clouds
where did you come from
it was just so sunny
and now you threaten
with your evasive gray
i've been casting out demons
voodoo spells on my lips
i've been dancing with devils
and laying down lines
clouds
you're as dark as ever
and hovering at the horizon
pissing on my daybreak
and menacing my mascara
i've been a very good girl
i haven't even cut
this feeling just appeared out of no where
deep, lonely, and screaming in my gut
clouds
scratching my eyes, making me cry
with your dust and corrosive lies
your wet doesn't moisten my skin
just bloats and cakes and ignores
natural rhythm and laws of water
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
trickery
I'm gonna dig out this love of mine with a rusty spoon. I'll sit with the sore, the blood, the gore. Wait for the infection. Drain the pus. Wait and wait and wait and wait til the fade. Til it passes. Til the sun sets. The twilight, the daybreak. I will force hands and heart. I will twist arms and break ankles. I will stop this somehow, I will slam brakes and grind gears. Fast forward years. Rewind days. I will wring out the meaning of this lesson before I've learned it. Cheat life, the universe, the morals of the unrequited. I will break the surface, gasp for air, and only return to the bottom of the ocean if you take my hand and hold my breath.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
could be
perhaps you don't belong
but you are needed and desired
in the hearth, in the house
barefoot and warmed by captured fire
there are arms for you here
and fresh baked bread
this is a place to wait out winter
where the floor grows thick carpet
the windows thicken on their own
northern drafts howl but do not touch
the sink is always empty of dishes
the trash never overflows
soft lamp light and hot cocoa in unchipped mugs
mulled apple cider whiskey on the stove
the world smells of cinnamon and cloves
hot baths in a tub suddenly big enough for two
history channel then cartoons at night
the sun finds us in every corner
where we curl up like cats, circular and unaware
in the center of my belly, slightly higher than my navel
in the root of me, i try to ignore, i try to reason
you don't belong here, you don't crave
my head and my heart argue behind closed doors, undecided
but in the depth and breadth
I feel it, like butterflies, like mother, like destined lover
eventually you will come home
exhausted from sewing seeds and fighting wars
lights are left on and finest linens are laid
your hands touch me from the future, from simple pathetic fantasy, perhaps
the settling, the exhale, the entwining of limbs
i tell myself if not you then perhaps another just like
there are spaces to fill and journeys to end
but only when we are whole and can be two, not one
another just like perhaps
but the original seems most likely
cells of me ache to their core
with the knowing, the conclusions drawn
in the dna, the zodiac weaving
before we were even born
maybe it is not intuition that speaks, that fills my core
but hunger, primitive and not spiritual
maybe i own no chakras or auras and maybe the stars are dead
it could just be misfired synapses and psychiatric diagnoses
or it could be love
it could be love
this i bury in my backyard with bones and tin boxes of buttons
this i tuck away in the back of closets with old board games
with the outgrown shoes, with the fairies and forgotten oil paints
this i pull down when i unsure, this i embrace when scared
perhaps from delusion, perhaps from fate
it could be love
it could be love
but you are needed and desired
in the hearth, in the house
barefoot and warmed by captured fire
there are arms for you here
and fresh baked bread
this is a place to wait out winter
where the floor grows thick carpet
the windows thicken on their own
northern drafts howl but do not touch
the sink is always empty of dishes
the trash never overflows
soft lamp light and hot cocoa in unchipped mugs
mulled apple cider whiskey on the stove
the world smells of cinnamon and cloves
hot baths in a tub suddenly big enough for two
history channel then cartoons at night
the sun finds us in every corner
where we curl up like cats, circular and unaware
in the center of my belly, slightly higher than my navel
in the root of me, i try to ignore, i try to reason
you don't belong here, you don't crave
my head and my heart argue behind closed doors, undecided
but in the depth and breadth
I feel it, like butterflies, like mother, like destined lover
eventually you will come home
exhausted from sewing seeds and fighting wars
lights are left on and finest linens are laid
your hands touch me from the future, from simple pathetic fantasy, perhaps
the settling, the exhale, the entwining of limbs
i tell myself if not you then perhaps another just like
there are spaces to fill and journeys to end
but only when we are whole and can be two, not one
another just like perhaps
but the original seems most likely
cells of me ache to their core
with the knowing, the conclusions drawn
in the dna, the zodiac weaving
before we were even born
maybe it is not intuition that speaks, that fills my core
but hunger, primitive and not spiritual
maybe i own no chakras or auras and maybe the stars are dead
it could just be misfired synapses and psychiatric diagnoses
or it could be love
it could be love
this i bury in my backyard with bones and tin boxes of buttons
this i tuck away in the back of closets with old board games
with the outgrown shoes, with the fairies and forgotten oil paints
this i pull down when i unsure, this i embrace when scared
perhaps from delusion, perhaps from fate
it could be love
it could be love
unrequited
i can be something you can lose
sand between fingers, under the nail
why do i think only in absence
can i fill a room or mean something
more than cubic space i occupy
and statistics and bank account talleys
do you know the kinda love
when all you think is
i'm in love i'm in love i'm in love i'm in love
over and over?
it renders you retarded and inarticulate
when you think of the person
and all you can think is
i love you i love you i love you i love you
then we get mad because three words
don't equal three thousand
attention spans are short
and the days artificially long
sand between fingers, under the nail
why do i think only in absence
can i fill a room or mean something
more than cubic space i occupy
and statistics and bank account talleys
do you know the kinda love
when all you think is
i'm in love i'm in love i'm in love i'm in love
over and over?
it renders you retarded and inarticulate
when you think of the person
and all you can think is
i love you i love you i love you i love you
then we get mad because three words
don't equal three thousand
attention spans are short
and the days artificially long
...............
i fell apart
but only for a week
so maybe it doesn't count
maybe i can still be forgiven
and thought of as strong
you and i are at our best
between three and five a.m.
there's no bullshit then
eyes see clearly and wise
someday i may be
the girl you lost
not to cocaine
but brain static
strobe lights behind my eyes
ravers, glow sticks and E
but only for a week
so maybe it doesn't count
maybe i can still be forgiven
and thought of as strong
you and i are at our best
between three and five a.m.
there's no bullshit then
eyes see clearly and wise
someday i may be
the girl you lost
not to cocaine
but brain static
strobe lights behind my eyes
ravers, glow sticks and E
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