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|Tuesday, August 5th, 2008|
There were things about life I told myself.
I told myself I'd drive my car to the ocean and stand at the edge of the land and scream until I was cleansed. I told myself I'd drive fast with the windows open, blasting loud music.
I told myself I could escape.
I told myself that when I was done being angsty and impulsive and young that I would grow into a perfect, wise being.
I would do it all with beauty and grace. Stress would not crinkle my brow or my soul, time would not wrinkle my skin.
I told myself that love would come and never go, that love was perfect in itself, Lovers may come and go, yes.. but love would never fade. Love and passion were as important to the self as breath and water.
At some point I knew these things to be untrue, but the delusions still remain, hidden behind other thoughts...
daily trivialities, thoughts about how "hard" it is to be impulsive, how "embarrassing" it is to be angsty, how "impossible" it is to be perfect. Love and passion are foreshadowed by compatibility and relationships. Romance is in a coma.
All of my beautiful self truths have become lies.
Growing is hardly the beautiful struggle of becoming aware, but rather a struggle to find some sort of oblivion that you can cope with. Struggling through a fog, no longer wishing for clarity or awareness. Hardly wishing for awakeness
|Saturday, June 21st, 2008|
Broken, yet still bursting with creation.
the act of creation often stems from feelings of despair, loneliness, desperation.
many feelings pass during the creation of a project. There is the inspired beginning, the hatred, the monotony, the pleasure that comes with completion. These stages often repeat and change order.
At times I feel as if i've never been so whole, or so healthy.
Other times I feel as if I've lost something so irrevocably. The something is an integral part of me, and it is gone.
There are times as well as if I feel broken, the pieces are all there, just separated. Laying in wait in a drawer for the proper glue to be purchased and used.
Time though, time spent in wait, is time for the pieces to decay, become further separated, lost. Can I be cobbled together if the pieces are lost? Can found objects become my new self?
Sometimes a collage is more beautiful than the objects were as a whole.
Sometimes collages are stupid, and pointless, and useless.
|Tuesday, March 6th, 2007|
| You arent worried about us?
Should I be worried?
woes take new forms.
conflict through lack of communication
plaguing all aspects of relationships with all.
She says, "are you feeling lonely?"
I dunno, is that what I'm feeling?
Experiencing overwhelming apathy in a new way.
Unchartered apathetic territories.
No reason to worry about us.
Just reasons to worry about me.
|Friday, June 23rd, 2006|
Sullen, serious, weak.
Needs substances to "let go"
oblivion, freedom from inhibition, to become the true self?
such fear keeps the true self hidden
fear that the true self;
the obnoxious, the honest, the indelicate, the promiscuous
will not be well liked. will not be accepted. acceptable.
Hidden behind something that is purposely:
boring, sad, sullen, weak
for the purpose of being disliked,
The mask is disliked though, not the true self hiding behind it.
One would learn to fabricate a mask that was like-able, beautiful, social. one would learn these things if only they weren't so socially inept. awkward.
awkward under pressure, awkward in public, awkward when alone. Simply awkward.
like a fledgling that never grows, never thrives, never flies.
|Wednesday, December 7th, 2005|
|Activated by SAD
Today while traveling my eyes saw snow up on the hills and mountains.
I told myself I could drive until there was snow on the ground,
that I could drive until I ran out of gas.
That I could sit in the snow, that I could freeze to death.
I told myself that I'd like you all to find me, cold and dead
and you would have a visual my emotions.
I believed for a moment that I could show you how broken I am.
I want to sleep like the trees. Let the elements hit me, experience the painful cold, feel the tips of my extremities die and break off... then thaw again in the springtime sun and feel whole again.
Sprout leaves and flowers, grow into the summer and bear fruit in the fall.
|Friday, June 17th, 2005|
The sky was a canvas of pale blues and pinks and whites, lavender, grays, and inbetweens.
Canvas obstructed by apartment buildings, construction sites, mounds of earth and cinderblocks, dust, machinery.
I heard a birds chirp over the din of the traffic.
I wished I could blend in with the shadows and be one with the darkness.
Despite my sadness and my loneliness I'm still a child of the light.
I am afraid of the dark and the content held within.
I had wanted to sit in the tall grass and watch the dark fall
but I didnt want to be wet and uncomfortable.
I'm not so natural and spontaneous as I let on.
So I walked, and I picked purple flowers off the butterfly bushes.
I didnt cry as I walked, I didnt want anyone to see. I wanted to feel normal and beautiful and maybe a little tortured, total and complete indulgence of my shallow sadness.
Maybe I'd hoped you'd come to rescue me from myself.
|Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005|
rolling around in the mud of depression.
unexplainable, inexplicable, tears welling up in sore eyes.
Indeed, a sight for sore eyes.
Though not advisable, life is interesting while viewed through the rear view mirror.
I dont enjoy the journey.
I wish each day away.
I long for his touch and cling to him when he tries to leave.
I never thought it could
be more. I never thought I wanted
more, but I crave it with every breath.
Starving for deep conversation, longing for hugs, wishing for understanding.
The plums and cherries bloomed this year, and I took no pictures.
The daffodils and the tulips came and went and I can barely remember.
This year will be over and changes will have been completed, and I'll have forgotten it all in a blur of activity. All activity focused on One Memory to be made. Ten Thousand Pictures to chronicle that day.
This shouldnt be sad, it should be worth every bit of it. Yet I miss living for the day.... enjoying life for now...
I'm better at looking backwards.
I'm better at blurring my eyes and seeing nothing infront of me, but it only leaves me hurling at full speed into the unknown.
|Monday, August 16th, 2004|
desperation in the form of stupidity
a hoard of red devils surrounding me
and i resist for a moment
resent, then consent
and i'm corrupted, serrated, separated.
I remember reality
a place I visited once
a vision in truth
a voice of simplicity
I dont deserve it
I'm a nonsensical bird, covered in soot and milk and glue and paint
I feel naked
i'm so alone in me
|Tuesday, July 13th, 2004|
She likes meaningful lyrics
But I see the beauty in nonsense
Normalacy makes for a dull day
It takes intelligence to be truely absurd
I wish I was more absurd
The sun shines through the window
and I wistfully glance into it
Wishing I could gracefully emerge into the sunlight
and fly away.
I'm happier in my cage.
With tears in my eyes, I sing.
|Wednesday, February 4th, 2004|
half asleep stirring coffee
missing parts of me.
empty without alcohol
empty without him.
blinded by sunlight
before my eyes are even open.
before the day is even started
sadness gently leaking out my eyes
not enough force to propel a sob
I'll be okay, I promise
|Thursday, January 1st, 2004|
a thick white blanket, pulled across your eyes
hiding the past
snow falling on new years day.
|Sunday, August 24th, 2003|
tears in your eyes tend to blur your vision.
things become large rounded pixles
becoming a pretty new picture of despair.
all logic is lost here, staring at the impressionistic world
that your sadness created, just for you.
|Wednesday, July 16th, 2003|
Another lonely, late night with me dreading going to
My bed without you.
But i'm okay, yeah i'm fine.
Nah, these arent tears, i've got something in my eyes.
Tomorrow I'll wake more rational.
These tears will have been in vain.
Crying for broken dreams.
Waiting for fairy tales.
Maybe you cant be my Prince Charming.
Maybe he's not really comming.
Maybe fairy tales are shit.
Maybe you're too logical.
Perhaps my head is too far in the clouds to see the truth
|Sunday, June 29th, 2003|
I've made this world for you,
full of trees and sun.
I belived I could encapsulate you.
I thought I was in control
thought I could throw you to the wolves
I thought you'd die.
I thought I could mourn you
I thought I could recreate you
thought I was the one.
So I'm humbled now.
I'm so humble now.
So embarrassed of what I am.
|Tuesday, March 11th, 2003|
What means hallucinate? what are we supposed to see?
What are they supposed to want? get a job! you scare me
I sing here I'm alone here I'm with you over here
Marshmallow brain I need an umbrella
If I'm gonna stand in the rain
My hands are cupped and full of blood
My eyes are spirals I am on my knees and praying
That is how I pray cause thatis how you pray
Rat rat rat rat rat rat
Tongue thickens I am with those who eat drugs
Who peek over the wall and get shocked
Shocking is therapy
Electrify your head!
Pianos in my hearing Vincent, me ear is falling off
Who left me alone? What do you mean you're alone?
No one has that dream
Hallucinate I need an umbrella
If I'm gonna go insane
I think she wanna be crazy pick a brain!
I think I'm running away
Oh boy, God? I'm gonna scare that boy again?
Centerdale to Providence Middletown to Armageddon
A road is in my dream Centerdale is in my dream
Drums! carry me over the wall
You! left me alone what do you mean you're alone?
I peek over the wall and get sick
Sickness is therapy electrify your head!
Catalyst I need an umbrella
If I'm gonna slit my wrist
Pick your hands up
Put them on your head
Move it around and say
This is too much it doesn't fit
Your feet say nothing but move your hips
Move your hips, move your hips
Rat rat rat rat rat rat
|cloudy days and thoughtlessness
a lull in the conversation,
a moment to re-think, de-think, not-think
a moment of quiet, of nervous negativity
the beginning of a spiral that leads into the same
I shivering from the cold,
staring at halves of hearts I clipped apart.
sipping my coffee which boils my insides,
turning on the lights and opening the blinds.
trying to forgive the world for cloudy days.
|Thursday, February 27th, 2003|
The other day while driving
Down the freeway in the morning
It looked just like Nevada,
With its long open roads,
And my longing for you.
The trees here are in full bloom
They're stupid, honest, and naive
They're thoughtless insticts betray them
The weather is fooling everyone, but it cant fool me.
I know springs not here yet.
But parts of this city
They look just like parts of others
Places I drove through
When I was running away.
The similarities remind.
I dont run so far away now.
I can just get in my car and drive
On the freeways of Nevada...
Ten minutes from my home.
I can see those quiet Californian towns
While dropping someone off.
And while the open road beckons
And I long to feel its desolate comfort
I dont need to run away
To be reminded of what I have at home.
|Thursday, February 20th, 2003|
The fire in my sky, tempting my soul
The vines at my feet, attatching me to my ground, keeping me true to my heart.
Would I grow to feel resentment for these vines?
Would I suffer from claustrophobia?
My neck, stretching up, to get a closer look..
To seek the sky unencumbered by body, by earth.
Only leaving myself with a stiff neck
Only leaving me laying down in a bed of vines.
Would I become a plant?
Grow my roots into the soil,
and yet let the firey sky be my life force?
I'm not the girl I wanted to be.
|Thursday, February 13th, 2003|
Filled with anger and distaste for life,
I flew to my car and put it in drive..
and to the stop light I grumbled and bitched...
where I stopped in my tracks,
too awestruck, too humbled.
before me was such beauty
the sky was on fire
such a breath taking scene
bitter sweet tears flocked to my eyes
for, i know..before too long
i'll not be able to witness such a site
my eyes, they begin to fail me.
I'm blinded by anger.
|Saturday, November 30th, 2002|
I am bored with existance.