incomplete

In the evening when my moms been drinking
Telling stories without thinking
She acts so immature
I have to leave and shut the door
Alone in my dark room
This place is becoming more like a womb
The blinds are pulled tight
I cant tell whether its day or night
The screen illuminates my facial features
I feel like some hideous creature

an old life

Sometimes I think I hurt more now than my body did during and after all those late night episodes in the backseat of your car. When you stopped asking it was almost shocking but I thought you would again. When you wouldn't reply I cried myself to sleep at night wondering how I could become so infatuated with such a conniving self-centered bastard. You make me sick with love, not necessarily lust, but also with disgust anger and pain.

secrets

All these secrets they drown me
Confound me
Surround me
I don't know what to do
What to say
How to act
I don't know what you know
What you hide behind my back

the confusion of clarity

all these feelings are overwhelming me
its as i was blind up until now
the vibrant greens; the blue and purple mist
how could i have missed this so many times before?
the contrast of the music thudding, pounding in my ears
and the metal between my lips, my lips;
my jaw clenching lightly
is nonexistant
is this sensation real?
how am i feeling this without the
help or assistance of things that have helped me before?
but now i awaken to reality
the screaming; terrible, angry, violent
it interrupts everything
by the time its ended im looking at flat scenery
not incredible like before;
not breathtaking like before.


i feel crazy; i feel like a crazy person. i cant untangle how i feel right now. her voice is whiny; it annoys me. this beauty surrounds me; its so clear. the clarity is unreal. im at a loss; a loss for what? im trying to find the exit to this maze; whats happening to me? this music, these sounds. lyrics, trees, nostalgia. i cant make sense of this. tires squeel. my spelling is off. thudding thudding. its caving in on me. i cant hear you i cant hear you i cant hear you. is this my life? where are they? the clouds arent real. they couldnt be. how could any of this? where why how who when. giant crosses in the sky. this is all so incomplete. whats eminem saying? i cant get this feeling back im scratching reaching climbing where is it going i need it back its flying soaring away come back come back! please i need you. now we're gliding back to the mainstream; the mainstreets. is this the same feeling or an impersonation? i cant find words i cant find my voice i cant i cant i cant i cant I CANT and now you're yelling so loud. the batterys dying dying dead dead DEAD. number on trees. numbers on these. my body is stiff; sore. overusing words. numbing, aching, throbbing. im overdressed; underdressed. is this what you expected?

Like dragons

Building stands tall, red metal monster, waiting
columns on either side of the glass, like dragons.

A sign says 'restrooms' herds you. The low ceiling,
the short maze of shiny black stalls. Leave the

almost burned-out fluorescent of/from the mirror
and begin a new escapade. Stifle your giggles

as you enter, its curved corridor a colorful mural.
Take a seat on the miniature sofa, uncomfortable

and foreign, it refuses to envelop. In front of you
the short table and chairs. The microscopic holes

in the tiles, like pinpricks made by a thousand tiny
hands. The fire extinguishers protrude, upside-down,

peeking out from their burrows. Outside the police and
the homeless, the sounds disappear as you drift. A

strip of metal runs beside evenly spaced trees and
mailboxes. Grates behind a giant rusted vent, leaves

caught in between like letters never sent. Seven
cement apostrophes lined up to grammar your eyes,

disrupt your line of vision. Arches overlap one
another, a sea of concrete and pink paint.

boo-nanza

real haunted stars
beyond the nightmare
bulldozing tucson
harsh gangster with trends
needs
raw street awakening
filling in
assignment scream
bigger music and magnificent house pictures
unconventional superbug eats skinny
american children
on an unpredictable spaceship treadmill
love wrath


UPDATED

real haunted stars
beyond the nightmare
(bulldozing tucson)
harsh gangster with trends
needs
raw street awakening
filling in
assignment scream
bigger music and magnificent house pictures
unconventional superbug eats
skinny american children
love wrath

friendship

ive begun to realise the title "friend" is only a meaningless facade for people to get what they want. im beginning to view friendships and relationships in general as more of business negotatiations than anything meaningful. some are ruthless and conniving; stealing, lying, cheating to get what they want, while others are equal; each persons needs being met. while some are lucky enough to find the latter, most have to settle for the first or have none at all.

is it even possible to achieve?
or is the title "friend"
just another facade
aimed at getting what you want?
i don't know what it feels like
to have a relationship
without the soul purpose
to use or be used

train tracks

Covered in other peoples
Leftovers. They seem so lonely
Going on for miles and miles.
Imagine how it must feel;
Being driven and walked on
Zoom in on one person;
Dragging their legs as they
Walk lazily on the tracks.
Picking up (sharp) broken records
And shiny bottle caps,
That pave the way to
Teenage indiscretion.
At one point the tracks are
Surrounded by rundown
Buildings. The shutters are
Off their hinges, tags cover
The walls. Unlike their beautiful
Brethren, these (markings) are not colorful
And are only meant to mark
Territories. The soggy dirt beneath
The cement stairs of one building
Is covered with seashells. Overgrown
Grass littered aluminum cans and
Empty bottles of whiskey.
A junk yard is on one side, full
Of rusted metal equipment
And car parts from decades past.
Watch the fights break out as
We fly by. Now the tracks are
All by themselves. Grassy plains,
Empty dried out cornstarch
Fields stretch as far as
Your vision. Finally the train
Arrives at the depot. Inside the grey
Building blasé benches line
White walls. Blue tiles,
Vaguely reminiscent of those
In the bottom of pools.

the doll

Behind her button eyes
There is white stuffing
But could there be more?
Does her stitched-shut mouth
Hide secrets?
What would happen
If her limp, apparently lifeless body
Could move?
If beneath her patchwork exterior
There was a beating heart.

UPDATED VERSION

Behind her button eyes
There is white stuffing
But could there be more?
Does her stitched-shut
Mouth hide secrets?
What would happen if
Her limp, lifeless limbs
Could move? What if
At night, when everyone is
Asleep, she crawls out from
The toy box, where she was so
Carelessly placed, and begins
To hum a little tune, one she has
Heard her owner sing so many
Times before. She moves
Guided by some unearthly
Force, dances in pockets of moonlight.
She makes her way to the wooden train
And gently places a weightless hand
On the chipped paint and worn surface.
What if beneath her patchwork exterior
There was a beating heart?

pleading

Saturday, March 08, 2008

The tear-drenched screams
go unnoticed. She's starting
to feel how she used to
Dead inside. Or maybe
so alive that it hurts.
She doesn't care.
She just wants the throbbing
to go away. Make this pain
disappear, She pleads.
To sullen faces and
Apathetic eyes

cope

She hides her tears beneath her smile. The sobs go unnoticed through the sound of her fake, hollow laughter. Each time she hears his name another dagger is plunged into her already scarred heart. It was meaningless, she reminds herself angrily. Why did she get attached? Her journals and poems have all been destroyed. She's found new ways of replacing them. Still, when she thinks of all those years of work it reopens a wound that's in desperate need of closing. She feels that writing is pointless now. She's learned to cope. All she wants now is to be taken seriously. Not used, or taken advantage of, or thrown away like a piece of useless garbage. She's tired of dealing with their alcoholism. Tired of finding no relief. Tired of putting on a smile every single day and pretending she's okay. She has such a heavy heart.

Not spared

The bones heirloomed beneath the lilac roots, the gypsum flakes clinging to their rock companions crave attention, sunlight glinting off, it taps into my peripheral vision, an intruder of sorts. And everything we thought we were, wandering past the lost barrio and into warehouse-land. We’re on the outskirts now, leaving everything we know behind, and the grass sprouting the sidewalk cracks reminds of how we used to be. See through the nostalgia to a place where reminiscing is painless.


UPDATED VERSION

The bones heirloomed beneath the lilac roots, the gypsum flakes clinging to their rock companions crave attention. Sunlight glints off, it taps into my peripheral vision. And everything we thought we were, wandering past the lost barrio and into warehouse-land. In the daylight these empty buildings seem like abandoned fortresses, yet when they are in use they exhibit a beauty, as if they have accomplished all they need to in life. We’re on the outskirts now, leaving everything we know behind, long gone are the days of hide and go seek, finger painting and pointless fights that are resolved in minutes. The grass sprouting through the sidewalk cracks reminds of how we used to be. See through the nostalgia to a place where reminiscing is painless.