Trying to Forget

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

“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”

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

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”

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.