Tuesday, June 30, 2009

no children...

I hope that our few remaining friends
give up on trying to save us.
I hope we come up with a fail safe plot
to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.
I hope the fences we mended
fall down beneath their own weight.
And I hope we hang on past the last exit;
I hope it's already too late.
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
someday burns down.
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away,
and I never come back to this town
again in my life.
I hope I lie
and tell everyone you were a good wife.
And I hope you die.
I hope we both die.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow.
I hope it bleeds all day long.
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises.
We're pretty sure they're all wrong.
I hope it stays dark forever.
I hope the worst isn't over.
And I hope you blink before I do.
Yeah, I hope I never get sober.
And I hope when you think of me years down the line,
you can't find one good thing to say.
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out,
you'd stay the hell out of my way.
I am drowning.
There is no sign of land.
You are coming down with me,
hand in unlovable hand.
And I hope you die.
I hope we both die.

~the mountain goats

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Thursday, June 18, 2009

all for the best...

where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to form
crop circles in the carpet...
sinking feeling.

spin me round again
and rub my eyes,
this can't be happening,
when busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.

hide and seek...
trains and sewing machines...
all those years,
they were here first

oily marks appear on walls
where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life.

hide and seek...
trains and sewing machines (oh, you won't catch me around here)...
blood and tears (hearts),
they were here first.

mmmm whatcha say,
mmm that you only meant well?
well of course you did.
mmmm whatcha say,
mmmm that it's all for the best?
of course it is.
mmmm whatcha say?
mmmm that it's just what we need.
you decided this.
mmm whatcha say?
mmmm what did she say?

ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs.
speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
you don't care a bit,
you don't care a bit.

(hide and seek)
ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs.

(hide and seek)
speak no feeling, no i don't believe you.
you don't care a bit,
you don't care a (you don't care a) bit.

(hide and seek)
oh no, you don't care a bit.
oh no, you don't care a bit.

(hide and seek)
oh no, you don't care a bit.
you don't care a bit.
you don't care a bit...

~imogen heap

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

far to sea...

In the morning,
when you turn in,
I'll be out of reach.

And in the darkness,
when you find this,
I'll be far to sea.

You have broken me, all the way down.
You'll be the last, you'll see.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

another inclement year

Distances grow impatient; the sky lets out a harsh sigh as a fire inhales in a flickering living room; we sit, pretending we didn't see it coming; it's over, we say, the world has finally ended.


Another long year has passed. I fear another long year ahead. When am I going to get over it? I've tried but can't seem to do anything. I feel like I've been faking it for two years now, fairly unsuccessfully. Maybe I'll never get over it. Maybe I can only try to push it deeper down inside myself. Maybe faking it is all I'll be able to do. Maybe that's the point. I give up.

Happy freaking birthday.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

so this is the new year...

A new year and already I'm slightly depressed. When am I going to break?


I wish I could have that dream again, the one where I'm in my car on the highway. It scared the hell out of me, but I finally felt something. I want to actually feel something again.


Truth: Lost and insecure...you found me, you found me

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

i need a break

If you want to figure out exactly what it is you miss about something you've lost that you'll never get back, spend a few days alone. Jeez.

the disjointed

If you hold on to an idea for too long, you will be left with nothing but calloused and bloody hands until, finally, you will have no choice but to finally let go.


I've broken these bones to feel pain for which there is a cure, not for completeness. I've closed my eyes, not out of fear, but for the quiet inherent in the dark. I've forgiven myself, not necessarily because I felt I did something wrong, but to finally know what it feels like to be forgiven.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

the return

"Somehow I've always known."

Friday, June 27, 2008

Your answer is in there...

...just stare down the barrel.
The sincerest apologies won't write you out of this one.
Tonight you'll find the right in the pull of the trigger, now bite.
Young fools, don't cry anymore.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

questions about love

Which is worse: wanting what you don't have, or having what you don't want?


If the opposite of love is holding on too long, why can't I just let go?


Truth: I don't want to let go.


In this light, I see you for what you are. Is it too much to ask to go back to darkness, to close my eyes once more and be content with the view?

Thursday, May 8, 2008

something less than love

Things I despise:

1. TV and radio commercials that are annoying as hell: stupid white shirts flying like birds; stupid cracker/pretzel lady (close your damn mouth while you chew); stupid safelite; I could go on, but won't for lack of good memory)
2. Hillary Clinton: I can't even stand to look at her, let alone hear that damn cackle.
3. Exclamation points
4. The past
5. False hope
6. Letting go
7. Money (which is why I always try to keep very little)
8. Assholes who drive behind you with high beams on.
9. Slow drivers
10. Not being able to sleep
11. Sleeping too much
12. BPD
13. Cleaning
14. Worrying about the future
15. Inevitability/Uncertainty/Words that rhyme with faint


Driving home today, I realized again how difficult it's going to be to come home to an empty house that stays empty. To go to bed with no one there. To eat alone. To not have someone to cook for but myself.

I also realized how much I drive to work and back home without ever paying attention to anything. I get to where I'm going and barely remember driving there. Scary.

where the wild things shouldn't be

For the love of all things unholy, Hillary, just give up. The party is over. Everyone has left but you as you sit there in Obama's house nibbling on the cracker crumbs he's left on the dish in the living room. Yes, when the host sitting in his PJ's looks uncomfortably at his watch while you ramble on about the good ole days, it means it's time to go. Grab your purse and Bill's leash and head your drunk, pantsuit-wearing fat ass out the front door. Or better yet, use the backdoor. We don't want people to know that Obama associates with such a conniving bitch as yourself.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

she has a fear of heights

She has a fear of love,
accepting everything but what she really dreamed of.
She keeps her heart locked;
no she won't ever answer even though she hears a knock.
But love is at the door,
and after all isn't that what we are here for?
I want to rescue her,
but I've already tried, for there is only one cure.


Casually I walk under the sunless sky,
yet so naively.
She was the first one to catch my eye,
and I was hers.
All at once I fell for you,
you fell for me,
we fell too soon...

This isn't over it never was.
Are you the type to settle or move on just because
it's easier for you?
Or are you feeling like you need to get away
from looks you never got and words I did not say?
I'd say them all today,
if I could...


you're not perfect...

...but I don't care

Saturday, April 19, 2008

first impressions...

...are the hardest to forget.


If I had to pay money to take back all I did and make things right, I would be in debt for the rest of my life. All the lies, all the wrong decisions, all the stupid mistakes and pointless fights. Trying to make things right is difficult, nearly impossible, when all you've done for the past three years is screw things up. You can't make someone forget what you've done, especially when while you're trying to fix things, you continue to do those things that screwed everything up in the first place. Maybe it's too late. I certainly don't want it to be.


I'll never be able to forget how I felt the first time I saw you, what I thought. I'll never be able to forget the night you said you were in love with me and my stupid response of "Oh." Oh? Seriously? How about I always knew. How about I was hoping you would say that to me. How about I feel the same way, that I have since we started to spend so much time together: before the late-night paper sessions, before my riding my bike over to your apartment in the middle of the night just so I could spend a little more time with you, even though I had just dropped you off an hour before, even though I wouldn't be able to sleep all night because I didn't want a single minute to go by where I wasn't looking at you. I felt the same way before we finally went out together alone, when we sat in that bar, in that front booth, after everyone had left us there to talk about everything. How about I'm in love with you too, but I'm just too afraid to say it because I've never felt that in that way before and am afraid of what it meant to the rest of my life, to my life before I ever met you. I want it all back. I want to go back to that night we talked in that bar and do things differently, completely. I want it to be OK to be selfish by wanting it to be OK to say that I need you and want you forever, to be OK for you to feel the same way again. I don't want it to be too late.


Truth 1: It's not too late.
Truth 2: Maybe it is.
Truth 3: It's always been you whom I've been trying to impress.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

one hundred

And for my 100th post, one more Rilke quote, one that I couldn't agree with more. I love this quote because I always think of this type of prison as the fear of hurting someone you love, not the other way around. This couldn't be more true:

There is no more wretched prison than the fear of hurting someone who loves you.


Truth: I'm sorry

one more day...

Letters on Life

This, indeed is life's most fervent miracle: to suspend us in a state of hovering from which we may still impart something but can no longer reveal ourselves...


One never knows to what extent small and even the pettiest things might console and affirm us with regard to that which truly matters.


How telling that some people have defined the human to be the common element and the site where everybody can find and recognize each other. One has to learn to realize that it is precisely the human that makes us lonely.


All of our insights occur after the fact.


Is not everything that happens to us, whether or not we desire or solicit it, always glorious and full of the purest, clearest justice?


There is a single, deadly mistake that we can make: to attach ourselves to another human being even if only for an instant.

~Rilke, trans. Ulrich Baer


As great a poet as Rilke was, I can't believe how amazing his letters were. It's interesting, and fairly obvious, that others can say exactly those things you are feeling, or at least can express as closely as possible those things you are feeling, that you can't seem to find words to get out.