if you sit around pondering ways to extract the response you want, you'll be sadly disappointed. you really can't make someone in your image... in your mind's ideal. impossible. however, you can change your ideal. when you understand another it's quite easy to shift desire toward their qualities. at the same time, you'd risk loosing sight of your own objectives... your needs... wants. so, a tender balance it's being weighed. you battle your mind and suffocate your heart... or... you ignore your mind and unbutton your heart. mine would pound a million beats per minute to have the ease of innocence. i think i could easily slip into love... given the proper subject, of course. but, i keep my eyes on my heart. i keep my reserve in my hands and mind on my shoulder.

so..... i have asked myself... can i keep me and have you too? hmmm... doubtful. but, i can't fail if i don't try. wait... exactly... i can't fail if i don't try. so what if i fail? what if i fall? who's there to catch me? who will wipe the sweat from my brow. who will mend me. these are not questions. i know the answers. i also know this answer: who do i want to dust me off.

on another note

i like cloudy skies. i like cloudy skies more than sunny. on a hot day, the sun drifts behind a cloud and quenches my thirsty skin for a moment. i want just enough clouds so the sunset can strike an amber display of shooting rays... but not too much. i wouldn't be able to see the sun. the clouds give the sky depth and character. so i want just enough... not too much, not too little. i'm hard to please.

clouds reflect
in my eyes.
blurry and battered
in disguise.
my hiding place,
stored secrets
in a small space.
then, wind blows.
it forces my eyes
clear, and shows,
for only a moment,
a heart unhealed.
i fight to close it.
small secrets to savor,
until winds gust
in my favor.

i'm safe.

and another thing...

music is a very big outlet for me. good music does it's job: relate. i can relate to just about any song, but rarely a song comes along that does all but mention my name. below are lyrics (and a song that you should hear... yes you) that defined me. i do not know what defines me now. if anything... i'm unaware.

i do know... i don't want to fake it. i don't want to pretend to be cool and indifferent. if i act like i don't care... i want it to be because i don't fucking care. if i want to place my face gently in your shoulder with a heavy sigh... fucking a, that is what i want to do. i don't want to feel you pulling from me. if i do, tug of war will ensue. i will take that rope and go running for the hills with all my might and i'm a fast little bitch. ugh... i'll probably still lose. i don't want to care about losing! i want what i want and that's the fucking truth. i think i pull for that reason alone. if i feel it... i will do it. eh. stupid baseball movie. although, in baseball movies, i'm pretty sure they don't use the f-word as much.

anyway...

Brandon Rhyder- she couldn't lie anymore

all she left me was a letter
taped to the bathroom door
she said she couldn't face me
and she couldn't lie anymore

she couldn't lie beside me
for another night
or make believe that everything was gonna turn out alright
she said she did it for me and as cold and hard as the truth might be
she couldn't lie anymore

i guess it doesn't matter
if there's someone she left me for
either way my world is shattered
cause she couldn't lie anymore

she couldn't lie beside me
for another night
or make believe that everything was gonna turn out alright
she said she did it for me and as cold and hard as the truth might be
she couldn't lie anymore

i guess she did what she had to do
and I guess it's for the better
but I sure love being her fool
i would have let her lie forever

she couldn't lie beside me
for another night
or make believe that everything was gonna turn out alright
she said she did it for me and as cold and hard as the truth might be
she couldn't lie anymore

she said she did it for me and as cold and hard as the truth might be
she couldn't lie anymore
she couldn't lie here anymore
she couldn't lie anymore

dear diary?

i guess it's not reasonable to expect the most from everyone in my life. i mean... i have a few really great friends. friends that would more than likely fly to the ends of the earth for me. they know who they are. in relationships the most difficult thing is doubt. i have no doubt in these people... let's be honest... these two people. i can count on them for anything. i've had friends come and go and i've learned things from all of them. i've learned that i can't expect everyone to live up to my high expectations. i just can't. i'll be constantly disappointed if i set my sights ever so high.

i am recently disappointed by such an occasion. i put my trust in another. i confided in them. i told them secrets. i gave them the privilege of my confidence, which is difficult to earn. it's damn near impossible to earn my respect. it's quite easy to lose it. a piece of cake, actually, for my trust to shatter. i am most disappointed in my willingness to do such a thing... i mean, it didn't really take all that much for me to give this person my hand in friendship. i felt close to her. she gave me her trust, easily... which, despite that she has betrayed mine, i will not disrespect. if she were to call and need something in dire situations... i'd be there without question. she can still call on me. but, that's just me. she'll never have my trust again, though. ever.

and such is life, and i move on. i move on, hopefully, with lessons learned and wounds healing. there is no doubt that as life goes, i wrap myself tighter in a cocoon of dismay and solitude. however, you know who you are if you have my heart in your hands. you know and i am forever grateful for your delicate guard of my love.

mind over matter?

i loved once, whole heartedly. with everything in me. i gave my heart. i gave my body. and, most difficult of all, i gave my mind. i had glorious feelings of freedom; my whole life seemed... light. it seemed to fade into the background. i was so in love... i was so happy. butterflies... definitely. tangled fingers and sweaty palms were the simpliest and most enjoyable of luxuries. i miss terribly those feelings. i'm uncertain if i'm lucky enough for a repeat. at its end, first love was horrifyingly painful. i've never felt such pain. it was the most unfathomable of events. i couldn't believe that it had been ripped from me as pages are torn from spiral notebooks. it didn't break cleanly. it left shards of useless paper draped across my heart. my mind clouded. my hands hurt. my stomach ached. there was no consoling me and i thought if i layed long enough the world might begin again. maybe my pain would fade. but, alas, it never has and i feel it still. i think i'll always love him. i think it may be something i'll have to accept... and live with.

i loved twice, half assedly. i gave my heart. i gave my body. but, my mind stayed hidden. i never gave away my secrets. i never let him in. i always felt a little voice in me saying, "it will never work; pack the cement tighter." so, the walls around me grew. tall, smooth and solid they became. there is no scaling them. no breaching. no invitation. i have never truly longed for his touch or hand. i've always been... indifferent to his pressence. his stretching to reach for me in bed made me cringe. why did i say yes? i couldn't answer that with any certainty. i'd probably be reaching anyway. i'm breaking fairly clean and unscathed. is this my fault? this failure? should i have waited? maybe the first was too fresh... maybe, just maybe, i'm scarred and will never feel such defining love again. that's a sad thought.

so... mind over matter. i can make myself believe anything.

it's not really cold; it's all in your head.

my muscles are not failing; push through the pain.

you won't fall for him; it's only an obsession and infatuation fades.

these are all simpleton aspects... in the grander scheme things are much more serious. i've molded my mind to believe that i only need me, love does not last, and i'll only get hurt again. so, is mind over matter always a positive thing? i'm certain the answer is "no". for surely i will regret locking myself away inside for only the mirror to see. i'd like to fall madly in love. i'd like to feel stupid dumb crazy in love. i'd like to explode from my fingertips to my gut. i just hope that my mindset isn't so stubborn to see what's there or what's waiting to be found.

my reflection
shows no truth.
a pair plain eyes
lost their roots.

define romance

i'm uncertain if i'm able. i'm uncertain i've ever had true romance. is romance candles and soft sweet music and roses and gentle hands tangled together? i'm uncertain. look up romance in the dictionary. even webster can't define it. they dance around the idea in circles. that's it. it's because it's merely an idea. it possesss no tangible quality. i can tell when something is romantic. i can identify its feelings... its lingerings. but, i can not come out and say for certain it has identity. it's mysterious and fleeting.

chilvalry is romantic.

it's romantic...

...when a man walks down the sidewalk... the small of my back and a gentle guide... it's romantic when he walks on the outside... the side that borders the street.

... sweet noses touching softly in dull light and cold breezes.

... a car door opened.

... a chair pulled out.

... a genuine expression of my outfit.

... an admission... a submission. against all will. against all better knowledge.

... a description i can't descibe... if i could say what love was, for certain, would it be as meaningful? no, i think not. same goes for romance. it's fleeting nature makes it ever so valuable. it strikes desire within me. it burns a hole through my armor. i am disarmed by it. i am sent into places i fear. into a known danger. into a life i am terrified to visit. terrified.

romance is... undefinable. ungraspable.

romance is within me and i keep it locked away. romance is scary. romance is dangerous. romance is sweet solace in a firey hot world.

romance is solace.

___________________

gentle hands tangle together.
nervously grazing fingers
softly melt my armor,
while their tips sweetly linger.

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.