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| Basic Geometry My mind exceeds in one direction stretching on forever in an endless forest of forgotten words and weakened, helpless sounds. And I never know who I'm writing for. 1.30.01 ~ ~ ~ Searching For The Words My shadows always dance with rhythmic quality inside my head. And more than often I turn out a horrid huntress when I throw my wordy net into their sea. "Ist shade," she sayd as she watches my task with dull, complacent eyes transfixed upon the darkening waters as if she knows she'll gaze right through this world in time. (unknown date) ~ ~ ~ Untitled I have no name for the routine emptiness inside of me. It will never sympathize with loneliness of fear or doubt; it is a loner in their realm, an endangered species, and I have placed a bounty on its head. It spawns from nothing known to me. Perhaps it's from my years of youth, pinpointed with a wordy dagger unfit for a ten year old. It's still unfit at seventeen, yet used of course, by any who so care to lift it in the direction of the shy speechless sketching to the rear of the room. Accusations are meaningless, and unthought, I've found. How many brain cells, I wonder, does it take to ask why I remain silent? (unknown date) ~ ~ ~ Echo Of A Soul I always see her in the eve, standing on a lonely, murmuing dock overlooking the sea. I don't know why she appears here at twighlight, her dark amber hair a pure and even tone, even as the wind-caught tresses grasp the last of golden light before bathing in moonglow; her dull, complacent orbs are of undetermined hues as they transfix on the faraway sea. Her gaze is an odd one, as if her pupils hold what no one else could see, a pacified hallucination of her warped and twisted world. I always find myself captivated by her, watching the folds of her crimson dress as they fall prey to the fingers of the evening breeze. I sometimes wonder what she ponders, isolated on a dock above the calm, lapping waters for hours on end, umoving, unspeaking, just gazing, just thinking. And in the moment that I feel the cool warmth of the moon's pale glow, I glance to it - an immaculate sphere, the feminine aura I know too well - to extract my breath, and I forget about her, just for a second. And when I avert my eyes back to her dock, she's slipped away with my softest dream. And with a twist of mouth, I rise and stride with downcast gaze to her dock, the echo of her amber hair, her misplaced eyes, her crimson dress a fresh image in my wandering mind. And rising my eyes to where the horizon blurs its line with the deepest purple of the nighttime sky, I tilt my head, spilling down my amber hair, I hypnotize myself with silnt, misplaced eyes, I tame from the playful wind, my crimson dress; and I realize, she's returned. 2.22.01 ~ ~ ~ Exhaustion I'm tired of smothering my vulnerability for fear that it will perish and never be reborn. I'm tired of drowning my loneliness because I refused to take responsibility for his lies. I'm tired of being invisible to all but myslef, tired of being glared upon when thought to be in the way. I'm tired of being told I have nothing to say, no opinion, no significance, due to my chronological age. I'm tired of the trust I give cutting my feet as it's broken and thrown back at me. I'm tired of relying on music to tell me my life story. I'm tired of meeting Opportunity in the middle, and alloting it thirty seconds to stride away down the hall. I'm tired of holding my words to my breast, to my eyes and my heart, of holding them eternally fragile. I'm tired of never letting them break. I'm tired of being unacknowledged, unnoticed, unwanted by the closest of friends. By myself. I'm tired of closing my eyes to myself, of shaping my form to perk the smiles of all around me. I'm tired of stirring the cauldron of err in every aspect of my existence. I'm tired of being tired of life. 2.21.01 ~ ~ ~ Warmth I sit by the window, by the draft, by the winter sky, and I'm warm for the first time in weeks. 2.23.01 ~ ~ ~ Dead Morning It's a dead morning with my heart on the floor. I thought I'd rediscovered an old fire that had diminished long ago. But it was only a flicker, just a glimpse of what I was once capable of but lost. They all end up that way. And I'm left with no ambition, no inspiration, no talent. I'm left worthless again on another dead morning with my heart on the floor. 5.7.01 ~ ~ ~ To Realize What's Known I never felt his falseness with such accuracy as when I looked into his face after eons past the act. I never saw so keenly the plastic of his smile, the purely synthetic twinkle in his eye. I never saw the malice beneath his spritely face shine through much as I did when I looked at him this morning after he killed me. 5.8.01 ~ ~ ~ Oblivious Unwittingly you scurry in and out of my mind; and although I do, I cannot blame you for scuttling into my heart, losing your way, and tearing open new exits. If I had my will, I would flee from you (it's my answer for everything). But my will does not belong to my head. It belongs to my heart; at least, with you; and rings dusty cliche's new. Much as I would dote on you, unrequisite is a beast with clinging claws that, strangely, favors my heart, though it's always oblivious to you. 5.8.01 ~ ~ ~ Conscience I met a girl inside me who would speak before my scream; a girl in black who told me confrontation is a dream. A girl who replayed memories of bastards, queens and whores, with none of me but silence and on this she did implore: "Why are you so cowardly, you poor, enraged girl? Why won't you speak your mind for once, instead of closing out the world? You retaliate nowhere but in aftermath and dreams; why are all your sharpest words in your sililoquies?" I know she always speaks a truth when she passes me this phrase, yet I am still so powerless toward shattering my daze. And so I dream of far away and visions I persist, dreaming that eventually these visions won't exist. 5.12.01 ~ ~ ~ Paradox Every time I see you in my dreams, I want to run; being in a paradox with you is little fun. Are you trapped within me, in some crevice of my mind? Somewhere which, with knife and ax, I may just hope to find? I would kill your ghost as soon as it materialized; but you don't control it, although it controls your lies. It echoes all my misleads in my pursuit of your kiss; leaves me lying in a pool of sweat rememb'ring bliss. So I run away from you in paradox of mind, trying to imagine why you were so very kind. 5.12.01 |