I'm dressed up on the sofa. Right over left, red high heels. With lashes that slay but nowhere to go. And I could belong to the night. My heart isn't made of muscle and I don't bleed red. Hands covered in black with only fingers showing. These are the finer things in life.
Do you remember the words you spoke to me? Because I don't. Never one for auditory, it's just a silent film ending in a cigarette burn. Dissolving the film with a quick lick of fire. Then the projector. And eventually the theatre. Everything up in flames.
This is the result of slight inebriation. Nothing more and nothing less than that absolute perfect honesty. Where do you live? Not where do you sleep, but where do you live? This is life unfiltered, tin barrels and all. Embarrassment was never a question, more of a statement. I deserve nothing and will refuse nothing. A cheap scapegoat for a real issue.
Television shows are shot from such an angle that everything seems beautiful. I've got this guilded life and excuses without truth or reality. I am broken against rocks in rivers running far and fast. There was a house with bamboo and it makes my heart feel safe. There was a house with rounded edges and it makes my heart feel safe. I am hidden away from all that's near.
This could compromise me forever. I am fighting the stock per volume and all I can muster is a head ache. This is where heroes are made. This is where normal people fall prey to those around them they deem to be special. I hate the word. I find it in the corner of the bedroom, beneath the edge of the bed, further than the sheet dare to creep beneath. It's quiet and lonely but surviving. Surviving so still.
There's nothing more to say except the heartbreak. That painful and confusing heartbreak. I have nothing to say to everyone surrounding me and the more people to join the fray the more alone I feel. There isn't anything and I can't seem to find the connection, rainbow or otherwise, it escapes me. Everything escapes. This is where my story ends.
But there is always another beginning.
25 November 2011
03 November 2011
Time Passing
Charcoal dusting my hands, toffee colored rubber flakes covering a smudged page. We don't need erasers, not really. Just an imagination. It's slow, Italian. I miss that hillside. I am painted with pumpkin. That dark orange that only Autumn brings. Foolish, I am foolish. The color teal dissolved by stomach acid. Suddenly I am sharp again.
Shake and hustle. Small tremors at first, then it builds. Sip this slowly. Is this the only song I love or do we ever really change? The earth is just a circle with corners. I am in a vintage film strip. Breaking bread in my niche little house and the sheet is pulled tight across the bed. No time to fiddle, only violin and cello. The rosin smeared across her lips as well as her strings. I never had the talent.
Solid ivory sullied with finger prints. It's a clever sort of wood, harder than most, polished. The Captain's cap falls over his eyes as he slumps comfortably into the chair, feet upon the wheel. Complete control. You have only a moment to throw distain in his general direction as you lose you last meal into the ocean. What had been precious only a few short hours ago, now refuse among the waves. Fish food.
It's cold but the rain is nice. Plink lightly against the metal. It's beautifully painful. The light purple with white crayon over the edge. This is Hallelujah. Singe the edge of the paper and spread the ash. Red fire is anything but hot. Beams caved in over broken hearts. Defrost and pressurize. Standing in all blue, with white underneath. Is there another option?
Screening the scene with a quick glance. Permanent ink dripping through the skin. Chainlink and walls I don't recognize. I could wait forever, but that would be a lie. What time is it really. I'll tuck it away beneath the pillow and pray that that soft plushy surface is enough to protect my dreams. Pull another drag of that fresh air through that carrot treated filter. My truth is as real as I need it to be.
Open my eyes and witness broken limbs stretching further than they should. Hope never fails, but it can flail. I know absolutely nothing. A child, with never-ending curiosity and never-ending ignorance, sometimes arrogance. I am anything but deserving.
Mercy doesn't care who you've been. Grace doesn't care what you've done. Hope doesn't care where you've gone. Faith doesn't care when you lost it. Love doesn't care why you've let it go. Somethings are true, whether you believe them or not. And the more ridiculous the story? The more likely it is.
This is not a can of soup, this is a permanence beyond my comprehension of the word. Forever is an awfully long time. Today I am present. I couldn't tell you how or why, but I am here. Standing with both feet firmly on the group and both hands stretched open toward the sky. Today is! Today is.
Shake and hustle. Small tremors at first, then it builds. Sip this slowly. Is this the only song I love or do we ever really change? The earth is just a circle with corners. I am in a vintage film strip. Breaking bread in my niche little house and the sheet is pulled tight across the bed. No time to fiddle, only violin and cello. The rosin smeared across her lips as well as her strings. I never had the talent.
Solid ivory sullied with finger prints. It's a clever sort of wood, harder than most, polished. The Captain's cap falls over his eyes as he slumps comfortably into the chair, feet upon the wheel. Complete control. You have only a moment to throw distain in his general direction as you lose you last meal into the ocean. What had been precious only a few short hours ago, now refuse among the waves. Fish food.
It's cold but the rain is nice. Plink lightly against the metal. It's beautifully painful. The light purple with white crayon over the edge. This is Hallelujah. Singe the edge of the paper and spread the ash. Red fire is anything but hot. Beams caved in over broken hearts. Defrost and pressurize. Standing in all blue, with white underneath. Is there another option?
Screening the scene with a quick glance. Permanent ink dripping through the skin. Chainlink and walls I don't recognize. I could wait forever, but that would be a lie. What time is it really. I'll tuck it away beneath the pillow and pray that that soft plushy surface is enough to protect my dreams. Pull another drag of that fresh air through that carrot treated filter. My truth is as real as I need it to be.
Open my eyes and witness broken limbs stretching further than they should. Hope never fails, but it can flail. I know absolutely nothing. A child, with never-ending curiosity and never-ending ignorance, sometimes arrogance. I am anything but deserving.
Mercy doesn't care who you've been. Grace doesn't care what you've done. Hope doesn't care where you've gone. Faith doesn't care when you lost it. Love doesn't care why you've let it go. Somethings are true, whether you believe them or not. And the more ridiculous the story? The more likely it is.
This is not a can of soup, this is a permanence beyond my comprehension of the word. Forever is an awfully long time. Today I am present. I couldn't tell you how or why, but I am here. Standing with both feet firmly on the group and both hands stretched open toward the sky. Today is! Today is.
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