who can you... i trust?

not a soul? right? maybe i shouldn't say "soul" because i don't believe in god? maybe i should just say "no one". yea. no one. i barely trust myself much of the time.

i think that i won't know myself... ever... i change too often to keep up with me. in my last moments of conscious breathing... maybe then, i'll get it. i don't expect such, though. i think even then i'll be confused.

i long for unabashed joy. i long to love myself without condition.

i just want to be fucking happy. why is that so unatainable? and, why is it so hard to understand that a person, sometimes, has to think of themselves. i need to think of me right now. it's pertinent.... it's imperative... i can think of a million ways to say it... but, it just is and that's how it's going to have to be.

humph.

freedom

is it so wrong for me to long for freedom? is it so wrong to want NOT to be responsible for another's feelings? all the fucking time? is that so wrong?

i can't be anyone's rock. i can't be anyone's everything. it's too fucking overwhelming. i can barely keep myself from slipping into despair. i need to keep my feelings to me. i need to close my eyes. i need to close my eyes and trap my essence within me. if i let it go, what will i become? what will i end up being? nothing. i will be drained of all the spirit within me. i cannot give it away; it is mine to keep. never again. never again.

my eyes wide-open
have left
my body struggling coping.

cradling my spirit
i'll trap
my love where i won't fear it.

hmmm...

red stained regret
fickle in my hair.
loosely wet and,
evaporates in air.

floating swiftly
to my chest.
quickly stifling
a chance for rest.

choked harshly,
as cold hands held,
my throat sharply,
tightening to weld,

intertwining woe
with lustful yearn.
rare seeds to sew,
a withering fern.

brittle drying stems,
sneezing dying fast,
quickly condemns,
and spite's out last.

feint intentions,
soon subdue,
honest discretions
with morning's dew.

and i've fallen
to the last light of night.
matte and golden
as emblazoned plight.

and i've lost
all sense of grace,
stinging sullen cost,
lone in its place.

left to wander
estranged and loathing,
out from under
seas, heavy and brooding.

caretaker and daddy

i find myself slipping into a caretaker role quite easily. it happens when i'm not paying attention. it happens... almost against my will. i have to conscientiously fight against a strange urge to take care of others. my mother is always taking care of others. she's a medical professional. but, not only does she take care of strangers, she's always on the lookout for things she can do for me and my siblings. it's sweet, but i often wonder what she does for herself. i don't want the caretaker role. i'm no parent. i'm no wife. i'm only me. i'm self-centered and arrogant. i don't know why the desire is so strong. it's confusing.

also... i've been thinking (i try to do this as often as possible)... it's difficult for me to shy away or ignore attention from men. regardless of my reaction to their presence, i can't help but address it. despite their advances- be it ridicule or attraction- i still react. and, well, i wonder... is that because i didn't get any attention from daddy?? how stupid does that sound? it makes sense, but i feel like a psych patient blaming their killing spree on "daddy didn't love me". but, seriously... i've always attracted men and i've always "given them the time of day"... so to speak. hmmm... anyway.

bigger person?

i can rationalize anything. or can i? i cannot rationalize fighting. i just can't. i could go to extreme lengths to seek revenge. it would only harm me. it would only cost me money. it would only harm other people. it wouldn't satisfy anything. i would only drown my lungs in thick black solitude. it would push people away from me, farther... further? who cares.

contemplates
with haste.
he drapes himself
in waste.

ticks his pen
on the desk
and twists his mind,
grotesque.

i fucking give in. ya know... i mean fuck it, right? i just want the growing embers burning in my gut to extinguish. rather, i'd like to have them spread to my chest. i'd like to feel so vulnerable... not used and abandoned.

this time... it's just me. i rely on just me.

ugh. fucker. i hate that like a thief in a dark alley he's stolen my sense of writing right from my fingertips. he's cunning. he's allocated all his mission readiness to my defeat. he's given himself a task that he aims to complete. he will. i'm certain. i'll give in. i already have. i'm like a dove waiting for her cage to be mistakenly left open. i've gotten free before... but, the door wasn't open and i just fluttered around the room. i banged on the walls and only ended up bruised. now, though, the fucking windows are broken and there is no stopping me. i'll soar as high as the atmosphere will allow. i'll dance with the sunset's rays and glide with leaves blowing in the wind. i'll be free. free as a bird.

my lot in life...

is it loneliness? am i destined to a life tragically fallen to the way side of happy? i'm uncertain and i miss certainty more than i miss my sanity. i am completely exhausted. i am drained. i am my own everything. it's so hard to be one's everything. these solitary moments make me want to crawl into bed, rest my head on my mother's womb, feel her stroke my hair and softly whisper, "shhhhh, baby. it will be okay." will it? that uncertainty creeps up again. it's a pesky thing. hey... maybe i can trade it for clarity? because, yea, i keep doubt and mystery in both pockets. happiness is in there some where, but, maybe, i have holes in the bottom. it slipped out and i trampled over it years ago. i've been frantically checking all the pockets for some time. maybe, just maybe, the dry cleaners found it. would they return it to me? or... finders keepers? ugh. clarity looms over me and i reach for it like a baby with its rattle just out of reach. i cry, i pout, i stamp my feet... but, still, it rests just inches from me. it swings back and forth with the season's tide. it rushes up and is sucked away, pieces of my innocence trapped in its undertow.

i've said... to be a good writer, you must be eccentric. crazy, even. profound thought does not come from clarity. it's merely temporary (permanent) insanity. because... if it were clarity, one might be able to hold onto those thoughts. but, no, they are swept away as quickly as they come.... just like the fucking tide.

time flies even when shit sucks.

a bubbling in my belly
and steaming stream rising,
confuses my senses fully
and enacts the uprising.

my stomach felt the stench
and curious odor arising,
it did well to drench
and left my heart capsizing.

feral and fierce slightly
and undergoing devising.
swelling up lightly,
my cheeks advertising.

a radiant expression,
soft lift in my eyes,
giving way confession.
secrets find their demise.

as a cool breeze weeps,
nature's heavy sighs,
love flows and seeps,
drifting away our disguise.

old crap and punctuation

read this...

Satan's Angel

i am Satan's Angel
blessed with wings of a devil
and burdened by my halo
cursed with horns of the Archangel

sitting in the hierarchy holy
commanded to do the unenforceable
branded my mater's abettor
and stained with the blood of heroes

i am Satan's Angel
blessed with the conscience of my halo
and cursed by wings of a devil
burdened with horns of the Archangel

sweating fire and weeping desire
baptized in my descents
sweltering in their gore
infinity for repent
trinity fighting Hell's War

burdened with wings of a devil
cursed by the conscience of my halo
and blessed with horns of the Archangel
sitting holy in the hierarchy
free-will and hands tied
sanctified...

i am Satan's Angel.
_________________________

now read it again... this time, pay attention to the punctuation.

Satan's Angel

i am Satan's Angel.
blessed with wings of a devil
and burdened by my halo,
cursed with horns of the Archangel.

sitting in the hierarchy holy,
commanded to do the unenforceable
branded my mater's abettor
and stained with the blood of heroes.

i am Satan's Angel.
blessed with the conscience of my halo
and cursed by wings of a devil.
burdened with horns of the Archangel.

sweating fire and weeping desire,
baptized in my descents,
sweltering in their gore,
infinity for repent,
trinity fighting Hell's War.

burdened with wings of a devil,
cursed by the conscience of my halo
and blessed with horns of the Archangel.
sitting holy in the hierarchy,
free-will and hands tied,
sanctified...

i am Satan's Angel.
____________________________

it's an old poem. something i write in school. i didn't used to pay attention to punctuation. now, i do. i used to mean a line break a pause. but, now, i use a comma to signify a pause. i wonder how many people use the commas? i pay much attention to them in other's work. punctuation can change the tone of a poem... or prose. i love commas.

yea... so, whatev!

your hands feel as though... they love me. i love it. i love that feeling. i want to be close to you all the time. no fancy rhymes or eloquent sentences... just... want to be next to you. i want to feel your breath in my hair and on my stomach. i want to hear you whisper... whimper.

i want you to feel what i feel.

my eyelids are weighted with the events of this week past. it's been... draining. in every way. my strength called into question, my intentions doubted, my life judged, my endurance for car travel tested (proven), and... most draining, and somehow comforting, my desires tempted.

like dried leaves rustling the wind
our distinct colors bleed and blend

my breath clings
with your heart's strings

i exhale to feel their tightening
with tension frightening

_____________

i desire more than just your affection. respect, adoration, admiration are other things i'd like.

i miss you before you leave. i want to keep pieces of you with me, if that is all that is available. tonight, i'd like to keep your hands. they are kind in their pleasing. i'd like to keep your eyes. they are open and warm.

i'm "perfectly tired" and perfectly speechless.

i sleep not to dream. but, rather, to wake to a new day that may see you in it.

what really happened

you stood close to me.

but in my mind you were against me.

you walked behind me.

but my body felt your breath on my neck.

you paced yourself three back...

but, behind my eyes:

you pressed your face against mine,
wrapped your arms around my waist,
backed me up against the wall,
and i begged you do your bidding.

yeah. so.

there is no justice in the previous post. i can try to type it out... but, i'd fail. there aren't words to describe the way i'm disarmed. i'm completely... astonished. it's like there is a perfect sphere of intense molten desire simply awaiting one disruption... that would soon lead to eruption. there are no words. only sound and touch. right now, the tips of my fingers beat the keys but, want for another's affections in their reach.

gotta know...

who's out there..?

who reads this?

anyone in the world could read this?

but, who are YOU?

clarity

why can't i ever hold on to clarity? i'd like to keep it in my pocket. i could take it out and look at it when ever my mind becomes cloudy or confused. i'd really like that. earlier today, as i rode shotgun with the windows down at 70 MPH, the wind was echoing through my ears like my skull was empty and... i felt clear. literally. clear. like there were no thoughts for a split second. everything was so loud and calm. it was... unexpected. i'm always thinking something. then, i started thinking about how there were no thoughts and BAM! thoughts. but, just for a moment, everything was ok. it makes me feel like one day, everthing might just be ok. "so, i've got that goin' for me... which is nice." then, during another much more pivotal part of my day, hands clasped, i felt myself become very vulnerable. i tend to keep walls up. but, today, it was nice to recede the barriers, if only for a moment, and let the flood waters surround my feet.

i get the feeling i might drown sometimes. and, i think, "would i fight it? would i try to swim?" i think one thing that really holds me back in life is... doubt. so many people have so much faith in my ability. why don't i have at least a fraction of that faith? i'm confident, i think. i wish i were more so. i think if i had more ambition i could do anything. i could be an astronaut.

so clarity isn't kept in a jar. it's not homemade like strawberry jam... all covered in wax at the top for sealing purposes. but i'd like to have some... like now... i'd like some clarity. i'd like some direction. i know what's coming in these months. i know what my status will be and i know where i'll live. i'll still be here. but, will i be happy? that is a concern. i cannot be happy unless i'm honest with myself.

i could have tried harder...?
cried on his shoulder more...?
spent less time trying to live up to standard than just living...?

i could have said, "no".

yes, i think, maybe, that might be the only thing. avoided a lot, we would have if i'd just been honest from the start. i was too young to know anyway. i was too young to know anything. i am too young to know a lot.

i won't makes these mistakes again, will i? i think "no" will be the requisite answer from now on.

do you want fries with that?

no. (goes straight to my hips)

is there something you aren't telling me?

no. (if i'm not telling you then you don't need to know)

wanna get married?

no. (duh)

yes. that'll do. i guess. for now. i don't always want these walls but, i fear the concrete and steel are far too strong for me. at least for now... i have to exercise my heart.