A Girl Named Rio

Two - 4 - One

2012-01-19T16:31:00.000-08:00

I wait at our old haunt, I wait for the inevitable we thought, hoped would never come. Will this be the night we say it's been enough? I rationalize and think we've done what we could but those odds, they continued to stack against us. I let my brain lead me in matters of the heart but truly know it won't be that easy. Another night cold on the floor? Lonely days plagued by thoughts of what could have been? I hope for the best but brace for the worst, find little solace in a surge of creativity, albeit heart broken sorrows. Suck down, force down a double to lessen the blow, and hope it won't be a blow at all. Push on towards suns that set on water lined horizons, push on towards home. One stepping stone here, one stepping stone there but these stones look cold and lonely without the heat of your body next me. Let not the universe convince you we were wrong, let not the trivialities of the day make you think whats left of our forbidden love is not worth every ounce of your attention. By the time you get here to bear the bad news you'll have forced down more than a double and I'll be forced to tears fueled by the fear that maybe its not what I thought it was at all. Maybe, just maybe this lesson has been learned dispite my yearning for further tutoring.

Am I Even Making Sense?

2011-10-21T10:42:00.000-07:00

You’ve pumped me with caffeine and I’m floating in the thickness of our love. We twist into a nakedness that can only be rivalled by my forgetfulness of the reality that knocks at our pastel perfect house of dreams. I can’t remember how to spell, as I picture your touch. I can’t remember how to work as I recall your scent. My typing is failing as your voice rings in my ears. The air chills outside, barely and we hold on tighter to stay warm. It’s a dream indeed and I am so drunk off our love my head is heavy as it lays on your chest. My arms are numb, my hands shaking and the crispness of my vision feels like the highest high. I ought to fear the come down but history speaks to the fact that the only thing coming down will be my body falling coolly into your plush bed and thus your warm arms. Sweet nothings will be exchanged and wisps of fervor will float amongst down feathers as the ceiling fan whips in a fury above us. I’ve lost myself, my heart, to you and I don’t wish for it to be found in the slightest.

Intermittent Thoughts

2011-10-18T07:23:00.000-07:00

And so we find ourselves intertwined. Me sleeping sideways to get some of the warmth you left behind when you rose to prepare for an early flight. You kissed me goodbye upside down as I whispered my dreams to you. We have found a comfort in this.
…

We pass each other in this silent dance and your smell whispers through me. I hear your laugh through thin walls and wish to capture it in my hand just to let it boisterously rush out again like fine sand.

…

I sit alone and smirk at the thought of you, my body melts at the idea of your touch.

Love Would Not Be Defeated

2011-09-09T09:07:00.000-07:00

You wake me in the night and sometimes I’m so tired I turn my head from what you want and lull back to sleep. That’s selfish and yet I need a little self in the dark and I’d rather wait for you to wake me when the dim light of dawn peers in at us through slatted blinds. We have negotiated into a fog of love, I find us jumping off cliffs into pools of aquamarine when I close my eyes and when I open them we are holding hands and smiling at each other over down pillows.

I’m giddy and nervous and scared but it feels right for right now.

Your big hand envelops mine and it seems our cocktail glasses have emptied right into my heart, I am drunkenly whole again. Minutes tick by slowly and as the remnants of our morning fade into thoughts of what our evening holds I smile, oh do I smile. This rollercoaster is trucking slowly; chuck, chuck, chuck, up towards an unknown horizon and the anticipation leaves me full of wonder. Wonder at what we will become, wonder at how your power over me can strike my helpless in an instant but your attention leaves me in a state of glory. I have given too much to you, it is obvious, but I did not claim defeat, I inquired of you with honest intentions and asked you to take this chance with me, your eager acceptance has left me in a haze but I smile, oh do I smile.

On the Brink of a Forfeit

2011-08-23T08:47:00.000-07:00

At what point do I strike a balance and say that loving you without reciprocation is enough? It makes me feel weak, like an idiot child, and you placate me with expensive gifts when all I want is your undivided love and attention. A better choice might be to let you go, and as a man of short to no response you might not notice I’m even gone. You fill voids with girls and gadgets and I am left shaking at the thought of either lounging in your bed with their new fresh smells and soft buttons. I feel old, which is ironic, I feel old and tired and I think you look at me in the same contexts. I listen to love songs that beg for companions to hold on to a bond, to a love that hangs in a delicate balance and I beg in the same contexts. But you don’t want to hear my begging or my fits, you want smiles and something a little less tortured, when its you who has left me in this twisted tortured state. I want for the happiness we deserve, I want for the happiness we had before your ghosts scared you from your future.

2011-08-09T11:16:00.000-07:00

The things I've written about you paint us in shadow but I continue to fight for light. My heart wipes the lies from my mind and I am left in a whirl pool of love/like. Your continuous shock and amazement at my forwardness regarding my feelings has become annoying really, and while I sit to write something nice, something bursting with hope, I let out the real feelings of complacency. Why have I let you become my everything, while you teeter between lust and regret?

The Run

2011-07-18T14:11:00.001-07:00

My mind spills over with quotes and thoughts, words and phrases play incessantly and yet I cannot, no, I have not had the will, the ultimate inspiration, to sit and write. In the past heartache had brought so much inspiration and now since my attempt to flip the script and be inspired by happiness, I am left scriptless. I run instead of write, the need for physical heart health and mind numbness outweigh the need for spiritual heart health and thoughtfulness.

The rain finally came and that’s when I find the running most peaceful, bad music fills my head leaving little room for any other thoughts and my sweat mixes with the fresh waters of the rain. When I’m running everything else aches, thus taking the pressure of said heart.

He calls and asks if I will run with him, can I give him part of this sanctuary? He has taken everything else, even this running only began as a way to impress him. Now he impresses me with his ability to compartmentalize our love and lie to my tear soaked face.

I say I’ll let go, I say these incredulous infidelities will break what’s left of us, I say enough is enough. When in reality I will never let go, I will endure these falsities and enough will never be enough.

The Likelihood

2011-07-01T11:16:00.000-07:00

It's likely that someday I'll will forget what your house smells like.
It's likely that I will forget this night I sat on your couch and tears pushed at the backs of my eyes.
Rational says it's likely we won't go on like this forever
And it's likely I will forget what these last kisses tasted like just as I have forgotten the flavor of the first.
It's likely that my heart will break and ache for another month or more
And it's likely you'll make me completely crazy
And also that I'll recover
All these likely things ought to be relieving but they aren't because they are just happenstance and hopefulness.
It's likely you will burn me and I'll say it doesn't hurt
It's likely that you'll lie some more and I'll reciprocate
It's likely I'll keep you on this pedestal and melt at your feet
It's likely nothing will survive this dreadful occasion
It's likely in another 15 years I'll just be another name you've forgotten
It's likely that you feel all these likelihoods too but there I go with hopefulness and happenstance, there I go thinking it's going to be ok and happy and smooth sailing but in reality that isn't very likely, is it?

The Pause Button

2011-06-27T14:24:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I hear your voice like a ghostly apparition when I know it cannot be you. Sometimes I feel your touch when I am alone in my room, longing for you. These days, this fleeting life, it is hard to trust as my heart waivers between break and bust. To pause something at its height, to stop the boulder as it teeters at the top of the hill sounds all to difficult so I bide my time, I wait and want as usual. I hope and try my best not to hate for as this love spurts forth from something I never saw coming I can’t stop it, much like a severed vein, there is no tourniquet that can stop this well of overwhelming feeling. It will be a certain miracle if anything is to survive this. I try to believe that you are genuine with the words you delicately placate me with but it’s hard to know where the truth lies, and which lies are truth.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2011-06-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

I didn’t even make it up the stairs. I collapsed in surreal pain and excruciating numbness. These kinds of feelings should be what make the shell grow harder and yet somehow I had become soft, soft and supple as your skin when I had touched it in the shifting minutes of dawn. Now I have inspiration again, that well of kisses dry and replaced by a spring of tears. The heartache made me sick, I begged and pleaded from the floor but silent echoes were all that answered my sobs. Why can’t you be all those things I want you to be and often pretended you were in the daydreams of my heart? The lost sleep is slighted by the black gnarled hole that resides where my heart once beat. You blindsided me, you crept slowly like those tall cocktails into my brain with this talk of “it must stop,” “we have to end it.” I left my body, floated above us from bar to bar, my face expressionless, the shell not hard enough. Where did the rug go? And why now? Because I think it might rain again and I can barely stand.

Happiness As Writer's Block

2011-06-16T12:25:00.000-07:00

If I sit and force poetry, no poems will come.
If we lay and force kisses, it's a smile that will spread.
So I'll plant kisses not poems and wish for inspiration to grow....

What the Meteorologist Let On

2011-06-12T06:20:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t wake up and convinced myself it was because I was dreaming of you. My arm was asleep and it dragged through my dreams as I now drag through my day. Stopping to ponder the proliferation of cumulus clouds that hold no rain. I am reminded of when I watched the lightening storm rage over the ocean from my street and my despondent neighbor used foul language.

I’d say its melancholy again but I think that might be a game I’ve over played. Curiosity maybe? I thesaurusize and make conjunctions where things ought not conjunct, I find lugubrious, exaggerated indeed.

Smart cartoons revel in the ability to swear on cable and I find their allegory self-referential and depressing. I search for some other comedic relief but continue to dwell on the animated statement of cynicism. Have we out grown our own favorite things? Have we enough time in the day to question more than where to lunch?

Back to the clouds, cumulus turns and hides in nimbostratus but the rain still refuses to fall.

…

Sometimes when we lie in bed my hands are sticky and sweaty like a child’s, while your soft dry hand envelopes mine I feel inferior to you. It happens that way often; as we speed along empty streets on your motorcycle I cling to you as nonchalantly as possible, when you talk to other women I look up at you in wonder, my eyes wide like a lost puppy. When I wear polka dots your reaction is often bleak and I see you smirk at stripes as well. I’ve contemplated your persona and decided to accept it on a whole, you’ve left little room for passing judgments to sway you. Today someone said you’re more cultured then you would like to let on, whereas I like to let on as much as possible, whether it be about culture or anything else.

So here we are sticky and dry, lost and quite founded, striped and color blocked, young, immature, weary and cynical. But still no rain.

It Might Be Mania, But It's All Mine

2011-05-17T11:07:00.000-07:00

My skin burns where you last touched it. Pessimism weighs heavily on us like the clouds growing darker outside. We all close doors to tell secrets we want everyone to know.

My jealousy turns to rage turns back to jealousy again. I refuse to live like this but don't know any other way to survive. I concoct plans, solutions and serums but you don't answer my pleads, instead you change the subject. Chills course my skin, caffeine unsoothes anything formerly sootheable.

Wasn't it nice when I just sweltered in your sheets? When everything was fresh, fraiche even?

Now I scribble fervently, I shake and want to scream but I am intent on listening, hoping, wishing to hear your footsteps, for the door to turn, but no I am left with my mania.

This mania, these words, the most extreme interpretation of tiny drops of emotion find an outlet for the screams, albeit silently. This outlet finds a truth for the serum, a real problem for the solution and those bated breaths continue to breathe life into a reckless romantic life form that thought it couldn't survive.

And there go those footsteps.............

Make it the Way it Was

2011-05-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

Is it fun? is it right? is it worth it?
You make me crazy, ecstatic and utterly confused.
I am driven to the edge.

I have lost patience in trusting but I want for yours.

I secretly conspire against you by holding you close and looking over your shoulder.

The world has stopped outside, a fire truck blinks but I can't hear the effects.

It was fun. It was wrong. It still is worth it when there's a glimpse of what was between bouts of jealousy.

I want answers. I want evidence. I want out.
I want attention. I want to trust you. I want to start again.

Make it the way it was. Stop hiding the back burner and grey areas.
Maybe it can never be much more than this and maybe you already figured that out.

I love the way it is in the morning. I love the way it is in the afternoon when you're tired and we're quiet.
Make it that way again.

Let the evidence be a reason for me to trust again.
Let me not need the proof, let the gun be cold and smokeless.

Let me only second guess where the next kiss will land.

Let me make it the may it was, the way you think it is.

Nauseous Nostalgia

2011-05-02T12:57:00.000-07:00

Today I'm homesick. I long for melodies to songs I thought I forgot, I yearn for the pride that can only be felt for low green hills that meet white sand beaches. I long to dance in the dark and run towards hidden horizons. Long drives that act as lullabies and end at tall feather beds with pillows that are always mysteriously cool to the touch, call to me softly. The air conditioning in my new apartment doesn't make the familiar sounds of a slow creek meandering outside a faraway window, it creeks in other ways that startle me awake and leave me breathless and unnerved. I wish for the warm sticky hands of a child to latch about my leg as they exude squeals of pure delight. I miss my huge gossipy extended family I took for granted as I hid in their midst. Now what feels like a million miles stretches further between us and empty holidays end in empty phone calls. I list and loft above stress levels, I makeshift a family between lovers and find it lonely and fairly unrewarding compared to forced holiday meals and the smells of homemade pasta sauce. Home is but a feeling? No. Home most certainly is a place that holds my heart and sometimes my mind.

Not the Art Lesson I was Looking For

2011-04-11T11:47:00.000-07:00

Does it look like the wind has whipped through my eyes? Because I feel completely hallow and yet drowning simultaneously. A long needle meant for draining lungs must have pierced my heart and I feel sick. Sick at myself for only trying to please you while everyone hushes and whispers about appeasing you. Their thought process more self centered, more on par with running from your wrath, escaping your scorn and basking only in the sunshine of your praise. I easily bore the brunt of all the wrong over the last week, I have talked you off ledges and yet not into bed, I feel pushed away while you row towards brighter, healthier shores. The pit in my stomach turns black and my face snarls to match it. It's the last thing I want to say but, my little heart breaks and I seethe with jealousy. If you come back in here I promise not to say things that will make you run away, I promise to act perky when in fact I feel so tired, tired of being the miser of my feelings and tired of over thinking my own thoughts. But you don't come back, you leave in an all too important rush, and again I find the words "my poor broken little heart" repeating repetitiously through my over thought thoughts. Did we draw the line already? Or is it that you're under the weather again? What I wouldn't give to go back to a time when I didn't feel, back to a time before these emotions took hold of my meager hand and pulled me down towards these incongruent depths. As if that time ever existed, as if I haven't always wanted you to hold me tightly and kiss me hard from the moment I set eyes on you. And so here I sit alone again dizzy from spinning my wheels and hoping that you'll hold me once more, hoping I'll find the congruence in all the incongruency, hoping that your nonresponsiveness speaks only to your status quo and not that deathly line we think we ought to draw, at this point I think we've gone far beyond doodling.

Pondering on a Horizontal Heat Wave

2011-03-14T17:44:00.000-07:00

Steam rises from my hot skin as I try to sleep in your bed,
the fan whips wind around the room and I feel lonely.

Why is it so hot in here?
Why can't I sleep while you slumber soundly beside me?
These questions leave me listless as I try to melt into your bed like a pile of ice cream, sweet treats infusing the sidewalk with the colors of velvety mint and milky chocolates.

Dreams elude me and I toss and turn into you hoping to steal some of your sleep for myself, no such luck.
I spread and kick the sheets and wonder about the temperature outside, the fan has started to cool my skin but my mind counts on at a feverish pace.

If I fall asleep that will mean our secret embraceable weekend is over and I'll wake to the real world, I'll ponder your weekend in public but know that the privacy we found was nothing less than glory.

So I tick on, maybe the time change has left it's trail on my internal clock, my finger taps the side of the mattress, suddenly you awake breathless and detail the dream you were having while grabbing my hand.
I smile as you settle back into what might be left of your dream, I think you also smile but in the dark I can't be certain.
My legs restless yet exhausted from dancing in the afternoon.
Reaching for stars that had yet to appear and grinning wildly wide from the familiar feelings of confining shoes and abandoned movements.

I start to choreograph here under your silky comforter and slowly my mind wanders toward the much anticipated goal of sleep.
Like a downy feather floating slowly from the sky, each breath, each imagined pirourette, the feather falls a little further until finally finding rest, my eyes close and I dance right into wind whipped dreams.

Before I Forget

2011-03-04T15:13:00.000-08:00

I want to kiss you before I forget what you taste like
I want to hold you before I forget what you feel like
I want to lie in your bed before I forget what your sheets smell like
but the loud humming of machines is all I can hear
not a taste, touch or smell can penetrate the clouds in my ears.

I want the image of you standing behind me, kissing where my neck meets my shoulder to be a memory not a dream
I want to lay my head on your bare chest to hear your caged heart thrash against your ribs.
I want to have a pocket full of postcards of all the places we have been
but never leave the crushing softness of your bed.

All these wants are left for wishes as you kick me with compliments and shuffle off leaving a wake of my oozing heart.
Do I run after you and grab your hand in defiance?
No, you continue to lead this waltz to nowhere
less of a dance, more of a silent stand off for good face time

Invite me somewhere with you
Ask me to wrap my arms around you once more before the week ends.
I have chills that speak to the cold of the surroundings
but from this freezing tower I look out on humid nights
and wait for you to offer your hand for a promenading debut

It's just that I may catch a chill before you have the opportunity to offer said palm.
So hurry and turns my wants and dreams to reality before I forget.

Fickle Friction

2011-03-01T08:14:00.000-08:00

I watch you sleep and crave to kiss you in the dark glow of your television. Your heavy breathing calls for heavy petting but I waver to wake you. Instead I plant soft kisses on your shoulders, you stir awake with gratitude but fall back to dreamland just as quickly. I need more, I'm uneasy as the week begins again but I can't fight for a love that isn't there or must be hidden between corps and corporations. We rile for the weekend but the mean time leaves me lethargic. My past haunts me telephonically as I wisp in and out of daydreams, the rendering leaves time for such leisurely luxuries. I'd have to assume it's the friction or lack there of that would turn lovers to "brothers" but such assumptions leave me cold and yearning for something less familial. I ought to let it be a lesson in you scratch my back I'll scratch yours but this despondency leaves me itching for something more. Maybe the novelty has worn off, maybe you only like me when you're drunk and lonely, maybe I've become too needy, but mostly I've turned to over analyzing instead of living in the glorious moment of now. Each new scene, each new experience as a life builds itself 3,000 miles away from what once was home.

More Beauty

2011-02-24T16:48:00.000-08:00

Now that the pressures of the weekend and simpleties of life have found a resting place in my psyche I can get back to the beautiful. I can stop blaming you for my fears and find myself once again entranced by the thought of you. I long to find your profile in the darkness of dawn and plant firm kisses on your shoulders while you waver between sleep and dreams. Pushing fears at you, holding back tears from you was a repercussion of running from you and now our Benjamin Button of a relationship finds middle age. Our time as roommates closes as I strike out on my own, we both continue to unfold like lotus, softer, smoother spots become exposed. Dark clouds cover what's left of a pumpkin colored moon as I slide down and sit back with a smitten smile. This beauty is far better than giving into the anxiety of a life yet to be lived.

A Mild Separation Anxiety Attack

2011-02-21T17:34:00.000-08:00

Caffeine and alcohol induced dehydration, I sweat alone in your sheets and put off the reality of 8 blocks. Time to get up young lady, time to grow up little girl. Maybe I can shower it off and disappear before you get back, a look of squinted confusion, all that's left of a hidden romance. Instead I rush to the bottoms of sweet flavored vodka drinks and rush towards your bed. Time to get up little girl, wipe the sleep from your eyes and start building your own bed. You made me want to read Cosmopolitan and then didn't answer my inquiries, you left me languishing and learned from my white lies and half truths and used them against me. It hurts today, it's really fucking scary today and I want to run to you and cry but that's the last place I should go.

Standing alone in my empty house only now does the reality of what I've done set it in, I've traversed miles again, this time in a quest for experience this time alone. One solemn tear, streams down along my cheek just as I slip slid away again. I wanted you to be a security blanket, but it might be time to sleep alone.

They Knew it to Be True Before it Was

2011-02-19T08:43:00.000-08:00

Slumbering in your big bed, your fingers find mine and I flutter awake with a smile. I was trying to push out of my comfort zone but continue to find myself wrapped in your arms under your sheets. I fiend to dream of you all day, by night I nuzzle in your scent, you leave me grinning more than I am used to. We engage in a game of shhhhh, secrets abound, we delicately dance about the situation in hopes no one will notice. Each look calculated, each touch, each spoken word a novelty until we find ourselves alone and trip down hidden paths gripped tightly together stopping for long awaited kisses and embraces. I want to shower your neck with short kisses and find your gaze across every table. The pressure is tangible as our time playing house comes to a close, as neighbors will we find the same thrills or something more reasonably melancholy?

The Precipice of Fresh Frontiers

2011-01-28T12:59:00.000-08:00

So this is the way it goes out? Like a slow dying flame or a bottled firefly, flickering against unknown odds. I’m tearing alone at what’s left of work, the let down slow and cumbersome. Suddenly my hand shakes with the pressure of days to come, the past haunts and daunts us all and one more night is the least we can do. I am alone as I steer once again towards familiar coasts. We dance in dreams but are awoke by our own palpitations that go unnoticed in waking life. My vision blurry, my heart aching, this cannot be the moment of realization; I don’t have time to face reality yet. These lyric-less songs evoke more emotion than thought possible. Memories and faces, memories of faces, push it away again, not ready for this much conscientiousness yet. Give it a few days til the sun soaks in and I find myself climbing my way through clematis again. The only cure for all this emotion must be saltwater, wash away these feelings and once again find fresh frontiers and new adventure.

Hauntingly Hunting

2011-01-09T11:50:00.001-08:00

You're haunting me, hiding at every digital turn I take. This transference of obsession started off easy enough but the continuous burning and lack of reciprocation has left me drowning. And while I move toward familiar coasts I continue to yearn for something more from you, I have let ALL of my crazy show and you look back in confusion with the same stare you kept in those stunted early morning moments. You're haunting me, your being and phantasm lurk over my shoulder and hide in the recesses of my mind. When you pass though my mind, wisp through my psyche, my shoulders go numb, my knees weak and I am left with the taste of sick in my mouth.

Unbeknownst to you I slide down, slouch down and pine alone, you do not share my feat and you do not expect the extent to which I have dwelled on all things you. Even now, even this, especially this, is too much but somewhere in the interim, in the crush transference, in the 3rd degree, I have lost myself.

Where In We Meet at the Perfunctory of the Meniscus

2010-12-25T10:59:00.000-08:00

I barely slept in your hot sheets as I held your hand and simultaneously dreamt of you. You parallel old obsessions and ambitions in an alarming way, you are however more tidy but equally unavailable. I wanted for you to hold me in the morning but it would seem you lost your nerve in soberness and instead slept with your fist covering your ear. I may have given up too much of myself as your nonchalantness in the late morning hinted at the fact you would likely let my text messages go unanswered in the later afternoon. And now if I thought I doted before, this close proximity boils the obsessions to the surface. Push down, float silently below the perfunctory. Where in the sweating and tiredness of muscles made me nervous, I now wait there, sweat slowly tracing my spine, watching for you to show. Things are pushing at the meniscus when I reality you are nothing. Mere dust between my fingers, lost smoke exuding your lips, synthesized melodies lost on deaf ears. Let me not again call out fire before the match is lit.

You've Left Me Doting

2010-11-30T16:18:00.000-08:00

You are the perfect antidote to feeling sorry for myself. You came out of no where so unexpectedly and melted the chill in the crisp afternoon air. I quickly lost myself in your lips and manly aroma, and as we burned in your sheets I closed my eyes and dreamt of architecture. Now that I'm left drowning in what's left of the melodies of our always too brief encounters, something between a sneeze and tears pushes at my sinuses and leaves me smiling. These sweet verses have made me slow down a bit, climb this hill a little slower and daydream of you, only to reach the summit and be reminded that I had vowed to harden this shell. So I speed down the back side of the mountain a little nauseous, with salt water specks hanging from my lower lashes. It would seem that whatever seed it is you planted long ago has sprung open and filled this translucent hard candy shell with wildflowers that bend and twist towards the sunlight of your smile. The weight of the workweek pushes on my mind while fond bruises weigh on my hips, similarly to your bruised ribs that left you writhing in pain rather than passion. I'm pulling for another meeting, vowing not to let you in but chasing you through thirsty dreams. While you may have been the perfect antidote I don't believe you have the want or availability to quench my thirst for you. So I'll imbibe something else, something water, something tea and leave these obsessions for another opportunity to let my crazy show behind rose colored glasses while you unnervingly impose by holding, by wrapping our hands in your sweatshirt to trip down city streets and insist on kissing me at each turn.

And the Shell Gets Harder

2010-11-26T13:59:00.000-08:00

You begged for a way in, and found a tiny hole in which to plant this seed again. You gained entry to my heart when I thought I had all but locked it up. Pushed and prodded, scrambling in the sand like a gladiator, you have struck me again and I stumble, only to make the shell harder. And It will be harder next time, if there is a next time and when you try to whisper “I love you” in the dark of a drunken stupor I won’t let you, not again will you cry to me, cry wolf, cry love and then turn around and rip the rug out from under us when you sober up. And the shell gets harder, a thick candy coating, fierce sugar and I pull my hand away from you in public. Stop hurting me, stop getting in, stop melting this barricade that has been the only thing to keep me sane and trudging along this road whilst I can barely stand. I reach out, reach across miles of land and space and time to make room, make a space for you and while you have done your best, I feel left in spit again.

Cover the cracks with vivacious liquids, meager tonics and slow lagers. Salty tears mix with sweet fears and a trail makes its way towards my heart. Stop it now, it’s been enough. I vowed to keep it simple and simply have fun, but you pushed me towards more and whispered at more then turned around to slap me with rules. I’ll not bow at your feet cause you think you’ve changed, I’ll not pretend the past doesn’t exist if you’re just going to keep repeating it. The beast has reared its ugly head again and all I wanted to do was dance with you. Put my small hand in yours and waltz again through dreams. I should have known better than to have ever let my feet leave the ground, and the shell gets harder. I’ll wither away in here, alone and choking back feelings I don’t let myself have anymore. And the shell gets harder, because I wouldn’t let you in again, the shell gets harder.

2010-10-22T13:58:00.001-07:00

do we fall apart?
or rise from pending ashes
steadfast family?

Lateral Movements

2010-09-15T08:06:00.000-07:00

A slow smile came over my face as lights of years gone by shone below, sparkled as the descent began. A rapid descent towards lights and water, this coastal home once agin called to me and I remembered the ways in which I had often contemplated my pilgrimage back to the these seaside smells and morning fog. Spacious and new, yet reminiscent of the place in which I had found myself alone for so long. Driving along coastal cliffs and winding towards the sea, sitting in cold theaters sipping lemonade. Maybe there is a way back now, maybe the pilgrimage has begun. A slow meandering towards this small city of bridges and bright lights. Old friends welcome me home again and then there is this persistence of an old love, coast to coast our lives have continued to parallel and now at this moment these parallel tracks have merged whether by force or by chance, we find ourselves skating towards each other rushing and passing towards each other. We might find a moment to grasp hands, find a time to spin in this whirlpool of an old love that has become shockingly fresh like the cold bite of the pacific ocean. And yet my guard stays up, this chain link fence of curiosity remains intact while you lean your way in, I hide and hold back. My body feels weak from dancing, my brain feels weaker from staying up too late and yet I contemplate how to make this lateral movement possible, time to jump tracks and chase sunsets.

Apart Together

2010-09-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

Time ticks on, we push for 20 minutes.
Reality nudges at the back of my mind with the heaviness of alcohol.
I watch your new self in your new novelty,
it's like nothing l've seen before
and yet I appreciate the ways in which we have grown apart together.
Your sweet kisses
and the way I have faced my larger fears in the midst of this weekend make me want to stay
and languish in the afternoon sun with you.
Can we find a happy medium?
Can I find a way out of this perpetuation of reality and escape to live in the daydreams of my weekends?
Time pushes on
we have minutes and the pressure of your body won't keep me here long enough,
but let's take these last moments to dote on eachother, slowly, softly.

Seasonal Hopes

2010-08-19T23:27:00.000-07:00

Devouring crisp apples waiting for days of fallen leaves. Wishing for the thoughtful loneliness of antiquated Northeastern cemeteries. The bite of Autumn posts against the corner of a summer that never came. I find myself uninspired by old inspirations when the opportunity finally arises. Old scars of love and sun drenched weekends pulse as waves of fog roll on. Wishes for biting October sun or a new moon outrace thoughts on subjects more pertinent. This cycle of heavy kisses and lingering looks will undoubtedly end in ruin and loneliness, the kind of loneliness that I have once languished in, the kind that I have missed but fully intend to quickly return to. These dreams of Fall plague my thoughts and hinder all productive moves forward. Broken hearts and misunderstandings lie dirty and rusted alongside this long road, mine repeatedly among them. As a solemn queen trudges to her death I wait for Fall and fall back into old habits. Without the boundaries of a monochrome board of players I’m left to wander in wonder at this fleeting life, these iridescent pearls of experience strung together by robot-like movements. Smoke streams from the dying fire within my chest and I find myself staring into wisps of steam instead. Entangled like the partners of a pas de deux, smoke and steam, from my fires and boiling points dance past my vision only to reveal that wanton trail of candy red rusted hearts and lost crowns that once sat on stable heads. I dream for Fall so that I may hide behind high collared coats and feathered masks, so that I may waltz through this bright masquerade and find myself hidden in a crowd, hiding in plain sight and once again languishing in that crisp solitude of a harvest sunset.

2010-08-18T00:28:00.000-07:00

Kisses taste the same
even after all these years
test me with them more

2010-08-10T10:14:00.000-07:00

your heartbeat keeps time
your chest heaves with life and love
sleep like this always

Log Out My Love

2010-08-07T15:34:00.000-07:00

Every time I wear this jacket I am reminded of that night we danced up foggy steep streets waiting for the bus. Each time I put it on I hope you will appear like a ghost or apparition, I sit in wait, I wait and hope. The warmth of my jacket is nothing compared to the warmth I felt as we held hands on your sunken couch. I’ve kept these memories sacred, cherished moments when I am walking through fog and am reminded of the way you looked in my eyes, the way you assured me of your wiseness. If only I had known my heart would still feel these flutters long after those February days had gone, I may have taken it slower, I may have suggested another venue but maybe it wasn’t place but time that confounded the circumstance. Your bright eyes and sharp wit were no match for my want to swan dive into love with you, with someone close to nothing I had known before and yet too close to everything I know. Now my want for these wishes to be realities is out pegged by the reality that I have cornered myself into love with everything I know and can’t have. To this end I will wear this jacket with the fondest of memories pinned to the lapel like the red plaid bow you liked so much and wait for your ghost to materialize before me for another night of wine soaked dreams to be lost in fog and smoke.

2010-07-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

I'm drowning slowly
sink down with me toward dark
choking in quicksand

Honey Soaked Summer Nights

2010-07-16T15:45:00.000-07:00

My mouth is stuck in a fond smile as I sit down to recount. You make me laugh, laugh at you. My interest goes beyond the touches, your interest may not. Tenderly you remove my shoes and are met with giggles, I laugh at your chivalry but know all too well there’s much more to your intentions. Sleep pushes at the backs of my eyes but I struggle to stay awake past the dancing. You tell me about your dreams while I barely speak at all, dumbfounded by circumstance and drowning in drowsiness. I’m silently enthralled at the way you love your friends, love your wine, love your food. Inspiring and unexpected as always, these beer fueled encounters leave me melancholy but surprisingly pleased. I like the way you talk with your hands, you like the way I let you kiss me. Until we meet again the honey hives surge on with sweet nectar waiting for harvest and I find my lips ever so slightly stung.

Falling is Easy When You're Already Lying Down

2010-07-10T17:42:00.000-07:00

Your kisses in that dark room haunt my mind while my doting words go unanswered, your advances are slight without the push of hot alcohol. Steam rises between martinis and dancing, steam rises while we whisper secrets, secrets as kisses. I hold onto these moments, I grapple back over the edge of the cliff my obsessions have pushed me beyond. My want for you is one-sided but in our friendship I find little treasure. I long for you on lonely roads as I listen to our favorite songs. Within my chest cavity a tornado spins, my sad heart withering and wilting as this whirlwind of emptiness drives through me. An answer from you, some reciprocation is not the antidote but I wouldn't overlook it all the same. I trudge along keeping smooth wrists far from sharp edges, as to not let out the hurt but keep it in and turn it into mismatched words left to be digitized.

Goodbye My Lover

What the Fog Can't

2010-07-10T17:26:00.000-07:00

I float alone into the fog, it oozes into me but fails to fill the voids in my mind and heart. Familiar songs bring old emotions and traffic. Wide eyed I wait for tears but can't seem to eek or blink out anything real. Wide open spaces feel more confined as my want for what I can't have out weighs those that want for what I can't give. Let the band play on, let the music and the melodies seam old scars and fill what the fog can't.

2010-07-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

walking with flowers
petals softly graze my cheek
instead of whiskers

2010-07-07T10:32:00.001-07:00

I miss our dancing.
Your presence is comforting,
albeit unreal.

2010-07-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

The Fourth of July
Fireworks die lost in the fog
Irony at best.

2010-07-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

As the phone rings on
I must silent the secrets
to protect your heart

2010-06-30T23:35:00.000-07:00

can we talk all night?
my feelings for you are huge
kiss me in darkness

2010-06-30T23:02:00.000-07:00

We could fall again
but now sophisticated
by time and heartbreak

2010-06-29T09:15:00.000-07:00

I want to kiss you
on your mouth again slowly
and fall into you

2010-06-29T09:14:00.000-07:00

Quickly my heart pounds
Something has started to stir
Here we go again

2010-06-28T14:43:00.000-07:00

Fariytales again
Place my hand in yours
Like a Beauty to her Beast

Selfish Shellfish

2010-06-10T21:31:00.001-07:00

I’m scrambling for something I don’t even want
I’m being selfish and spreading myself towards thin.
Your awkwardness isn’t the answer but it’s filling a void I was keen to keep open prior to these late night sways and long look stays. I shouldn’t be jerking you around because in the long run I’ll be the one painted as the jerk.
When I run away, when I take it just far enough, I’ll stop short before I jump and look at you blankly.
Lets not hold hands anymore; it’s too much to look at you when you’re not looking. Lets not stay up too late anymore to find nothing there in the morning.
I’m already sorry before it has even started.
Phantom music plays on.
Phantom figures in the dust.
Incessant buzzing and I can’t find the bees or sweet honey.
I’ve stopped looking to myself for solace; the cracks and rust in my armor are becoming more and more apparent and obvious.
I know it looks like a way in, I know it looks good and solid from where you sit, where you lie with your eyes closed but its not its broken and breaking.
I just want to lie in warm arms a bit longer to regain my strength.
The trade off however might be your heart but I’d rather yours than mine.

Somewhere Between the Fog and the Sun

2010-06-02T12:03:00.000-07:00

I read these old things, words of my own and well at the thoughtful emissions, well at the thoughtlessness of winding words and roads.
Eyes close, eyes open and there you are and there I am staring back with blown eyes wanting, needing for your touch.
A secret lulls between heavy musical beats and soft bruises until it becomes too much to bear and we find ourselves falling into familiar factions of desperate kisses. Your hands too much while wanton exclamations of love go unnoticed.
Hold me.
Hurt me.
Fall into me the way I find myself falling into you.
Sleep settles the mind for short moments and hours until we wake and try to recount what secrets were exchanged til dawn.
When the night started I stared into the mirror and was answered with a regal smile that knew all too well where the night could lead, back down this path of least resistance, back into this den of inequity.
I can’t keep writing about you and pretending it means nothing. I can’t keep daydreaming about you and pretending it means nothing while my eyes well with salty tears.
But it does mean nothing, it is nothing.
I will continue to silently adore you, except on the nights we let it go too far and my altered mind can find all the right words to lay upon your deaf ears.

Life Tetris

2010-05-25T11:13:00.000-07:00

I saw a picture of a ballet dancer and started to cry
I had a dream about a blue kitten and woke to whimpers
Twists and turns form along the road in front of me
Chances for a life-up, chances to make a change while I wish for days of old
Days of tulle and floating feathers
I day dream through corporate meetings about beach dance parties, the sand sticking to sweat as all demons and worries are released
Trying to turn down poison for easy release pills
The trade off being my mind
If I can dance it all off, stretch it all away
I may just find myself at the twist or turn towards success
Here’s hoping it all falls down and right into place

Dear Friend,

2010-05-21T13:40:00.000-07:00

The sky is turning black and I want to help you but you don’t think you need it. It’s getting dark out here but all you see is the light, drawing you closer like a moth to a flapping flame.
When the chips fall I wanna be there.
When you lose it all I’m gonna be here.
But it’s becoming increasingly more difficult not to cast shadows on all this glory you think you’re basking in.
Please come back down before you fall or get pushed.
It’s dangerous living in love with all your vitals exposed.

Wanted: Swim Lessons

2010-05-09T21:07:00.000-07:00

Teardrops hang on the edges of my eyelashes as I search for you along the water’s edge. Just when I thought I had won the fight of your wake the undertow pulls me back under and I’m drowning in what was once your love. Like a rope around my ankle you pull me farther down as I struggle, as I paddle towards rays of sun and oxygen. Gasping for breath and freedom. Bobbing like a buoy in an ocean of loneliness waiting for tides and storms to bring us back together. Dancing in pools, sitting on stools. Anxiety beats at my brain as I try to push you, keep you at arm’s distance. Stop wanting to touch me and lie to me through your highs. You look disheveled and I curtsy, bow to your every advance. There’s nothing left to say, our Russian roulette of pain and ecstasy will continue to wind and whirl, your touch, your smell will continue to wind and whirl through my sanity striking me mindless and hopeless when I least expect. If I had the power to dance away this stronghold, the chance to kick off that rope pulling me under I'd stay motionless and continue the drowning for certain death by heartbreak is inevitable. Keep my heart in your hands, it doesn’t know anything else.

You, Me, Us, We

2010-05-07T09:20:00.000-07:00

We fiend, we find, we pay.
We fall, we twist, we turn into old patterns, into catching up between catching breaths.
You dance, you laugh, you drink.
I watch, I fall, I play along.
Farther down old feelings push at unstructuring synapses.
I wait, I want, I take.
You rush, you take, you want.
We rock, we roll, we wave but the fire needs fuel and the same stories keep getting told.
Lips brush, lips crush, and tokens of nothing are exchanged.
You say, you want, you own.
I push but pull and you waver not at all.
You taste the same, smell the same, kiss the same as you once did in the stark starlight of first kisses and first crushes.
"Don't you want to kiss me?"
"Oh please you're the only one I want to kiss."
But you'll leave in the morning hidden behind sleep depravation, you won't make eye contact and I'll be left yearning ever so slightly.
You tease, you rush, you're gone again.
I please, I crush, I'm thrown again.‏

The Sunset

2010-05-02T21:49:00.000-07:00

I’m thinking I will drive to the beach and watch the sunset, but once it sets I get pretty sad so maybe I’ll just lie in bed and clench my jaw. I wait for calls I’m too embarrassed to answer and try to get the courage to stop the snow balling effects of my actions. Read on. Reeds on the beach, I really do want to watch that sunset but I would have to shower first. Funny little words strung together, inspiration has strange effects on what’s left of my brain. Dear me, let’s go to the beach and brush my teeth before.

at the beach:
Now that I’m here I cant be sure why. It’s chillingly beautiful and loud. Waves crashing, windy breezes whipping, the sun slowly sinking but burning orange into retinas the beach over. I reach out but really wish to float away on the wind’s breezes and rolling wakes. I’m feeling too confined by the winding roads and whispers, my legs are sore and cramped. We can’t see ourselves aligning when nights are spent sipping truth serum but coming up empty handed, empty laughs. Lessons in loneliness continue while I find myself surrounded by good company poisoned by honesty. It chills, the sky forms shades of sherbert, the ocean darkens hinting slightly at the fathoms below. The sun obtusifys and the sadness starts to sink-in in the same fashion. Hide behind clouds on the horizon, hide behind shrouds and cloaks only to find the dagger that was once in my heart is now in my hand. Skipping rocks and skipping school have lost their allure and the seasons smell only of smoke and saltwater. We come out, a sliver is left and soon pinks will turns to purples will turn to blacks and the first star won’t be a star at all. The world will still spin for now and runners will still run and I’ll be left writing sadly.

The Roar of the Engine

2010-04-28T22:54:00.000-07:00

Like magnets their lips shocked together, these old patterns were easy but some how different. Sweeter, he tasted sweeter and nicer, he snuggled better. His smile still the same, that smile that had made him the one in a crowd of jostling young men so many years ago. In the dark glow of HBO that smile flashed back and took her back to nights of shaking and butterflies. Even now as she writes about it she smiles, the best freckles and that smile, that smirk of content, nothing had changed, he somehow still had her in his clutches unbeknownst to him. He would burn her again in the next 48 hours, thinking these lessons ought not be learned twice she would turn off, shut down for awhile. But in the middle of the night she would find herself smiling to his smile and know there would be more burns to bear, for this tumultuous affair of serendipitous events was just revving its engine for another journey.

Reading Relations

2010-04-26T21:55:00.000-07:00

It’s become increasingly more obvious that while I barely cracked the book this chapter is over.

Let’s go back to dancing wildly, where touch meant nothing and our movements spoke to beats alone. If we could go back, let’s go, let’s rush to our old cynicism and nights of Mexican beer. While I continue to daydream on you everything else points back, go back to the wondrous friendship and forget what the heavy drinks and buzzing signs felt like as we tumbled down into that mutual space of desire.

And now I will try with all my might to let it be what it never was a, just a friendship, for that is all it can be as we turn the page to start a new paragraph and old reconnaissance.

A Kiss Amiss

2010-04-11T22:42:00.000-07:00

I feel myself reach out and pull at the tiny string that connects us, I pinch at it and pull hoping you will respond with light. If I thought I missed you before, if I thought she was ridiculous for saying the separation caused physical pain, I thought wrong. If I wished for that to happen for so many years, If I thought and wished it would be easy I wished amiss. How could you whisper that to me as I tousled in sheets and dreams and your lips? How could you say that and not know my mind and heart would wander down this retched road?

I let it, we let it, go too far. My mind said no, for that path of least resistance we tumbled down was incoherently felonious on every possible level. But I fell, no jumped with my heart first into a dark chasm that I had wished and thought about for so long. And now here I am pulling on that little string, reaching towards that little machine in hopes you will be on the other line but hoping mostly that what you whispered, what you said and the way you touched me were real and not a ploy or induced by cheap alcohol and neon lights.

It's Sinking, It's Getting Deeper

2010-04-08T21:04:00.000-07:00

These are the nights where I don’t want to be thinking “oh this town” I want to be knowing “oh this city.”
These are the nights where I want to go walking and feel a little cold but my heart is warm.
These are the times where I want to be thinking I‘m home, and I’m alone and its quiet.
The only words are the thoughts in my head.
Where the dimming lights are more than innovation, where my great city coos with wet tires and electricity.
Until then these are the nights where I devise and scheme a way home to my Shangri-la, to my loves, to my city by the bay.
...
Oh incessant annoyances can be put to bed but the incessant words keep ringing and I’m wringing hands to keep above the panic.
Take me back and hurry before I forget you or let it get too deep here love!

The Old Neighborhood

2010-04-05T22:22:00.000-07:00

We stretch out over the intercoastal. I rush to lift the shade, my eyes well, my throat clenches, and the guy next to me continues to drum to the beats in his headphones. It could be the surprise first-class free wine or the fact that I thought I would never come back. But now as I coast thousands of miles over my old home I am at a loss for why the emotion is sad, is regret. Could it be that this time I am alone? That so much of this old life here was a we and now it’s just me, experiencing life alone. I regress back to lessons in loneliness; I retrace the memories we made here and rushed away from. Do I call out you? Do I tell you “here I am? Here I am!” Only to make you feel worse, feel just as sad but still alone on our new/old coast. I didn’t mean to leave you hurt and I didn’t mean to follow you here. But here I am back on this lovely turquoise waterway filled peninsula, alone and I want more than ever to call to you and remind you of the beauty here and beauty that once was between us, ironically before we ever got here. I’m sorry my old love I’m looking for new experiences in our old neighborhood and only finding bittersweet reminders.

Old Love on the Horizon

2010-04-03T13:15:00.000-07:00

I’m feeling unusually melancholy, I sit listless and alone. Alone and full of lists. But it's you my naïve knave that I will miss. You my friend, you my dear, new friend. Horizons are changing; vacations will bring new beaches and beats for short days of old abandon. Let the coming rain wash away these melancholy tears and let me return like the rising sun to set on new goals and smiles. Old scars feel fresh and I can’t help but think of old loves. As I traverse by air my mind will wander to the thoughts of love past...

Silent Whispers Resonate Among Friends

2010-03-30T21:37:00.000-07:00

We sit here smiling with our secrets.
We stand here humming with our fears.

… and all I want to do is lie on the couch and listen to you sing me a song.

My eyes try desperately to hide my deceptions and the cage around my heart does what it can to keep in the scandals. Oh, yes I’d like to fancy myself a keeper of a great many secrets but the reality is I wear them on my sleeve. Pinned there with tears, hanging loosely along with my sad scarred heart.

But I could sit with you and beguile awhile. You can tell me your curiosities while I try to keep my head above water, above wine. You can smile with your tongue and laugh with your ears while I smile with my crush and melt with my eyes. Your inquiring questions leave me intoxicated with alarm, this honesty is fresh and makes everything else easy.

Just a Friend

2010-03-23T11:29:00.000-07:00

We can try from here to keep the boundaries clear.
We can hope for the best, while forgetting the rest.
With the status unknown you can call me at home.
I'll be waiting and baited,
I'll be dancing outdated.
You'll be playing my song,
even after I'm gone.
But this secret still blows,
through the wind, down the rows.
I can't say what it is,
but it seems everyone knows.
Let's share one more drink,
then sit back down to think.
I'll sleep here again,
I'm just not sure when.
This might not be fear
but you can't keep me here.
I'm looking to run and you probably can't come.
There's a place by the bay and I'll live there someday.
But up until then,
Let's just be friends.

Did we just make Love?

2010-03-11T23:21:00.000-08:00

Your picture is ominous but it pulls at my heartstrings slightly. I day dream of rubbing your back to night dream but now I’ll let the conversation and communication lull to a dull sane, only to rile the anxiety back up in the coming weeks. I wish I dreamt of you more or inversely I wish I slept with you more and worsely maybe I will dream of you tonight while I wait on love to bleed from nothing while I wait on myself to need for nothing. Not need for you and your haberdashery, not need for it and its high highs, not need for music and it’s low lows. Lets go dancing through my memories, lets find me in cold movie theaters hanging on every slow note alone, lets find me walking along dirt paths to end at foggy cliffs, lets find you in my dreams and in my life sitting cold on foggy cliffs and dancing under blue glass, maybe dancing to blue grass. “Who are you?” you’ll puff and I’ll waver slightly “who are you?” you’ll pass and I’ll wager it all in that dark azure glow. Cash in my chips just to be known as the girl that cried love, cried early morning tears for love that couldn’t be but somehow seemed to linger in late night staring contests.

What's Life got to do with it?

2010-02-22T22:19:00.000-08:00

When these flailing arms should be like wings of freedom I just feel like a newborn grappling for its mother. As my heart beats into the next panic attack I try to find solace in the little things, the lone white rose glowing in the moonlight, the unexpected wine drenched dinners. A fairytale waits for me but I continue to keep it at arm’s distance while I swelter in the real world. How have I let myself get this lost? How is living in today helping life tomorrow? I play my records to put myself to sleep and yearn for them in the nightmares of waking life. I’ll continue to trust that something better waits around the corner but I worry that hope is not enough of an agenda.

* * *

Keep it calmer, keep it sane. Its only life and there are a million little puzzles to figure out while the time rushes by.

Separation Anxiety

2010-01-24T21:09:00.000-08:00

We find ourselves alone again, with just this glowing screen staring back. My new best friend has returned to school two hours away, after a month of fun, games and heartache. The withdrawals have begun, a need for interaction is subdued by the distance. And so life goes on but slower, quieter, less. The fears of real life are mounting as I try my hardest to live in the moment. My dreams are clouded with images of diving off cliffs and candy, my life is clouded and shrouded in similar similes. I’m waiting for the next best thing but its not really coming fast enough, bidding my time leads to biting my nails. I feel a mess and have taken to dancing out all my emotions so I can be left in a melancholy daze. I stare off into the vortex of MTV, smiles elude me, the only action my mouth has taken to is jaw clenching. I feel lonely and find no relief in the trickling of the rain and river outside the house. I’ll take a sleeping pill and hope I wake to a new dawn where things will be a little clearer and filled with more cheer.

Realizing There Was Never Anything There

2010-01-19T00:09:00.000-08:00

I had all these plans for an us that never existed. I watched you with your desperation showing, searching for anything, almost begging. My actions mirrored yours and were confounded in the same way. My point of dehydration had brought me to a surreal state of mind. I was probably lucky I could not cry, because after the inner monologue of yelling at you and at myself, I think that may have followed. Now my want for happiness and you again is trying to block the fact that I was your Plan B and had to watch as you hurriedly tried to put Plan A into effect. That didn’t feel good, but like any junkie I still want more. I want for you to look at me and I want you to want me most of all. I tell myself I’ll not play second chair in your orchestration of love, but maybe second chair could be my perfect opportunity to display my own talents for devotion. My silly heart is always two steps ahead with frantic desperation. I’ve got to catch up and find the rationality of it all before it takes me to a dark place where I find myself once again pushing bruises just so I can feel something. The cure? A sad movie alone, a little news about the cracking world. I just need to put my unfounded broken heart into perspective.

The Music is Not Enough Now

2010-01-16T02:07:00.000-08:00

I’ve been listening to you build your music and its everything none of us thought it would be. I’ve been slowly watching you break my heart and its everything I thought it would be. It was you not trying and me still going home and crying. Enjoy your beer, but what’s more enjoy her. She’s the one with her bad eighties movies and her career, yeah enjoy her. It should work well since you know it’s been over, it should work out well while I lie here in my hell. Nada mas para tu.

I’ll not sit among stars and satellites and contemplate you. I’ll not sit around much longer and wait for that song to be written about me. It’s been stretched too thin, to a point of nonexistence. You leave me sad and I leave you “sick” or at least that’s what you would like me to think. While I feel as if I have loved and lost you, you don’t know me at all. You don’t know I can easily see the benefits of not sleeping alone, you don’t see that I have been exactly like you up until the moment I mistakenly bared my soul to you. And so the process of backing away and regaining my dignity begins, I only wish we had never spent those months of admiration and those moments of bruising in the car, then I wouldn’t find myself alone again thinking of life, love and my lack thereof. But most importantly I wouldn't find myself alone thinking of you not thinking of me.

To the Nights We Felt Alive

2010-01-10T23:27:00.000-08:00

When planes sound like didgeridoos and the stars are shining into my heart
The music has infiltrated my life and taken me to a time I thought I’d never start.
I’m thinking about playing things, dancing and singing songs
I’m thinking about taking it easy all winter long.
I’m considering life again and keeping it level
I’m considering my city again and romancing the devil.
I’m wanting for more touch and finding it at every stop
I’m taking life to new heights, climbing to the top.
You’re singing in my ear, with your tongue and with your voice
I’m finding myself alone at night, the thoughts I still rejoice.
I’m riding home with you again just to sleep alone
I dream of death and destruction, my conscience is my own.
I’m writing and reading and watching again, I’m considering my dreams
It’s everything I thought I would be but well within my means.
A new year is dawning or maybe it had dawned
A new year is dawning and my life has just begun.
I’m putting words together and rhyming in new fashion
I’m putting words together and finding my old passion.

Continuing the Search for Life

2010-01-08T19:01:00.000-08:00

I find myself listless and alone, I’ve started to search for something that matched your fury, albeit drink and endorphin induced fury, there is no match so I close my eyes and kiss in the dark trying to get back to the happy glow you left me in. The ability to make myself glow on my own is the real task at hand.
Stop hiding in cold sheets, your heart and mind don’t rest there any more.
Start looking to the sun and camping in the sand, shock your self back to your self.
I give good advice and never heed it. Instead I am slowly turning to a nocturnal wino. I romanticize every glance, every slow get away and certainly every fast kiss to the point of superior exhaustion. It seems that in the interim of my last relationship the rest of the world has become immune to my charms. The world has grown-up while I have stayed my same shallow self.
Searching for growth while I sleep the day away.

Something Old, Something New, Something Real, Something True

2009-12-27T11:23:00.001-08:00

And so we meet again, I try to regain my composure as the wave of panic comes over me. You try to regain your ability to stand and ask me to take you home. I feel alone as we sleep in the same bed. You’re different now, you snore. I’m different now, I try to be indifferent now. Keeping it easy with the cautious bachelor, shaking things up as I learn to be alone. I don’t think I could hurt you anymore and yet I try to keep my heart concealed as to not disrupt my lessons of solitude that seem to add a glow and smile to my face. As I huddle to you in the dark for warmth, I know you will be cold in the morning. We laugh as our visit comes to a close. Another confusing rendezvous as I try to keep my obsessions loose.

Now for something real and less poetic:
I turn 25 on Thursday. I just broke up with my boyfriend of 4 years because it didn’t feel like he was in love with me, we were best friends but that is where it ended. Such a romantic as myself needs much more. I just moved home to live with my parents and find a job in my hometown. I anticipate much more on the subject of old crushes and hopefully some new ones, all while trying to find myself as a happy independent girl.

I’m tired of carrying torches but I need some way to see in the dark.

A Lesson in Loneliness

2009-12-20T10:59:00.000-08:00

I find myself coming home to a sky full of stars as the moon waxes and wanes to the tune of my breaking heart. This lesson in loneliness is more than I can bare and yet I continue to contemplate and wager the benefits of a life of solitude. I watch and want for you as your life falls apart whilst you are trying to build and change it into something new. People pulling you in every direction, I do my best to keep silent and scream only behind your back as to not further disrupt your ecosystem of confusion. In time the pieces will fall into place but for now I wait, want and continue learning loneliness. No amount of heavy drink or dancing can soothe away the pain of an unrequited infatuation, but I continue to substitute simple glances for actual substance. Your touch is too much while it means little to you, I have started to tumble down this rabbit hole, and each night I spend in solitude I start to convince myself of an exit strategy or how to dig deeper.

Palm to Palm, We Dream

2009-12-12T13:42:00.000-08:00

I can see your hand there, in the shadows of my mind. As I wake I dream of you, as I study my own hands I think of yours. Your long fingers running through your hair, why is it that I cannot forget you? And why is it that I only let myself remember the romantic stupor inducing times? I still dream of you in sleep, I ask you to acquiesce to me while you drive away laughing at the thought, as well as the unnecessary vocabulary use. In the past I was able to put thoughts of you aside but now that we reside on the same coastline and keep the same hours I can't help but dwell on thoughts and dreams of you. However fleeting they may be these thoughts keep my head above water while I continue to drown in listlessness. Doors open and unlock around me, I am searching for some kind of door that will end this flood I am hiding in. I do wonder what will happen first; will the shadows of my mind forget your hands or will the waters overcome what's left of my dreams?

.

Soul Puking

2009-11-28T11:37:00.000-08:00

I'm wanting to expunge it all
Looking to find something new
Talking to myself
Waiting for the other shoe

It feels like it’s falling apart
Or maybe just growing roots
I find myself listless
As I pull on these boots

I’m taking a walk
Finding something fresh
Worlds are colliding
While I wish that they would mesh

Taking down the pictures
Packing up the spoons
Driving down the coast
Dancing under moons

Looking for the next exit
Waiting for the chance
To hideaway in bungalows
To find solace in a glance

Maybe there’s an answer
I’m pretty sure this isn’t it
But obsession fuels my melancholy
As I beg myself to quit

Smiling through the tears
Dying as I’m waking
I’m doubled over in pain
I thought that was my heart breaking

I’m keeping it in mind
Heeding my own advice
Doing the right thing
Trying to be nice

Looking for that Lullaby

2009-10-25T22:35:00.000-07:00

The music is like a call to freedom. Your harmonies infiltrate my mind and insist on the liberation of my heart and soul. They suggest a new chase, a new trail towards true passions, simplicity and solitude. My fears hold me back, I am afraid to be alone in the world with only my scars. As I daydream of a quest for stars I rationalize a settling and take the easy way home. If only sweet slumber could come quickly, I would be lost in dreams built on music instead of the still life nightmares built on lies. How will I find the voice of truth and reason when I am mute and empty on all topics of passion. I wish to feel again as my body goes numb to match my heart and mind. I wish to run again and dance to silent smiles. I want for the pulsing of my blood to feel like fire instead of the hot tears that stream my face. If these melodies can bring me back from my lifelessness there is hope they can ignite much more within me. Please sing me to sleep, sing me to dream.

Trying to Forget

2009-09-18T16:11:00.000-07:00

She kisses like she’s trying to forget the loveless-ness of the current companionship. Searching in the night and late afternoon for more than what she’s been dealt, but losing herself in it all the same. A weakness reflecting her weak heart as it dares to beat on through little romance she can eek out of him. Strangers are easier and less effort, but in strangers she finds shame, albeit little shame. If he could just wake from his success-chasing stupor maybe he would find her there running in place beside the bed just to keep up with her own dreams. Stagnant. She feels herself and her destination slip sliding away. O to run away to seaside cottages and live in sunlight and dark rooms. O to find the story hidden under the dreariness of today. O to be assured that tomorrow’s promises hold more than what she wishes. It will come full circle when she is least expecting it. For now the waiting must be made worthwhile and forgetfulness cannot be the only solution.

The information's unavailable
To the mortal man
We're working our jobs
Collect our pay
Believe we're gliding down the highway
When in fact we're slip slidin' away

What Dreams May Hold

2009-09-11T09:38:00.001-07:00

“I think its time to go,” she said, “I think its time to go”
Down rabbit holes and coast-lined roads
“I think its time to go.”

An escape is churning on the mind
As laughter turns to pages
Pages bidding time

What makes you so special?
What makes you so nice?
The words conjure rocking
The word connotates ice

If its childhood games you want to play
This spoon sans plate will run away
I’ll raise you daylight plus recovery
Drink it up my friend, imbibe the revelry

Or rivalry if you will
Jealousy, my chosen sin
Don’t start this game with me old boy
For you will unknowingly not win

A quiet quest as most sins are
Hidden in darkness, nights without a star
I lie alone in crowded bed
The sins and squalor haunt my head

And so she calls once again
“I think its time to leave”
Away to dream of vices old and fresh
A shot of liquor, a heated touch of flesh

“I think its time to go” she shook, “I think its time to go”

The cold rocky asphalt begging for bare feet
The tiny, trapped voice calling its defeat
The wet grassy wasteland cooing at her ear
But swallowing that lump is the only thing she’ll hear

And then the rushing of her dark heart
Boiling red hot in its cage
Only a sly smirk can hide its pulsing rage

A silent secret, secret untold
For it is a mind that is slowly lost
Searching for what dreams may hold.

“The season is calling and your pictures are falling down”

2009-02-26T07:39:00.000-08:00

I think I’m numb. The fall to the floor, gut wrenching, aspects of love are not part of my current relationship. Last night, in the dark glow of the television, I watched as Minnie Driver collapsed in her Harvard dorm room while Matt Damon said he didn’t love her. I used to be this way, I would lay listless as tears streamed down my face. I would cower in the shower, the hot water and hot tears falling together, inseparable. But now I make dinner, I do the dishes, I sweep the floor. He has a beer, plays Halo, laughs.

I am numb. I look at him with perplexity. How did we get here? Is this suburbia or just acquiescence? Because it is terribly senseless. I wish to feel again, I wish to fall on my knees and cry to the stars for answers again. I know I’ve fallen to the ground and tried to drown in my own tears for him before so why has my passionate captivation subsided for domestication?

My dreams hold no answers only hours of distraction.

We Never Danced, never

2009-01-21T12:55:00.000-08:00

I can feel my soul yearn for you. While my mind says give it up, it is over, my soul feels ever so deeply rooted to you. Its sickening this uncontrollable obsession, stupid one-sided obsession. I try to remember there will be another lifetime in which our souls will meet again. And yet it is in this lifetime, this life today that I suffer thinking through the mistakes I made with you and how I have yet to save to you.

“Hope it's not too late
We were more than friends
I can hardly wait
'Til we meet again.”

It ought not be this way. I should forget you but you make it less than easy to do so. With your careless ways I cant help but care; about you, about what you do, what you think. Mostly if you think of me. And my rational says no. No he doesn’t think of me. No he doesn’t think in romantic phrases that have our soul intertwined like the roots of a flowerbed. No he doesn’t think of me. No.

Shake me up, let the crazy thoughts of my snow globe life fall in a different pattern. Let this thought, this elusive selective memory be buried by the plastic pieces of now, today, and tomorrow.

“There’s no place like home to make me feel alone”

2008-12-30T10:58:00.000-08:00

Once again I fell under his smoky spell. Just when I thought I had risen above my old obsessions I found myself wrestling in his sheets after midnight. He responds with blankness, he no longer feels for me the way I seem to want for his attention. He is melancholy while I push buttons that I know are infallible. Less begging this year, more of an understanding, a Christmas tradition if you will.

And now I wait for my in house love to return, I wait with little remorse. Have I no heart? Or is it that I have too much heart, too many feelings? Too much feeling, touching. What now? I tend to be destructive in idle love, I need a jump start and I doubt Disneyworld will fill the void but I’ll give it a try.

Happy Birthday
Happy New Year
Another year full of hope on the horizon and yet I doubt it will be much different. Same listlessness, same absentminded philandering. More heart, less soul. More soul, less body.
Wishes, dreams and mostly schemes.

Looking for more information on the Moons

2008-11-13T13:24:00.000-08:00

Maybe I’ll just go and cry alone at all of our love and everything I still think I'm missing. You are my beautiful being, the sleeper to my dreamer, the rock to my waves and yet with all that has and is becoming I feel lonely and still a little lost. I wish to slow dance to scratched records under twinkle lights with you while you want for television glow and hoppy beverages. Where and how have we made this happy medium my love? You have taken the crazed look from my eyes and replaced it with a glazed love-drunk stare. You saved me from myself and I only hope I have saved enough of myself to be eternally Me.

Two months later: giving up the old Obsessions and It's Love again

2008-10-03T12:09:00.000-07:00

Listening to Built to Spills “Car” and thinking of the old days where I relished in our awkwardness and my keen ability to seem completely insane but be in total control of our relationship. I have done my best in these last months to break my lasting vice of the old Him. Small successes have been made and I am proud that the turmoil that these thoughts and obsessions were causing has subsided like the staunch heat of summer.

I once again find myself in what should be autumn and yet no leaves have changed here and my sweater speaks only of the incessant air conditioning.

Most importantly Love has grown from where there was only a dry well. A lovely babbling brook of laughter and joy, smiles where there were tears and a clenched jaw, conversation where there was silent resentment, lust where there was disgust, companionship where there was deceit, trust where there were glares of jealousy but most importantly Love, again, from a best friend.

Well its almost like being in love

2008-08-14T07:48:00.000-07:00

It smells like tears as I cry myself to wake. Through sobs I ask for your help and you say, “ I’m sleeping.” Well sweet prince as you lay in slumber I’m lost in life and silently plead and beg you to love me whilst I struggle to tolerate myself. It feels like an earthquake tearing through my soul. The image in the mirror is but a shell of my former vivaciousness. I plead to her come back to me, come back and go back to nights of wild ruin and days of sun soaked abandon. Have I chosen this life in exchange for the wonderful nightmare of a dream I used to live? It seems that way more and more. I try to tell you secrets and you make them into jokes, cant you see I need something much more then your carelessness. I need an intellectual, an artist, more than your muscles and muscle milk. You may look good on futuristic paper but your canvas in blank and mine is being shaken away like an etch a sketch where only specks, mere remnants of my former life cling there statically. I need a change and hopefully something will present its self before someone does.

Lonely never, ever change

2008-07-23T06:22:00.000-07:00

I wake in the night breathless from dreams and nightmares, alone for once no one to talk me out of these illusions except the bright light of the television.
In dream I choked and struggled for breath as I ran from my family congregated in a church, I never was good at breathing when it comes to structured God. As I ran from the white clap board steeple down the dirt path my nightmare followed me, a young man, he must have been beautiful at one point, in a suit with a black cloth over his head, once I turned to catch my breath he was there unveiling as I screamed, “no, no, no.”
His right eye was sewn shut.
Blind to the world?
I woke with a start still mouthing the negative.
This vision has left me in a funk listless and sad. Listening to old standards as I go through the motions, “ Lovely never, ever change.” These songs remind me of dinner parties from my childhood, candlelight and Billie Holiday, pasta and my mom sneaking cigarettes. Days were easier then, nights too, and I just keep searching for somewhere beyond the sea.

Old Obsessions

2008-06-25T08:11:00.000-07:00

I’m building something for you; compiling my obsession when in reality you owe me nothing, not even the acceptance of a package, the return of a phone call or the reciprocation of my desire.
I search for your smoky smell in my clothes and pillows, you are already gone. Your face in the glow of the television was everything I needed and it has now become everything I long for. I imagined it would be your face when I woke up on this side of my universe but it wasn’t. You are not here and you’re barely there. I try to pick up, try to move on. Seduce me again, I beg you. Try to block it out, try to smile. Want me again, I beseech you.
I fell down on my knees in the gravel, arms stretched to the full moon as tears streamed down my face, body shaking. Maybe it was the tequila or the gin, but it feels much more real than those easy libations. I’m lost again; lost in loving/lusting you a million miles away as I, most likely, have barely crossed your mind.

“my only friends are pirates, it's just who i am
 i'm better as a memory than as your man.”

te amo?

2008-06-12T14:02:00.000-07:00

I remember her saying he was wonderful
I remember it being a secret
I remember him breaking her heart or maybe it was her who did the breaking.
And there it was a lovely romance fallen down around her ankles.
Whole heart exposed.

They say that if you dream in Spanish you have become fluent
I think they lived there, in dreams, in Spanish
Heavy hot humid flowers hung on their words and work and music.

Quiet music hidden

You could feel the whirl wind of loss in her words and see it in her eyes
her own account sadder, introspective, while she watched his every movement, his ever faltering ways, as he escaped her.

There was begging, there was lunch with no music.
It would have been nice to say it was a bitter sweet goodbye but it was more bitter as she reminded herself “ don’t forget to breathe,” and moved on to mend within.

All the while remembering,
He was wonderful
It was a secret
And she did the breaking.

like ten thousand balloons

2008-05-27T14:25:00.001-07:00

Pull me in
I feel like I’m floating away
Pull me in
Pull me back
Kiss me
Hold my hand
I’m getting lost out here with out you
While you sleep in sweat next to me
I miss you most when we touch
It’s not enough to just be with you
Look at me
see me
Love me
While I struggle to love myself
Pull me in
I’m floating away on tears and fears
Pull me back
Before I’m too high, too far gone.

A Lonely September

2008-04-18T11:52:00.000-07:00

I used to cry over you and even now as the tears well up I reminisce sleeping in your nook, your smell of cigarettes and soap. I miss you as I listen to bands to told me about, I miss you as I wake from dreams that your OCD rituals plagued, I miss you and I want to kiss you, in all your drunken gloriousness. I itch for those old kisses or any kisses for that matter. Chills run through my body as I think of love and lust and lacking all of it. A romantic, with no romance. I try to find substance and inspiration in this humid life, I try to find wonder and awe in this suburban life, there is nothing yet. Where is my city? Where are the wonderful lights of uncovered stars? Where are you sleeping these days? I long for your hot sheets in exchange for this humid life and our long drives down rocky coasts and dirt roads. Your long fingers holding my hand because at least someone would be holding it. I have let you become my lasting vice. I day dream of running away with you to continents and islands, day dreams that will stay just that, dreams, while I wait and write movies of our unfinished life.

“I didn't mean for this to go as far as it did
And I didn't mean to get so close and share what we did
And I didn't mean to fall in love, but I did
And you didn't mean to love me back, but I know you did”

This life or the next

2008-02-19T10:05:00.000-08:00

I dream of him and airports and antiques. Glossy tables in old libraries upon high hills, steep hills that our dreamland go-carts could not traverse. Libraries with butlers that “shhhhh” your giggles, long stretched windows to view those wonders that could not fit within these walls. Ancient swords and jackalope heads hung on the walls; magically woven rugs run the length of each hall. A tiny airport out of Casablanca meant only for parting lovers. This dream is a welcome break for images of a new corporate life, video tapes of every size and shape, stacks and rows of them have plagued my dreams for the last two weeks which were in turn the first two weeks of the rest of my life. Regardless I always cherish dreams filled with old romance and wet kisses. While I ponder him daily I have had to put my obsession with the future, our future to rest, because now I am a world away and lie in other arms, wonderful arms. And so I can only dream and rest assured that our tortured souls are not yet finished with each other and we will meet again in this vessel or another to torture and obsess for another lifetime.

Watching Joseph Gordon Levitt movies and crying myself to sleep.

2008-02-01T14:23:00.000-08:00

I miss being alone and cynical. I miss the city and trying my hardest to look hard so I wouldn’t get mugged/raped. I miss him when he’s right next to me and yet I fantasize about running away and never coming back. Things are falling into place; I’m growing up and its terrifyingly cool. The perfect job a million miles away from the perfect place. We settle. I miss the writing and crying alone in cold movie theaters. I miss the fog and almost rain of it. I miss the dance, the fall down, back arching, burn of the dance. Missing it all won’t bring it back but I think the reminiscing is enough for now. Cheers to life, love and the lack there of.

Once Love

2008-01-02T09:48:00.000-08:00

Looking through the archives, by March he was gone. The one love that I learned the most from, well I can look back now and call it learning when in reality it was torture, for him and treacherous for me in the long run. Monday he called to wish me happy birthday, I cried when we got off the phone. The torture prevails changing sides as he has undoubtedly blocked me from getting to him. He is sweet but I think his words and drunken advances were nothing more then a ploy to get me into his bed, but of course always the romantic I’d like to think he was trying to touch my heart again. Driving down my favorite road for the last time a panic attack began and I started to feel ripped apart. I knew I had left him too drunk for him to call in the promised five minutes or at all for that matter. I feel splayed open, cut down the center like a frog in seventh grade science. Heart and soul exposed, heart rare and vulnerable for the taking. To be taken between thumb and forefinger and smashed to a muddy crimson mash.

And now to put all the love and hot sweat out of mind and return to my domestication and loneliness, maybe it’s not really the adventure I kept trying to describe.

Make us pockets and sing to us

2007-09-13T18:37:00.000-07:00

I wish to live in Neverland, among fairies, lost boys, mermaids and natives. Most of all I wish to hide and tease pirates or maybe just join the ranks and feast on salted meats. Fantasy is far more appealing than anything else and being this close to the vast Caribbean and fanciful islands I cant help but dwell on it. Oh to have no job, oh to never worry or want for anything. Oh to play with wooden swords and pixie dust. My dreams are full of fairy tale bedtime stories and lovely musicals. My entire life I only made one wish, on shooting stars, on 22 years of birthday candles, on eyelashes and falling feathers my one wish has been the same, To fly, to ride on the wind's back, and yet this wish has never never been answered. But still I wish it every chance I get hoping that this will be the truest wish and finally my heart will fly on wings straight for the second star on the right.

And now for one more hope:
Dear Peter Pan;
Please come to my window, I promise to tell you stories, sword fight, make you take your medicine, tantalize Hook to no end and never grow up if you take me to the place were dreams are born and time is never lost.
Love Always Rio

here's to new

2007-09-02T13:08:00.000-07:00

I was happy to feel the wave of independence as I exited the cold salty smelling palace. I wanted to touch everything and fall to my knees in a bowing to good fortune sort of joy. From the seaside skyscrapers, to the perfectly placed concrete tiles of the hot sidewalk. I wanted to jump up and dance among the notes of the slow accordion music blaring from hidden speakers. Most of all I wanted the hot sticky air to stick in my lungs, to hang on pulmonary. I watched magenta bougainvillea grow up a white stucco parking structure and thought, is this the answer or just an exquisite excuse for a permanent vacation from real life. Either way I have arrived at my independence, at my future, at my wildest dreams. At a happy place, whether permanent or just for the wonderful now.

Let's Make Pies

2007-08-07T22:45:00.000-07:00

I sit in the midst of everything that must go. Crying out, “ Mama, everything’s a mess.” A mirror one foot, twelve inches away and the steaming streaming tears keep coming, uncontrollable sobs that can only be cured by a long road that ends at the next ocean. Loneliness surrounds me and awaits me. Lonely future, lonely freedom.
Lets make pies. Lets make it all go away with cherries and chocolate, with lemons and sweet dough. Hot apples in cinnamon and milk. Lets make pies to make the loneliness not so lonely.

back for more sand dancing.....

And we all fall down

2007-08-01T10:35:00.000-07:00

I find myself playing at something and yet nothing is the product. I gave up on the writing and dove into everything else just find a lot of depression. I found myself yesterday remembering how nice it was to let it out even when no one is reading.

A change is on the horizon, perhaps the biggest of changes and yet I lay in bed playing at something and preparing for nothing. These past months or entire year has fallen into place so nicely, a little too nicely and it makes me nervous as a stray caged cat. The boyfriend is perfect I still love to watch him wake up. This is the time I love him most when he opens his eyes and they look prehistoric in color and design. We are playing at something rather serious and I find myself thinking too old for my age. I think in recipes and yard furniture when I should be thinking in drive thrus and parties. An older friend recently told me I am far more mature then her, I just hope I haven’t grown up too fast.

Wait

2007-02-11T23:43:00.000-08:00

I wait, transparent, beautiful and worn as an ancient piece of fine lace. My jealousy searing out through my eyes at the sight of any loving couple. I wish to see him, just see him would be enough, Just see him, in this surreal world where his words don’t match his lips, his lips wonderful lips that have left me longing and dreaming of his touch.

But he and his touch and his lips sleep and wake at hours I don’t keep. they reside so far from me, my heart and soul and yet he holds it all, holds my heart and soul and me like a little doll in his huge hand. I picture his hands, making sandwiches, making music, making love happen and I long for him. A world away, and yet I often find myself falling asleep to dream that he’s here with me or I with him, in a hot sticky sweat of humidity and love.

Refresh

2007-02-06T17:03:00.000-08:00

Deep breath
Deep breath

Through the winter air, deep breath.

Here it all comes the final culmination and I’ve been craving more of the past, more of the writing, more of the outlet, more of the run-ons. Full intentions of getting back to the writing have been neglected and have only recently become too strong to overlook.

Coming back soon with more.

Time for a refresh.

experiment 1

2006-12-05T13:00:00.000-08:00

My hearts broken again but differently this time then the times before that we were all so familiar with. Those times there was a build up a continuous pulsing until it gave out and was torn and scarred. This time it feels as if it fell in slow motion right out of my chest like the tiniest delicate tea cup, I watched it fall and crack into tiny pieces like when you pop a Christmas popper and there is a split second of confetti, pieces of my heart as Christmas confetti. I find myself breathing from email to email waiting for nothing in return, I think I miss him but really I am just cursing every blonde with lengthy straight hair, which makes looking in the mirror rather difficult. I wish I had been languishing here all along, then maybe I wouldn’t find myself in a ball of sobs on the floor or lying on my back staring at the ceiling in all my depressing glory. Also if I had kept it up, the writing, then I wouldn’t be calling my mother to have her compare my problems to those of Sheryl crow who was dumped and got cancer in one week. No my problems in all hopes will never reach those proportions however I do believe we don’t possess a broom that I would trust with the job of sweeping my tea cup pieces of a bursted heart off the tile.

You should write about love

2006-11-11T09:03:00.000-08:00

He’s fantastic” you know. I find myself doodling his name in hearts. I don’t know when it happened, this falling in love ordeal, probably right away or maybe some kind of a trickling love, a mist that grew into a heavy rain. I find myself smiling in dream, starring longingly at the pillow where he recently came to lay his head. Someone recently said that this distance must keep it interesting and fun. Yes, but it was interesting when we spent months living together, practically attached. Cooking dinner, dancing on the couch, him pinning me to the wall trying to stop my uncontrollable laughter, which only induced more giggles.

During our summer together all those hangover curing meals of Tabasco Mac n Cheese with Hot Dogs or Salami Grilled Cheese (with mayo and mustard of course) had began to put on the pounds, so I decided I would start running, but I don’t run. So I’d tell him, “I’m going to go on a run.” He’d look at me greatly surprised, I’d put on my super cute running outfit get my new video ipod and go out the door, only to jog about 50 yards and walk the remaining two miles that I had decided my route would include. I assume sitting down next to the path and watching some Law and Order: SVU on my ipod would have been time better spent. Anyway he became intrigued by this exercise I was supposedly doing and decided since he was in between baseball seasons he would run with me. Well he quickly became privy to my little white lie or exaggeration as it were. We still “ran” together everyday me walking along to the tune of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun,” and him laughing and lapping me so that I was getting back to the house about 20 minutes after him.

And yes I write of love; running and salami, hysterics and pillows, love.

Cat Fancy and Funerals

2006-11-02T23:35:00.000-08:00

He comes in 10 mintues I don’t know if it’s the excitement, the latte or all that Chinese food but my stomach is doing turns and jumps like ballerinas in the Nutcracker Suite. Things are moving along steadily, I’m drinking infrequently but far too heavily, my grandpa died about two weeks ago and my relationship with my parents is becoming far more like a friendship where they call me to talk about their stressors and such. Its fine I like going to concerts with them in the city. Last week we saw my dad’s favorite rock band, he’s so much cooler then me, and we stood in the very front, him dancing, my mom said “ we’re like a little rock family.” He cried at the funeral in front of everyone, my dad, eventhough it was my mom’s father who passed, he spoke about their trips together and their friendship, it was moving, he looks old, older, it makes me sad. My poor mom is so sad I just read an email that said shes excited to go to counseling. She said she cries easily which in turn makes me get choked up. I was at the local chain bookstore drinking a latte and reading magazines to kill time until the boyfriend arrives, and I passed the cat magazines, my grandmother loved cat magazines and dog shows, she had two cats, one only had one eye and the other she named funny face. I hope I grow up to be just as crazy as all of them.

does he love you?

2006-10-16T23:13:00.000-07:00

Its becoming too perfect, my mom was right, she said she fears the worst if he was to never do anything too right or too wrong. And now I feel like I am pushing his actions, making excuses in my mind to make him too perfect but in reality I look to myself I’m craving something, someone, anyone else, a little drama, a little weight. There was a trigger, I mean I was previously trudging along, alone, separated by a country but held together by thin phone lines and then it popped in, popped up. Her awful online profile ran across my screen ending there by flits of a mouse before my mind could stop it. The Holly, the other women of a former lover was in fact living in the very state of my desire, my desired, probably with this former lover. I became lightheaded, asked for consoling through texting my roommate. Most likely I am insane or perhaps I thought that this former lover must be still lusting looking longing after me because I am selfish. It makes me want to wear his necklace, his sweatshirt, it makes me want to call, text, email, it makes me want to move there sooner, now, tomorrow, yesterday. And yet here I wait, an empty neck, in a pink velour sweatshirt of my own, unconnected, uncontacted. And continuing living, driving, crying here on the west coast, lost in long distance perfection and untimely jealousy.