let yourself down
relax it's only water
why have you let yourself drown
you know how much you matter
someday we'll go to the carnival
and we'll feel what it means to be safe
I'll climb through the tunnel to your open door
and we'll fly away from unanswered fears

I will write words of love, in time.

2010-05-04T22:16:00.001-06:00

Fall down and get up words? There are none.
But that's why we have hands.
So we can lend them.

2010-05-04T22:12:00.001-06:00

(for only in
painful exhaltation within liquid
cusps of realities do
lovers unite)
but wanting is doubting and always
forever is subjective(heaven being
the cause of deaths pitying smile)
never is ever nothing

Hope Is In the Air.

2010-05-04T22:03:00.000-06:00

And I am on the ground.

"It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public. "

2010-05-01T18:58:00.001-06:00

"Replicants are like any other machine - they're either a benefit or a hazard. If they're a benefit, it's not my problem."

Qu'est Que C'est?

2010-04-21T19:41:00.002-06:00

Shiva

2010-04-20T23:00:00.000-06:00

The translucently oneiric quality with which she
held herself was darkly fascinating
the corridors of her
mouth held secrets sustained on
mud. Luscious lips
tied a white ribbon through the
pot. Holes of my mind which are
endless and unflinching and through which
I must navigate while she cooes with promises of
sleep. Less nights full of cinammon air and
drenched velvet clinging to
the contours of consciousness which
pull at my heart. Strings and pull
me ap a r t apa r t a pa rt
a p a r t.

She is the very creator of my willful destruction.
Hello Shiva.

Sunshine.

2010-04-20T22:34:00.001-06:00

And you are perfect.

It's not our place to adjust the universe.

2010-04-17T23:03:00.001-06:00

Fuzz.

2010-04-17T22:59:00.008-06:00

The rap of the keys on the counter. Eyes blurry. Heavy. Mottled skin, bloated. Fingernails swollen and tired. Collapse into bed and surrender to the ripples. Surrender to the gray. Mind is floating far, far. But no coherent thought enters. Nothing comprehends.

There's one. Fish floating in the sky. Papers and plates to wash. Time-lines without expiration dates. I'm on the swings now. There sits a girl with brilliantly red hair, with a smile that is deeper than my heart.

Cubicles caked with rust and lusty profanities. Torn apologies flutter in the cloudy sky. A ribbon woven, white, throughout time and space. I stir a small silver spoon in a pot of tea, and then I realize.

Our greatest enemy is the gray. The never changing order of things, through which the poisonous seeds of boredom and thought ensue. The inability to be aware of a single moment or thing, the inability to grasp the simple beauty of life. When we are gray, we forget how to live; even though all we are doing the whole time is perfoming the cycles of life.

When we are gray, we wash away simplicity. We wash away complexity. We wash away love, passion, anger, hate.

Monotony will become your destruction.

Chewed fingernails, bad haircuts. I slip in and out of lucidity. Not minding really. Just waiting to throw my keys on the counter and dissolve into the folds of my consciousness and slip away. It will all become clear someday. Maybe.

2010-04-15T23:23:00.004-06:00

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

2010-04-10T18:47:00.000-06:00

They asked me why I was leaving Facebook. Don't ask me things unless you really want to know.

2010-03-30T23:17:00.003-06:00

I hate Facebook because it is demoralizing, a waste of time. And I find that too many people use it in situations that are advantageous to them. I am finding I am losing HUMAN person-to-person contact. And I never want the human factor to fail being a factor. I think you understand why. I appreciate what you are doing for other people. Not for me however.

P.S. keeping a person's info after they have insisted on not existing is a bad selling point. It is more scary than you think. And it is crossing more than a few ethical boundaries there.

And I hope you understand. It was nice for a while, until I realized that something meant for good was becoming the ruin of people.
Good day to you all.

Existence?

2010-03-25T20:22:00.004-06:00

Sometimes I worry about my sanity.

But then I realize that there is no one that can truly prove anything.

It's all in my head, but who is to say what's real?

The biggest battle ever fought, all contained within six inches of space.

Fascinating really.

Sometimes I'm not even sure if I exist.

Do you know any better? Even if you do, how can I ever trust you?

How can you trust me?

How do you define sanity, then?

The Good, The Bad, and The Badass.

2010-03-23T21:32:00.008-06:00

Before I even begin to start with a case for God, I begin with a question.

Why does there need to be a case for God?

I mean, if God himself was SO terrified of not existing in our hearts and minds, then He would have made it blatantly obvious by now that He does, in fact, exist. Now I'm referring to God as a human, and as a male - but I only have been as a matter of convenience, rather than as a statement.
To clear that whole mess up - is God a male? Is he even human?
In my opinion (and of course this isn't the right opinion, there is no right opinion when it comes to these things), God can be a number of things. We as humans, having a very limited knowledge of the universe at hand, base our knowledge off of things that we DO know. What do we know then? We know people. We know that people are fundamentally good, we know that people like to love, we know that people are complex but also far too straight forward to understand the abstract concepts that surround us on a daily basis. We know what a fatherly figure looks like, we know how comfortable and forgiving a nurturing mother is. So naturally, we as humans assume that God is in fact, well, human. And why male? Our last era or so has been predominantly masculine, war driven. I'm not saying that males are at nature violent or straightforward or punishing at all. No. I'm just saying that this - tendency, this feeling of drive and such things - is what we have known to make our world go around. And so, naturally, we assume that this is how God makes the world go round. On the contrary, I believe that God is a mix of masculine and feminine. The feminine is mother nature, it is what makes the world exist. Spontaneous, earthy. The masculine though, is our driving force. So the feminine is what makes the world exist, the masculine is why we are still existing. Why the world turns and things move on. The Yin and Yang, so to speak.

And so we move on. What, or who, is God? Well. When in doubt, I always go back to the basic things. And so I ask you - what is the ONE thing that all of us humans believe in?

It's simple, really. It's love.

I believe, that at one point and time, there had been a large amount of collective consciousness swirling around in nothing. Now I say nothing, but I truly do not know what had happened - so bear with me. Anyways. As I was saying, there was this large gathering of love. And well, I feel somehow that there had been a triggering point, when suddenly things started to go into motion. When everything exploded and a plethora of everything became physical. It became. And that of course, is around the time that God happened. Because He is just a manifestation of all of us.

Now whether He has definitive opinions, whether He is active in our lives, I do not know. But basing off of what we do know... I think that God is very human. That He loves us in every single fiber of His being. That He is like a mother in giving us free will. Speaking of free will.. why do we have it? Now all of these things are far too complex to be covered in one shot, but in short I do think that when you really love a person, you would love them enough to let them have a chance at being alive. Even if it meant that they would get hurt. This is love in its purest, unadulterated form. And in turn, this is the way that I think that God behaves. He wants to give us a chance. Even if He knows the consequences that might result in doing so.

So does God exist? I do believe that something out there is active in our lives. I do believe that simple acts of kindness are the miracles that make me smile and have hope in our world. I do believe in, above all, in love.

And for all you skeptics out there - does it matter whether or not we believe in God? Do you really think that God is going to send you to hell simply because of "human error?" Do you truly believe that if there if some bizarre chance that something out there outside of ourselves exists, that it is going to be cruel and heartless? It might as scary as hell to meet God, but I do not think really, that there is a hell. I find the perfectly angelic chaos in which we live in to be reason enough to believe in God -but that is just me. I understand that most people require facts, proof, rewards or a ratification of sorts that this is just not blind faith. And I get that it is hard, if not impossible, for some people to accept anything of what I am saying. That is perfectly viable. Perfectly reasonable. Why should I be right, after all? And this is the beauty of it all. There is no right answer. There are just different ones.

I love the simple things in life. I love it when a mother tucks her child in bed, when a stranger drops a few meager coins into a begging hand. I love it when people smile, when people cry, when they get angry. It is so beautiful. All of it. This, for me, is God.
God for me, is love. There does not always have to be a reason for love. It just happens.
In the same way - does there need to be a reason for God?

Life is not fair.

2010-03-21T15:32:00.003-06:00

I started writing a post about the fairness of life back in October. I fought with myself forever, attempting to come to a conclusion... so, I stopped. I stopped worrying about it, and I stopped trying to understand. It has almost been 6 months, and now I am here to finish.

Is life fair? In the moment of pain, sadness, anger, or heartbreak we all have said the simple phrase that seems to make the most sense "Life is not fair."
I have fallen short, and have been been quick to judge the world, instead of looking to myself for the blame.
Life is a journey, and by no means is it easy.

But let me tell you something...life is not fair.

Maybe things are the way they are just because everything is what it is- but that makes it no easier. What is really unfortunate and very unfair though, is our unwillingness to help one another. We are all in this world, and we all have to suffer- and for you to ignore that simple fact is selfish. Who are you to say you suffer more than the next person? We all have a mountain to climb, and we each climb it at different speeds, but it is our job to ensure that everyone reaches the top.

Life is not fair, and maybe a small part of you can take refuge in that. The world is not out to get you, so you can't let self destruction ruin you.

Self pity will radiate arrogance.

Love, and be loved.
Happy spring.

Nothing.

2010-03-17T21:33:00.004-06:00

It is not our light that scares us.
For what is light?
Light to us is sunrises, sunsets, light bulbs for late nights.
There can be stark light, dull light, flickering light, fading light.
It is the flutter of your heart as your lover leaves his warming position.
Light can also be a revelation.
Are you scared of revelations? Perhaps.
If you had to choose between knowing everything about someone you loved before you decided to marry them, would you? Or would you rather have the unexpected?

Light can be blinding.
It is always honest.
Sometimes brutally so.
Yet after you after you have found light, you never turn away.
We seek comfort in light.

So do we fear darkness?
Do you truly fear that fast void within your head, your head, your bones?
Do you truly fear the cover of your blankets, the shadow of your love?

So then, what do we fear?

Some fear the static. The grey. In there all the colours we have been too afraid to find can be found. There, the shadows and limits of dawn and dusk seclude themselves from our ever-analytical minds. Others thrive here, within the hair-thin cusps between reality and insanity.

We fear invisibility -
of ourselves,
of reality,
of truth.
We fear, ironically enough, the most harmless thing of all.

Nothing.

2010-03-16T18:56:00.001-06:00

It is not our darkness that scares us, it is our light.

Word Salad.

2010-03-14T22:03:00.003-06:00

I scratch at the indentations of my elbows, trying to rub off the tiny little bed bugs that nested there. There were always there. Whether I looked at them or not, they were there - tiny little red dots with pincers that itched my skin. So I rubbed them, looking around me while the walls swam and Mary whispered in my ear, "It would all go away Paul if you stopped rubbing. Then the little bugs would go into your blood and eat through your head until there were these big holes in it. Like Swiss cheese Paul. You like Swiss cheese." But even if I stopped, I knew that they would never go in - no. They were here, always here. Along with my swimming walls with the wet paint. They were a comfort of mine, always here.
The man in the soup pajamas wore a banana hat - but I hated that banana hat. Or was it a hat? No matter - he always called me Henry. But I'm Mary The Rational, everyone knew that. Even Paul and Frank and well everyone. Yesterday I painted the walls red with my fingertips so Paul would stop complaining about the paint swimming. I love to sing about the goats climbing on clouds with the stuffed spiders polkaing on the crescent of the moon. It's nice because you can change the melody every time. I like melodies - I also like the girl with fenced teeth and the smock. She's nice.
Today the assistant - Patricia with the braces - came in asking me my name. I hate that woman. Every time she comes in and asks me for my fucking name. I think she would have figured out who the hell I am by now. I mean, she's here almost every fucking day. It's Frank - I tell her. I want to strangle that bitch - watch the veins pulse with every antagonizing second. And then that crack of her neck... ohh. But no. I sit here, watching her flaunt that lovely figure while she asks me if I had heard from Paul or Mary and when I expected Henry to come back because she needed to talk to him .... and I sit here nodding flexing my fingers looking at her pretty white little neck. What a pity.
Breathe in, breathe out. I feel the little blue core inside of me light up my spine, open my cerebral cortex. Open my mind, embrace it. Envelop the darkness from whence I came. That little blue ball of light in the core. Feel time loop, stop, go backwards. Breathe in, breathe out. I am freeing myself from my identity. I am insignificant, lost. Let the Buddha envelop me. I am Raphael, a tiny speck in this nebula. Feel it. Embrace it. Breathe in, breathe out.
I sit huddled in the corner of this cramped cell. I've lost track of time a long while back. My fingers are marred to the bone. Somebody told me that I had drawn on the walls with blood. Something about goats and spiders, they said. It doesn't matter. It's cold down here, it's been ages since I've had a cigarette. Or anything else for that matter. The doctors even took me off my meds for a while, to see how - tragic - the symptoms truly are. But even now, even with the meds, I can feel them. Mary, Raphael, Frank, Paul. They're all here - smiling, encouraging me. I love them all. They've never left me since the beginning of this ordeal. Not once.
I'm afraid of when the doctors finally get it right.

Who will I be then?

Who holds your key?

2010-03-09T21:54:00.001-07:00

So, I was supposed to write a blog today. Today is Tuesday, and it was a long day. I did not have a free moment until now- and finally when I received this free time to sit and write to you- I was quickly scrambling for ideas. Rushing is never an answer. I remained blank. Anyway, I went to search through some artwork- and I came out inspired!

I have always been intrigued by pictures that represent freedom. It is interesting, because they all can be so different. The lock and key- a perfect representation of captivity and freedom. Such large, and complicated states of living brought together. Who holds your key? This is the question that flashes through my thoughts.

We as people, are quick to place the blame away from ourselves. It is just the way it is. It is a talent we must learn over time, to be able to accept the things we cannot change. Pain is inevitable.

Nobody broke your heart. You broke your own. — Elliott Smith

We each have a heart, and we each hold a key. Danger will come, but you just have to trust that you know where your heart is, and trust that you will remember where you put the spare key.

When you got hurt, it made you beautiful. The cracks around your heart, they let the light shine through. When you got hurt in pieces on the floor, put them back together even better than before.
— John Mayer

That is all I have for now. There was going to be more...Perhaps I will make this a 2 part post.
Goodnight everyone!

First Timer.

2010-03-02T13:45:00.004-07:00

My complete inability to concentrate will hit me someday. I know this.

But for now, all I want to do is listen to music and sleep.

That's all.

Anything else is just fuzzy, distracting.

But this warm appreciation of music isn't fuzzy.

In fact, it's the clearest thing on the planet. And besides, it's rewarding.

And who doesn't like sleeping?

Stop.

2010-03-02T10:17:00.000-07:00

Stop.

Just stop it. Drop everything you're doing, drop everything that's on your mind. All that baggage. All that unwanted trash. Yes you. Stop it. You're driving me mad.

I see you, day in, and day out. Running from place to place, hopping from one responsibility to another. Occupying yourself with books, computers, dates, times, things to do, things to miss. Just stop - you don't know what you are doing to yourself.

You're ruining yourself. Driving yourself into the ground.
So stop. Breathe.

Love. Have fun.

Learn to smile again.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

2010-03-02T09:33:00.004-07:00

I love George Harrison. There is no doubting this, everyone that knows me well enough knows my passion for the so-called "shy" Beatle. But why?

Well my friends, George was so unlike the other Beatles that it is impossible to hate him. His unbelievably tasty guitar solos have revolutionized the way guitar solos are played everywhere; his skills as a player and a songwriter should alone be enough reason to love him. But no, there is more. Not only was George unbelievably talented, he was also an incredibly open guy. His enthusiasm with every genre of music led to the Beatles incorporating the Sitar into their songs, his flexiblilty led Paul and John to challenge him at every turn.

And not only that, George was and is a person that I have immense respect for. He patiently stood at the sidelines when it came to music writing... and even though girls screamed and threw jelly babies at him... there still came little to no music writing oppurtunites within the Beatles group itself. Besides, it had been George that truly led the Beatles to receive high class respect within musicians everywhere. Before, they'd just been a "skiffle," or "rock-and-roll," group; but as George pushed the group into folk-style music, the very music of the Beatles and indeed of the world was revolutionized. Rubber Soul and Revolver indeed pushed the very limits of music in that era, and is widely appreciated by musicians everywhere. And yet, once again, little or no acknowledgement was awarded to George. He had to deal with traumatizing life experiences - and still managed to keep his head over the water.

Go put on some Beatles, and listen to George. It will do you some good.

Talking to Mary.

2010-02-27T11:01:00.004-07:00

It was her that followed down every stupid turn that you took.
I told you so.

Wisdom.

2010-02-23T21:04:00.005-07:00

Do you know how people say that with experience comes wisdom?
I'm not exactly sure that this is true anymore -
The more that you live life.... the more you start to regret things.

Certainly you learn some things - you learn that with over-drinking comes a splitting headache; that maybe next time you should wear mittens EVEN if they don't match with your coat.
But you also start to let things go... you push the boundaries that had been set there by your parents, let go of morals that you had before. And then you realize why you had them. You realize why you treasured purity, why you cheered for good and cuddled closer to your mother whenever the wicked witch was to make a guest appearance.

But as we grow older, we begin to comprehend that we are the wicked witch - that it's with the few inches of space inside of our heads that we are battling with. And if we don't like the ending we just can't go to sleep and leave the lights on in the hallways. Or have a warm bath and sink under the water with all of our troubles. We just can't put this book away in the dark corner of the bookshelf. Because we only have one book... and we can't rip out the pages.

I got hit by a car today - and let me tell you - I learned nothing.

I just came to accept that life sort of runs its course and that one day there will be a car with our name on it. Sometimes you get lucky.. but it's just a matter of time before someone forgets to apply the brakes.

Pain.

2010-02-20T16:26:00.001-07:00

I'm very frustrated.
People can be complete idiots at times.

Yesterday someone asked me -
Why is there so much pain on earth?
If God exists and he really loves us, then why did he allow for sin and for pain to exist on earth?
He could give us freedom - but without all this. Couldn't he?

Well yes. He could.
But think about someone that is very close to you. If you really love them, you would wish for them to live the fullest life possible, no matter what that entitles. When you have a child, you realize that there is a day where you must let go. Even when it means that they will get hurt. If you shield them from everything that is bad, will they ever truly value good? Will they ever feel truly free? Truly balanced?

And besides, pain is much more valuable then people seem to realize.

Without disasters, would acts of generosity ever happen? If you never missed someone, would you ever be truly affectionate to them? Without pain, how would you understand the depth of your love after another person's death? Without fright, would you ever hold your child oh so very close to you?

Without pain, would you ever fully understand the worth of love?

Open your heart. Open your mind. Stop asking questions, and just listen.

Sometimes it gets a little cold inside...

2010-02-14T23:17:00.002-07:00

But they told me, they told me-
I should just concentrate and breathe.

Where life had no value, death, sometimes, had its price.

2010-02-12T19:28:00.004-07:00

"I didn't hear what the bet was."
"Your life."

I'll kiss you again,

2010-02-11T13:40:00.005-07:00

I zip up my hoodie,
ruffle my hair,
get some Vietnamese food for breakfast.

Sit down at home and munch away -
reading a fantasy you lent me
an entire lifetime ago.

Hours come to pass,
as does to the day.

Only my lips truly show that beneath the
uncharacteristically melancholic euphoria
that my body has been experiencing,
there lies an intricately undeniable
thirst.

"I like you the best...."

P.S. I love you.

XO

Mentioning Politics.

2010-02-05T23:08:00.002-07:00

If I ruled the world,

I would make nap time mandatory.

Then you and I could finally hold each other.

Milk and cookies are optional.

Look up.

2010-02-03T22:24:00.004-07:00

Calm down for a minute, and steal some time.
You don't have to rush.
Open your eyes, and enjoy the surroundings...
they may not last forever.
But don't you worry, there is time right now.
You have time to wonder...
slow down and smile, it will be alright.
Love each moment, and take it all in.
Look up before you hit the ground.

...

2010-01-31T12:06:00.007-07:00

+

+

=

I like the original touch James. Really, just some brand spanking new material you got there sir.

Through the looking glass.

2010-01-31T11:11:00.004-07:00

The cold enveloped me, embraced me, filled every crevice of my lungs with life. My eyes were unbelieving, I looked at my hands to reinforce their existence. It all looked so complete, so bittersweet, so lovely. So beautiful. So unnatural. He walks up behind me, fills in the empty spots with his warmth. Embraces me, holds me. Anchored. Yet, it's still so unreal. Too perfect, too heart wrenching.

There comes a point and time in everyone's life when they look upon a moment like this, and realize it's not theirs to experience. They stand at the sidelines, maybe with another, and want to cry at the sheer beauty of what is happening. Yet, they don't want to break the ethereal looking glass that has been presented to them. So they stand there, hiding behind a smile. Waiting for their turn.

I look around. Snowflakes drop heavily upon the ice, putting weight on everything. Hush now child, enjoy what you have - they cried. It will be all gone by the morning, we will hide the evidence of this. You don't have to deny yourself this moment.

Yet, I knew. We all know. Even if we let go, even if we really did take the time to appreciate this - life, beauty, fragility of moments, innocence - what would happen to us? What would become of the meaning behind our routines, our chases, our work, our early morning rises and late nights? What would, then, we be? Is it all futile?

Left foot forward, right foot forward. Swish, swish. Silence. I'm by no means a skater, but I like to enjoy the company of those I love. Even when it means I stand alone. My sheer inability to let go has left me here. In the middle of a frozen pond, left in the dark. Left foot forward, right foot forward. Don't let go of the one you love. You'll fall straight through the ice.

Am I then not defined by what I make of myself, but by what I love?

A street lamp lit the longing trees with a forgiving halo. I loved everyone here. So much. I loved the moon hiding behind the clouds, I loved my fellow angels in the snow. I loved the man sitting beside me, warming me with his smile. I loved their laughs, their excitement, their dreams and hopes. Their ability to forget and let go. I loved this, I loved life. Yet I knew this wasn't for me to love, this wasn't mine.

Sometimes you look at life, and you realize that by now, you should have figured out something. That something should have gone right by now. But it never does. It never happens.

I suck in the cold. Breathe in, breathe out. Laugh at someone's joke. Take life in at the looking glass, hoping that someday I won't have to anymore. Hoping that someday, it will be my turn.

Because everyone deserves a turn, don't they?

Don't they?

2010-01-27T11:37:00.003-07:00

Lookin' for some happiness....

Good morning world.

2010-01-27T10:55:00.004-07:00

I wake up,
slip on my jeans and a splattered tank top.
I eat a liter of yogurt,
I crank up the stereo at ten in the morning
and I dance like a madman,
sing my lungs out,
run my hands through my wet hair.

Now I run outside dressed as I am,
take in the pristine blue sky,
crystalline snow,
I take it all in -
every part of me invigorated.
Freezing. Alive.

Good Morning World.
I'm ready.

I think we'll have to walk.

2010-01-25T12:35:00.001-07:00

'Cause what is simple in the moonlight
by the morning never is.

Shut Down.

2010-01-21T22:13:00.002-07:00

Turn off.

In your car.
When it all suddenly becomes silent.
Eerily calm,
Music stops playing,
Engines stop rumbling.

And the machine begins to rest.

In your room.

When it all becomes pitch black,
And you shut your eyes,

For the night,

And you begin to rest.

When the rush of the rolling world seems to stand still.

Until you turn it on again, that is.

Starlight.

2010-01-19T18:52:00.002-07:00

Starlight's fading,
Hope is dying
I don't think I'll live to see the sun.
Live a daydream,
Eyes wide open
I don't I'll ever see the point.
But if you, want to stay
Get the hell out of my way.

Lovely stranger,
Sing a song,
If you think it lasts then you're wrong.
Move on baby
don't run standing,
Live your live and nobody cares.
But if you, want to stay
Get the hell out of my way.

And I know it's never easy,
but that's well understood.
And I know someday you'll meet me,
But till then, dear, farewell.

Starlight's fading,
Hope is dying
I don't think I'll live to see the sun.

The Game of Life

2010-01-16T12:39:00.001-07:00

I sit here,

Pondering,

Wondering,

Thinking about anything that comes to mind.

Why am I here?

What is my purpose?

Then an epiphany,

Life is a game,

And im losing.

First Blood

2010-01-14T21:06:00.002-07:00

Just as the sword slices,

Human flesh.

The quill slices words onto,

paper.

Some people are brave enough to embrace,

the sword.

Some challenge,

the pen.

The difference lies in the story,

we write,

And with which medium,

we dip our weapon in.

But we all draw blood.

Cassette Tapes...

2010-01-09T19:44:00.006-07:00

Hi everyone. I am pretty much drained. A mindless wanderer. It isn't so bad sometimes- the things I think about during these circumstances are all so beautiful and simple. Nothing has, or will, drastically change my mood.
I am kind of a sentimental person. It may not seem like it, but I just have this crazy memory for people and situations. Now, that doesn't mean I am going to remember your name right away- of course there are flaws. Anyway... back to my point. I often get excited about random photographs. They will remind me of something and by the time I am done looking, I have gone back in time and looped all the way back around again.

This one had me smiling today. Remembering cassette tapes...
Music used to be so much more artistic. When cassette tapes were in high popularity illegally downloading music off the Internet was still a thing of the future. People used to actually be excited for new albums. The anticipation would grow for months, and people would run to music stores. I still buy CD's often, although the last 2 I bought were not very awesome- and it has left me feeling poor. Vinyl records are the coolest though. Not just because they sound real... but because the album art is huge. They are coming back you know! That will be interesting.
Cassette tapes were an odd little time in music history. They remind me of VHS tapes. Haha Whatever. The point I was trying to get to, was that it was a real pain when the cassette tape unraveled.

I obviously can not use commas properly.

Much love.

My dearest icon.

2010-01-01T22:20:00.004-07:00

My dear little chat icon, oh how I wish you would turn green. You simply cannot understand the endless frustration and hours that I spend, going on and off of the computer, checking to see if you had changed within the last five minutes. It drives me crazy, waiting for you to come online...

Oh oh oh oh. It's green! It's green! IT'S GREEN! But NOW I'm miserable because I don't know what to say. I don't know whether I'll sound too needy or if I'll sound too casual. Is "hi" really the safe way to go, or should I open with something fresh and dar... Oh wait.. what?

No no no no. Don't do this to me. It's just a malfunction, something's obviously gone wrong. I've gone color blind, my computer has suddenly stopped showing the color green, something else...Damn it.

You're offline again.

New decade...new beginnings?

2010-01-01T02:35:00.003-07:00

I thought it might be nice to write about this occasion. I don't know why- I find New Years hard. I tried to write about this earlier, and came up short. What is that saying? "If at first you don't succeed, try try again." That drives me crazy. What ever happened to "I don't want to"? That has been floating in my thoughts for days. Relentlessly. I have had to fight myself off to even walk out my front door. Anyway, I will save that for another time. New years... I could always write something with some sort of artistic value, and hope that it spreads inspiration- but who am I kidding? It is almost 3am. It's not happening.

So...I will leave you with my hope. My hope is that this new year of 2010 is everything you hope for. Filled with joy and new discoveries. My wish, is that you find comfort. Contentment. Picture perfect moments. Love in all aspects.

Goodnight, and Happy 2010.

Cause hell what's it all about anyway?

2009-12-29T00:11:00.007-07:00

I'm sitting here, cramped on this blasted chairlift. The wind is whipping at my face, numbing my cheeks and neck with sharp prickles. My feet have lost all feeling in them, although I did distinctly remember them searing with pain just a few moments ago. My mind flashes back to twenty minutes before, where I had been blissfully cramped up asleep in my mother's van. Oh, how simple life had been when I could nap at will!

A snap of wind diverts my attention back to the present situation. It's all a game of survival at this stage, a game of wits and ... oh how cold it is. I wish I could just curl up and fall asleep again, anywhere. Even that snowbank over there looks fairly habitable, especially if it was to be a temporary-type-thing.

But then I get to the top of the mountain. The wind howls up here, with a sheer force that is completely alien to me. Any lingering thoughts of resent vanish as I gaze upon the beauty that has been bestowed upon me. I felt almost guilty, looking at its pure divinity. There below me, the valleys that cusp between the mountaintops were graced with the wispiest of clouds. Feather-like, ethereal, they were curled as if God himself had twirled these gray strands of hair around his fingers. The setting sun cast pockets of gold light upon them, lighting a smile upon everything it touched. A fine mist sparkled around me, danced, as the wind continued to howl and crackle around me. The mountains kept their solemn omnipotence as I held my breath, exhilarated.

I think I finally know what it's all about.

A note on oatmeal.

2009-12-27T22:51:00.009-07:00

Why is it so difficult for us to accept the inevitable?
Why do we find an urge to run from place to place, to avoid the truth that is staring at us?
Why is it so difficult for us as human beings to not question the unanswerable?
Why..... do we ask?

I'm in an interesting mood today, so to complement the day I've decided to try and tackle the interesting questions.
With.... a story.

Today I was hustled out of bed five minutes before we were to leave for church. My father obviously expects me to go and shower, change, and get ready in under this time and still manage to stomach a bowl of oatmeal.

A note about oatmeal - It is awful, I cannot stand it. Something about warm milk and soggy oatmeal flakes all the consistency, texture, and taste of wallpaper paste simply does not imply to me like it should be edible in any sort of way.

Moving on, I wharf down my oatmeal and run into the car to get to church. Let me tell you, I was in no mood today to go to church. I'd been away from any decent sort of contact for ages and the aftermath of Christmas makes me want to sleep for the next week. But all things aside, I was also a little nervous about going to church. Ironic really, considering that that is the place that you are to obtain salvation. On a broader note, maybe I didn't want to obtain salvation. Not quite. I wasn't sure, really.

I get into my pew, and here is what I realize. The answer to all those questions..(Why is it so difficult for us to accept the inevitable? Why do we find an urge to run from place to place, to avoid the truth that is staring at us?
Why is it so difficult for us as human beings to not question the unanswerable?) ... is that I am unable to love myself. Ok, I tell myself. No problem, just repeat it as a mantra. Get it into your head, you'll believe it sometime.

I sat there for that entire hour, repeating to myself: I love you, it's okay. I forgive you. I love you, it's okay, I forgive you. I thought I was doing well, very well in fact.

But then my brother puts his hand in mine. Unable to accept the fact that I am worthy of his attentions, his love, his worries, I burst into tears.

The lesson here? Love yourself. The side effects of not doing so are adverse and not worth exploring.

Happy Sunday everyone.

The heart of Christmas.

2009-12-26T16:20:00.011-07:00

Christmas -
It's really quite the same no matter where you go.
All cheerful and upbeat, hopeful.
A time when we oversee all differences
and welcome each other with open arms.
It's proof that at least once a year
we as a human race can put together a conscious effort for the better.

- It just fills you with an indescribable joy when you look at the big picture, doesn't it?

Christmas.

2009-12-25T23:35:00.005-07:00

This is the time, where all anticipation comes to an end.
Was it everything you hoped for?
Was it the perfect image of your dreams?
Breathless by excitement-
hearts filled, and faces bright.
Do you sit content? Or do you ache for something more?
Do you have answers? Explanations?
Or is it just a reflection?
Bittersweet.
Have a very Merry Christmas.
May joy radiate through you- if only for one moment.
See the stars in the night-
love with all your might.

Good night.

Christmas Eve.

2009-12-25T00:51:00.002-07:00

On window panes, the icy frost
Leaves feathered patterns, crissed & crossed,
But in our house the Christmas tree
is decorated festively
With tiny dots of colored light
That cozy up this Winter night.
Christmas songs, familiar slow,
Play softly on the radio.
Pops and hisses from the fire
Whistle with the bells and choir.
My tiger is now fast asleep
On his back and dreaming deep.
When the fire makes him hot,
he turns to warm whatever’s not.
Propped against him on the rug,
I give my friend a gentle hug.
Tomorrow’s what I’m waiting for,
But I can wait a little more.

Suspended...

2009-12-22T00:41:00.004-07:00

An endless dream...
moved by a shaken reality.
Here I lay-
suspended.
The sky is gray,
but the colour is within.
Clutter fills minds
as noise covers thoughts.
Drifting circles.
Endless cycles?
Come forward.

The Happy Birthday Song.

2009-12-21T21:17:00.003-07:00

I look into kaleidescope eyes
I hear the truth, but I want lies
We take the bus, your face stays true,
I'm lying now, oh why can't you?

I say it now, Happy Birthday
Why does it matter anyway?
Happy Birthday dear, my love, my sweet,
watch over me as I cry at your feet.

I love you love, I love you so,
but without you, where will I go?
I love you love but I run away
to make sure that by myself I stay

I say it now, Happy Birthday
Why does it matter anyway?
Happy Birthday dear, my love my sweet,
watch over me as I cry at your feet.

Satin Eyes. (Tina's song)

2009-12-19T14:38:00.007-07:00

Satin eyes,
a siren's song that's run askew
Satin eyes,
are leading me to somewhere new
Satin eyes,
have tied a knot that's satin blue
Satin eyes,
belong to you.

Snow on the skin (feel it within)

2009-12-16T12:12:00.004-07:00

Footsteps in the snow,
who ever really knows where they will go?
Who ever really knows where they have been?
Hush, child, find peace from within.

Angels in the snow,
so lovely in the sun they will glow,
They won't ever feel the pain of sin
Their lives are bitter, only wafer-thin.

Footsteps in the snow,
lead to beds where boys with girls will go
leads to love that I have never known,
my footsteps have left me all alone.

Angels in the snow,
Oh what bitter memories all these angels know
I take a hand and feel snow on my skin
but who will feel what I do deep within?

Snow in the mind. ( A thought )

2009-12-16T11:44:00.006-07:00

I love winter. It's when the world hibernates - life slows down. You don your tea for a hot chocolate, grab a book and read. You put on thin clothes and make snow angels, soak through your snow pants because you keep flipping your sled. You ice skate at midnight, under the halo of floodlights. While taking walks, your breath puffs into icy clouds. Snow forms in small clumps on your mittens, it hardens into ice and then melts through. Cold in unpleasant places, sweat pouring down your brow. You'll finish making your snow man, straighten your back, and then look up.

One day, life will stare back at you, laced with a sweet irony. Lights flash, posters scream, the sounds of the city speak to you. But so does the lover that now takes your cold hand in his, smiles with a light that is brighter than any shop window. But yet, in the morning, it's always to those cold busy streets that we run to, not to his warm embrace.

But for now anyways, I find comfort in the snow. At least then the cold reminds me where I am, makes me ever concious of my situation. Helps me to find true warmth.

Winter.

2009-12-13T14:04:00.002-07:00

Winter - streets ethereal tenuous mud-luscious
sleepy faces softened hearts

Snow - sleeps dances WHO-OO-SH
sends hot shards down cold lungs
prickles virgin skin

Cold - numbing painful laborious

All this weather's gone to my head,
So please - just let me go to bed.

Pen Recommendation....

2009-12-12T23:09:00.006-07:00

There has not been a post here in a while. So... for the sake of this blog, and to purely entertain myself on this cold Saturday night....I will write. I still have a little bit of time before midnight- when my brain shuts off and I can't think or spell properly anymore.

What is there to talk about? Well, nothing. So I will just talk about the thing that rocks my world- or at least puts a smile on my face.

*Drum roll*

The Sharpie Pen.

Firstly, who doesn't love writing in Sharpie? It sort of makes you feel badass. Or at least that is how I feel. It's like "Hey world, I am going to damage you with my permanent marker." You know...whatever. But what do you do with paper? Sharpie just bleeds through and makes a mess. It was a disappointment until.....du du duuuu- The Sharpie pen. I don't even know when these things came out. Summer 2009 or sometime around that. I just remember seeing the commercial and becoming extremely excited. And as a North American consumer... of course I went to the store and bought one.

It is awesome. It is the ultimate pen. It doesn't make a mess, so you can write to your hearts content....on both sides of the paper! This pen also rocks for drawing. I haven't used anything else to draw with since I got this pen. I could go on forever. But I will stop.

I love this pen. And for all you creative people....you will love it too.
Buy one.

Happy December 12.

Me + Whiteout + Binder + Time = Pure Unfiltered Awesome

2009-12-05T13:23:00.000-07:00

Snow

2009-12-04T10:49:00.008-07:00

White oceans flood the earth.
Excitement is rapid.
An initial hate, changed by beauty.
Slowing down-
perfectly still.

Awe Full Puns

2009-12-01T20:03:00.002-07:00

...why not?

Organ donors put their heart into it.

I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.

A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.

Atheism is a non-prophet organization

To write with a broken pencil is pointless.

There was once a cross-eyed teacher who couldn't control his pupils.

I like European food so I decided to Russia over there because I was Hungary. After Czech'ing the menu I ordered Turkey. When I was Finnished I told the waiter 'Spain good but there is Norway I could eat another bite.

Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.

One time, I had insomnia, so I went to take some sleeping pills, but I didn't want to wake them up.

She had a boyfriend with a wooden leg, but broke it off.

The one who invented the door knocker got a No-bell prize.

I really do have a photographic memory - I just haven't developed it yet.

The harm caused by sibling rivalry is relative.

If a judge loves the sound of his own voice, expect a long sentence.

I'm bad at math, so the equation 2n+2n is 4n to me.

If you think you are a set of curtains, either see a psychiatrist or pull yourself together.

Don't expect to eat something fancy when you're flying because it's plane food.

And many, many more....

A Lack Of Color...

2009-11-30T11:28:00.005-07:00

Fact or Fiction?

We sit here.

2009-11-29T23:10:00.003-07:00

We sit here,
the two of us,
planning
thinking
dreaming
hoping.

We love,
we cherish,
we find comfort
in the other.

Years pass-
we run,
far away
far away from the truth
ourselves
we work ourselves to death
to an unreachable dream.

But once in a while,
when we look up at the stars,
or takes a minute to play with our children,
we wonder.

We wonder what happened
to the two of us
planning
thinking
dreaming
hoping.

Seeing You.

2009-11-29T23:00:00.002-07:00

Seeing you is like looking into a mirror for the very first time -
i look into your eyes only to find
my hopes
dreams
faults
passions
thrown back at me at the same pace
with the same fevour
no judgements, no frowns,

Seeing you see me like that
with a bashful smile
or flitting eyes
makes me want to do things i've never done before
seen before
felt before
or loved-quite-like-this before,

Seeing you makes me want to curl up in your arms
feel your love for me thump with mine
ever so softly,

Seeing you makes me want to bury my head
into the creases of your shirt
i want to smell and feel
that which has been refused to me
countless times before,

Seeing you,
makes me
smile.

2009-11-27T22:39:00.017-07:00

a SPARK
- life.

liquid eyes murmur,
folding hands
envelop my finger.
raw fresh skin,
never letting go.

these tiny hands
these innocent,
tiny hands
keeping me here.
anchored.

hush. sleep.
do not let go of my hand.

Feist & Emily Haines,

2009-11-27T20:33:00.001-07:00

Feist and Emily Haines?

Together?

Nuffsaid.

Torrential Cyclone

2009-11-24T22:11:00.009-07:00

Get up rub my eyes blink away sleepy take a shower half asleep take the bus
people reek they lie they sneeze they read they walk they trip they shiver
get out of that godforsaken cesspit into prison walls all warm and nice
bright lights scrutiny furrowed eyebrows warm and nice scratches
of pencils talks with people about everything and nothing at all
get packed into the hellhole nearly unconscious nearly insane
pass out on my mattress eat drink read fight eat pass out
music mysteries literature love suffering insanity
running away from this torrential cyclone
but it seems to me that wherever i go
(scratching pencils frowning faces)
wherever I run or nap or hide
the road inexplicably
inevitably leads
to one thing:
you
.

Awkward pause.

2009-11-24T19:26:00.000-07:00

Even In The Quietest Moments...

2009-11-24T10:21:00.003-07:00

Music is what feeling sounds like.

A Poem on Procrastination.

2009-11-19T21:03:00.004-07:00

...yeah

Loss

2009-11-19T10:13:00.000-07:00

In the book Slaughterhouse 5... Billy-the main character, is taken away by Tralfamadorians to their planet, Tralfamadore. While he is there, they show him the way they live... and they share with him their many perspectives on life. One day, they have a discussion about death. On Earth, death is sad. It is a loss. On Tralfamadore death is not sad, it is just another chapter in life. The Tralfamadorians do not grieve. The ones who die, are believed to not really be dead. They believe that they are only dead at that moment- and there are many other moments that they are still alive. At any given time a Tralfamadorian can remember memories with their loved ones. Those special moments will never change. They were alive at the moment created, and they are alive through remembering. They spend their whole lives focusing on joy.

Beautiful.

What really is loss? Can it be defined? Is it a feeling- defined by emotions? Is it avoidable? Is it a part of life? Is it really as bad as we perceive it?

I would say that the usual definition for loss is something along the lines of....Being unable to find something- a misplacement. Being deprived or being without something you once had. Failure.
Then there is the intensity- to what extent is the loss? But who are we to say? It is completely subjective to the individual. It can not be defined. The emotional range can not be made into a graph- charting severity, or amount suffered. To walk a mile in someone else's shoes...I can only imagine.

Sometimes loss can't be avoided, or changed. You won't always be able to find what is lost. But it isn't always about the beginning and the end- sometimes it is about the journey in between.

Ps. Read Slaughterhouse 5

Styx.

2009-11-17T20:28:00.007-07:00

black bubbles rose from broken lips
opened my mouth
let in purple liquid gold
sear my throat
come inside
swam in dark chasms
relishing the womb

overhead boat with chain
creaked back - forth
one way fare
except for me

liquid's dark tendrils
caressed
softly
wooed with luscious
bitter-sweetness

overhead boat with chain
creaked back-forth
back-forth

dove deeper
deeper

you held my heel

Juxtapositions

2009-11-16T22:37:00.003-07:00

my tenderhater
undissolvedsweetener
gum on my heels
hole in my pocket
harsh lover
i want to love you
rip you apart
watch you cry while
i stab you
over and
over
want you to beg
love me till it
hurts you like you
hurt me
entranced me
captivated me disgusted
me
unintended lover
malicious tempter
these cruelironies
sleepless nights
sedative sunlight
pain pleasure
lust disgust
make love to me benjamin button
said to daisy
make love to me
hurt me
love
me
get offmy shoe
into my heart
see me

please

A sarcastic observation worth observing,

2009-11-16T16:37:00.003-07:00