Friday, October 15, 2010
The wind thuds against my window, shaking my blinds and curtains. I suddenly imagine this almighty wind taking my body for a ride, whisking me away from here. Perhaps it could pick me up like a tornado, spin me around and throw me to a different land. A far away place. Where the heart knows no name. I tingle with the sensation of being a stranger where memories are made and not held onto for fear of a disappearance. I cry into the palm of my hand, grasping the pillow with the other. My eyelashes flutter with the shaking of tears, and when I open my mouth to scream nothing but a mild sob comes out. Perhaps we are all prisoners, in our own prisons but occasionally I want to rip my skin apart - and be a butterfly that will die with a handful of magical days. Is this I wonder what depression is? The stuttering of the morning light, turning into a plethora of black, darkened clouds. My lips are chapped, my body scorned with a fever. I cannot even remember why I made love to her, and yet the guilt is biting back all that happiness could perpetuate to realness. It is like I once heard. I always love the people I should hate, and the hate the people I should love.
Friday, March 26, 2010
It’s late, the midnight hour is buzzing and I can’t stop thinking about you. Perhaps it was the fluorescent lights in the hospital room, or the gouging of tears streaming from my eyes and down my cheeks that bring up your memory like a slightly tilted coffin. I dream you are dead sometimes, at least I did at first now my anger has penetrated my worry. I do not know if you are alive, or dead - occasionally neither matter. I convince myself you are a coward, a piece of shit. I’ve been lied to a million times, in a hundred different ways but I thought at least you would be different. A flicker of a candle being lit - come on baby light my fire. You did, for awhile you were all the fire I needed.