5/28/08: In People

It is an eye opening experience, discovering people.
Learning for the first time of what lies beneath their skin, a brilliant, manipulative curtain cloaking it.
My eyes are opened and in being so, I know now that
Ignorance is bliss.
My ignorance was bliss.

I can touch no one now.
They are all made of tiny poison ivy stars. To touch would be
To become infected. Visually effected by the cruel lies that each word they utter
is contrived of.

I think I might as well be on a lonely, starving island.
If this were so, I would not search for a way out, merely lie half sunken in the
wet, tempurpedic sand of the scurf on the bay
and wait impatiently for a wave to steal me away.

5/27/08: Losing Faith

I have come to a point where nothing satisfies.
I want to be alone. I want to connect. I want to know seclusion. I want to be close.
There is no pleasing me. I can please no one.
Such a misleading girl has never existed in the world.
And I am still a pine needle, invisible on the surface of the wide, dark sea.

My life is inversely proportional.
I need what I do not want and I do not want what I need.
I do not want to be needed. I only want to need another.
And I despise the roads of the heart but I miss love with a golden, yearning burst sometimes.
I pine for the completeness of being a puzzle piece, and I was for a time,
closely matched with another.
Our jagged edges met and made a smooth picture.
Seperate now, I am reduced once more to a jagged piece of a lost and most likely nonexistent
pretty picture. Perhaps it's all been nothing more than a dream.
And I, the gullible dreamer, allowed myself to be blissfully mislid into a fleeting moment of happiness,
only to better know the biting feeling of not having it, and that of
once having it and succesfully losing it.

Move

I kept trying things.
Count downs from ten.
From three.
Moment searching,
Self insulting.
Useless.

It must happen so fast
That I don't even realize when I start to
Move.

Her lips were soft.
They tasted the same as before.

You Won't

Yesterday the syllables drifted
Out of previously sealed lips. They still
Undulate. Unused, disregarded. I
Wish to continue.
Only action satiates and every second spent
Near you or away, the wish remains awake. Please
Take me somewhere. I want your lips.

Storage

Sitting in this humid cube,
There is nothing I miss more than being held by you.
Over the years I have faded. What
Remains is the shaded silhouette of a memory.
All that surrounds me is nothing.
Gaze upon me just once more. I am
Eternally photographed. Eternally stored.

Shotgun Sinners

Still sleeping in my head:
I see your lips and feel the
Need to pass my smoke from me to you. The
Need to pass a touch from me to you. Never
Ending night transforms me. Now I am
Red, a feather of lead. Just like he said. All this
Still sleeps inside my head.

Strangers

I am often fixated by strangers.
They are new.
Unexplored.
A braille canvas.
And I am the electric nerve endings
Like spiderweb winter trees
Itching to satiate hungry fingertips.
Needing to know.

Strenuous

Simply fill me.
This is what I need. A temporary
Relief from every single day.
Enough to stop my thirst from dissolving me.
Nearly every second spent with you is a
Universe escaped to in which I am not strained.
Overjoyed at the absence of chains.
Unleashed.
Simply fill me.

Depthless

Deprived of depth,
Eager to prove otherwise, the
Prescott writes in flourishes.
The words he excretes cloak the nothing underneath.
He'd be loath to know his emptyness is no
Longer secret. Through his actions he teaches
Each person of the Prescott he wants them to know.
Still a few have discovered that he
Steadily hides his spinning, ephemeral soul.

Ignorant Conformists

She and I are often joined at the hand.
We laugh and talk and walk like they each do.
But we are different.

We have parents.
We have algebra II classes.
We go to school every single day like they each do.
But we are different.

Our clothes, our speech patterns,
our idiosyncrasies all fit into some category or another
as each of their own do.
But we are different.

We are different because we are more than friends.
We are different because we have invested emotion in one another.
We are different because we share kisses.
We are different because we do not hide.

Ultimately, we are different simply because we are both female.
The matter of sex is trivial, yet so important to those who like to point their fingers
and judge the way we choose to live.

They use God in their defense.
They throw his name into any argument claiming that people like us burn.

But someone like me, who has always been like this and knows
there is nothing i could have done differently to change who i am today,
knows that God loves all of his children.
Because I, apparently doomed to b u r n, love God.

I know that God loves me.
Regardless of the fact that church has never satisfied me.
Regardless of the fact that I pray rarely.
Regardless of the fact that I think other females are beautiful and soft
and I have the capacity to love them as I would a male,
God does love me.
He put me here. I lead a fortunate life, scattered with scars though it may be.
All life is scarred.
Experience itself is a scar.
Some scars are beautiful.
Some are meant to be hidden.

My girl and I are not a scar.
We will not hide.
We are loved.
We are the same in the only ways that should matter to the pointers.

I will defend.