With nothing but a sheet of paper.

A white immaculate sheet of paper with the words I can’t speak in the pit of my pen, I appear crooked, seated in this chair and my thoughts are intricately placed in the ink. They are unspoken by my voice, inaudible to all ears and absent on the white sheet of paper. The window is cold on my fingerprints, but really there is no such thing as windows because I do not believe there is escape nor freedom if I were to traverse this piece of glass.


Outside looking in : there is a crooked-seated me, there is a chair and lastly, a misplaced feeling of belonging seeping through the air. I am glued and I stick, though I never touch a single thing. There is a white sheet of paper, my thoughts in the ink and a silence leaving my breath.


Inside looking out :there is the tree and in it’s hands lay the bird nest surrounded by slowly withering leaves, they are green, nonetheless, for it is summer still but tomorrow the man is making a tree stump of the tree and then it will be unfortunate for those poor unhatched eggs.


The birds became ghosts, as did the birds’ nest, and there is still a crooked-seated me, a chair, and a white sheet of snowy paper still untouched by the thought filled ink in my pen.

Volcano-ism

I am a victim of volcano-like mimics. I let the lava boil inside of me, without saying a word. Only, unlike the volcano I do not erupt conspicuously, I almost let myself purge unnoticed, vomiting heavy air on to my own lap. I spend sleepless nights due to piles of paper work, and extract my conclusions by the eggshell tinted window hedge. Sight seeing, the beautiful moon and stars are all that is required to allow the silenced verses of my stress skitter from my head, to place themselves in the black sheet of the sky where I will no longer see them, for the bright luminaries have me in a trance. At this moment, that little voice inside of my temples that bellows annoyance is completely mute, and all that exists is the quiet heart beat quarantined in my chest. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. And this I mean, quite literally. It doesn’t humour me to watch you slither in a transparent pool, lies filling it almost at flooding point, while your eyes believe impressive thick colors  swirl their mixtures past you.   

Metamorphosis.

The more I drink, the thirstier I get. Tonight, my body betrays me and kills my brain cells. The fire in me burns intensely, charring logic, reason, and common sense. My legs ache, my stomach churns, and my mind melts thinking of you.  Give it to me, I beg. Will you grant me this wish? I writhe and crawl with the wildness that surely, is not mine. A demon has taken control of me, that I am sure of.

Run. Don't look back. I need to shed this burning skin and run. The survival of my house of cards depends on my swiftness. Everything has turned red, even my cool crescent moon. Serpent in me rises up and coils around my spine, daring me to strip down and beg for mercy one more time. I cover my ears and sprint along the gravel road  in barefoot. My red moon watches me puzzled. The skeletons are waiting, behind the walls, beneath the basement floor, in the closets, hiding and waiting patiently to be discovered. She's the one, they point their bony digits at me.

Don't look. Don't be swayed. Don't beg. Don't dream. Don't feel. Don't love.  Just run.

noise. too much noise.

Well intentioned little words, uttered at the wrong moments, tear down my defenses. The earth has shaken, and the ground rumbles. Cracks spread along the foundation of my castle.  Inside my shelter, with jaws clenched, fist balled, I stand quivering at my knees. Brace for the impact, I say to myself, because ready or not, here comes the big wave aimed to uplift me out of my poor state. If I'm not careful, from the top of the crest, lips that mutter with love will pull me under the current. Before I know it, I will again be that  ugly little girl with tears in her eyes, but too eager to please, too easily resentful, and too proud to cry.

Eat more. Eat less. Smile more. Frown less. Lay back. Lean forward. How about holding this, and squeezing that? Hit the gym. Eight glasses of water a day. Don't forget Vitamin C. Your accent is wrong. Choice of words is not exactly right. I'm telling you because I love you.
Too many voices swirl around me. Too many requests and loving advice are hurled toward me. Is there such a thing as too much of a good thing? Love should come with warnings, perhaps. Take one tablet twice daily. No more or no less. Take it with plenty of liquid, never on an empty stomach. Cushion all the love with lots and lots of fluffy stuff. Turn a deaf ear at times to all those lovely We mean well.

I wanted love and attention, didn't I? Now, silence has been broken. Am I ready, really?...üä

***4/21/2010

..cravings of the flesh..

I've got a new secret every day; they are not all terrible. They are like my little monsters. I feed them by letting them live inside of me. Some of them grow, some of them starve and vanish. Some of them I cherish; like a sweet and special gift that nobody knows, which therefore, of course, makes it all the more sweet and special. I can feel these hidden between the bones of my spine, in my neck and shoulders, in my arms, and between my fingers. On some rare days, when I am feeling unfrightened and adventurous, I tell rogue or kristine and even pierre one of these. They never judge me; only, smile or chuckle, and shake their wondering heads at me. Other secrets I would describe more as suffocating. There are very few of them, though it feels often as though there are more because of the tremendous gravity of the weight they put in my pockets and knees. This is where they hide. I compare them to shackles and gags. They have an ability to make me mute for a while. Even more rarely, do I ever have the courage to say a thing about any of these. These are the kinds of secrets that make your heart twist up uncomfortably, and make you harden your face so that no emotion sneaks past. The ones we should tell, but never will, of course. And these secrets install fear. And this fear demolishes good things...üä