fly

to whom do i owe this pleasure?
tucked away
inside
and underneath.

just knowing the right areas
to where the fingers reach.

he knows how to lure me....in
without a doubt.

plays my instrument
beyond what others
wish they could do with their mouths.

crisis...moment...
if things don't change soon
it will be the end
of our tune.

maybe moving you towards a better attitude
and myself
a lifetime of solitude.

never knowing
or growing
or holding
to ourselves
be true.

just focusing on the now. the moment.
he plays the song
inside you.

the brink

my mind's been going through these changes.
Weighing out the pros...the cons.
which is heavier?
which could make me happier?
which could push me farther towards who and where i want to be?
everything happens for a reason.
life, a series of tests.
test of love.
test of strength.
fear being it's foundation.
fear and faith.
Which would you take?
when love's right in front of you, do you walk away?
and when pain is the hand you're dealt, do you play the game?

not sure which road to take.
praying for the will to make the right decision.
hoping to erase the way i could see ___ now.

expectation causes misery.
constantly
living through someone else's portrait
of the "perfect" life.

------

at hand

write it down, get it out.
the creature steps in.
regurgitating last nights supper
the hollow keeps him thin.

wishing well
oh wishing well
where is the smile that you keep?
where love is really meaningful
and not the thread of lion's teeth.

buried myself beneath
allowed this circumstance to show.
i knew from the beginning that his flower couldn't grow.

alone.
with him and alone.

ignored again by computer's tempting gaze.

i could run away far from this place.

i wish to be above the water...
leave the drowning victim
in the deep

my eyes grow heavy
my frown alive
it's he who tells
the monster
where my spirit hides.

no
nothing
changing
no
one
talking
nothing
effecting
no care
nothing
ever.

i want to get out of here.
and never look back.

coming along.

alone again.
this time i wont display it.
this time i wont face it.
all that could worry me to nothing.
all that i really could care less about...
only that i would feel insulted.
these past few months have been a nightmare.
distrust.
drunken fights.
wrestle matches, not the good kind.
back to the same old demon.
the "circular"

the art show will save me.
my music will save me.
my friends bring me life.
happy am i.
broke yes.
worth it yes.

you refuse to see me
love me
to the capacity i deserve.
and alone in bed.
to wait until you're ready to come home.

i'm not trying to hold anyone down...
who knows where im going.
and you're everywhere but here.
and that's where i
would want a HIM to be.

beside me when im to fall asleep.
holding
caressing...
carefully removing the demons
from our dreams.

they say the talking about it helps...

morning.

eyes red again.
puffiness reveal last nights stir.
and uncomfortable veins
occurs.

no apology.

i can't help but desire the kind of man she has.
always attentive...
always caring selflessly.

i'm tired of being silent...
mistreated
abused
accused
hurt
neglected
...
allowing someone else's misery to affect me.

I just want to be able to sleep.

And above all...
I want love.

no one is perfect.
i am def not.
but there are boundaries that should never crossed.
and colder
jaded
lonely...
disgusted
i become everyday.

you know how to fix it...
but you refuse.

for the self is more important to you.


living my game.
i'm tired of death
i rolled around in it for years
thinking i had to accept
it as my
destiny.
it will come...
but inviting it i will not.

woman

i love women.
they are beauty.
i love men.
whose sweat makes me weak.
i love art & music & dance
even when simple
can breathe life in me.

i love me.
for once
and fear
in him
it sets.

she'd run away
lie
hurt me
thoughts
create stress.

and is this just a relationship test?
or a message from god to go and know of worth...
and what real happiness is.
let go of destructive partners...
let them swim
or sink deep down...

and my heart beats still?

the drama begins

that which he doth not understand....no. not like that. like me. again.

You're so dramatic!

yelling, fighting, belligerent fights.

am i a magnet for this?

those who wish to try and satiate my yearning for completion.

oh yea that's right...i'm a feminist i remember.

you don't understand so you sit and point the finger.

i am not claiming to be a poet.
no
i am not claiming to be an artist.
i neglect all the i love...
for thinking and worrying about you.

then one day said no.
no more shall i tire my friends ears with complaints of a fickle mind.
no more will i allow disrespect to run my life.
no more sleepless nights...
wide awake pretending to sleep
when 3 am he arrives..
if at all.

and sensitive and delusional...
believing i lie.
small things...
and then refusal
disgust
you're a piece of $%^*
and not my love...he says.

and stuck.
i am not.
staying not sure why.
someone who believes they are nothing
can never relieve their will to die.

.

Work routine

Back on the saddle...the 9 to 5.
Coffee mugs sparkling
reflecting
squinted eyes.

Staring at the clock
biding my time
get it done...
and challenging
i think not.

rambling.

during late night
he rambles
in mid sleep.
talks of video games and islands
where we are always running from something.
the only time we are ever
in sync.

i'm an idiot for thinking
this is love.

Afternoon Time

tick tock tick tock
stare
gazing
hoping
yearning
for
5 o'clock

to be released from the "American dream" of what LIFE
Should be?

Music pouring
waterfall
rain

quickly how a river becomes
a stain
marked across the page.

what feeds the Whirlpool
of my primordial core

is it sleeping monstro's snore
hiding in the depth
of my ocean floor?

What anxious grief!
How he ponders to understand,
swallow all of me....

and i will build a fire
to watch him sneeze.

Remember me.

and you try to ignore a face you've seen
before.
in another life
trying to forget
remember when.

slammed doors & a
late night arousal
the animal yearning
to satiate and be
sedated.

the dawn peering through the nearby windows
revealing a street
not yet
warmed by the sun.

acknowledging it
not accepting it
Jekyll into Hyde.
"you disgust me."
is his late night lullaby
in which comfort finds no sight.

I used
to let myself cry
and pray that I
could fix it
and love would let
destruction stray.

no longer will tears be released.
no longer will I allow the words to seep
into me
Le parole mi fanno male.

by morning time
all will be erased
and I will be convinced
it was all a dream.
so close it may had seemed
real to me.

then
he'll turn over
and that smile will
radiate
revealing the dawn.

in the glimmer of those eyes
once filled with anger
veritably
will kiss me
not remembering in evening past
what crime took place.

September

I remember September...

last year, his arms would squeeze.

an addict to his josephine.

and I yearned for that kind of love...
without allowing myself to become
vulnerable.

Ever so close, i conceal...now all that i feel.

I can sense his fear,
my sadness.
It's not all that i am...
nor does it define me...

but when it is your heart that i feel
then i cannot deny it.

you are he
whose finger stroked the chords of my soul...
unravelled the barbed wire
unleashed the choke hold
and allowed me breathe
again.

and wonder now why it is
she
who sleeps in closets
when moon is full.

wonder why her eyes turn grim
when senses bring memories.

I wish to love and give all that i am.
be honest to my man
but capable misunderstandings
make it difficult
to comprehend.

Sometimes the filth
lures my innocent hand
i roll around in it
to feel again
to see if life
is underneath.
this rotting disgust i feel
it's not really me
and drowning
alone.
in deep.

he's running
and i let him.

my love for thee
will release the trap
from she he flees
and
our memory is
kept.

Arts

Upon my discovery toward inner freedom...aka removal of the chains placed around my heart...wait is that a band name?
anyways...upon the road towards spiritual enlightenment...
wait that's not right either.

Let's start over.

I
am
working
on
the self.

A challenging conquest...
inner space.
All that holds us back.
OUR FEARS
OUR DREAMS
all defined by most men as the soul.
Cognitive behavioral patterns.

I met with a lovely lady yesterday.
Sat and listened to a fraction of the waterfall of my weaknesses.
TOO PROUD
for all these years to confront them.
And there they laid on the table.
Seeing every mistake
she did not like the others...
did not throw it in my face nor
did she judge them.

Multiple repeated actions
many men...?
Many fingers upon paleness.
Many mistakes justified.
How many I let walk all over my beauty.
How many did I let control my way of thinking.
How afraid I was of my SELF.

With all dead.
Including the girl that used to hold my name...
I chose life.
As daddy would say "love and laughter."

I wish to love.
I do not fear it.

Brush Strokes

splatter soften detailed fun
it is not I who fixates upon the sun
blindly
defining truth
in a painting half done.

restricted within the frame,
the art needs stretching
beyond measured plain,
without room to expand
when weather doth change.

but art always growing
within each day
and music's constant movement
is reason the crowd remains.

from extravagance to
gallivanting
placed upon the floor
filed among the unsuitable
while the artisan explores.

in search of true engagement
a moldable canvas
and colorful paint
to find the true beauty
that fits within the frame.

tonight

this is just a sleepless rant.
with morn just a bit away, i can't hang with friends without making them stray.
i'm sorry for the burden of what it means to love me.

tonight i made the choice to call them. alone in georgetown.
no love by my side...and everyone says have faith....when
in truth he lied.

there's a lot that is said about the breaking point...and neither one of us wants to be the first to say goodbye.

the still

"I'm not sure where I am anymore" she gasped gracefully still.

Calm as the moon above, glowing it's magnificence across the way below.

Roars of laughter from the local pub often stirred their bones.

Yet tonight,

Never have I felt more alone.

Enjoy the cheerful chatter of mistakes.

Taste the dark richness of this place.

She'll poke holes in them revealing the fake...

replacing the dream with perversion.

"I wish to drink your hollow thought, that a wife be a wife and never talk."

the cavity will lay with the man...
to be swayed by a stranger's intellect
and neglect his careless hand.

All that was remembered
of being seen and understood...

all drowned
in the ether
sempre warm and still.

acronyms

bdd, cbt...
repetition.
representing
a thought within a thought.

where is the
road to salvation?

SEARCH
for the
support system...
life's hidden fruit...
juices flowing from the compound
sweetness
from the vine.
man and woman,
unity divine.


bdd...cbt.
if there's a cure
remind me to tell mother,
whom i'm thankful for.

something to UN-cover thy reflecting glass?
a captured moment
something safe
for the picture frame.


found it hard
to believe
that others lack
this ailment hidden
paralysis of the track.


and so i run
running
from myself and
thought.

fill me up
with love...
and thyself true.


obessessing.
obessession
obsess
is it ever enough
to analyze a line of age
is death to oneself.

crashing cognitive waves
white pills blur the days...
mundane madness.

anger!

depending on
a routine system...
for control
i doth lack.

abuse
tongue and cheek
yoga
running
painting
music

distractions
without the will to sleep.


disgust it's only constant
led to negative talk
from my own lips
and heard again...
repeating the thought.

rain

slept two whole days.
the migraine
making its way out of me.
vertical for awhile,
hands found their way back to the piano forte.
but today, unlike most,
i could not play my own tunes.

Chopin nocturne in G minor.
muscle memory repeating shapes...
sounds of a melody once echoed in my ear...
attempting to recreate the brilliant composer.

then back to this screen.

i wish to make it out the door, to run free.
smell the wet grass and
hear the whispers in the trees.
watch the sky turn to dark night
and let the divinity fill my spirit
and make me whole again.

I am no longer afraid of the beauty i hold.
Nor do i wish to conceal it
in hopes of relating to others.
if melancholy truth restricts a friendship
then it is a friendship i care not to own.

sober.
surrounded by intoxicated fools.
cowards connecting with liquid yeast & fruit.
red velvet blankets
warming
& tickling their souls.

if i make it out the door.
i'll find my way home.
where that is
i soon hope to know.

Thin

Girls, we obsess.
Obsess over this word, this state of being.
To be waif-like...as small as a potato chip.

Yet, what is the standard?
What is THIN?
And why does it choke us?

The reflection, the deeper you dig, the more you realize how ridiculous if
you are sensible at all.

THIN - the world's definition...emaciated.
It's beautiful to look sickly, and have your bones show.
It's UN-cool to live past 30.
The elite celebrities getting scripts from docs to keep them from eating,
to wake, and
for their eternal sleep.
SHEEP.

But why, even the smartest of us women...
why do we find ourselves analyzing the person we see in the mirror?
Why are our arms too big and thighs fat?
Why is it that we strive to be perfect?
Who are we pleasing?...not ourselves.
When achieved the level of thinness that society sets for us and beyond (i.e. anorexics...bulimics)...
...then are we truly happy?
...then are we in love with ourselves?
...then do we find ourselves as sexy?

NO.

And here again the question proposed...
...Why care about being thin?

Do the males in our lives love us more if we'd lose ten pounds?

We do it for women.
We do it for fashion.
For the destruction of dignity.
For the conformity of being.
To be able to fit in a size 1 dress that disrespects a woman's
TRUE beauty, and REAL FORM.

We are beautiful as we are.
If the dress is too small, then the dress is garbage.
If I were a seamstress I would make the most beautiful gowns,
and place all my girlfriends in front of a mirror...
pointing out the detailed brilliance of THEM.
Internal and external...
without the word
THIN
to restrict them.

Post April 15th

I decided from here on out that I would write again.
To let it out and not just onto the ivory...
...because what I say and feel needs an escape route.

I am starting to look back.
It's not a fun thing to do.

But I am strong enough now to unlock the demons that have made chains around my heart.

I will chisel away at their gooey shell exterior and free my soul.
No longer will I hurt myself.
No longer will I fear myself.
My voice, my word, my passion is enough to inspire change.
My greatest accomplishment, would to be free from my greatest enemy...
...that enemy is me.

Heart of Stone

Been writing a lot of music lately.

It's explosive powers leaves me a puddled mess.
A pile of raw flesh...
vulnerable...but free of all the bottled feelings.

The melody is my voice.
Through piano keys I communicate.

This blog will be a tool for being able to exchange messages with others.

Love.

Josephine.

Give me the strength.

Work seems like the only constant.
Money intangible...it never appears,
and the debt grows.

I'd like to find a place where I could rest my head.
Tall green grass,
I'd trade for a summer beach for a snow day.

Analyzing all the variations that sets us apart,
emotional without understanding.

I'm waving a whisper his way.

Containing all the secrets of the love
existing in the background of my subconscious.

Disconnect the sight line of what is defined reality.

Spectrum of fragility.

Everyday losing my vocabulary, but gaining incite
and all the emotional thunderstorms thriving
deep within this heart,
forces the creativity
bursting out
onto the ivory.

Wrapped up in the game of life.
Bound more like it.

ME
Dramatic and irreplaceable.


You know you wish you could let me go
but something about me
draws attention.

Commands an audience,
desires a listener
engages a companion
to
acknowledge
the existence of HER.