expectations

i am a woman. and, generally, expected to be... feminine, graceful, sweet, soft-spoken, agreeable, cook, clean, sew, weak, unintelligent, and dependent. i know that these are not all encompasing... but, are generally expected. when a woman has emotions... she's crazy. if she's devoid of emotion... she's manly.

i am a woman.

i am strong, independent, emotional, outspoken, smart, defiant, demanding, and almost never sweet. i am responsible. i say when i'm wrong. i say when i'm right... which, is often. i don't cook. i don't clean obsessively. i can sew... i don't like to sew. i'm not your typical woman, i guess. i have emotions that even i don't understand. i know that it's ok to stray from the norm. i know that it's ok to be who i am. yet, i have overwhelming feelings of guilt when i cannot comply. when i have emotions that might bother others... make them uncomfortable or cause them to think, to work harder... i feel guilty. i don't know why. maybe it's because i have spent half a decade plus keeping things hidden. sucking it up and masking myself such that i am gone. i have created another creature. this creature is unsure of her own feelings. she... is lost in emotion. it twists her with steam and creates smoke where there is no fire.

maybe. maybe, i'm just a woman afterall. who knows. who knows if i make and sense to anyone but myself. i hope that this... this synopsis helps me to analyze myself. maybe then, i'll see me. maybe i'll see the real me and not the one i want to be... or the one i've created. maybe. maybe life is just all bullshit and it doesn't matter anyway. maybe i should just spit my heart's desires from the tip of my tongue... into your ears. maybe no one pressures me more than me.

maybe i should shut up. maybe one day i'll know. i'll just hang on to my hope... for as long as possible.

things happen for a reason, right? wrong. shit just happens. there is no rhyme. no pattern. madness has no method. shit just happens. good people, bad people, mediocre people... shit just happens. there is nothing to be mapped.... no way to track why something has happened.

it no longer matters... after it's happened. we have to pick up pieces, scraps, or whatever is left, dust it off, and hope it still works. hope that we allow it to work. risk it. i guess. yes, risk it.

so... it matters... the post-tragedy/disaster/blah blah... POST... that is what matters. what we make of things in the "after". so, yea.

madness has no method... only cold hands wrapped around my waist and teeth taking in my neck. madness is just madness.

the end.

i should crawl back into bed today. today isn't even supposed to be hard. today isn't the day. what the fuck. i wish to skip past all this... skip to a simpler time. i wonder, will i want simpler times or do i enjoy the chaos that i feel today? how could i? wouldn't that be considered masochistic? maybe. maybe i like the scars... they remind me of how i was once loved. i miss the warmth in my stomach... the light in my eyes. it's gone now. i don't know if i can have it back. i don't know if i'm allowed.

it's too fucking quiet in here. i need noise. i need... something. i can't take it either. i have to wait for it to be given and i'm impatient as hell. my body is sullen and reluctant. i just want to crawl back into bed. sleep through tomorrow and the next. wait for it to be morning on some other day. just not today... just not tomorrow.

what if i spend my life waiting? waiting for tomorrow? waiting for something to change... i'll waste myself on 'what if's'... i'll drown in my fear. we all will. why do i let another dictate my actions? that's so foolish. it's too... risky. i've rested with another and neglected those who i KNOW will be there... who give me exactly what i need and more. foolish.

take what you want, dammit.

my heart beat is sluggish.

fighting the good fight

worn armor
and dull blade,
his hands rough
with regret.
his helm slumps
over his eyes,
and his sight
cannot see.
the battle before
him disguised
but fought...
fiercely.
he's withered
and weary,
he's blistered
and dreary,
he keeps his weapon
pointed.
at my chest.
one step forward,
and,
in
defense,
he
empales
my
love a fiery
red.
drops to he ground,
his helm and shield
heavy.
gasping tight his chest.
he destroyed me.
he didn't know
his desire.
till i spread it
all over the ground
in
spurts
of
death,
drenched in shock.
i
die.
he cries.
he dries his eyes.
picks up his armor
and drags his sword,
tip in the ground.
he screams aloud
to the sky,
on deaf ears.
with no response,
he bandages his heart
with blood soaked sweat.
reinforces his armor.
and goes on,
fighting the good fight.

hopeful

stretching softly
with a weak reach,
she grasps tightly.
her careful feet,

delicately placed
on cold asphalt.
picking paced
on a locked vault.

each light handful
of solid expression,
incites eagerness
formed from confession.

desperate and greedy,
her hands are sullen,
sulking and needy.

full of fits and dire,
pleading her desire,

attempts to quiet...
waste in the wind,
so continues the riot,
cautious to mend.

careful not to settle,
but timid to mettle.

she's trapped between,
a forceful push,
or gentle pulling...
keeping her mien,
or losing her lust.

she reaches clumsily
with clammy fingers,
disappointment and
emptiness
tend
to linger.

she'll sigh,
and try
to figure a medium
between independent...
and despondent.

parts are patient.
parts are anxious.

though each piece
contains longing,
she keeps it creased
between her lips,
available on his calling...

i'm intelligent. i don't have any reservations about stating it. i am intelligent. i've learned a lot by asking questions. from the time i could speak i've asked questions. how else am i to learn? if i didn't ask questions i would only have knowledge that people offered me. i wouldn't have that which i would otherwise seek on my own. more than likely, you aren't going to learn a lot that way. so, i ask questions. questions... are tricky. asking one can change the course of an evening... or lifetime. you should be certain you want the answer. i should be certain i want the answer. often, they slip out. and almost immeditately, i want to suck the thought back into my lungs. although, some parts of me want an answer. i'm scared of the answer (only because in my head i know what it may be)... yet, a small piece of me is hoping to get a different response. a "non-answer" plagues me. it sits in my gut full of red stained regret. it will, hopefully, subside. eventually.


so... i've learned a lot... and i hope learning is never finished with me. i'll never have enough of it.

broken hearts and beaten paths

i think i want a broken heart. i desire the pain. i think... maybe in some twisted way, it will bring me back to life. i want something so awesome as love. i want it. i'm terrified of its brilliant power, but i want it. i need it. i need to know the cob webs round my heart haven't trapped my ability to open. i hope someonee can scale them, with some effort. also, i'm pretty sure i'll be slicing silken thread from the inside. it's been there nearly a decade. it's caused so much distress. my face is flushed and my eyes salty wet with thoughts of love's existence vanishing entirely. i couldn't stand it. i have too much life to live to shut everyone out. i have to move on. i have to find me in me again if i'm to see my reflection in another.

i'm pretty sure... i'll forever grow. i learn from everyone around and am grateful for their being in my life, their input, and concern for me. i'm lucky. i'm a very lucky girl. i've got friend's who'd name the stars for me. that's amazing, right? right. it seems unfair... greedy to seek more. yet, i lack an essential need so desired its ever growing prevalence in my thoughts is making it more difficult by the second to suppress.

i don't want to give myself away with a look.

just a hint.

a touch should not force my skin from me.

just burn, a little.

i don't want a kiss to disarm me.

just weakened.

i am such a liar. i want to be beaten down stupid crazy retarded in love.

i want those same irrational feelings returned. i don't want to give or receive a half-hearted effort. i deserve an entire heart. and, i'd still only house one in me. i'd have given mine completely. i don't want over analytical love... i want mindless sweet action.

the "about me" section of this life will forever grow and adapt. all the while, i'll stay lost in convoluted memories and misguided intentions.

i'll pretend none of this happened. i'll go about life lacking. it's sad. i want so much more. i need... i ache for it. the tips of my fingers beat the keys with delicate clicks throbbing more and more with every stroke... as does the rest of my sullen sulking body.

blah.

dirty deeds

sometimes i question my integrity. i wonder about my intentions. i think... rethink. i can see every conversation, interaction, or moment play in my head before its happening. i know... at times... i want the wrong things... i should not be allowed.

often i doubt other's intentions. i'm certain i am less than perfect, but am most certain i am more honorable than most. but, doubt is an unpleasant condition... and certainty is absurd, right? have you nothing to say at our indiscretions?!

you are not the man i thought.

my eyes are naked.
drenched in salty guilt.
remorse forced latent.
my rusty eyelids wilt.

unsavory decisions
restless on my hands,
with torrid concessions
undulating barren lands.

a lack of guidance
brought me here.
shaved conscience
holds me near.

your hands washed clean
for fickle drains to fill.
and your eye sight beams.
present faded into past will.

my eyes are naked. and your hands are clean.

in some ways... i'm jealous. in some ways i'd like to glower at guilt. yet, the inconsolable guilt in my stomach keeps me real. it keeps me human. i do not need your god for it. i do not need to know consequence to know a dirty deed.

i try... i try to be a good person all on my own. god's help is not required.

so... yeah.