Monday, February 20, 2012

for days.

i could sleep for days
the bed never felt quite so comfortable
i've never been so honest, but it feels like a lie
the room is full, but i might as well be alone
zoning out like on a permanent drug
so i called to see if they could take me in
and everyone said it was an awful place to be
so i went back to bed
i could sleep for days
the bed never felt quite so comfortable
i've never been so honest, but it feels like a lie
my phone rang and we talked
she knows me like the back of her hand
i told them to leave but they just kept coming
kept rushing in obedience to gravity
until my eyes were swollen
and in the morning i couldn't open them
i could sleep for days
i could drive forever if the tank was endless
and now the self-destructive tendencies are in full swing
pray the grace takes hold before the bitterness does
pray the forgiveness cuts me lose before my rage wakes up
pray for something good before i shut down for good
just another shadow of something that was
i can feel myself slipping
i can feel myself going mad in my own skin
there is a bullet in my teeth and whiskey in my hand
i could sleep for days.

o'er my dead body.

i just went in the office to sign up
apparently i lit up the room or something like that
he said it was rare for women like me to be so bright
to be so sweet still
"you haven't been hurt yet"
i think he wished for it.
i gave my rebuddle... and he was proven wrong.
and yet, so was i.
secrets hidden. uncovered.
looking around the rooms.
watching their faces
favourite darling faces.
and with one movement i'd leave it.
should've thought of that.
but you can't really prepare for that.
i'm just this hollow shell.
lots of flesh on bones
and the neat orderly stacks in my brain
the progressions
the healings
all ripped open
let's see if i survive this.
i look at those squinting eyes and am disgusted.
there is the chance to speak truth.
but rather avoid conflict and confrontation.
the sadness gives way to rage
which gives way to silence
which give way to this deep melancholy
falls on my head like a magic spell
break it o'er my dead body.

therapy ii/xx

did you ever wish for some sort of selective amnesia?
or the moments where something hurt so bad you wished to be punched in the face?
like somehow the feeling of physical pain would snap you out of the inner anguish.
i was perched on the bar stool just listening to facts and fiction
talking about feelings and wishin
and there are those moments you want to hold tight
and others you'd like to completely disappear
i even looked up the side-effects and what would happen should i become careless
on purpose, obviously
and the risk wasn't worth it.
i never have time for it.
they say i'm so strong...
then why does it feel like i'm weakest?
like i'm just a sucker
a sucker who just got punched.
and above all this, i'd like someone to stand up for me
or a way of escape
or to turn off my brain
all the good is undone
all the trust burnt up
like some crazy forest fire smokey the bear warned you about
or to have selective amnesia
and forget what caused all this.

Friday, February 17, 2012


i was walking down the stairs
the foyer welcomed and sang to the rhythm of my heels
each door has its own way.
across the street
through the headlights.
they're deep in conversation and if i know them, i wouldn't recognize them anyway
i couldn't hear a word they were saying
or notice the song playing for the patrons...
glasses clinking, plates presenting...
it's all one sound
muffled by my own breathing
i'm wandering round inside my own head
the same ridiculous thoughts
and i can blow the ordinary things out of proportion
it's a gift.
it's a curse.
i didn't notice the grass.
just the sinking of my heels in the soft ground...
moved faster as though i was being hunted
toward the river
the branches didn't scratch, but seemed to move out of my way
stepped out of my shoes
remembered just how cold it actually is
i'd appeal to the current and beg it to make me clean
even if in just some sort of mystical symbolism
i'd take it.
i'll take it.
take it from me.
all that i took to heart...
all that i memorized...
all the phantom sensations...
i'm convinced they are true.
so sign me up for the classes
and reinvent me
rewrite me
and insight some sort of chorus
like a ring on my finger
like indelible markings of ownership on my heart
i'll stay under a moment longer just in case it makes a difference
heady and dizzy the pace races and slows
like the surface is begging me to
come up for air
and i took in the air in my lungs
like a thirsty mouth takes a drink
and i'll leave one request here.
make it new.

laugh lines

the lines around her mouth are getting deeper
on that baby face
all those cigarettes that looked so pretty in pictures
leaving nicotine stains
some of them don't seem quite as bad
as the others that turn my stomach in the middle of the night
i wonder if she cried yet
i think it's honestly hidden relief
but should i say more i'll sound really mean
i bet i can tell you what will happen next
but i'll sit and wait and promise to look surprised
i wouldn't feel so uncomfortable if the feeling wasn't affirmed
like i can feel the extra weight on my bones
and all of the sudden, she and i are the same
the wanting little girl in the 90s
panicked by every morsel
the seated position is driving me
and the roads around here are paved with good intentions
and double standards
what i worked so hard to see, i cannot see anymore
is the mirror broken or is it my vision?
the optical nerve or just my mind's eye's trickery
but every single time the reminders go off like alarms
discount to zero
she tally's your bill
and she'll make you pay long after the warranty is up
long after the scars fade
long after the cravings are gone
the lines around her mouth are getting deeper
on that baby face
her charm is deceptive
and beauty is fleeting...

Thursday, February 16, 2012


so nice.
time to rehash the accounts of the past.
but longing for a delete key.
because i am tired of apologizing for my face.
i am tired of apologizing for the way my heart beats.
i am tired of apologizing for my body.
the tears it makes.
the fears that make it shake.
but remember...
because i'm not told otherwise
and the compare and contrast ability is spread out for the world to see.
i am more and less.
i am least and best.
i am all but nowt.
i am in but out.
i am not quite enough.
and it's all gone a bit rough
well i heard the news and felt it die
i saw the words and felt it go
lights unblinking
messages unsent
untreasured gift
but remember
and so i cut off the pieces
let the chords fall where they may
turn a deaf ear
pretend to be blind
to be the one who makes the old disappear
like some smoke left in the rear view
the most beautiful
the one worth all the risk...
again in the face of fear
above the voices that say history will repeat
the one longed for
the one wanted
the name on your lips
the song in your heart
the smile on your face
the hope in your head
the object of your affection
the shape of your love.
and for it to be anything but
just inside my head.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012


all the guards are useless here
no need for alarms
all the world is stilled here
made right inside your arms
tell me slowly honestly
all the hopes and fears
tell me how you love me
darling let me hear

let it all go
let it fall behind us
everything is new
it's only me and you

wide awake or sleeping
in the day and in the night
i'll sing my love over you
and put the fears to flight
when it feels like too much
and the world is closing in
tell you that you're good enough
and we'll fight through all of it

if the shoe fits...[rant]

some thoughts/peeves/observations of late -

- It's an age old thing, but it never ceases to be frustrating when hard work and loyalty and devotion are taken for granted, while people who do just enough to get by climb the ladders of success so quickly.
- I'm all about grace and forgiveness, but I'm really frustrated by the lack of accountability these days... it seems like there's such a lack of responsible for our own actions, rather we're just full of excuses.
- I don't understand how easy it is for people to lie... about little things and huge things.
- I don't understand how casual people are about intimacy or how we cheapen love until its worth is diminished to almost nothing.
- I don't understand how it's becoming more and more acceptable to cheat on our lovers and husbands and wives... like there is no wrong and right. simply a scale of how much justification you have for bad/hurtful/cowardly behaviour.
- I am tired of the lack of the words "I am sorry. I was wrong." in our vocabulary. Like, we can open fire on strangers and loved ones in word and in deed and get away with it by cracking a joke or kissing up to them "in our own way."
- I'm tired of people being made to feel stupid for expressing the way that they really feel.
- I'm weary of fear driven people... and of being one.
- And when we are hurt... when we are broken, instead of allowing others to love us and build us up... instead of being honest in our pain and allowing healing to happen, we just use people and all kinds of substances and allow ourselves to be used to numb the pain.
- and where did we get such a sick and twisted sense of humour? when did we become so blood thirsty? it's like the darkest places of mankind are increasingly exposed and presented to us because of media... and instead of doing something about it, we make jokes about it, until we are numb to the needs of the world. the atrocities of the world are now our punchlines?
- I'm sick of insecure women throwing themselves at anything that moves... of women acting like childish school girls who CONSTANTLY need attention from someone's boyfriend/husband.
And, for that matter, men acting like boys chasing after the attention and approval of other women.
- it's like we love welding this jealousy sword. What a waste of time and energy.
Why don't we spend that energy really helping the people we love to know that they are loved, rather than projecting our insecurities on them... making them feel insecure in our love... until it becomes clear that we aren't really loving them at all.

come on, ladies and gentlemen, we were meant for so much more than this, surely.
let's get some integrity... honor... respect... consideration...
before we all turn into a bunch of savage 'highly evolved mammals' singing an anthem that everything is permissible for me.
it's time to wake up and "live a life of love as though your life depends on it - because it does."
and i'm ever so grateful to those who do.

"let there be love."

writers block. [build a wall]

The other day, I came home from work to an empty house... I mean, except for the pitbull babies. With the TV not in use and all to myself, I was preparing to get caught up on Gossip Girl. I made it through maybe 10 minutes when I could feel the invisible eyes of my keyboard burning holes in me. So, I turned off the show and prepared to finally let my heart sing some things out. I'd start playing a few chords... come up with an idea and then, nothing. Enter my usual self-critique... nah, that's too sad... this sounds odd... ohhh. now we're getting somewhere! but this melody is crap. bleeeeeeh. On and on it went, until I just sat there playing around... moving from one key to another with a lump building in my throat that wouldn't seem to come out.

i hate these moments with such a passion.

It drives me mad when I can feel an ocean full of waves swirling just beneath the surface. When the clouds of my atmosphere are full and you can smell the rain of creativity about to come...
but it doesn't actually spill.
or maybe only a couple of drops.
Like a woman with labour pains.
It's ready, but it isn't coming.

And when it doesn't come pouring out, self doubt will rush in to fill the space.

It feels like real love songs are few and far between.
Like artists have become afraid of being sappy... of expressing their love for someone because they're afraid of turning around and having to take it back. Afraid that the love song will just lead to another song about heartache and loss.
Or lots of artists just remove love from the equation and it's all a bunch of 'lust songs'.
Or when all else fails, sing it in 3rd person.

So many of the great songwriters had these lifelong loves. And they weren't afraid to write about them... and keep writing, because it keeps growing... and the depths are fathomless.

Sometimes I wonder if writers block is really just a bunch of fears and insecurities we've allowed ourselves to hide behind.

What things do we have a habit of taking for granted... being a bit less appreciative than we should... what causes us to keep our hearts open only to a minimum because we are afraid of losing something or being hurt?