Instead of What I Said.

{Photo Credit: The Ballerina Project}

12.31.13

There's something sacred about going to war,
                                                      the way it somehow makes you appreciate things
                                                                                                          like butter more.
The chaos, you crave it- that's the thing...
first times lead to "just one more time"
and the hands on the clock of your heart develop arthritis
                                       -from all the holding on-
grantee, they'll stop ticking long before you realize.
They say as people we become like those we surround ourselves with;
         I never used to believe them...
but for the first time in four hundred and fifty eight days,
today
I asked someone other than me, "how are you doing?" 

You don't have to surround yourself with people to become like them;
O' no.
You can distance your self, on the most remote island
                                                                             in the middle of the Ocean,
but- as long as you surround your thoughts with someone
                                                                      and hang your soul up on their fears
their polluted waves of influence can still reach your shores.
For years I thought they were in pursuit of happiness,
but they're not.
They're searching for assurance-
                                                looking for a place where they will feel adequate.
Woman! you can't keep attempting to be that place:
    *letting them inhabit your being and pierce your soul with their self loathing
    *throwing off your self so that they can have a place of refuge...
No-
the only solution to their emptiness:
for them to seek out adequacy within the place where they are at.
within their minds,

                           their bodies,

the vessels that transport their souls through life-

if they feel inadequate there

 they won't feel adequate anywhere.

Slow Dancing

 

we were a fire hazard

somewhere between here and there

our wires got crossed

and we became an

 elegantly twisted pending disaster-

we could only slow dance in a burning room so long

before our lungs were filled with smoke,

the roof caved in,

and we collapsed.

 

when I wake up everything has changed,

I can breath again-

 

 you are the only one who will ever truly understand- value

what I lost in the fire,

for you too rock-stepped

 to the beautifully tragic chaos-

 

 

slowly I begin to accept talking to anyone else about it

doesn't really help.

I won't see the same relief,

or mirrored pain,

in anyone's eyes but yours.

 



YOU-TU

When I was three YOU were the person I named my toothbrush after. YOU taught me to rock climb. YOU were my partner in the kindergarten quite corner. YOU were twelve, I was five. YOU were a valentines card. I chased YOU around the playground all of recess. I used to take the long way home just so I could walk with YOU half of the way. I liked YOUR hair. YOU were nothing short of an obsession. I carried YOUR name around in a locket. YOU were my lab partner. YOU were, and are still my biggest fear. I still think of YOU. YOU were a mistake that I made too many times. YOU played me better than Mozart played his piano. YOU'VE only ever been a good friend. YOU never spoke. YOU... I was a tad drunk. YOU were "just a bit" narcissistic. YOU are the definition of pushy. YOU were looking at my best friend the entire time. One day YOU will be nothing but mine.

ElEmEntary my dEar.

Who am I kidding! I'm chainEd to this wall. YEt I'vE bEEn trainEd to EmpathizE so I call it "my past."

WhEn rEally it is nothing morE than shackEls- the bonds of a tapE worm- rEgardlEss of the amount I consumE, I always End up bEing a littlE lEss with Each passing day.

You'rE tiEd to this wall too. It might bE a diffErEnt shadE of grEy but it's still the samE isn't it?

I lookEd to my lEft yEstErday and saw you thErE, bEsidE mE.

All I'vE bEEn hoping for sincE that introduction is for both of our rElEasE.
So that wE could look at Each othEr facE to facE, instEad of stEaling profilE glancEs.

But I'vE grown impatiEnt with this foolish faith.

NEithEr of us will EvEr bE uncuffEd.
HowEvEr maybE wE can find fifty hErE.