burn

as the light from this candle flickers

I gaze at it in wonder and amazement

I want to touch it

run my fingers across it

even if it burns me

even if it hurts

the smoke quickly fades

as it leaves the warmth of the flame

often I feel the same

wishing I could reverse myself

and crash into you

somehow someway

I would walk away

unharmed in knowing that even

for the briefest moment in time

that you surround me

lighting up my darkness

igniting every single strand of hair

every tender spot of flesh

I can withstand the heat

I will not turn to ash

so burn me

for I cannot take this shiver deep within

I ache for you

for the fire that escapes your lips

every time you utter my name

random thoughts

In the last week, I have moved into my own place and turned 30.  Now, I feel I must take a few moments to reflect.  Life is strange and it is only when everything is quiet that I can slow my mind enough to ponder the paths that lie ahead as well as the roads that I have taken that have brought me here.

Contentment is often fleeting for me, but lately its presence has lingered much longer than its usual alotted time.  While I still think too much and rack my brain constantly about anything and everything, I have also taken the time to appreciate those closest to my heart as well as the little things that can easily be taken for granted, like laughing.  It is something that I absolutely adore whether it is my own or the chuckle of another.  There is nothing like a good laugh, especially when it is a shared one.  It is something that I hope to continue doing as often as possible.

In the last year, I have completed half of my graduate degree, moved a couple of times, started, stopped, and didn't get jobs, opened myself up, closed myself down, stumbled upon a happy medium and found myself surprised on many occasions which is well...surprising.  Perhaps, I am finally coming into my own.  I have always lived for others because giving pieces of myself away is what I do best.  Yet, I find myself stronger today than I was yesterday.    Ernest Hemingway said "the world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."  I've been broken, but I do not give up. 

For the first time in a long time, I look forward to what the future has in store for me.  I wouldn't call myself an optimist just yet, but I am starting this new chapter a bit less jaded than I was a year ago.  Or maybe I woke up this morning with newfound wisdom.  We'll see...

~pisces~

constantly in chaos

I swim in opposite directions

part of me cannot help but

fight the strong current

staying just below

afraid of what I'll find at the surface

shallow waters are no longer

enough to sustain me

so I dive down deep

taking giant breaths

my tail slashes at my sides

I know not how to slow down

so I yearn for the bottom

desperately seeking a means to an end

others glide by me but I move too quickly

passing by them briskly

without a real chance of acknowledgement

yet another part of me

longs to brush my scales against yours

intertwining our tails in unison

sharing the air that fills your lungs

as we dart madly for the top

so the moon can glisten on our skin

like flawless diamonds

before the fear sets in

before I frantically submerse

before you can really see me

in the impending rise of the sun

for in the imposing light

all of my flaws are revealed

so quick to plunge back into the depths

and start the endless cycle

all over again

round and round

you are

like

the sun

I cannot

help

but move

near you

until

the heat that

radiates off

your skin

warms me

and

when

I finally

blanket you

the chill

within me

rapidly

increases in

temperature

bubbling

to the

surface

as

I exhale

before

breathing in

the flare

glowing

between

your mouth

and mine

round

and

round

I go

to feel

once

more

unravel me

the coils that bind

are woven

tightly and intricately

sometimes I cannot

even reach myself

yet you know how

to unravel me

desperate to open up

for you to inhabit me

fill me with everything

that is you

take me away

from the trepidation

let your strength

wash over me

inside me

as I soak up

every drop

savoring every

single second

I am free

but I long

to be

fearless

anathema

anathema

beautiful bane

abiding, bewitching, agonizing

surrender my mindless sentiment

beloved

~ode to mon montreur~

please do not cut my strings, I want to forever be a marionette in your play

without you, the days are long when forced to never make a single sound

mouth may be made of wood and glue, but there are still beautiful words to say

eyes are as empty and dead as a corpse 6 feet below the ground

come back, you control the many complicated cords that animate me so

do not forget about the power that even still, you could have in your very hand

please do not cut my strings since you are now aware of my pathetic plight

it is you that makes me real as you move my bonds to and fro

drab and pale painted legs are hollow, without you they will not stand

but if you hold me in your capable arms I promise to live with all of my might

Watch where you are going...(a feeble attempt at a villanelle)

Maybe I slipped on a banana peel;

all of my missteps I must retrace.

But when I fell, I learned how to feel.

My heart was no longer made of steel;

rather a thick liquid in a shiny, new vase.

Maybe I slipped on a banana peel.

Shattered now, unsure of what's real;

picking up the pieces to put in their place.

But when I fell, I learned how to feel.

Time hasn't done much to help me heal;

which fragments should I forever encase?

Maybe I stepped on a banana peel.

On the ground there was no chance to reveal;

the idea of love made me forget to brace.

Maybe I stepped on a banana peel.

But when I fell, I learned how to feel.

brooding boy: a triolet

Don't fret little one, go run and play

I promise you won't fall down

The world's worries can wait another day

Don't fret little one, go run and play

There's plenty of time to find your way

Open your eyes and put away the frown

Don't fret little one, go run and play

I promise you won't fall down

~Roller Girl~

the aroma of cotton candy filled the air

the disco lights were in full force

floor waxed shiny and smooth to perfection
I was so happy


I looked down and the skates on my feet
were the new ones that I got for my birthday
they were bright white
the neon pink laces were tied tightly


we were not supposed to chew gum
but coming around the corners
I blew giant purple bubbles again and again
popping them with the palm of my hand


the nostalgic music echoed in my ears
so loudly at times that the bass
could be felt, pounding in my chest
I was so happy


suddenly the door swung open
bringing with it massive amounts of sunlight
and a silhouette of someone so strong
that I had to hold my breath


the music was no longer heard
the smell of the concessions disappeared
the sparkles on the floor faded
and I was not 12 years old anymore


so I skated at full speed with all of my might
across the distance of the rink
eventually braking as he took one step down
meeting me on the sleek surface


the sun's splendor parted, giving way
to a clear view of his beautiful face
I felt 12 all over again
when I caught a glimpse of his glorious grin


so I did what any girl true of heart would do
I leapt into his arms without fear or reservation,
showering him with playful kisses
until he could not help but laugh


I was so happy.
I woke up.
I am almost 30 years old,
but damn I want to be that silly girl again.

Fool

I am a fool.
Perhaps I always will be.

I cannot help but be consumed
by the fire that burns within me.

The idea of a real connection with another
makes me turn myself inside-out and upside-down.

It is the potential fleeting moment
of someone really seeing me
that keeps me on the edge of my seat,
unable to sit still.

Sometime, somewhere along the line
this person is going to see
past all of my bullshit and acknowledge
that I have to constantly tip-toe on the verge just to feel alive.

He will not see this as a fault,
but will instead have enough strength to pull me back down.

On the ground,
I cannot be but who I am;
I will not even hide.

It is not that I need to be saved,
nor do you.

We just need to meet each other halfway
in complete preposterous abandon.

Regina Spektor protects me.

What a pleasant, cool Saturday afternoon,

driving down Lovers Lane.
Not feeling much like a paramour or a brawler
but a born-again cynic finding irony in the street name.


Regina Spektor starts to sing to me,
"Suppose I never ever saw you"
"Suppose we never ever called"
"Suppose I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall"
"Just to break my fall"
"Just to break my fall"
"Break my fall"
"Break my fall"


Just as my voice grew louder, unable to not sing along,
I belt out "All of my friends say of course it's gonna get better."
"Gonna get better..."

Somewhere in my second or third trailing "better",

I see a vehicle like yours.
It passes by slowly and the mystery man within waves at me.
For a moment I thought it was you.


Then I remembered that...


I am here.
You are there.
I don't know you,
but you know me.


So I did the only thing that I could do.


I kept on singing love songs just to break my own fall.

move on (written 02/09)

there's no more time for painted toes
rather feet always in motion
no slowing down
must reach my destination
even bleeding, aching
I will climb mountains bare-footed
swim icy oceans naked
for shivers will not find my bones
frost-bite afraid of fingertip's wrath
I must move on...

in tree tops, savage screams escape my sun-burned lips
animals cower, nomadic people flee in fear
at the repetition of my cries
over and over I call out your name
as I swing from branch to branch
I must move on...

in the darkness, only guided by moonlight
I suddenly find myself in the company of others
so I smoke with the natives
and see your face in the fresh new fire
in the bottom of a primitive cup
in the metal of the best warrior's spearhead
cannot help but dance around the flapping flames
howling and pounding my chest rapidly
afraid to open my eyes and see yours
in everything around me
I must move on...

desert sands cover me
stuck to the moisture of my body
trying to stay cool
in the scorching blaze of the sun
dunes seem to go on forever
yet I don't care and occasionally run
crashing into the mounds violently
mirages come and go of memories, places, you
I am all alone, but determined
I must move on...

splatters on my face
rain comes down
waking me from my slumber
I sit up and find myself on a park bench
in the middle of a bustling unknown city
clothes are clean, but soaked
hair is polished, but dripping wet
faces are unfamiliar, disregarding me
as they pass by under black umbrellas
I call out your name again and again
until deja-vu takes control
pausing, I scan the crowd
then turn around again and there you are
You are real, right in front of me
you wipe the water from my face
and lips with the tip of your finger
and huddle me under your red umbrella
sliding your hand under mine
you look into my eyes
as I gaze down to notice my nicely painted toes
standing so very still, I don't want to look away

yet when I do I am sitting in a hospital bed
so sterile, the smell sickens me
causing me to lean up and release
my nausea on the floor
a doctor says something about a reaction
to anesthesia and pulls my covers back to inspect me
I look down to see that my painted toes are no longer there
or the feet and legs they were once attached to
in a panic I frantically say your name so loudly
that nurses rush in and stick a needle in my arm
eyes feel heavy
I ask the doctor for you
he shrugs and says he doesn't know who you are
I tell him I must go
must reach my destination
he laughs and shakes his head
and the room fades away...

there is nothing at all
I cannot move
I forget your name

proverbial paradox (written 01/09)

often I am

moving when standing still

silently speaking

listening with my eyes

and aware of my surroundings

when I am elsewhere

sound reverberates down the throat of my mind

I get caught up

running in place

saying nothing loudly

with a gaze that heeds all

my mind opens its mouth and screams from within

to run to you with cement feet

hold you with paper arms

and love you with all the holes in my heart

forever

and

never

or maybe I am just a liar

honey (written 04/09)

You used to constantly watch my lips as I spoke, focused on the curve, color and sometimes you didn’t even hear my words. You never noticed you were doing it or that I loved it so. Now you haven’t gazed upon me or my mouth in ages nor have I yours. Yet I remember that yours was quite petite for a man, bottom lip much fuller than the top, so intimate and inviting that I just couldn’t help myself. I touched them with my fingertips, slowly running them across the small lines as you exhaled with closed eyes. Moving in closer, I nibbled at your neck just to feel your breathe on mine. Raspy whimpers escaped from your beautiful mouth and that was all it took. Suddenly, I found my lips on yours without warning or reservation. Quietly, I spilled every feeling I felt for you like honey from a clasped jar that was dropped on its side, oozing ever so slowly, thick and warm.

7 (written 02/09)

if fathers have sons
and mothers have daughters
what is for those that take a different path?

I see a little girl in a white faux fur coat and brown mary-janes
in front of a three-way mirror
on her knees
she gazes at her many reflections
and makes funny faces
hands, turned upward
fingers on face, making a pig nose as she oinks
in a flash, she jumps up
posing for her dopplegangers
again and again
talking to all the versions of herself
whispering in a language unbeknownst to me
coat comes off in a flash
a stomp, a pouty face
then a punch
her mother tells me that she has liked mirrors since she was small
she tells me herself that it has been since she was 3
I stand behind her and she informs me that there are 7 of me
I tell her that 7 of me could take over the world if I wished
with wide eyes, she nods and agrees
I express that she is better-suited though
she giggles

I am my mother's daughter
about to leave the world as I know it
staring at myself in the same mirror
barely recognizing the child that I once was
the person I am
the woman I could be

as the little girl leaves, she turns to wave good-bye
I put my hand up and hestitate
to say farewell to the familiar, comforts of life

yet I swallow my fear
run up to the glass door and wave
with eyes wise beyond her years
she looks at me and grins as if she knew
I was to be born again

now is the time
for me
and my 6 other selves
to come together
and
take a bite out of the whole world
or at least
pose, stomp, pout, whisper
and punch it
until I find what it is
that I am looking for

hell (written 06/07)

I tiptoed up the stairs and found a woman sweeping
blood slowly ran down her fingertips
mumbling to herself and weeping
she was so familiar, someone I had seen before

when asked if she was alright, she cackled at me manically
the broom hit the floor as she spit in my face
bloody footprints left behind as she ran away frantically
somehow I knew she would be back

I opened a door and crept into the belly of a dim room
words written on walls with human waste
1000 old books in the bed of a library’s tomb
ripped pages defecated on and burned to death all over the floor

in the corner there was a strange little man standing on a chair
eyes closed, hands clasped, chanting words unfamiliar to me
there was a monkey swinging back and forth from his hair
suddenly, he opened his eyes and they were as black as the night sky

he jumped off the table and kicked me in the shin
the monkey jumped on my back and pounded me with little fists
I tried to throw him off, but dirty teeth found their way to my skin
he bit me again and again before he scampered off out of sight

the midget man smacked me across the face
he yelled obscenities and stared at me with nothing but empty sockets
tugging at my coattail he finally asked how I found this place
I shrugged and expressed that I had lost my way

he shoved book after book at me and told me to open them
dropping them into the human waste filled floor
I tried to read the pages but the room was too dim
huffing and puffing he finally grabbed a torch off the wall

nearly catching my pants on fire he gave me light
but page after page was blank, nothing but scorched paper
stubby fingers slammed a book shut, putting the author’s name in sight
confused because the named etched deep in leather was my own

all of them, each and every one had my name on the cover
not understanding why, I asked him what all of this meant
was it because I had a passion for literature, because I was a book-lover?
with an eerie grin he shook his head no


he asked me to think about it again and then again
and rubbed his rough finger against my wrist
open empty gashes diagonal across my skin
I cried out full of fear, full of confusion

tears tried to find a place in my empty eyes
but I could not cry
heart no longer beating, lungs no longer breathing
is this what happens when you die?

my new friend winked and I saw him disappear
doors in every direction, but every single one was locked
a cold chill ran up my back and then nothing but fear
there was no way out, I was trapped

surrounded by the books that I never wrote
walls full of thoughts never put to paper
I look up to see bloody fingers on my throat
and realize that the woman from outside was me

hopes and dreams burned away
locked inside with myself in my own personal cell
a million words but nothing to say
lost inside my mind in my own personal hell

poet (written 06/06)

I am a poet

I have nothing but ink-stained fingers
calloused from the perpetual agony
of deciphering the transposed words in my head

wads of paper litter my well-kept desk
hopes and dreams collected and pushed aside
only to be tomorrow's trash

therapy (written 01/09)

my mind grows weary of life

head aching with an excess of everything

maybe I am crazy

how else do you explain the detachment that prevails all too often

crashing so hard I seem hollow

in the surrounding circle of my unexplained despair

tears do not come

only numb eyes,

empty bothersome vessels

unaware of the world outside

yet I would not have it any other way

in the midst of my isolation

I am not duplicated

or a replica

I am just me

faults and all

mind truly...

awake,

aware

of the beauty in demise

the real me (written 06/06)

a million places, a million faces
yet I only want to be near you
a thousand miles, a thousand smiles
yet distance is no boundary and no-one compares to you
a hundred days, a hundred ways
yet time is not my friend and in this maze I cannot grasp you
a single glance, a single chance
yet all I need is one more moment to show you...

the real me