Every time I come in here I think I have something remarkably witty I want to say. Then I open the post screen and I realize that I have absolutely nothing to write about. My day has been completely devoid of meaning. Not a damn thing happened today. I keep hoping for a ten car pile up on the way to work. Or an explosion from the top of one of the mouthing. Maybe, just maybe one of these nights one of my coworkers will simply snap and start screaming at a customer.

But no such luck today. The uneventful continues. The guy to my right is still just the guy to my right. Same old jokes..Same old laughs. The mountain failed to explode on que and traffic went on unimpeded by dead and bloodied bodies. Is it wrong that I am unhappy about this?

I need a hobby.

the touch

last night he came to me
cold & wrapped in shadow
touched
the mind diseased
slipped unnoticed into
tears unshed
spilled
over to thoughts
unravelling

last night he came to me
silent & cloaked in promises
caressed
the soul tomented
sliced open the heart
that blackened
faltering

last night he came to me
comforting & holding me
closed
eyelids on a world
lost to pain
laying down into
blackness

tiny & hollow
i'm being swallowed
whole
singled out by the
movement of time
against
my skin

sunken & sallow
i'm being followed
lost
constantly battling for
sanity and peace
against
my self

vicious & bitter
i'm being bled dry
suffocated
endlessly screaming
against
my silence

dormant

( i would like to thank someone very special to me for the inspiration that led to this poem...you know who you are)


how do you borrow a dream
do you whisper it
catch it in sleep
let it fall into you
from the lips of a lover
slow and lingering
that last moment of heat

how do you steal a dream
do you clutch it to you
tear it from the eyes of a child
let it stab into you like
noise from a crowded room
selfishly hoarding what
innocence lost

how do you forget a dream
let it drain from you
like blood from a wound
watch it fade
like light
leaching out of the dawn
winter's last frozen breath

how do you watch a dream die
let the memories drown
saturated in regret
the moments torn
when does it become
enough to survive

I'm flying. Soaring. Like a bird on an updraft. A summer breeeze tearing through the sky. I can feel the energy searing my veins making me buzz. I want to run, I want to be outside in the air, breathing deep. Screaming crazy.

The mania in my brain burns through me, making me an unreal version of the me I am, crayola driven , outside the lines. A protiture of the hastily drawn person that lives in my brain. Crammed into the knooks and crannies. The silence puncutated with the screams of the voices I know so well. I need to be wild and out of control. I need to be free and unrestrained. Give in to the urges tearing their way around inside my brain.

I could paint you a picture with the words streaming forth from my mouth at a hundred miles an hour, piling up at my feet. Forming mountains of colors and shapes. I can see them, taste them feel them. I become them. Sift through them, build with them.I am on fire with the ideas tearing me apart, I will explode with them, and I will crash into the sunlight of myself.

Requiem

It was spring when she met him. He smiled at her when she made a joke. They shared a few conversations in the weeks that followed and she began to look forward to seeing him.

When he asked her out, she said yes, reluctantly. Dating had never been her thing. He laughed and told her it was only drinks, not a marriage proposal.

Summer was touching the earth when he proposed. The sweat of sex still clinging to him. He swore he loved her like he had loved no other. She swallowed her fear and said yes. They held each other like tomorrow could never touch them.

The chill of fall was on the wind when she felt him move away from her. The child inside her moved and she cried for what might not be. She bled and he promised to be with her forever.

Winter froze the ground when she knew he was gone. No more long nights talking, no more casual caresses or whispered words of love. Lies leaked from his mouth, running like acid into her.

Spring came again when the child arrived. Bright and beautiful, coloring her world with meaning. She held him and promised his life would be good. She looked at the man she had thought was good and felt the sorrow leach her strength.

Summer came again and she knew he did not care. No loving touches, no small remembrances. Only more acrid lies. They acrved her apart. He only looked through her, not caring for her pain.

It was fall again when they found her. Body broke, torn apart. All she had left was a simple shred of paper, what remained of his only love letter.

Better to die a broken body, a broken heart takes to long.

as i sat watching myself
i knew where i had strayed
as i sat listening to myself
i knew where i had fallen

i curled up tight
i cried a tear or two
i stretched myself
forward
and found the end

mottled colors against
my background stain
corrupted
i found the center
and I gripped
it tight
held it to me like
a child

broken sentences
puncuated with pain
cries of
torment in time with
a heartbeat long forgotten

I need a watch.I hate not knowing what time it is. Sitting and staring. Wondering," Am I late, or am I early?" Not that I'm, particularly good at waiting to begin with, 'cuz I'm not. I suck at it. I shift. I pace. I get annoyed. And I seem to be in a perpetual state of waiting.Waiting for payday. Waiting for work to end. Waiting for him to call. Waiting for the bus. Waiting for sleep to come. Waiting..... always waiting. It's just so anti-climatic. Because finally payday does come. And work is over. And he does call. And the bus arrives. And sleep comes. And then what? Where are all the bells and whistles that reward us for the hours we wasted.....waiting. For the days, weeks, months....hell, even years of limitless patience and fortitude? Quietly sitting, not complaining. There are none. You pay the bills. You go home. You talk for a minute. You get on the bus. You dream for a moment. And then?Back to waiting.It's like waiting to die. Just moving through life with no real destination. I get tired of it. I step out of line.Do something new. Anything new. Never helps, doesn't change it. There's still more waiting.Waiting for the color to take. For the polish to dry. For the movie to start. For dinner to get done. For that new book to come in.Always waiting for something.Damn.......I really need a watch.

better than a kiss

twisting
over one finger
through the others
slick
smooth
soft
twining in and twirling over
sliding up and around

slithering against my fingers

lifting moving
a living thing
like silk across
naked skin

pulling it taut
remebering the hands
fingers forced through
caught
tugging hard
chin lifted
neck exposed

just before the bite came

better than a kiss.......

Today....

Today I learned that caffiene and stress are a bad combination. Today I learned that my nerves do indeed still have a breaking point. Today I learned that I actually do have someone I can count on.

Today I decided that living until I am thirty five is a good thing to strive for. Today I decided that caring for someone is a scary thing, but something I'm going to keep doing. Today I decided that my even though my soul is permenantly tarnished, it may still have value.

Today I learned I am stronger when I cry. Today I learned that I am still uncomfortable with myself sometimes. Today I learned that I want to be able to say the words out loud.

Today I decided that I won't settle. Today I decided that my worth is in more than what the last person I knew says about me. Today I decided I will keep fighting for what I really want.

idiot

i'm an idiot in new shoes
standing outside in the rain
& stooping
to stay inside the periphery

i wandered in & got comfortable
laid down on the rocks & slept
bled out
&waited


i'm an idiot in a new dress
cleaned and scrubbed
but still dirty underneath
nothing new here

i wandered out into the sunlight
& they pressed me out
all wrinkle free
smile & it will all be over soon

i am an idiot in new skin
bright & shiny
hiding the filth
with the laughter
& tomorrow is another day.

orgasam

the cold air on my skin
all hard nipples
& warm lips

my mind wanders to places
& it lays there
gasping for breath

breasts aching
where teeth had
grazed

wet between the thighs
moaning biting screaming

conversation in between
labored breaths
trying to remember the last thing he said

And Then There Were Men

They hail you as their morning starBecause you are the way you are.If you return the sentiment,They'll try to make you different;And once they have you, safe and sound,They want to change you all around.Your moods and ways they put a curse on;They'd make of you another person.They cannot let you go your gait;They influence and educate.They'd alter all that they admired.They make me sick, they make me tired.

"Men" Dorothy Parker


And that's all I have to say tonight.

Boredom

You sit all day, in one place and you stare at your computer screen or your cash register or whatever it is you do and at the end of the day, you go home. Do you ever wonder what happened to that little kid inside of you that wanted to be a princess? Or a cowboy? Or an astronaut? Or a painter? What happened to the child that could look at a toilet paper roll and see it's infintie possibilities? Where is the wide eyed wonder that made us itch to go outside on a warm May afternoon and run until our lungs burst? When exactly did we lose that part of ourselves? And where do we find them? I remember staring out the window of my elemnetary school, wishing that the clock would move faster because the sun was that perfect shade of yellow and I couldn't wait to get out into it. Now, I try and take time to get outside and sit in the sun, face upturned, soaking in the heat and the smell of a spring day. But all too often the joy of basking in nature's glow is replaced with bills to pay and laudry to do and errands to run. And the world marches on. Until I look at my eleven year old daughter, who can still see the infinite possibilities in the world. For her every day is a new adventure, every piece of paper is a story waiting to be told, every crayon is a Picasso waiting to be created. And I smile. I grab onto her enthusiasm for life and I hold it tight to my heart. I love my child for many reasons, but the one I love her the most for is because she keeps me young.

SOCK MONKEYS ROCK

There are things in this life that just make us happy, even if we don't know why. I love Sock Monkeys. Don't ask me why. I couldn't tell you, but they make me smile. I think it's the smile...maybe it's the absurd red mouth.

Check out the history of the sock monkey:

http://www.supersockmonkey.com/catalog/history.html

Or build one for yourself:
http://lennytaylor.freeyellow.com/Monkey.htm

Everyone needs a sock monkey, the world would be a happier place.

What I know

What I know is this....


I know that I miss you when you aren't here. I know that you slip into places you shouldn't be. I know that I can still feel the way your voice slides over my skin, touching me in intimate places.

I know that when I close my eyes I can still see you. I know that at night sometimes I move my fingers over the dark and imagine you there. I know that I miss you. I know that I can see the curve of your jaw, where my fingers traced it so many times.

I know that tomorrow I will sit and I will daydream...and you will be there. I know that in the years to come I will wonder what might have been.

I know that I will cry.

These are the things I know.

Insomnia

I had almost forgotten what it feels like not to be able to sleep. To have your mind whirling with so many different thoughts and images that shutting your eyes is impossible. Ideas bombard me whenever I lean my head back to rest, and then I'm off again. Moving because I can't sit down.

I keep seeing the world flashing past behind my tightly closed eyelids, like a home movie set to loop. Over and over. Stimulus flooding my senses while I try to focus on something calming. Music and smells. Things I saw a year ago. They keep coming...

I had almost forgotten what it felt like to live in that fringe of the world that comes after midnight. The time of day when only people like me are awake. Life takes on a different hue at night, a different tone. The normal rules of society seem somehow relaxed. The people I talk to don't feel the need to pretend ...don't need my approval. It's easy to get comforatable in that world, existing without daylight.

I watch people move through the morning hours, all business and sunshine. They take pride in their ablitily to swish and slide through the glow of noon. The brilliance of the blue sky is more pronounced when you've spent long moments memorizing the blackness of midnight. Most of the time, they don't even notice me. I am an invisible part of that world....stuck in the time between that final meal of the day and the first cup of coffee.


.... and I am not alone.