Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Untitled Poem

The night shrouds my good intentions
With a blanket of navy lace
And my actions are somehow blurred
By the inevitability that it will slip away
I am muted
Fallen silent to the demons of my past
They are back
They are screaming
And I’ll never get away.
But I wonder what will happen
As morning breaks over the horizon
And the rain drives the faint of heart away
Will I be free of my past
Of my mistakes of tainted youth and misguided intentions
And the life I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
But didn’t want so very long ago.
I wonder if it ever really fades
Because the tattoo burnt across my heart is darkening
It says liar, fake, deceiver
But it’s in a dialect only few recognize
The few that matter
The few that care
The few that branded it there
With the intention of never letting it go.
Their grasp is loosening
After years of holding on with all their might
The world’s spinning, spinning,
Turning over new leaves, new trees,
And even newer breeds of deception
So has my crime dulled with time
With repeated overshadowing of the lower
The lowest of the low
Situated far below me on the ranks of disillusionment
Can I be forgiven in a world of the unforgiving
Or can I be at least, possibly at most, forgotten
The pain will never dull
The screams will never mute
The scars will never fade.
But the guilt, that brick of blame
It can be shrouded by the navy lace
As it rests so peacefully in the night
Awaiting a new day, a new say,
A new version of life,
It teeters on the edge of slipping,
But will never fall, unless pushed.

Tuesday, October 3, 2006

growing up without falling down

I wonder when I'm gonna finally want to grow up.  I'm 19 years old, a sophomore in college on my way to a degree in psychology.  I work at a job I hate, with people that are pretty much going nowhere in life.  I sleep, I party, and every now and then I fall farther in love with a boy that I can't possibly ever live without now.  Sounds normal doesn't it.  My life that is.  I don't know why I feel like I'm going nowhere right now, but I do.  I've lost a lot of friends to distance, and second thoughts.  I don't know who I am anymore.  I can't write, I can't form a thought, or justly represent it to the world.  Who am I if I am not my words?  It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that I'm so goddamn tired of spewing the same twisted complaints.  I'm sick of whining about my love life and my false friendships and my loneliness.  When will there ever be more?  Is there more, to life, to a world so off kilter?
 So when do we grow out of it?  When do we decide to put pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life?  What does that even mean?
 fuck it this isn't making sense.

Monday, October 2, 2006


The future is something that I can’t quite touch today. I want to reach out and grab it, feel it for bumps and bruises, see myself in that light. Will it be bright, broken, or devoid of all that matters? Will I wake up one of these days in the shoes of the girl that I will one day become? Will I always be this goddamn broken? It’s a failed attempt to question the fates that aren’t listening to my cries. I’m insignificant in the scheme of things, I will prove to be nothing more than my words on this paper. I will cease to be, and nothing will remain, nothing but this. This broken page bleeding an existence that didn’t ever say anything worth reading about. All these questions about love and life and purpose, no one cares. No one should, because they have their own. Everyone wonders if they’ll ever get to that grand place we all believe we’re destined for, that place that we believe we deserve, but what if we don’t? What if we were put here for punishment? Did we do something so long ago as a race that someone decided we needed to pay? Or is that just a human emotion, revenge, justice, peace of mind? I don’t understand where I’m going with this or where I may have already been. It’s all coming out in circles inside squares and I can’t find a corner in which to hide. We aren’t helpless, we’re lost. We aren’t broken, we’re hurting. We aren’t confused, we’re misrepresented. So what’s it all for? Is it worth it anymore? Can you get to a place where the hurt overtakes the possibilities of tomorrow? Tomorrow means nothing. Today means the world to me, but I’m not sure that the world means a goddamn thing anyway. Why do we continue to walk the paths we can’t ever get away from. They’re all the same, they’re all crooked and trapped, and dead-ended. We always end up in a place we don’t want to be. Always. And forever. Broken, but not forgotten. Forgotten, but not disillusioned. We know who we are, we know where we are and where we’ve been, but we don’t care. Tomorrow is what counts. That place we can never get to because it always turns into today and like I said today doesn’t mean a damn thing when we have tomorrow to worry about. Wishes disappear, desires fade away. Love may live on through death, depression, and disgust, but hate breaks boundaries love knows nothing of. Hate breeds a future full of darkness. I guess it’s only fitting that the streetlights burst at the thought. We are seeking the darkness we fear, we are going to a place we never wanted to ever experience. But somehow it’s too alluring to avoid. Truth blossoms in the dark, but lies, they tumble easier than your lifeless clothes onto the floor. You’re rolling around in the sheets of desire again, naked in every sense of the word. Does it feel good? Right? Justified because the lights don’t burn to tell your tale. I feel that too. In the dark I feel free. Freedom born on the wings of the owl that haunts the night. He doesn’t forget though, no one ever forgets. Our actions will follow us until the end of time. What does that say about you? Where will what you are doing tonight, in the dark, take you when you meet your maker? It will take you miles from that place you always assumed you’d make it to. There is no such thing as success or never-ending love. There is no such thing as making it. You will be mediocre for the rest of your life, or you will break yourself so badly on the way to the top that you fall. Flailing slightly trying your hardest to convince the gods that you deserve that pedestal. You’re feet aren’t pretty enough to be eye-level in this image driven society. Get some expensive shoes, paint them up pretty, they’ll never measure up. The mediocre will never lead the world. The world’s going to hell anyway, do you want to look responsible for the final showdown? Because you’ll lose. There are forces in this world that far surpass our own. We will not win, we will kill ourselves. Mass suicide at the hands of a society so driven on surviving that it surrendered its chance of ever succeeding.

Sometimes life hurts and I get away from where I thought I was. I scare myself at times, but I guess that’s expected. I don’t want to be so dark, so depressive, but it’s easier than anything right now. The words are bottled up so tight they might just uncork this bottle, but I’m holding it too tight, trying to guzzle the contents into nothingness. I have no words for you, not anymore. I have no thoughts, not today. Because today doesn’t matter, and tomorrow will never come. Yesterday is all I have, and it’s lost in the tears I’ve cried trying to get it back. If you were ready for the truth I don’t think I could manage to drag it from the trenches of disillusionment. It’s scary, and it hurts far more than any words ever could. My words are all I have, bleeding much more profusely than the cuts I refuse to put in my wrists.
I always wanted to tattoo my thoughts of the world on my wrist, something in words, something particular and somehow astonishing. The only thing I can seem to think of is forever. Not because I believe in it, but because that’s what I think about life. It’s bullshit, we’ll never get it. Call me pessimistic, my dictionary lost that page anyway. I couldn’t stand the look of the word permanent, so I destroyed it.
Take a word of advice from a veteran of misery, don’t listen to a word I have to say.
Shut me up but don’t shut me down,