light up

your breath lazily traces invisible curls in the air before it twines and snuggles into the waves on my head as you exhale, settling there for the night. i am annoyed at this fact. but you look at the others and give an oblivious smile, a pretty, lazy smile that starts and ends in the eyes, of staining teeth in perfect juxtaposition, although they don't reveal the secret wayward molar. the conspirator fingers are somewhere near your legs, a burning strip in between --the commonality of your spoiling parts: fingers and teeth and mouth that like to travel in earthy places. no one else seems to notice.

(éè_)

i seem to be going in life forgetting exactly how i liked (or used to like or should look for what i like) in people, in the first place. with the smallest hint of annoying flaw, i pull the shutters to its fullest length, mostly never to raise it again. i fear how i am going to run out of friends in this journey at this rate. i do not want to become this person. i will lose the friendship of the universe.

you

you who lays official claim
to this heart and most everything else
you who never fails
to leave no emotion chambers empty
and my brain with trains of regret and flight
you who each single day tries
to greet a laughing good morning
and remind of yourself
you who at half a chance
would be left behind without remorse
you who always end with
the shorter stick and secret running eyes
you who should start thinking
of another heart twice or thrice

another you

out of nowhere an image just jumps out in my eyes
blocking my view of the blue square screen
and I didn't even see you in my mind
maybe that is how it works
you lurk in the darkened side of my brain
away from light, but there,
waiting for your spotlight

you are being removed
from a prominent place in my chest
but you claimed a seat nevertheless
even against my permission
you have been ruined thus far
to expel you from your wanderings in my head
but there you go claiming your importance
in the middle of my ochre paper and olive pen

seeking Opportunity

untangle myself from the locks of seeming impossibility
to see the tiny exit holes that must exist surely
into the realm of my dreams and secret heart
where my happiness lies and fulfillment trickles in waves

little trapdoors, shrunk to just my size
concealing the meadows of narrow cobblestone streets,
terra cotta buildings and sleepy countrysides in hazy frames

I beckon for that honey comb that will work through
the knots of an over-ordinary life, loosening
jumbled skeins of creeping despair with amber strokes and caramel sunlight

brittle black and brown rough wisps trailing
of dust and dandruff of plodding days
that take me further from the real beat in my chest

so I will seek to stumble into just the rabbit hole,
no matter the dark musty terribly strange claustrophobia
if only to help this Alice remove the rose in her eyes
to find the warts on these smooth dreams

a friend

hair lengthily spiraling over sharp dark eyes, cursing twisted back, rejecting incongruent hips, closing eyes over lopsided chest: the real worrywart, super obsessive compulsive, routine/habit freak --but also weaver of words, Master's in Un-emotion, fashion forward, lonely little only girl, mature innocence, little woman of the world

maybe you can take me with you on your grand elaborated carousel in my next life

:'(

Do you know just how difficult it is to stare your biggest dream in the face and not see any gaping hole through which to fulfill it? DO you KNOW? When all you could do is see it filter through flat glass as if on display, seeming so close but really an entire impossibility away. You know it, deeply and hopelessly stuck, in your gut that it IS what you want most in the whole Deep Blue Sphere...and yet there is NO WAY to get there. Money? None. Qualifications? Zero. Even if you fill your bank ceiling to floor, it will always just be temporary, it will have to end, and your mind will replay over and over your terra cotta house just slipping, away, into thin air, poof, nothing. Because you are poor. Because you are nobody. Because your dream is just too big for your tiny existence.

I want to believe in the universe conspiring in the fulfillment of dreams so badly. Deeply and helplessly.

refuse

because it would hurt me so
i hope i do not end up among your decrepit shoes who once owned
the glow in your eyes
or the flowers of my written effort
that eventually find themselves in some forgotten corner in your house
may you acquire the sense it takes
to hold my heart well above
the dust collecting beneath your bed and sticking to your window pane
i can only shut my eyes and wish like hell that like you look at your pot before you flush, you would do the same and find me before you throw your garbage out

cryptography

if only i could pay a penny for all the secrets in your eyes
or the key to the back of your mind fall into my eager lap
how easier would it be to not need
the rosetta to speak your codes
decrypt the puzzles you feel the need to create

cowboy

if you do not see the signs, you must be falling asleep. all the letters i read are about the sad thing that is us, twisting and pulling a rope around my chest as a bull that struggles to unman itself or a dog scratching at its fleas. in melancholy lines i read the hurt in your eyes and i feel even more the helpless watching i am doing in this bad movie. we are strangers back again, thinking we know each other too well that there is nothing new to know and contempt is all there is to reach for. you are struggling too much to be the strapping cowboy that you are not and i douse your ego every time for saying so. and you never fail to bring me my comeuppance by hitting on every nerve you think hurts the most, but of course i am more dynamic than you think. i bury my aces beneath thorny roses and you have not thought to dig, perhaps dreading the dirt under your nails or the scratches to your flesh. what you will find is always worth the pain, i guess, but you are too afraid of hurt and would rather drown yourself in a golden stupor with ye old faithful friends. why is it that you believe you have given a world of effort when you haven't even hit the heart of what it is that keeps me at your side? the clock hasn't struck twelve and you are ready to trade in your guns so that you can pursue the craven life you feel safer off living. you have not even seduced my mind and yet you believe you have earned the right to keep your hat on while you follow the button trails to my breasts. even though you keep me on the edge of breathlessness, i am more inclined to kiss a man with a purple eye and bruised lips. you are more beautiful than any, but i have other plans than become a mother to someone who shuddered between my legs and thought of his horse.

bitch

is that a woman that shapes the secret in your eyes?
or are you really who you say you are?
am i leasing the use of your body without pay?

if you should decide that you need more than all i am
all at one time then heed that so soon you will lose
the right to my lips and the deed to my eyes
you will only so quickly drown in the eager
wetness of your woman and her fake fragrance
but thirst for a whiff of my mouth and a whole jug of my scent
and one day you will wake up in the staleness of her lips
on your face and long for my dewy thoughts that will
never again touch your parched ears

hallowed hollow

Just one of the sights when you are in Tuscany, Italy (probably not on the tourist circuit). To be able to be here and see it for myself gives me goosebumps.

do you know how it feels like

to want something with all your heart, seeing it in pictures, and you can't stand the thought of seeing them all through another person's camera shots and not through your own experience, that you just have to close that window and try to ease the pressure in your chest and the mercury of your emotions, to want something you don't know if you'll ever get, with all the road blocks that you have to clear from your way in order to finally be there and breathe the air no matter how cold and snuggle into a really nice trenchcoat and look good and belong in the scene overall, to finally be there after everything and everything actually goes well....ahhh, wouldn't it be loverly.

(Pre)occupations

Dimpling the doldrums.
Dropping off at the daydream-
ing office. Rummaging through the memory closet. Sweeping mental cobwebs. Exercising written imagination. Hoping for distant
sunsets and trench-coat weather. Wanting impossibilities
and
other
difficult
illusions.

an idyll to do again

sit back, kick your slippers off, have a huge helping of beach and sunset horizon over a cupful of thoughts...

the onset of spoilage (scrapheap of spoiled serenity)

after a while, you start to steer your mind toward those days when it was fun, when you believed there was nothing to worry about. when your best weapon was your state of mind. when you were free.

after a while of this, you do. inevitably.

cramped

there are so many hang-ups in my life, i've found. i can be more liberated in my thinking, and yet i am stuck with describing the surface, because i am unable to pierce through what's beyond. i do not even know what is beyond, i just know i can perceive more when i'm there. for now, i can only read my thoughts and what i am in some other person's words. i long for that time when i can read my thoughts, my very existence in my own words. or is that forever an impossible, blind thing? brandon boyd, alanis morissette, where do they find their words? i think it is only through going beyond the boundaries of what you know, venturing into the uncharted, though not so uncharted, for others would have gone before. i long to be the one who puts things on the map, and be ahead of the entire human pack for once. i want to grow wide and deep and well-watered. how, how, how.....

Butterflies and Kites

(words inspired by the Tori Amos song)


I wouldn't have held on to the tail of your kite had you not led me to believe I could. I wouldn't have, and I would not again. It is never an intention of mine to hold you back or tie you down. Perhaps it needs your understanding that the situation you placed yourself in makes that inevitable. It has become logical to me to say that to pursue love would be to let go of a good many things. But I guess that sort of statement is not easily comprehensible to you who feel the urge of flight and freedom, tainted by the views of the world as it is. You are not getting blamed for that, as I am doing no such thing. It is only lamentable that for such a person who can think outside the box, you are so much in one. (I am sure I am inside several of boxes myself, none of which are relevant at the moment. I am only pointing to that which concerns this mutuality). Lamentable still, that it is a box which divides our views irreconcilably. For something that has endured over years, there is a substantial lot left unsaid, unexplored, and undiscussed. Surprising though how it could endure when it started and kept starting on the wrong foot. But something founded on the wrong things will always be wrong. But stay and fight and try to straighten it out. That's a guarantee only of a rough road, and I'm sure flight is more compelling. There is an exhilaration to it, an almost boundless freedom. No, regrettably, I cannot hold the string while you fly your kite. I am a butterfly who flies on her own wings to pursue her own compulsions and ambitions. Lose your string and gain your wings. My freedom was not meant to buy you yours.

You must also see, we are right now creatures of flight. To pursue our path will eventually lead to staying aground. It may seem untimely to shed my wings when I've only just gained them. So will you get your tail pulled from behind you should you proceed in such similar fashion as you do now. We, all of us, feel that urge to be cared for and be paid attention to by someone, when everyone else has their concentrations on some other thing or person. But don't you think it rather selfish of us? To only want a someone for their exclusive attention on us when the world is ignoring us, and then when we have all eyes back on us again, we have them totally out of mind. For what do you propose is the reason for seeking such personal connection as this? Are you having marriage in mind? What more do you need to learn of a person after all those years to not be thinking of marrying? Yes, maybe I have changed my point of view, which in all honesty, I feel many times better having done so. I feel purer, less tainted, though I am nothing holy. Scoffing and mocking will lead you nowhere, tightening only my resolve. I propose that it is not the means you use to persuade me from this, if you do intend such a thing.

This is not to say I feel nothing or care any less. This is a consideration for practicality and an evaluation for direction. Where is it going? Where do you intend should this go? I do not desire to go with the wind, or with the moment. I intend to have a purpose there in your life, beyond than what meets your needs at this time. Well, that is one expectation this has brought about. And there are and will be many more. So think. I have places to go; my heart is almost ready for the unknown, to take on adventure. I don't think you'd want to move away from where you are now. I won't pull your tail again. I won't push you, the acrobat, seeing as you don't have a net. So tell me if you want to fly your kite. I am not in charge of the string, hand it to someone else. I am a butterfly, I did say. You can keep having someone hold the string for you, or you can join me on your own wings. Only then will I acquiesce to let the wind blow me. Until then, maybe you might finally metamorphose. Maybe. In the meantime, I am almost there. Join me or we'll see each other again one day. I do believe in destiny, after all. Don't you?

Birthday Post

Maybe one's birthday is indeed one's (special) day. For one day, you get to have some attention (if you're not at all the center of attention). For one day, you get to feel how special you are to others, or at the very least (which is not at all less), to your Maker who made you happen. Not only are you special because you are alive , you get to feel special as well, at least once a year.


This must be vague. I can't quite find the words to perfectly describe the wonderful set-up God has created around each one's creation, birth, and birthdays. I'll get back on this when I get it right.

An Invitation To Come

Come. Stray, wander. Cultivate pleasant fountains where you find them. Linger where you will, there is no hurry in this endeavor. Stray ever south, for more pleasantries lie in impatient waiting. Don't hesitate at the door; come right in, for you are awaited. You have been invited for something warmer than tea, to soar on a rush more intense than caffeine. Once joined at the hip, hesitant of parting, let's pursue the elusive excitement of touching every star. And when we've wearied, let's rest a bit and regain the vigor we would need, before long. But as I stir early and head for the southerly pole, the ride begins anew.