california is happiness.

california poppies
racing by my window
almost as if
they are running
from me.
an exodus of clouds
looming from the west
hanging over the hills
as if
they are waiting
for me.
sun rise
sun.
this isn't making sense.
since when
does california
make sense.
since when
does having my hips
pushed and shoved
by the california breeze
mean that i'm
weak
shallow
willing?
white envelopes my feet
chest
my body.
and california's sun
rises and sets
on my california poppies.

failing apologies.

i can't help it
as much as i try.
they seem to fall from my lips
apologies
leaking from my soul

i tell them to keep it in,
no one wants to hear it.
i'm tired of being tired,
sorry for being sorry

i get pushed and pulled
by this force in my chest
i don't know if i should call her
my heart
or my soul.

but she's the one who told me
to be here. all my life
i've listened to this voice
yearning to be heard

these falling apologies
these failing apologies
sorrys and sorrys.

its as if my mouth can't contain my heart
its exploding, imploding
i don't know which.
but it's surfacing and pushing
i can't hold my mouth this full forever

it all has to go somewhere,
these
failing apologies.

catharsis.

catharsis.
the purging of the emotions or revealing of emotion tensions, through certain types of art. or, restores and refreshes the spirit.

running my mouth over the words i meant to say
my memories tell me i did
but i know better then that
you see there is a wall somewhere in my chest
that i've built up
and built down and up and down and
i. just. don't. want. to. anymore.
this barrier to
my sea
it's brittle and falling apart.
anyone can crawl their way in,
i'm sure i don't make it hard.
the bricks are old, the concrete no longer
held by its magical glue.
cause the truth is
if you really wanted to know,
you'd bring a sledgehammer to my wall
and tear it down yourself,
with a passion i wouldn't recognize.
i don't know if the memories are
merely just a dream,
but dreams are just wishes we make in our sleep
and tears and laughter emerge from my slumber
while i toss and turn.
do you dream as i? do you dream as i?
this message will toss and turn and mangle its way through
way past my barrier,
the bricks and concrete
even past my heart
right into my bones until it's a part of me.
my breath is shallow and short
as i begin to pick up the pieces
i tore down for you
this barrier can only be open for so long
before it needs to be remedied
whether or not you're in it
i've got to close back up,
so i take my bricks and concrete
and wonder if you'll ever get
past me.

i wrote this a long time ago. it's one of my favorites.

earl grey.

As I remove my tea from the microwave,
I grab the body of the cup.
Its scalding hot but I do not flinch.
I know I can't drink it.
The color defines me,
the flavor withholds me.
I grab two ice cubes
And descend them into their own
Personal oblivion.
I watch as they dance on top of my tea,
slowly but surely
melting with every second.
Smaller and smaller.
just like me.

Who I am.

I am the sizzle in the caffeine of your coke.
I am the reason behind your fear of the dark,
I am the dark and I am mischief.
I am the white lines of the letters of this keyboard.
I am what you hate and what you love and
I am what you lust.

I am not the sugar in your tea.
I am not the lust you feel for her.
I am not the reason you love the light.
I am most certainly not the blood on your shirt.

I am the beauty of a rose, the thorn and the stem included.
I have every curve known to the human form;
I am proud of them.

I am the steam between the sheets,
I am the ache below your belt.
I am the feeling of yearning,
I am the warmth between our quivering hips.

I am the saliva in your mouth,
I am the bite marks on your chest.
I am the reason you feel guilty
I am the smell on your pillow when you roll over.

I am not the bubble in your gum
and I am not the color pink.
I am not a purpose.
I am not a reason.

I am the shade of color my chest turns when you pull me close
and I am why you love me.

colly strings.

I just have to put this out here:
Manchester Orchestra, the album "I'm Like a Virgin Loosing a Child"
best CD I've heard in awhile. I think it's the only CD that I won't skip if my itunes is on shuffle. This is true.

Please, please, give it a good listen.



----------------
Now playing: Manchester Orchestra - Sleeper 1972
via FoxyTunes

note to self:

"what are you doing" i asked blatantly.
he was packing up boxes
every memory, every feeling.
the day at the zoo, how warm he felt
with me near.
packed away in disarray
not labeled, not anything.
just fucking boxes.
"i'm not sure i love you anymore,
but i'll leave these boxes here
so i can know for sure."
i stood there, in this
sad excuse of a relationship we
had built.
i stammered. i made excuses.
and i waited.
the boxes never emptied,
in fact they grew heavier.
everything stayed packed up
for me to wonder,
day by day the boxes grew
more scarce.
"we need to unpack these boxes"
i told him.
sternly; i think.
"i'm not ready to do that
just yet"
and he smiled his crooked smile
so i waited yet again.
but this time i grew tired
and even though all my boxes
were still empty, everything was
out on the table.
when we met, how i fell in love,
how dependent i was,
but i knew,
i'd have to pack up too.
so i did.
but my boxes were labeled
self-disclosure
catharsis
love
and in each went a little bit of us
"What are you doing" he asked
i didn't reply, just continued
slowly
i looked at him and smiled,
"do you want to be with me,
now, just me?" he seemed, stunned.
"not now," and it stung so bad in
my chest my eyes my mouth,
my everything
has anyone ever told you
they didn't want you?
i grinned,
just slightly and
continued to pack. but left
a bit of each in hopes
that maybe, just maybe,
this thing we had built
would work itself out
but it didn't
"where's your trust" he said
and i replied
"i have none for you. anywhere.
i think i lost it."
he looked through all my boxes
made a mess of everything,
"i guess i don't have any"
and he grabbed his boxes, and i grabbed mine
and burned the relationship
we built.

lacking.

this is not regret.


this is me lacking the warmth of another's around me.
this is me lacking the feeling of comfort,
when i curl up under another's arm.
this is me lacking the understanding
that i am the only one.
this is me lacking the true story
this is me lacking lips upon mine.
this is me lacking hips against hips.
this is me lacking the grace that another holds
while holding me close.
this is me lacking fingers in my hair.
this is me lacking tongues in my cheek.
this is me lacking skin touching mine.
this is me lacking love and love and loving.
this is me wondering
why it seems so easy to just go back.
i don't know.
this is me. lacking. someone.

waiting for a light to come on.

6.28pm.
the sky is painted with colors i didn't know could exist at such height. light blue, a shade i cannot explain. the clouds, glowing, burning a subtle yet astonishing pink. i feel embraced by the orange as we run from the setting sun.

6.34pm.
it's hushed now. the clouds are graced with white. the hills look like black and brown shadows against a painted picture. the colors are fascinating. above the line of the mountains there is a hint of yellow, so desperate to be seen. it glistens. fades to white, so bright, and then back to blue. i'm straining my head now, to see.

6.58pm.
no more sun. no more colors. just darkness.

we fear change.

like how i don't love you anymore.
or how i don't need you
i don't look at you
the same anymore
i don't yearn for your touch
i despise it.
the words that flow from
your diseased lips
are never loving ones,
and i'm done pretending
that it was all ok.
because i know you
don't love me anymore,
and how you don't need me,
you don't look at me
the same anymore
and don't yearn for
my touch,
that doesn't bother me
as much anymore.
after all this time of me
tryingpushingpullinggiving
i've realized--
it was only me all along.
so let's end this dance
a dance of regret and lies
i've got it memorized
and i don't want to
anymore.