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.
August 14, 2008
Well its almost like being in love
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.
July 23, 2008
Lonely never, ever change
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.
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.
June 25, 2008
Old Obsessions
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.”
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.”
June 12, 2008
te amo?
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.
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.
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