February 27, 2006

more hearts

A pile of hearts
Mixed and matched
Rimmed in black
And striped across
I found them there
Waiting as most hearts do
They made me smile
I turned each face up
Makes me think of bands
Banded bands
These hearts
This pile of teeny delicate hearts
Easily blown apart by the flick of paper
Paper-thin hearts and created out of boredom
Out of love
Looking away from these hearts brings back the dark pessimism
Go back to the tiny baby hearts, there is solace there
Looking at these hearts
Strewn and left to be found
And they are like my heart
Love and mixed and matched
Rimmed in black
Striped by scars
Waiting to be found
Turning and smiling while thinking of you
Thinking of banded bands
My heart
Teeny and delicate
Easy blown apart by a flick of the wrist
By a flutter of eye lids
Paper-thin, waiting out of boredom
In and out of love
Pessimistic in nature
A tiny solace
Strewn and waiting to be found

February 22, 2006

my heart

I feel a sense of settling, my eyes are heavy and the pains in my heart have continued. It feels as if my heart is working over time, as if it is pushing a gelatinous mass of love and milkshakes through my veins. I don’t want to be here, in class talking about nothing. I want to keep hiding in beds, in places where I don’t have to leave, in the room where laughter and life abounds. I want to hide at the bottom of that bottle, in the deliriousness that is wine and vodka. In the hilarity of my drunkenness that takes me to dark lakes and dreams of thieves. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere and yet there’s nowhere but everywhere that I want to go. I want to keep packing my bags for nowhere, for you to come up behind me and hold me at the sink, to dance with you on loud decks while smoke surrounds us and our lips meet again and again repetitively, to sleep and sweat in your bed. Some things have become love, some things have become heart, you are one of those things, today.

February 16, 2006

But you can dream…

There is a pain in my heart each beat causes a jump or a frown, as we speak of dreams I feel haunted, haunted by the dream that is my life. I once had this great idea to pretend my whole life was a dream, this was this past summer and I thought I could do whatever I wanted. So I went crazy, crazy in LA and figured eventually I’d wake up. Well I’ve yet to wake up from this dream and there are days that it seems more like a nightmare. Mostly its like a day dream though where I find myself staring out the window at pink flowers the way I did in the third grade, when my teacher told my parents I was a day dreamer. She was right, I’m rarely aware, usually working fictitious scenarios through my mind. So I still dream while characters change and my nightly dreams become more vivid. I sleep with eyes open, I sleep walk to school and into his bed.

…but I can dream.

February 14, 2006

the relativity of it all

Just the word happiness makes me laugh, my eyebrows raise and I laugh. All things are relative, happiness being the first and foremost in the line-up of relativity. My problem is constantly banking my happiness on others; he will make me happy, living here with them will make me happy, getting rid of him will make me happy, moving away from here will make me happy. None of these things work and so I must look to the constant; me, I am the unchanged variable in this experiment that is life. So again looking to myself for relative happiness is my only solution, but instead I have placed this boy in that spot to fill the void that is endless, that can not be filled with anything, not buckets of sadness, moving boxes or an ocean of dreams and certainly not artificial happiness milled by a white coated individual. So I’ll skip to my room a Playboy tucked under each arm to find something relative: beauty.

February 11, 2006

now home

Its right when I leave that I miss the city the most, that I start to feel like I belong. I left class early to get back earlier and upon walking outside it all came together. There are some days worth writing about; the sounds, the sunset, the almost rank smell, the moon and the breeze and the smiles and the stares are and always have been enough to keep me wanting more. I walk a little slower, take it all in. I bought myself an hour and possibility an F, a failing day is worth every acceleration and lit laughter I encounter on my walk home, through Home.

February 07, 2006

shit (please excuse profanity)

The feelings of wanting the gas truck in front of me to fish tail have subsided, well they had until I arrived here and failed myself and then everyone else was quick to point that out some more. Young love, love? Young? I stopped answering the phone for them, for me. He always said I just shit on everyone and do whatever I want, its true I do and eventually they will probably all shit on me and my whole world will come falling down around me. Oh wait he already did it already did and I am standing triumphant again. Triumphant for today and maybe tomorrow.