Friday, December 14, 2012


there's all this light coming through the cracks.
worry makes you see things differently
and it's absence makes something new of the imperfect.
but it desires me in the worst way
singing me to shipwreck
caught between scenes
waiting backstage
and it seems like an eternity
speeding up and slowing down
waiting for the line
waiting for the cue
waiting and ready...
and wondering if you're actually ready
don't overthink it.
but, one more time.
there is the right moment
and there's this terror that you just might miss it
so, in these moments, the trap door proves to be a lift...
and you're carried up higher and higher
bird's eye view.
i've forgotten it again
so focused on the cue, on the scene on that inciting moment and my performance
my perfection
and obviously lack, thereof
that i've missed the big picture
i mean, i've lost the whole plot
sometimes the playwright needs to have a word
just take you up to the mezzanine floor
and remind you of why it was written in the first place...
and you sort of settle down and come alive
noticing all this light coming through the cracks

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

start again.

iTunes - New & Noteworthy.

xbox / Microsoft music - recommends.

New single is out now! Spread the worrrrrrrrrd.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Dear Diary,

It's a super chilly Saturday after Black Friday after Thanksgiving. I chose the Christmas station on Pandora for the first time this year. Anything to do with Christmas before Thanksgiving is simply unacceptable in my mind. But, now that Thanksgiving is over and the remnants of the delicious feast are sitting, waiting, beckoning from my refrigerator, it's perfectly fine to put on those Christmas carols to deck the halls of our new place. Yes, I moved... AGAIN. My whole body is screaming at me with contempt, however it is overshadowed by the lovely feeling of having a lot more space in a one bedroom townhouse. Hooray!
Parker and Marley seem to love it, as well and retire to their respective cozy spots completely exhausted from racing up and down the stairs a billion times a day. Apart from a couple of finishing touches, I'm happy to say that everything is unpacked and in its right place in record time.

My mind however, is wrecking havoc on the rest of me. I've had some pretty astounding dreams over the past couple of nights - a sign that my imagination is in rare form. This can also be a negative thing when my mind decides to play God and resurrect scenes from the past and play them over and over. It also enjoys reading between the lines and getting very creative with worst case scenarios and conspiracy theories... or in layman's term, it loves to worry obsessively. This leads to anxiety.

I haven't had anxiety in a very long time.

But, on this super chilly Saturday after Black Friday after Thanksgiving, I am ridden with it like some sort of impeding outbreak of influenza. The people who really work my nerves are REALLY working my nerves. The things I've let go of have leapt back into my hands and stitched themselves round like gloves. Too tight gloves. The kind where my fingers feel claustrophobic. Uncomfortable like having to hold it in the car on a road trip until the next exit... which isn't for another 20 miles. Antsy. Like a dog in a cage waiting for it's beloved to come home. Even worse, how Marley must feel in that same predicament whilst Parker is free to roam around the new wide open space. (He's earned it, believe you me.)

Sometimes I wish that the mind WAS in fact a bit more like a computer, so that I could select certain files and delete them. Not only delete them from the original folder, but from the trash bin as well. But, the memories are here to stay. The scars from the wounds you've all but forgotten about are noticed on those random days... and all of the trauma comes back with it. And you wish that grace, mercy and forgiveness would outrun all of the nonsense and memories and the lingering pain. You wish that you were better at it all. But sometimes, the past comes back up like a flash and it just still hurts a bit. And the flashback makes you freeze... makes you shake a little... makes you panic... makes the simple tasks unbearable.


And so, diary, this is where today has brought me.
However, I'm not having it.
I have too many things for my mind to be proactively creative about...
Rather than worry and fear.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

letters from jamaica [part deux]

from a poem she saw on a wall in - 

I am a deserving woman.

"I deserve better.  I deserve greater.  I deserve to set standards.
I deserve to have requirements.  I deserve to have goals.
I deserve to have aspirations.  I deserve to be earned.
I deserve to be pleased.  I deserve to be fulfilled.
I deserve to be loved.  I deserve to be cherished.
I deserve to be at peace.
I deserve to be restored.  I deserve to be renewed.
I deserve to be exalted.  I deserve to be uplifted.
I deserve to be called by my name, not out of my name.
I deserve to be respected, I deserve to be protected.
I deserve to feel special.  I deserve to be appreciated.
I deserve to be admired.
I deserve to be desired.  I deserve to be praised.
I deserve to be remembered.  I deserve to be seen as worthy.
Treat me as a Queen, because I deserve to be Me.
A woman who knows her value
Will always demand her worth..."

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Thursday, November 1, 2012


parker the dinosaur.

marley the squirrel.

happy halloween!
mission completion.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Well, good afternoon!
It always comes out a bit better for me than good morning ever did. Though I love mornings, it's the actual saying that feels a bit strange whenever it comes out of my mouth.
I have also noticed that there are some days my handwriting is better than others. Whenever I have to fill out something at a counter, it's horrid. I don't understand. It's almost as if I don't recognize the letters I am making. Seeing as I've always had rather nice, albeit ever changing penmanship, this seriously bums me out.
I miss writing creatively... I miss poetry. But, sometimes it would seem my life isn't quiet enough to create rhythms unless time is set aside. At work, there is music playing almost constantly... I sometimes wish I could just turn it off for a while.

On slow days, I find myself scouring the inter-webs for blogs and new interesting instagrams to keep my mind occupied and to keep me inspired. However, I'm noticing there is a fine line between inspiration and envy. I'm also realizing that while I fully appreciate the high fashion//artistic//fun aspect of pointed nails, they absolutely freak me out. They look good on ya though. Do you boo boo. I also wish I had an ipod touch with a camera... or that tmobile would carry the iphone. Sorta. maybe not. I'm good with the touch.
Know what I miss? My blackberry. I really really do. I can see myself as the person who has both smart phone and blackberry.
Know what else I miss?
The feeling of being included with people who deeply care about me.
I miss my girlfriends and time well spent with them.
I miss being somebody's baby.
I miss my family.
I've also got a serious case of the wanderlust. As usual, this is met by an equal desire to be very settled and have a home.

I am a walking contradiction. But, it works somehow.

And on that note, I can't wait to get home to my little family of puppies.
And to catch up on this season of gossip girl on demand.

Good day, friends.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

je ne sais quoi...

After warming up for a day or two, it cooled down quite nicely this morning. It was chilly, just the way I like it. It forces me to pull out of my sleepy fog and rouses me to start the day with a little more umph. A bit more energy. I'm ready to seize the day, rather than be dragged along by it.  Anyway, it all started when I took Marley out this morning. A strange longing for more time to devote to something... but I wasn't really sure what it was. Maybe to spend a little more time with Marley to get her trained to be a civilized dog who actually walks on a leash without dragging you along. (Much like a sleepy start to the day, I suppose)

I walked into Starbucks to continue my morning ritual... and I felt it again when I noticed a couple sitting at a table sipping their coffee slowly and talking. There were others, busy at work or having a morning meeting over their morning drink of choice, and maybe a little breakfast to go with it. I was on a bit of a time-crunch, as per usual in the morning, on my way to work, unsure of the unsettling feeling. But, I pushed those thoughts out of my brain, and started mentally skimming my to-do list. I was even looking forward to getting my day started, but my mind began to wander as I passed some new apartments available for lease. "Wouldn't that be nice...", "I'm sure they're amazing on the inside..." "It would be great to be so close to work, though I would miss the commute..." "It may not be the best place to have 2 dogs..." "How much ARE they going for anyway?" "Did I make the right decision on my apartment, now?" Thoughts like that. I was still distracted when i turned off of 8th Ave, onto a side street... and there it was again. Like a hunger pang in the soul... This feeling like I should be making scrambled eggs right now and planning out my day... For the babes or for the hubs, I'm not so sure, but this doesn't make sense. I don't have a husband or babies. However, I do have so many things to go over, fonts for an album... so many emails to respond to... phone calls to make... places to go... I saw a woman running down the street and felt a little jealous.  I should be going on a run, rather than trying to find time to...

I spend so much time doing some things that I'm pretty good at, but at this point in my life, it's leaving me feeling so very unfulfilled... and under-appreciated. It sucks up all of my time and energy, leaving so little for me to be creative or productive in the things I was meant for... 
But those things don't yet pay my bills...
And neither does this, actually.
And always being a lot of dollars short is really wearing me thin.
Always being to tired to engage or to do out of the ordinary things is getting really old, as well.
Knowing I have to be up so early...
Going above and beyond and still stressing out about rent...
Round and round and round it goes.
Catch 22.
I want out of this cycle.
I want off of this carousel.
But, there is only but so much I can do.
Keep pushing and wait?

There's so much that's good. But, something is missing... a certain... I don't know what...

Friday, October 12, 2012

dazed and confused


under construction.

brick by brick
the contrast is rather lovely
rather moody, if gray
perfectly seasick, yet nothing at all is in sway
i can't quite put my finger on it.
but, i'm not so very sad.
don't worry your head about that.
just lingering. just waiting.
and being quite present.
it takes time to unlearn the lifetime habits
the mechanisms of defense
and disarm them instead
and now the mind reels
with creativity
with marvelous things
not fear and dread and self-loathing
i'm happy just to watch today
to keep still
the progress is impressive
but much left to go
just revel
brick by brick
and away we go

can we please talk about this?

Kanye // Chanel.
because, i'm going to have to say, yes.


Tuesday, October 9, 2012

weight of the world. [lifted.]

It's the most wonderful time of the year! The cooler weather tends to draw me indoors, and I start to hibernate a little. I can't seem to get enough candles... my house smells like pumpkins, apples and spices... and bergamot tobacco. It's funny, because all of these scents remind me of growing up and exploring downtown Fredericksburg. And, this year there's a fireplace to add to the mix... exciting! Today, I've got on a sweater and a jacket. Now, all we need is the color change, which, in Tennessee is never as brilliant as that of Virginia, but it will suffice. (I do, however, still want to get to central park when leaves are at their peak.) All I want to do is sleep a little longer, cook - er, be cooked for, make seasonal treats (i.e. - pumpkin cheesecake truffles... glorious.) write, listen to music, take pictures, read good books, watch good movies (even scarier ones, y'all. i don't really understand.) take really long walks/run, drink wine or coffee or homemade hot chocolate, and be surrounded by candles... and love. lots of lovely love. Ironically, I also get the wanderlust pretty badly. I have this strong desire to be organized, to get everything set up just so. So, as much as I love to be home in my cozy nest, I tend to be incredibly productive and inspired when the autumn and winter come round.

At the same time, I feel like I can begin to enjoy this season, and perhaps life in general a bit more than usual.  Or maybe it's that I'm coming into a place of contentment... a rest in the chaos.  Because, there is most definitely in need of a lot of resolution... and I've made some difficult choices, and I'm hanging in there. But, I'm seeing some positive change, if ever so slowly in me... in my heart... and best of all in my mind. I've decided not to hide anymore, and it's super hard coming out of hiding. I've never had such a hard time telling the truth... but I'm glad I have. It scares me that I may have hurt some people who are closest to my heart... it scares me that I'll have their understandable disapproval. But sometimes what I feel is the right thing won't make a whole lot of sense to everyone. And it's taken me twenty-some years to realize that it's ok. I love my friends and their concern, but sometimes I have to go in a certain way that I believe is right for me at a certain time. I didn't realize how much of the weight on my shoulders was because of this... and it's been lifted. Who knows where this road will lead... But, I'm happy to be inspired. I'm embracing these humbling times. I'm soaking it up. It's good to rest a little inside.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

to whom it may concern.

I am stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I don't like it.
My grandma always told me that a lie was an intent to deceive. There wasn't a whole lot of little white lie gray area for her. And, I appreciate that these days. I think it's done me pretty good. Besides, I'm a really really bad liar. But, right now, I feel like a liar, and that doesn't make me happy. It's more an intent to keep some information hidden, for now because I cannot take the amount of disappointment that will be thrown my way. So, I've gone silent.

I feel like I've needed people more than ever to just believe in me, or to just listen without those stern looks... or worried faces. Just some love and some hugs. I'd just like for someone to walk in my shoes and see things the way I see it. I'm real thankful that there are a couple of people stepping up to that challenge. But for the most part, it isn't the way. And as one friend said, in response to my very cryptic description of the situation, "you can rapidly feel like an island."

On top of this, I'm absolutely scared out of my mind that my decision was wrong. Mostly, I feel pretty bled white from the whole situation. I feel taken advantage of. I need to say something, but I'm not sure what to say... I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure how to move from here. And so, I'm frozen in silence... overthinking from the moment I wake up until I lay my head down at night, and wake again in the middle of dreams, to sleep, to wake when the alarm goes off.

Meanwhile, work has picked up... and my list of responsibilities feels like it's growing on the daily. I have thrown myself headlong into this and into moving, so that I can't really feel much else. Sometimes, numbness is a beautiful beautiful thing. That is, until it wears off, or the deep melancholy is awakened by exhaustion.

So many little lovely things are in the pipeline. It's just a matter of time... of waiting. It's a matter of trying to find enough extra nooks and crannies of hours in the day to be productive. It's a matter of holding it all together. It's a matter of not growing weary in well-doing... It's a matter of perseverance.
But I'm ready for resolution. I'm ready for breakthrough. I'm ready for the end of this season. I'm in need of some release.  For the joy that comes in the morning after a dark night of the soul.

Bring on the sun, please...

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

They all move in the same way. Back straight, long easy strides. He wears a smart looking suit, but not in black to keep it casual. He stands to take inventory of an area of construction, and effortlessly moves his open jacket away, revealing a perfectly tucked dress shirt - hand placed on the hip. It reminds me of faculty members from my school growing up.

Boredom allows the mind to wander a bit, and think of things you wouldn't normally. I get kind of frustrated by moments like these, because most often, there's so much that needs to be checked off my "to-do list" and the present situation limits me from doing any of it. I am confined to work, or waiting on this or that... and my anxiety grows with my list of unticked boxes.

I am most definitely in one of life's waiting rooms right now. The kind without many interesting magazines, sketchy service on your phone, mind numbing info-mercials on the tv (if there is one) and no books whatsoever in which to dive. No paper, no distractions, just you and that "calming" color of paint on the walls and time ticking slowly. There is something to be learned in it, for sure... and I intend to soak it up as fully as possible. I also know that on the other side of this waiting room, some wonderful things are processing. Like a good home-cooked meal, it's just gonna take some time.

However, living in the tension... it's tedious as hell and there's nothing but temptation on all sides to give up. There is some sort of perseverance mantra ringing in my ears, and I'm going into some sort of trance, at this point. I will be honest here, and say that I'm tired of having a sore throat... and talking over enlarged tonsils. Yes, I do still have them. I'm tired of shouldering the responsibilities of others... of hearing the engine in my heart revved up to redline... of loving between a rock and a hard place. I'm weary of holding my tongue. I am weary of my love being taken advantage of. I'm tired of my energy level being on empty constantly. All I want is a couple of days to meet with friends and have coffee, eat good food, drink red wine... smart conversations and all that... laugh til my face hurts. Go on an adventure with my partner in crime... and maybe a little romance? Oh and a walk and cuddle with muh babes (dogs. )

I love those weeks when about 5 new albums come into your life and you cannot stop listening to them. Cannot. STOP. But it's the little bit of a comedown that stinks, right after you've learned them.
Boredom wanders in... and... you start noticing that those men in suits often move the same way.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

prelude to the falling.

It's coming. But, it's taking it sweet time. Sleeves start traveling slowly down our arms. The material thickens. Wardrobes changing like the leaves on the trees. The blue of the sky wanes to a delicious vanilla. An extra hour added to the day to become enamored with the earthy tones and the dried fragrances. Naturally, we pull close together. And if you're alone, it's the loneliest you'll feel. This year, my favourite season will bring along with it a new space... a new invitation for me to make a little house a home. And perhaps soon some brave heart will also make itself at home next to mine. And we'll glow like embers in the fireplace I've always wanted...
My heart is unraveled. Fingers stretched out with palms upward. The object of my affection released. The love pulsing just as hard to an empty space in my soul. Clinging to a promise that it isn't wasted. And so I wait... this is when your love is put on display.
this is where it all gets beautiful.
it's about to be so good.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

the fifth.

fall in through the ceiling
search the rooms for meaning
when the rain has made no sound
upon the walls
the pulses pound
and common decency has died
the funeral march has long since gone
and i don't feel the urge to cry
nor can i seem to shuffle on
all of these feelings bleed
the knife has twisted
i'm the fool
trying to keep my hopeful heart
within a world where minds are cruel
ungrateful hands just steal and beg
manipulate the veins for more
and taking love in vain
and we're just left here on the floor
crumpled up like dirty clothes
when we know we're worth far more
than the sound of brokenness
and the crash of slamming doors
and the hoard of snide remarks
and remorse only if caught
conclusions jumped to in my brain
wisdom waxes and it wanes
play the scripts over again
try to find myself to blame
and hyper-ventilate to sleep
from the nightmare wake to weep
remind myself, as i'm bled white
in all the small things, to delight
lord, i'm weary of the fight
turn these violent wrongs to rights
i'll write it down and read it back
let it sink into the cracks
calm me down, don't let me fall
sliding slow down the painted wall
calm me down, mend this heart
reconstruct what's come apart

Sunday, September 2, 2012


I walk into the bathroom and am surprised when looking in the mirror. Surprised at the welling up of tears glazing my eyes and my feeble stupid attempts to hold them in. I woke up with my eyes nearly swollen shut… how much more is left in those ducts?! But, it is Sunday. I think every week for at least the last 4 or 5 weeks, I have said, out loud to myself at some point or another, " I hate Sundays." I'm not entirely sure it's true. I think six days of the week is my capacity to quell the grief. I can hide it from the world for six days… and on the seventh day, I need a rest. The bandages fall off, like the adhesive will no longer hold. Right around midnight the panic attacks begin, and I'm in bed hyperventilating, praying to just fall asleep. Sunday morning is the hardest day to pull myself from the white haven of blankets and the warm of the dogs. If I make myself get to church, it begins sooner than later. I sit alone in a room full of people. I look around and find familiar faces everywhere, but they'll not notice I'm there. I'm not there to be seen. I'm there to unfold… to be unfolded. And sure enough, some invisible blanket wraps round and I'm hidden behind some veil of grace. The silent room is permeated with a story being unwrapped for my soul. There is sweet relief here. I am met by this strange feeling of release mingling with failure. I thought I'd done so well. Come to terms. You know, all of those therapy sort of phrases we Westerners use to explain that which we really know very little about…. The human heart and it's strength… and it's frailty. Today, he said that it hurts so deeply, when you love so deeply. I've heard that before, but it brought comfort in hearing it again. Unlike most Sundays where I'm happy to unravel in the shadows in movements of worship, I wanted to leave. It doesn't matter, though whether I stay in bed or head to church, those hands will find me wherever it is that I may be on Sundays. They will find me and unwrap the bandages. They find me and clean my still gaping wounds. Ever so gently applying some soothing balm. They take care to gently wrap them back up. And I fall to a million pieces. I am absolutely alone, but wrapped up by this invisible presence.

It's the quietest day…. and I break again and again and again.

I long for the days when the heaviness is gone from my heart. On Sunday I'm able to weep for the great weight. On Sunday I don't have to pretend it's all ok. Homesick for family, for loving souls who will wrap me up in their arms where I can disappear for just a little while. I long for resolution or for deep sleep. What would sleep do, though, but leave my wounds unattended to and allow some cruel reprieve… only for the pain to intensify the moment I am once again conscious. I have never been so tired… so utterly exhausted. I have never reached such a depth in the seas of sorrow. So I suppose I've never loved so deeply. And I have never been so full of hope in such a dark night… yet I've never felt such agony in waiting for the sun to rise.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

recurring dream.[i also ate lots of cheese]

I have recurring dreams that usually have something to do with swimming competitively. I mean, at least once a month.
Last night's dream began as most of them do with the swimmers on the blocks... as you do. Take your marks! (I did, like a cat waiting to pounce.) I love the look of an Olympic sized pool, so blue, so still, stretching out in front of you, waiting to be messed up like a clean bed with fresh linens. I'm waiting for the buzzer... for the reflexes to snap and dive; instead, however, I heard a splash. False start. Clearly there would be a restart. But, there wasn't. All in a matter of fractions of seconds, so and so takes off in a sprint, the buzzer goes off, we all glance at each other, realize the officials are just letting this all go amiss, and one by one we dive in. I was one of the last off the block, and it almost seemed like I really woke up in the water, all Inception style and whatnot. I was trying to remember what stroke I was supposed to be doing, unsure whether it was butterfly or free-style. I nearly did a flutter-kick which would've gotten me disqualified, but I remembered, butterfly, managed to pull off a not so good streamline, nonetheless, and dolphin kick for my life!
I was so frustrated to be off to a bad start...

...or dead last.
I took my first stroke and I was already exhausted. It felt impossible. I was way in over my head. But I kept moving.
I kept pulling... hard.

There are those moments when you're digging deep, pulling out every ounce of energy you really don't have. Like that weird tingly feeling before passing out, and your insides are turning to mush, and you think you might be sick, and at any moment your arms, legs, heart, body is going to cave no matter how much you tell it to MOVE! A feeling of being so heavy and weightless all at the very same time. The cool water felt hot, and it was a struggle to keep the breathing pattern, tempted to breathe on every stroke. My ears were ringing in the crash of the water, but my eyes are fixed on the wall.
And the next thing I know, in my peripheral view, I'm moving past each person and end up at the front of my heat. Wait, what?
Then, came the split second calculation of whether to glide into the wall with a kick or to do one last stroke. I'd rather not underestimate with a glide, so I pulled. The middle of my forearms ready to collide with the wall, but I managed to control the impact. I take that first breath, and look around, realizing I'd finished first!
But, instead of the adrenaline rush of winning and wanting to do a happy dance or fist pump, I felt overwhelmed with emotion and just wanted to cry tears of relief, mostly... and maybe some sort of happiness that I hadn't given up. The race started unfairly... I was exhausted from the moment I began. It looked impossible to even place at all... I would've been happy to finish. But, I finished... and finished strong. And in the end, it didn't matter how crappy it started, because the result was in my favor. I didn't quit. And moments like that make me want to cry... it's so beautiful to reach the other side of a deep struggle. When the outcome is good, in fact, better than expected. When you can say, it was all made good... that redemption won out in the end... it mattered... no more disappointment.

I didn't even realize just how much I feel like this in my life right now until writing this all out. I'm tired of being strong. I'm absolutely exhausted in every way that one can be. I feel like I'm teetering over the line of giving out, no matter how hard I push. My mental, emotional, spiritual, and even physical muscles are starting to spasm... There's a ringing in my ears... the roar of the waves around me... But, my eyes are fixed. I'm not entirely sure where the finish line is, but I keep moving. One day at a time. Keep pulling one day at a time. Hoping the outcome will make it all worth it... that love and redemption does win.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012


It's really the only time I sleep well...
But then again, there's an excitement pitter-pattering
Like an undertow pulling my dreams along,
a bit closer to the surface of consciousness
Because I don't want to forget the feeling of nearness
And I'll wake a little annoyed with the alarm clock
A little annoyed with the daylight
Because I wish it was the middle of the night, and it would just hold a bit longer
I don't want this moment to slip past
Nothing is promised, and I sure cannot predict the future
But I hope, oh how I hope
Like a tiny little bird bravely singing in the witching hours.
He's bathed in morning light
And it's my favorite part of waking up early
Handsome in one of those classic ways that isn't really based on opinion
Pupils dilate, and there's the swell of the strings in the orchestra
Gentle crescendo
I have to hold my breath
It's all that I can do not to let the words escape
So I slip out quietly before I'm pulled in to his undeniable gravitational pull
Slip away into the tasks of the day
So hard to close the door
And hold it down
And hold it in
But it's undeniable
Coursing at such great speed just beneath the placid surface
but in the still of the night it sings
like a tiny bird in the witching hours...
echoing through the heart valves
each pulse...
sometimes tender
sometimes strong
sometimes raging
sometimes a desperate cry
and sometimes only a whisper
always singing
always true
"Oh how, I love this man."

Friday, August 24, 2012


slowly but surely it wakes you up
the drowsiness draining from the cup
slowly but surely you're all aware
of the emptiness; of all that isn't there
and it beats with a throbbing like native drums
and it tells you to get up, just get up and run
but frozen like waters in northern lakes
can't stop the crash or find the brakes
and when least expected it wraps all around
hold your breath, don't move, don't make a sound
lest you chase it away, lest it up and leave
and the rising and falling;
the chest will heave
dearly beloved, replenish the wine
dearly departed, i'll tell you it's fine
and the tears flow out with the blood of the vine
in the tender release of all that was mine

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

pale thin line. [get up or lay down]

if you were very still, as a child in a classroom
trying so very hard to listen and didn't fidget...
you might hear it.
you might.
the sound is almost imperceptible.
but you'll see it...
just a vivid white line trailing behind a piece of chalk.
i like the way the dust spills just outside of the hardened line,
like a whisper of rebellion reminding that it isn't ever one or the other.
it might seem so, but really it mostly isn't.
one side feels incredibly wild and open;
wide and deep and ripe with the magic of the woods at night.
the other side is a bright city
and you enter the city limits speeding
like some raging pain recklessly driving
leaving track marks
and soon you're disappearing in plain sight
and dancing around the room through the sway
you find it and put it in your bloodstream
and before you know it,
it seeps through your pores
this coat of protection
and right there the pain stops
your mind races to lovely things
switch. on.
it's all the same.
quand meme, darling.
and like bathing in a delicious apathy.
dirty feet and hands
couldn't care less
just languid little happy life in a goldfish bowl
and they think you're at your most beautiful then, don't they?
when you take the form of some gypsy and disappear
it's fascinating living as a ghost
eyes hollow and always, always smiling
all wrapped up in clean white sheets
but dirty and black eyes and skinny like a model
it's all ashes and blood and bones and smoke
and some broken song
go faster
go slower
it doesn't matter, just keep moving.
one will catch up.
just move until the pain or the painkiller wins.
one will win. they always do.
and you'll stop moving. you'll just cease.
it will go terribly wrong and it will cease.
and the pain will engulf you like a black hole.
so crawl back, if there's time left on your side to that jagged little line
on the other side...
it's something so beautiful,
but it hurts like hell
the magic of the woods at night is met with the terror of the unknown
and you feel every single pulse
every single memory
every single one
even when you sleep
wide awake singing hymns in the middle of the night
looking fear dead in the face while it shakes you
walking straight through some valley of the shadow of death
and it's never quite the way the words sound
pure suffering
and clinging to some invisible hand of hope that most often
feels like nothing more than air
but you keep moving
you keep singing from inside where you believe
just move until that love wins
because it always will.
and peace is the pulse
and healing invades
and then the morning comes...

Saturday, August 18, 2012

act i - it's ok

the curtain rises
and the performance is award winning
and i'm so lost in the role that i've convinced myself
convinced myself
i'm going mad
counting down for doctor's visits
because they make medications
to tell the storm to be still
to make the roaring a little less loud
because i'm not certain of walking on water
and i'm not certain of sailing this ship
those in the know put their cards on the table
and turn them
turn them
turn them.
i waited to hear whether to keep the bridges in tact
or to simply
burn them
burn them
learn from them.
i'll not lift a hand to strike
i'll not allow my mouth to curse
i'll not wish an ill
just the turning of will
just the opening of eyes
just the healing of wounds
and as you walk up from the basement
your prayers will multiply
and you'll see me waiting
on the other side

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


i lost my love.
so, i'm kind of working that out.

in the meantime...
my best friend is getting married.
and last night i was dreaming about planning her wedding with her and other girlfriends.
i was also obsessed with having the recipe for and indulging in a bushwacker from 3 crow. i mean, obsessed.
i'm working on a new musical project... i like movement. even if it's slow, it's far better than doldrums any day.
i've also realised that after all this time, i'm beginning to find my voice. as a result, i'm almost anxious to re-record a bunch of songs.

you know what's funny? much of the time we long so desperately to know the future. we want to skip to the end of the book, or at least the end of this section just to make sure that it turns out ok. but, the thing is, that most of us who are truly in love with the story will have to keep reading it all the way through no matter what. and you'll find yourself wondering if the outcome will change, because the build-up is so incredibly delicious... it is as though the author is begging the reader, if you will, to keep hoping when the story is shrouded in mystery and doubt.

God, give me style and give me grace... and put a smile upon my face.

Friday, July 27, 2012

can you hear it?

here i am.
in a white room with four walls...
and i'm scrawling with all of my might
covering every inch with everything that i am
and with everything i can find.
the ink is the blood
blood is the ink.
i'm searching the dictionaries
exhausting the concordances
red-lining the engines
studying the history books
pouring over the greatest poets
in the tongues of men and of angels
fingers fumbling over the keys
chord after chord
inversion after inversion
translation after translation
to explain the depth of sorrow
to explain the measures of my love
to give rhymes and reasons
to throw open the windows on our story
to let the sun warm us again
to hear the ocean roaring freedom
to make you hear my heart sing
to turn your heart back...
crying out till my lungs are sore
releasing all i have and more
to awaken the dawn with all of its hope
to light the stars
to remind you...
can you hear it?
all just to make you feel my love.

come out from your hiding.

sometimes you can't tell the truth,
because you don't know the whole truth.
and after a very long time of blindness...
i saw it.
i told it.
those are the truths that set you free.
their weight is enourmous. and often they cut like a samurai sword.
but that weight leaving your shoulders will make you drop to your knees and weep...
because you've been set free.
but if the timing is perfect, it feels so incredibly wrong.
all of these walls are being demolished.
i can feel all of my bones cracking, just to breathe.
and love filling up the empty spaces.
i don't want to be alone. so i cling to my phone for a voice on the other end to accompany me.
i wish i could turn myself inside out and empty all of the pain
the sadness.
and make me whole again.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

psalm 56:8

You've kept track of my every toss and turn
through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
each ache written in your book.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

i had every intention of sitting down to write, but realize i have no earthly idea of what exactly i wish to say. i'm exhausted. it's early, and i'm ready to crawl into dreamland. the dogs are sprawled out on the bed, and i wonder if they're absorbing my sadness somehow. or maybe they just really like sleep a lot more than they used to? but i'm pretty sure, they're being awful still... happy to curl up near each other and near me. parker is looking especially pink this evening. i'm wondering if dogs sunburn? and i'm sure it would've happened on a day at the lake, not a drowsy day at home?
i think we've all got some kind of separation anxiety. just wanting to be held. to be near. to hide out and fall asleep. easily tired. content just to lay still and stare off into space.
but it doesn't actually make any of it go away.
i'm just tired.
and the world is full of sad songs and cynicism. why add to it?
i mean, i'll say it when i feel it.
but for now, the dull ache rages on. and if i'm quiet enough, and laying down curled up tight enough, it won't explode into the searing kind of pain that courses through my veins...
just when you think it's feeling a bit better, it will sink in just a bit deeper.
you'll feel the sting of the threads sliding through the walls of your heart.
you'll feel them exit.
it was all so tightly wound in the fabric of my being.
and now it's being unwoven.
just don't fall apart.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

rescue is coming.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

sunset and lunacy.

The sunset was crazy. So red and the sun so incredibly bright. On fire.. like a camp fire sliding down the wall of the sky.

I don't remember what time it was. I'd been off work for hours and I wasn't hungry so it really didn't matter for some reason. Running errands. Trying to go unnoticed. Trying to ignore the glances. Strange how much the tiny heels on these sandals actually cause the legs to wobble. I was waiting in line. Watching the familiar tapping of the palm on the scalp of the customer being served. Girl's got weave. If you didn't know, well, now you know. I miss my long hair. I say that at least twice a day. I wonder if my coworker is right, and I can actually get extensions that look awesome? I'm too low maintenance. I wonder if it would make me feel like a million bucks, though. Like a few inches of hair would make me feel a bit more like myself or something. Silly things girls think. All the conversations were mumbles and hums. I kept catching clips and phrases, something about being able to count, something about switching to self check-out lanes, and employees searching for elusive cigarette brands. Drawers opening and closing. The shelves did look a little barren, this evening. I don't smoke, but I kind of thought about it for the first time. I mean, other than those cloves way back. You know what I mean. I wondered if it would actually take the edge off. I wasn't really going to buy them, though.

So, it was my turn, then. I felt awkward answering the question "How can I help you?" I wanted to use as little words as possible. I don't remember saying anything, actually. If I did, maybe three words. I stood there just watching the wall of Marlboros and it took a moment to realize my vision was blurred and that I'd been staring at the same carton of marlboro reds for at least 30 seconds. A long time, when you're standing on your own, processing. I don't even know what I was feeling, other than weightlessness. Just floating. Half there. Completely sober. Feeling absolutely stoned. Noticing another box on another shelf. What is the rhyme and reason to the stocking here? Back and forth. I wondered if I thought hard enough, if I might see something appear. I could've sworn I saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye. I considered getting food, at this point, but I couldn't fathom anything tasting remotely nice. I didn't notice anyone standing behind me, well except for this woman who was fascinated by the payment fees posted on the desk. She stood next to me and I felt incredibly uncomfortable. I was suddenly aware of space and my personal space being filled up with a stranger. I glanced and saw some men passing, and felt their looks passing, and I didn't want to be alone anymore in the grocery store. Great. This is going to be cake. I felt the dull ache in my chest. Thanks for the reminder. I noticed the girl, working… her facial piercing and faint shadow of a mustache on the upper lip. Or was it just a shadow? Am I drawing mustaches on faces in my mind? That's just weird. Maybe I'm about to go crazy. Like the sunset… just combust into flames like a campfire sliding down the wall of the sky.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

until my heart believes you... [sermon on the mount -rob bell]

Blessed are the losers, those at the end of their rope, the spiritual zeros, the bankrupt, the pathetic, lame, the out of it, those without a trace of good, the morally empty, the pathetic. Blessed are the quiet ones, the shy ones, the unnoticed, the wall flowers, the average. Blessed are those who live with the nagging sense that they aren't getting their slice of the pie, that they aren't in some profound way, keeping up. Blessed are those who can't seem to get it all together, who can't seem to get on top of things, who constantly feel like they fall short, because God's world has plenty of room for them.

Blessed are you when you ache because the world isn’t how its supposed to be. Blessed are you when you come to the end of yourself. Blessed are you when you get frustrated enough to throw up your hands and say “God, I can’t do this.” Blessed are you when you can’t make the tension go away, no matter how hard you try. Blessed are you when you run out of will power, ideas, self-control, hope, fortitude, and energy because it is in that place, in that space, in that pain, in that ache, in that longing, in that desire, in that awareness, in that hunger, and in that thirst, that Jesus announces, God is with you.

Blessed are those who don’t have it all together.

Blessed are those who have run out of strength, ideas, will power, resolve, or energy.

Blessed are those who ache because of how severely out of whack the world is.

Blessed are those stumble, trip, and fall in the same place again and again.

Blessed are those who on a regular basis have a dark day in which despair seems to be a step behind them wherever they go.

Blessed are you, for God is with you, God is on your side, God meets you in that place.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012


the truth will set you free. but sometimes it puts you in a cage.
you could lie and put on that face, that fake one.
and those in the know will see through it.
but you care and you spill it all.
you tell the truth.
for love.
for freedom.
and here comes the dead weight.
the shackles.
you'll pay for your honesty pound for pound.
pretty piece of flesh.
all because those eyes could never lie.
all because you think before you speak.
and in this economy of saints and sinners.
well, all sinners, elevated to saints
by bowing low
and telling the truth.
and i'm supposed to be grateful for the lashes
but it's not so simple.
and i'm in too deep.
pretending it will all be ok.
well darling, it won't.
and the madness bristles the hairs on my neck
and darkens the hollows of my eyes.
and mocks the purest of intentions.
all the good that you tasted will be
just to remind you.
the truth will set you free.
whatever in heaven or hell that actually means.

love lamenting.

my peripheral vision isn't all that bad.
and i caught a glimpse of that look
the one where you really see me
the one where you mean it
the one that whispers, you're my one and only
and there's no thread of doubt
no pulls
no tears
i don't have a lot
but my heart is good
i'm helpless here.
the words are ready to pour
but they're stopped like tears against the back of the eyes
the petals tight tight tight in my chest
and all they want to do is unfold
fill the room with fragrance
make the room come alive with color
like the wind blowing the pages of a book
the words begging to become thought
to make a sound
it's like springtime in here
so many beautiful things aching to burst open...
but i'm frozen.
fearful of the onslaught of a relentless heat
or the frost
that i cannot scale the walls
that the hands of rejection will choke out the song
oh my love is wild and reckless
my love is strong
my love is greater than all the fear in the world.
and i have put it in a cage.
i have made a god of the fear in me.
and become a barren creature folding inward
instead of unfolding
and reveling in being the one and only
in your eyes.

scrawling madly on the walls

i can't shake the heavy blue
sitting on my chest like an elephant
saying over and over and over again
songs and chants of dread
painting the walls of the padded room red
at least they are in my head.
they'd instruct you to call them quickly
they'd say it's a state of emergency
and so i went to sleep instead
praying the heart would beat dead
oh but i'm wide awake
and the cruelty of memory refuses to break
hold on to the covers as though dangling from a cliff
and just what would happen if i loosened my grip
but all you can feel here is sick
and all of the words like exploding red brick
go back to sleep.
wait for unconsciousness to pounce
wait for the racing heart to slow
slow down, please.
i looked up and watched the clouds merging.
billowing like smoke from some angry volcano
or making shapes for some sweethearted child
i don't know.
it just depends on how you see it, really.
i waited my whole life for this
and it broke me.
it broke me.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Hidden in plain sight.

Make your way down the streets that lead to Broadway, and at the same times of the day, you'll see them. Different faces, different stories, different names, but all part of the same sort of brotherhood, if you will. Walking with long strides, content to be outside... content to be moving somewhere. The baggy pant - sometimes solid, sometimes striped, a t-shirt that's been hidden most of the day by the double breasted coat draped over their arm or folded just beneath. The brow a bit more furrowed when on the way to work, from the bus or the commuter parking lot or the ride, cause the parking doesn't come cheap. The demeanor,usually a bit more at ease on their way home from another day...

They were always there before, and I'm sure they'll be there tomorrow and the day after that. Maybe it's just that I fell in love with one, that I see them... the cooks in this music city that loves its food, working to make a living... Working to make a name... Working to make something good... Working, just the same. In bistros, upscale, dive bars, corporate, private owned... in a closed kitchen or open kitchen... hidden in plain sight.

ra ra rocket!

Thursday, July 5, 2012

a storm's-a-brewin.

Leaves are blowing in waves down the sidewalk... undulating like a Chinese dragon. The dust at the construction site is billowing. The front door has just blown open, like an angry ghost has come in to settle some unfinished business here. I can feel all of my nerve endings standing at attention... waiting with some urgency for it all to just break loose. Everything gets so incredibly still inside...

I'm flooded with delicious peace.
If only I'd carry this response with me in all situations.

It was my birthday.
Older than I'd like to be with having only come so far.
But, let's keep in mind that my perceptions are flawed.
Let's also keep in mind that control is an illusion.
I learn so much to find out I know nothing.
You will give all that you have, and sometimes it will seem as though it amounts to nothing. As though every ounce of sacrifice is spat upon and wasted. It will seem as though your heart has been broken, healed and re-broken and wrung of every good thing it can muster... of every courage... and of every facet of a love it isn't capable of, in and of itself. And it will be handed back to you, sentenced to solitude like some ruthless criminal, when in fact, all you did was love... wastefully, extravagantly, with reckless abandonment.
Our greatest fear is being told that the lie is true.
Because it would be better to have never been born.
And then you see that it's all the great liar would want...
for you to stop...
for you to cease to exist...
for you to fall silent...
lay down and die.
but this kind of love... it's got a passion that will chase you to hell and back...
just to show you.
just to let you feel it.
taste it.
see it.
and when everything has fallen... breathed its last breath... and is pronounced dead.
that kind of love is all about resurrection.
And so, let it come for us, and invade the skies of our hearts like an unstoppable storm.

Leaves are blowing in waves down the sidewalk... undulating like a Chinese dragon. The dust at the construction site is billowing. The front door has just blown open, like a holy ghost has come in to settle some unfinished business here. I can feel all of my nerve endings standing at attention... waiting with some urgency for it all to just break loose. And then everything gets so incredibly still inside...

Monday, June 25, 2012


Sometimes people are beautiful,
and everyone but them can see it.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

morning ramblings

One of the things I do like about waking early, is the way the morning illuminates things. Everything is glowing in this cool white light. I'm fond of the stillness in the house... the slow, deep breathing of my loves all tucked in their places. Every morning my heart explodes with gratitude... and I wish they knew how much I love them. The depths of it all. It's in those moments, I am equally glad to be awake, but wish I could crawl back into the cave of blankets and soak it in a bit longer.
It felt like 7am. There's a feeling in the air when the day is fresh and new. And it's a bit more silent when it's on a Saturday, and the majority are still asleep. The music playing from the coffee shop made it sound a bit like a film Mancini scored. I felt under-dressed, suddenly. As if on cue, there was the appropriate juxtaposition of drivers laying on their horns and the screeching of wheels and brakes. That moment where you're sort of waiting for that awful collision sound, but it never comes... just goes back to the early morning ambling along as though nothing ever happened.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

singing to me in my sleep.

this song started playing like a soundtrack in my sleep. i woke up and wrote it all down this morning...

where's your gold?
keep looking off shore
and all your friends
you can't find anymore
all the waves
took 'em out to sea
all the colors
are starting to bleed

you won't drown
but you won't swim
and that old tide is coming in
to take away
a thousand sins
and sink all of these battle ships

show your face
when the sun is high
and the lines have burned their way
down from your eyes
and the sweat on your brow
cold and thick
the memories held there
you can't forget

you won't drown
but you won't swim
and that old tide is coming in
to take away
a thousand sins
and sink all of these battle ships

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


We've all got something.
I guess it's what we do with it. Whether or not we can acknowledge it. Whether or not we learn to manage it.
It could all be so very wonderful. It's got all the potential in the world to be such a delight... such a good story.
Instead, it's just a ____ fight.
Half of the time, I think the madness comes from the fact that we choose to be ungrateful spoiled little brats in adult bodies. Riding around on our high horse, playing a goddam victim with our arms full of double standards. Going home to our house of mirrors... our phones set on self-portrait... always asking, "how do I look? how do I feel?"
Spinning in circles pulling everyone who'll stick around into our self-absorbed orbit of
"Please, please me."
All the same, I wish I knew the antidote.
I'd take it.
And wait for it to absorb into the bloodstream.
Take a few moments to make amends and allow the healing to really begin.
And then just be at rest... while in motion.
My heart is in full swing.
And none of these "But, are you mine?" wonderings left.
None of this questioning my place in their hearts.
All of this doubt and mistrust.
of love...
of destiny...
of everyone...
of self...
of GOD...
all of this over-processing.
all of this thought.
my mind is ever-provoked to thinking and analysis.
Waiting for the next blow.
tightly wound.
And so, these loose ends shouldn't be tied,
and i'm pulling them ever so slowly.

every single night's a fight with my brain.

Monday, June 18, 2012


everything hurts
like it's all haunted
and it's hard to explain.
i've never wished that i could just turn myself inside out
and empty this.
the nausea, the waste, the fears and the pain
and i find myself going silent
because the able bodies
have deaf ears.
and so if i could find the words to pray
if i could find some sort of translation for the jumbled mess that is growing
growing day by day,
the words dwindle down to
the simplest of pleas
"come through for me.
come through.
come through."

Thursday, June 14, 2012

bled white.

i will own every word of this.
don't you go getting scared or let your judgements get the best of you
or me.
that heavy shadow was making impressions on my passenger seat as i drove.
telling me the same old kinds of things.
a little disoriented. a little out of context.
distortion at it's finest.
and you really believe your death will do the world a great service
but the sound of breaking hearts and tear-wrecked faces...
well, that just keeps you alive
alive with your breaking heart and tear wrecked face.
hooked up to the great machine.
as soon as i pull my body from the covers in the morning...
my mind is at the post
one footfall to the floor and with a shot it is off
like some great champion horse from the gates of the derby
and i, the jockey, still wet behind the ears
inexperienced rider saying...
"oh my god, just hold on."
and all the world flies past as if it's being yanked by the gods
the scenery on a treadmill
going far too fast
and inside of my mind it's all so real
so vivid
as real as the day is blue
and i can't quite come to terms with the facts of the matter
i remember when he'd say that i made him a hyperactive mess
i remember how it felt with the pet names
the songs and mixtapes
like it's all become shrouded in smoke
and it's nearly impossible to see the truth
but the words are building up like molecules of water behind the three gorges dam
and all of the emotions that have grown attached
and all of the memories
and really, i think it would be best if you just sat down in an easy chair
on an easy street
in a quiet part of town
and just listened to it spill from me
before the stars fall from my eyes forever
before the streams run red.
and move.
move for me this time.
act on my behalf this time.
fight for me.
before the stars fall from my eyes forever
before the streams run red.
before my heart is bled white.
cross it and hands on bibles
oaths and promises and pinky swears
i'll not break them.
but i'll speak the truth
before it breaks me.

the fourteenth day of june, in a place of madness.

what pretty little dolls we are
in our new blouses
buttoned to the very tip top.
so very old fashioned...
in order to go along with a new fashion
in front of a backdrop of sleaze.
eager girls gapingly insecure - pretending to be women
throwing themselves at all the passing men
with their batting lashes and the clever disguise of friend
pulsating goodness
when they are everything but.
and why are the lads so oblivious to the fact that they are ripe with nothing but disease
their hearts full of a cancer
seek and destroy.
it's us versus them.
but it really isn't, is it.
funny how life goes.
karma never quite pays out equally
hearts don't break evenly
and the good hearts have to fight to stay hopeful.
oh what a madly disappointing place.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

wedding belles.

Tis the season...
Most of the weekends at the salon are steadily filling up with bridal party appointments.
It seems like at least once or twice a week, another lovely girl checks out at the front desk, and her stylist congratulates her on her recent engagement... or she books her last highlight before the Special Event Stylings for her big day. All of these girls with glistening eyes and glowing faces...
They come in all shapes... all sizes... all varieties of kinds of beauty... and every single one of them has a man who thinks she's the most beautiful woman alive. Every one of them has some romantic story and a ring of varying shapes and sizes and carats and colors gleaming from their left hand. Every one of them has a man who wants them to have their last name... who wants to do life with them, beyond a shadow of a doubt. This is the woman that someone cannot and will not be without.

And as overwhelming as things can be...
As crazy and hectic as the planning may become...
As stressed out as she might be...
It's all really quite beautiful and exciting.
You can see it in her eyes.
You can see it on her face.
Rosy cheeks. Every one of them.

They are adored women.

there is so much I want to accomplish and achieve. So much I want to see and learn to be.
But, I've always wanted this.
And I sometimes find myself tearing up wondering what it's like...
Wondering when that will be me?

think pink.

i'm gonna have to say... this is real cute.

you know, those moments...

So many things to say...
but it's too early to say anything just yet.
My heart is so full of thanksgiving.
I will say that i'm feeling quite restless...
but i'm learning to be content in all of this.
Trying to make a habit of finding the bright side, you know?
AND learning to embrace myself a little.

A friend of mine had some really wonderful things to say about me, the other day. i think when people say kind things to me, i literally take a few moments to etch it in my heart someplace... and i'll never forget them. ever. so, i was thanking this friend for the kind words and things and he simply says -

"those words mean nothing if you don't believe them."

Thursday, June 7, 2012

baby stache bash.

distraction of the day:

selleck baby

one of the best things i've ever seen. still.

i can't even...

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

these things i can't explain.

years of laments poured out.
countless tears wept...
wept faithfully.
wept without control.
without consolation.
begging for your hand to move.
for your words to be heard.
interminable darkness looming and threatening.
clinging to the invisible repetitions
on the end of every stanza...
do not be afraid.
and every space the weight of the word
and we resigned ourselves to the rhythms of the days.
the seemingly endless
seemingly hopeless days merging with nights merging with days...
and time has flown
and yet crawled by.
like a man limping, each step with searing pain.
and you remember the longing that will not fade away.
and you offer your bit of courage and your last bit of faith
mustard seed telling the mountain to move out of the way.
and these things i can't explain...
the moment when you think you've gone stark raving mad
obviously seeing things...
because you could swear that there is color creeping into the sky
but to be tricked into false hope...
well, you'd much rather die.
but assuredly it spread and the wings could be heard
the wings of the morning.
and it's undeniable now, the delicious palette of the morning star
and the answers are coming softly
all in plain sight
more beautiful than your anxious head could've ever pictured it
the dream coming true
the desire fulfilling
the hope rising
the prayers answered
the weight lifting
muscles easing
and suddenly you're trembling, almost terrified to believe
afraid it's all a mirage
afraid you've been had
and it sinks in...
sinks slowly down
and all you can do is weep.
weep with thanksgiving
out of the deepest gratitude
and you cry harder than you did when it all began
because these things i can't explain.

Monday, June 4, 2012

forget the horror here.

my heart feels like it weighs a couple thousand pounds.
even my mind is heavy.
like being stranded.
everything is changing in every place.
there is no rest just struggle.
i just want to let my guard down.
i just want to talk it out.
i just want resolution.
i've never hated anything more in my life.
____ the eggshells.
____ the loneliness.
____ the feeling of inadequacy.
things cannot stay the same.
i cannot feel this or be this anymore.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

quite telling, isn't it?

what do you want for your birthday?
just like christmas, but without santa's lap.
it's funny how we spout off all of the things we want...
but when put on the spot, nothing seems to come out.
like it's wrong to answer.
and you couldn't think of anything anyway.
well it's a month away.
birthdays make me freak out.
they make me reassess life.
question where i am and what i am doing
and who is in it.
it's quite nerve-racking.
quite disturbing.
i think i'd very much like to get away someplace and be loved on.
i'd like to have a couple of conversations without someplace i have to be...
i'd like to express myself without being judged.
without any responses in anger.
i'd like questions calmly answered.
i would like to be understood.
i would like to understand.
and feel like a princess.
beautiful and adored.
eat really amazing food.
and a dairy queen icecream cake. oooobviously.
and have some sort of adventure to go along with it.
someplace i've never been.
and pictures to flip back through later.

well. that's quite telling, isn't it?

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

i can't make heads or [tales] of it.

I wish I was well versed in the correct names of construction equipment. There is this giant beast of a thing that I can only just see over the fence across the street. It is bent toward the ground, pounding through what seems to be the first layer of bedrock. I can feel every pulse in my seat... in the floor... the whole building feels like it is part of this construction. The speakers are working again and on one hand, I'm thankful for the mild distraction from the underground movement... but dear God, if it isn't Motown Wednesday. Please understand, I love some Motown and classic R&B. But, when you are subjected to a playlist of 50 songs (and with that number, I am being incredibly optimistic)... and it plays over and over and over at least once (often twice) a week... well... I could go at least 3 months without hearing it, and probably be a healthier person for it. I cannot change the station, and it is what it is, as they say.

And I find myself still absolutely content to notice the little details of the mundane... The bend of the tube in the ink pen on my desk. The way the sun illuminates it to a lighter shade of gray. Wondering when peppermints became spirals as opposed to the striped edges of my childhood. How much I envy the people on a morning run through the neighborhood.
How the shades over the window remind me of an accordion.
How my grandmother had one, and I used to cause an avalanche to get to it...
Anything to escape the discomfort in my body and the turmoil in my brain.
It's an hour into this day...
and there are miles to go.
And I'd like to go home... back to bed.
but, maybe not.
There's an addict in the other room who feels betrayed by the removal of our enabling hands.
And if all goes to plan, there are thirty days of awkward left... maybe less. no more.
There's a blonde asleep on the couch who wants to be friends and I feel like a judgmental cow for my disinterest. Every time she talks to me, I wonder if she's drunk or drugged. Everything in slow motion... and she doesn't even seem to know it's happening. Roommate on the love-seat. Marley's domain stolen, so she curled up next to Parker on the bed. And If I could disappear next to them, it would be ideal.
but you can't always get what you want.
All I feel from my friends is distance.
and my love is tormented by demons.
and for everyone, it is easiest to come down on me.
i am misunderstood.
some disagree.
just wondering what the hell i've done.
i can't even distract you with a meaningless story.
and i can't make out the reasons or rhymes.
i have no idea how i got here and how it came to this.
i feel like a tourist in my own life.
like there is no place to really let my guard down.
no place to cry without upsetting things...
causing worry
receiving lecture.
i've never been good at math.
and i'm asked to take a test on algebraic equations and calculus.
my eyes are glazing over just like they did in school.
and the tears come because i want to understand but can't.
and i'm lonely.
lonely as can be.

Monday, May 28, 2012

starlight, starlight.

tis memorial day.
i spent the afternoon being productive and then watching wwii HD.
and remembering...
honoring all of those military loves of my world in my heart.
past and present.
i'm so thankful.

i also went out for a margarita with my boyfriend's mom.
she's great. i needed that.

and found myself listening to the new john mayer record and deeply enjoying it.
i don't really know what to say to that.
also, the new exlovers album is out now.
here's a taster...

Monday, May 21, 2012

that's all for me, thank you. [6 weeks til my birthday]

Bear with me.
I assure you, it isn't suddenly easier.
No one has been let off the hook. I mean, is any good-hearted soul able to be? They will take themselves to trial over and over and over, until self-forgiveness is learned. I feel the balances swaying all the time. Just when I think they are at rest, I let out a sigh of relief and it tips the scales.
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw all the traces of battery and assault from my own hands. Alone in the bathroom, again. Outside it's quiet. But really, everything is loud. Loud. LOUD.
I can't stop the replaying of conversations. The re-reading of texts of messages... the replaying of those dramatic situations... and I sometimes just want to know who is writing this bloody awful script. Because, it's as painful to watch as it is to live... and, I think we ought to skip to the part where I get to be happy.
I keep dreaming about bleeding out. Something's gone dreadfully wrong and the flow won't stop. I keep searching myself over like a detective for the clue to what has gone so very wrong.
I wake to find myself wanting to agree with those drunken assaults that said,
Seething with the rage trapped in a jar of moonshine.
I crave moments of stillness.
Moments of peace.
These tiny corners where I can hide for a while and rearrange my thoughts.
Where I can find the courage to sing it all out.
They evade me a little.
Or a lot.
I find myself in the place where I live...
when I'm alone, it's the murmur of the dogs playing, their constant need for my attention... their kisses, their warmth, their energy.
Or I'm not alone... and it's lovely. Laid back afternoon of wondering out loud... listening to music... talking or not. It's all ok.
Until someone's day is disrupted.
And they come barging in.
Like armed men in the quietest worshipful sanctuary.
I'm tired of loaded guns and loaded fists.
I'm tired of your head full of hate and your tongue full of venom.
I'm tired of the world revolving around the selfish.
Because right now, I need to just be quiet.
Then the air is tainted.
I wake up tired.
I wake up stressed.
I wake up hurting.
Pick up right where I left off.
I get alone in the bathroom and it gets louder and Louder and LOUDER.
I am infuriated with the little things...
the anger is so contagious.
And now we're all sick and I'm fighting harder than ever.
Fighting to disarm.
Fighting for peace.
And I don't want to anymore.
But, I won't join your causeless war and take it out on the world and those I love most the fact that I am dissatisfied with my present state.
So, let's find out what words take form.
Let's see what that looks like.
I'm done with this distress and agitation...
doing nothing but creating discord and knots in my muscles.
I want to be happy now.
i may be of little faith...
but i'll tell them to move.
and these mountains will move for me, now.