Written 4-25-09

Its vastness calms me like nothing else can. Watching the lazy ripples flow reminds me that we are not in a hurry, to take it easy.
The sunlight bounces off of the bloated reeds growing under water in varying shades of brown yellow and green.
Long dead trees stick out of the far side like the crew of a cap sizing boat waving their last good byes.

I wrote this about the big pond at the cabin. I was going to do a whole page type thing, but the dog interrupted my thought process by trying to chase a bird and forcing me to take her back up to the building.

4/11/09

I understand.
I don't want to
Because if I don't blame you,
who do I blame?
And you don't deserve to get off scott-free.
I almost sympathize
Good Lord
I don't want to
I don't want to see how your mind works
Because that means
that I'm more like you than I thought
No.
I want to curl up and have you hole me like you never did
I want you to brush the tears away and lie to me
-tell me everything will be alright
-tell me I'm beautiful
-tell me I'm perfect
Lies.
Pristine glass lies.
I don't want to see the truth
want to live under a rock like everyone else.
I want to be normal.
Kill me.

2-4-09--in Business Law class

lowered
farther
when you thought you couldn't be
unto a mere phrase
perpetrator
the shooter
the disturbed child
no one notices
the reversal of roles
they're being called
what you've been all this time
the victim
They ask why
what irony
you've been wondering the same thing
for years and years
They have only themselves to blame
deep down they know it
they could have prevented it
too late now
you smile
you got what you wanted
you made your mark on this place
with their blood upon the wall.




I also have a story that I started a while back that begins with pretty much these same lines. It's not even close to finished, but I may post what little I have up here sometime.

Should I be sorry?

I realize how "emo" my poetry sounds...but one thing to be put into perspective is that I write poetry when I'm depressed, and stories when I just feel creative- generally.

I hate feeling judged, but I almost do.
Fuck.

2-15&16-09

I used to wish
for Kodak moments
normality
predictability
I used to wish
things would be perfect
life would work out
we would be happy
I didn't know
my lot in life
nothing is perfect
some people
are simply not meant to be content
I used to fight it
tried to change things
attempted to fix myself
but
only broke myself more
I used to wish
people knew
or cared
or acted
I used to wish
for a new day
that would be different
but in reality
was simply a repeat
of the same thing I knew too well
I used to wish
for cliches
and happy endings
for the
smiling
cheerful
people on the glowing screen
to surround me
take me in
love me
accept me
surprise me
and then
I stopped.
I stopped wishing,
fighting
caring
hoping
loving
learning
laughing
thinking
smiling
and became
what they wanted me to be
nothing
worthless
The things they told me I was
so I filled in the position
became the standard
conceded
complied
not living
merely existing
floating through
no one noticed
and if they did,
no one cared enough
to ask
blank eyes
If you're expecting me
to say I was saved
by God
or love
or an influential stranger
you may be right.
It was gradual, this climbing
a slow awakening



----Unfinished.

written 1/27&29/09

and as you stand high atop your pedestal
of broken glass and broken hearts
I ask you
are you happy now?

you got what you wanted
your denial
your escape
but at a price
you obviously did not mind paying
us
so
are you happy now?
I hope you are
Because after everything you've put yourself
and us
through
I still love you
I don't like you
but a child must love its mother
so my bond to you is hanging by the thread called instinct.

are you happy now?
Too bad.
I know it's your fault
but I can't tell you to your face
Role reversal
you become a small child caught in a wrong doing
and my heart of steel becomes a crushed aluminum can when I see your eyes glisten.

are you happy now?
You broke me.
I am no longer what I was or wish to be
I am what I have to be
to keep you afloat
to save us
an object of sorts, a lifesaver thrown out to sea
wishing to be left there
to float on beyond human hurt and needs and discover what could be
instead of what is

Kudos.
I hope you're happy now.

4/2/09.. 1:06 am

The pad on her pointer finger ran down the set of seven cuts on her stomach- one for each day of the week, the deadly sins, and wonders of the ancient world. These examples held no significance to their etchings however. Their existence was simply product of hate. The hate she had for others, her situation, and most of all her self. Her inability to deal with life like a normal person could, her weaknesses; this addiction she had to seeing a physical manifestation of her emotional pain. The amazement she felt watching the beads of blood accumulate into small streams sickened the small part of her that was "right". With a sense of morbid curiosity she scratched off the scabs with the same finger, wanting to see proof of her life. Craving verification that although it didn't seem to matter to anyone else, she was indeed quite alive.
Oh yes, she knew there was something deeply wrong with her. She knew it wasn't healthy. She knew people were sent to mental hospitals for things like this. What she didn't know was how to stop. She had an idea, a spark that occurred to her while watching the redness flow. Maybe, when she cut herself deep enough to see what inside made her so god damned different, she could stop.


I'm not sure how I like the ending.
my other choice is
".....what inside made her so god damned different, she'd be permitted to quit this pattern of self mutilation."

I think I like what I went with when I posted it, because choice 2 seems too scientific, and we're dealing with emotion primarily in this section.

opinions? what would you choose?

Written 4/3/09

I smell it before I see it. The winds are carrying the sweet scent of a spring rain. To the right, blue skies and fluffy clouds. To my left, dying sunshine and grey cover. I ignore the impending shower and continue to lay on my blanket on my yard. Equipped with my camera, phone, macrame, notebook and sketchpad, I am prepared. For what, exactly, has yet to be seen. The sun has broken through the grey clouds, giving the scene a strange ominous feel. The small breezes caress the grass and irritate my hair. The clouds are directly overhead now. Blue skies drifting farther and farther to my right. A chill fills the air. Silence- but for the chirp of birds.



that's all I got for that one. I got distracted. I don't like it really, at all anyway so the short nature of it is fine by me. And you know, it never even rained that day. I was so dissapointed.

Yo

Well, I guess a welcome is hardly in order.
More of an explanation I guess.
I'll post my writing's here, mainly stories, a little poetry.
But something you might like to remember about the poems is that a lot of the time, they have no standing on how I'm actually feeling at the time. It's more like I think about how someone else would feel on some other situation.

So there.
I'll post a few things soon.