Sunday, December 28, 2014


looking for something
outside of myself
to make my insides
feel fulfilled
but as the orchestra swells
i still feel empty

purge 2

it was always your job
to be proud of our successes
but i can't help but admire you
for what you grew within us:
four self-sufficient adults
(or as much as one can be)
thank you with every breath
for all your continued blessings.

weathered and worn
but still here
and so damn beautiful.

there's a fine line
between acceptance and resignation,
between curiosity and obsession
between weakness and silent strength

some might say you need
a good kick in the ass,
a nice punch to the face.
but really, you just need
a place to find some love

a love that defies convention
and exceeds all bounds,
a passion so bright it burns so fast.
but the passion we had
and the passion we've lost
exceeds my daydreams and
paints my memories
with such intense colors

i haven't met you
or even learned your name
but you're in my heart
even if not my womb,
and i'm ready
to sacrifice myself for you.
i won't rush perfection --
you'll come when you're ready --
but i'm ready to give everything that i am
to make you who you are.

uneven and mismatched

a heart may be precious
but it's not a diamond
and papercuts bleed

a heart may be reckless
love's wrecked many ships
before i became your casual casualty

bridges burn, naturally.
wood's no more permanent than
eroding shores of evaporating seas

trust is easily lost
but there's no chance
to cultivate it
if i can't have some faith.

so i will stand
as the bridges burn
and cling to you
as we sink from the shore,
carried away by the current.
we will evaporate one day together.

so much easier

writing's so much easier
without him rustling covers
and you in my head.
you're there still
but without your mortal coil adjacent,
there's no resonance
to interfere with my thoughts.
i love you both in equilibrium.
don't make me choose.
a system tends toward chaos.
i welcome your promise of disorder.
uneven roads: a better ride.

so many words

so many words.
unimpeded by formality and decorum,
i write what i want
even though it pains me to admit
and let loose these truths.
to keep the ships in the harbor
would deprive them of their purpose.
i have feelings,
at time inconvenient and untimely,
that should not be buried.
to love across boundaries is commendable,
but to stomp upon tradition, convention...
what reward for the stomper?
i cannot turn away from a commitment;
i cannot burn the bridge i'm standing on;
i cannot stop loving him to pursue another.
and yet i do,
and yet i itch to dive off this bridge
and swim after him.
what to do with these feelings?
they are not going anywhere
and i don't know how to make them
go away.


hello, animals.
i am female and fertile.
life is at a high
and happiness is too.

buttons pressed
just hard enough
sometimes jam.

alphabetize your desires
and they will be attended to.
patience, dear one.
give it time.
and when it's time
it will come.
do you feel the moonlight?
can you hear the echo
of a day gone by?
heed it not; accept today.

your magical verisimilitude
convinced me that you were real.
but i hadn't yet learned
to recognize a reproduction.

the flesh is weak
when prodded by the id.

i don't want to be your Aphrodite --
i'm so much more than a pretty doll on a shelf.
don't launch a hundred ships,
for Helen doesn't share my shoes.
today i'll prove i'm your Artemis,
fighting for you,
setting my aim on your frame.

sometimes it takes a little groping
to find your footing
when you're climbing a cliff.

did you take advantage
or did i give you the advantage?

lacquer on another coat of paint,
rearrange the chairs.
transform the externalities all you like
but know you cannot feng shui yourself
out of today.

tomorrow's waiting behind yonder door
and you're going over its threshold anyway.
why not set the terms yourself
and open the door with your own hand?

when did my eyes open the door
that you strolled through?

a couple inches closer and we
could have had something there.
i don't know how much longer
we can subsist on innuendo and suggestion --
i am propositioning you and
if you ever realize how wide open i am
you'll invade me.

something terrible lies
just beyond the bend in the road.
whose terrible awaits us ahead?

i've done some bad things
and considered so much worse.
who drew this blurry line
between faithful and faithless
and when did i decide to tread that path?
right or wrong, i'm here today.

whose terrible terrible terror awakens today?

your covetous eyes have landed on another's shore.
eyes and hands are different species,
and only one can tunnel deep inside.

whose terrible shall i stroke today? (ummm...)

begin a dance of whimsical delay

suddenly stepping back
from a lover's moment of release
and depriving him of completion
is either cruel or generous,
depending on your next step.

begin a dance of whimsical delay:
coyly return to a time before attachment,
when the currents of the scenario
weren't even ripples in the stream.
relive the path back to fulfillment

Virtual artifice

Again, another self-imposed silence.
Not out of spite or any misconduct,
as everything I've built you up to be
is still true, since the virtual artifice
is the only forum we have.
One day -- nay, two --
we shared a sleeping place.
So innocently guised,
a brother cradling sis'
while she fell into another realm --
but t'was not half so innocent,
for we'd enveloped one another
in our personas,
allowed each other to leap
from stranger to lover
in a single night --
Nay, a single breath,
as pheremones linked our bodies
long before slothful minds
could catch up.
How long can the chains
of society and etiquette
resist our magnetic pull?
'Tis true,
was the same with he before,
but time healed wounds
and silence passion in those days.
Will it again?

Sunday, December 14, 2014


i've never known
what kind of person i was meant to be
that's truer now today.

without you here
my voice of reason
has lost its voice

i don't know up from down
i can't stop hating myself for meandering
and it's true:
i've never been direct
but i'm feeling pretty pointless
right about now.

the point is
i need you here
and i don't know how to float on my own
so i think i'll drown for a while

maybe i wasn't
meant to lean on you so hard that i
couldn't stand on my own.
but this must be
the cruelest way
to learn the lesson

how can i fill myself back up
when you helped me build the self i was?
i don't recognize myself these days
and the mirror's a stranger
that i want to shatter
and build back again.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

words are inadequate

write write write
in hopes that something will flow out
other than the sewage that's filling my mind these days
winter -- or whatever this in-between time that the calendar
doesn't actually allow to be called "winter" because it's not official --
pushes me toward self-criticism and self-loathing
and i'm broken more than usual because of this crushing loss
so i can't rebound like i should
there's no voice of reason telling my inner critic to shut up
and i have lost my bearings and i don't know which way is up
or if i'm just going to keep drowning here
waiting for the sun to return.

the only thing i can do to retain some semblance of realism
is to distract myself from the heartache and heart break
but are these lies keeping me from feeling what i need to feel
keeping me from going through this tunnel of darkness
i don't know how to grieve
because i can't say goodbye
and i refuse because he isn't gone
but he's gone from this world and i just can't accept that yet.

how does this work?
i say i miss you
i say i'll always love you
i try to come to grips with this absence you've left
and trying isn't doing anything
and those days when i don't think about you hardly at all
i feel so damn guilty afterward
like i should be mourning with every breath
like i should be standing still to feel the fullness of my loss
and i do that and i don't feel any better
i'm reminded how much i miss you and
how i didn't understand sorrow until i didn't have you to soothe my pain
i know i can't stand still and
i know i can't cry every second
and i know i can't hurt with every cell of my being
or can i? because i do and i have and i will forever.
there's no fix for what's broken
because there's no bringing you back.

words are inadequate
and i try to be so damn erudite
when it hurts and there's nothing more to it.
i never understood how someone could walk forward
when memories and pain were pulling him back
and maybe i never will
but i'm still on this world
and i have to live your legacy
because you gave me life
and i have to do something with it
and sometimes i feel like i'm wasting air
and sometimes i feel like i'm wasting potential
and sometimes i feel like there's so much more
but i can't make myself move
when i'm stuck thinking about how much i miss you
but the memories keep me going at the same time they hold me here
and i don't know what to say or do or feel
but i miss you.
and i love you always.


i look back on this year and i see a big waste of 365 days.
what did i do with all this time? what do i have to show?
a whole lot of nothing,
my pockets emptier than before
my heart more broken than before.
i have less today to hold close than i had a mere 30 days ago
my father doesn't breathe this air anymore
and it hurts to think that i spent all those years building nothing
and i hurts to think that i ran away from home in a sense
that i wasted three years with a guy who didn't give a shit about the family
who cares more for me than we ever let on.
is there something wrong with me that keeps me from shouting out how much i love these people?
i don't know why it's so difficult to speak
so difficult to express how much i cherish our moments
how little i make of the little time we have together
is it a mistake to let things just be
should i strive for more purpose
or just bask in the joy that is togetherness?
why do i always need to make things so damn meaningful?
the search for meaning is meaningless
i should just create meaning or something
what do i mean?

Friday, September 19, 2014


days pass me by and i don't even feel it
will it gallop like this 'til i'm dead?
if i enjoy the meaninglessness
who's to say i'm wasting my life?
we've each got one life to live --
one span of moments --
i have to believe consciousness is eternal
otherwise i cannot cope with the mundane.
stop judging, start living
and accept what is rather than what could be.
this isn't to say i should stop moving,
because that's impossible until i'm six feet below.


our intertwined fingers strain the sunlight from its glaring spot in the sky. my eyes burn when i look away from your face -- is the sun to blame, or just my heart? i am torn between where i'm supposed to be and where i want to be: in your arms. and yet we remain apart, two bodies aching to join but afraid to challenge the expectations in the air.

even today, when we have learned a sort of etiquette, we remain unbalanced. society forces us apart but there's a string drawing us together, some sort of connection that we can't deny. i feel selfish to crave everything i see, but i can't lie to myself anymore. i can't live without reaching for more.

i am happy where i am. happy in stability. and most days i can accept that; he's exactly what i need and what i want and yet i always crave more. i want to be off balance. i want to be unfulfilled because it makes me work for more. i am much more productive, much more creative...without something solid to fall back on. is it fair to him that i've settled?

and yet i know he's the perfect fit for me and that i should stop searching. i don't know how to make something worthwhile with a pen without something in my loins driving me to say something. i've gotten to this point where i can't be innovative without some passion


there's this happy medium
between sober and blitzed
where i am creative and productive
i ache to be at that point of intersection
but fear i've gone past the point of no return.

i want to write this masterpiece
but if i set out to create something profound
all i will find is sludge.
so i need to change my mindset
and seek the middle ground.

why i've made stanzas i've no idea.
why i still pursue you
with the knowledge that nothing can come of it
eludes me still.
my teasing hurts me more than you but you'll never believe it.


golden rays of sunlight
strained by our intertwined fingers
the scuffed plastic of the lounge chairs
maybe i'll ponder the source of their ruggedness one day.
the surface of the pool aches for something to break its smoothness
yet all i can do is trace your lines,
looking for something new.
the novelty of you attracted me that day,
but what is it today that makes me continue my pursuit?
there is something within you that makes me question myself.
is there something more beyond that hill?
i continue to trudge up its incline
with no goal in sight.
i move to move, numbness encircling me.
but i feel when you enter my mind.
come back again and set me afire.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014


graham crackers crumble
and s'mores beg for seconds
but my heart can only shatter
and it's not beat in days.

i'm not alive without your sun
i cannot die without your touch
but still we stand, apart.

what do you mean to teach tonight?
your silence holds such terrors!
but you won't hold me tight
so how will i survive?

my spine is crooked but whose crook
caught and dragged me back to this spot?
i am a crook for stealing what i can't possess.

go to sleep, my little one --
our little life encapsulated in your eyes.
your gaze waters my horses.
and we gallop far far away.

in progress

my muscles are of ramen
my bones are pure saltine
but my heart is made of diamond
just try and fuck with me.

i don't have dollar bills to burn
but a fire blazes in my chest
i'll take passion over cash

Monday, August 25, 2014

Will she or won't she?

Just realized there is an "email" button that pops up when I post to these blogs. So not only am I strongly encouraged to share my posts on friends' feeds, but I get a suggestion to go one step further* and email you as well.

(Hope you like spam.)

If you're in Hawaii, aloha. (If you're not, aloha.)

I love layers of meaning like onions love nothing because they're inanimate.
So basically nothing.

I don't know why I'm posting my thoughts rather than keeping them bottled inside. Maybe I'm finally realizing that bottling these words up just clogs up my head which just spews out ideas. I should purge my head of concepts even though the vast majority will be a waste of time and cyberspace.

(Though that seems to be growing in the same way the universe is.)

But the problem tonight is that I'm getting tired.

*I say "further" because this is a metaphorical distance, though I suppose you could also use "farther" since I did count my steps. In other words, I might need to institute a superscript numbering system so I can separate my tangents from the "main quest" of my posts. Would that be too confusing? The format would encourage a second reading, which I guess is almost as good as a share.


Framing a story.

Or continuing an old?

  • Vampire / body snatcher / wizard saga.
  • Two friends preoccupied with death coping with life in different ways.
  • Twenty-something still living with parents, unemployed and unmotivated, finds an impetus through graffiti art.
 Novelty is scary but appealing all the same.

. . . 


So I'm gaining weight and getting dumber
So it's about damn time
That I come back and type words on a screen.

I should probably compose with pen and pad
Since the feel of the pen between my fingertips
Is so sensual I just. cannot. even.

Superb, how swell the awesome greatness is!
There are no vegetables in my garden
But I wish there were a bun in the oven.

When I  stop thinking about myself for a change
I want more.

Being me is so unsatisfying sometimes
Because I find new things about myself everyday
And novelty is dangerous.

But give me a novel any day.
But will I write one?
If I live in the today.

Sunday, August 10, 2014


I promised myself I would complete these tasks on my day off:
  1. Write 3 blog posts.
  2. Do 2 loads of laundry.
  3. Watch 1 episode of Mad Men
Now, the third may seem a bit strange, as Netflix, more often than not, ends up on my "completed" list without any conscious effort. The idea was not to exceed that one episode before the other two tasks had been completed.

So I did the first load of laundry and have been dragging my feet about the posts...and staring longingly at the TV. So it's time to sit down and write.

I decided to begin with the least labor-intensive blog I have. Hmm, that's not right. I guess this blog format seems easiest because the word-of-the-day posts have a rigid format and I need a little structure right now. My OCD tells me to look back at old posts to see what format I used for these kind of things, but that is the first of many tangents I will forgo as I pursue my goal.

Today's word is equanimity, which according to, means "mental or emotional stability or composure, especially under tension or strain; calmness; equilibrium."

Jessica credited her yoga and meditation classes for increasing her equanimity in the workplace. Rick, her arch-nemesis at the office (if just in his own head), hadn't noticed a difference in her stress management skills. Rick just saw an increase in her bullshit.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

not sure

i don't have anything planned
but who among us ever does
even if we plan
our plans step aside
when something else trumps the original offer.
or maybe it's a boulder
but over eras, it too erodes
so live hard
love long
while you can
and life might be justified.

Sunday, August 3, 2014


fire burns.
ice melts.
which is my heart with you?
 i want both
but fantasy fades
and you are not who i see
when i turn out the lights.

no foresight, only digging

where there is substance
without import
i am there.

i feel useful
but utility next to artistry cannot compare.
i have so much inside
but have shifted my focus to my output
instead of what i am.

can i become what i hold
can i ever grasp my potential
will i ever try?

if i died in five minutes
how useless would my end become?
i sit here, fingers afire
but mind only just beginning to awaken again.
where did i go?

i used to think my individualism was a strength
i sometimes feel my cooperation is strength
what is stronger: the chain or my link?
i cannot focus on one without  weakening the other.

who are you, girl?
why should we waste a breath on you?
show us your brilliance
or we will always turn away.


what am i feeling
other than emptiness
i'm a mason jar fresh off the shelf
before the food to fill me
before the wax to close me
i am empty.
where is the canner to make me whole?


I always struggle over which pictures to pair together. I feel like finding that thread that ties the pictures together is necessary to make a coherent post. Still, requiring myself to seek this connection is a big reason why I don't post as often as we'd like. Maybe I should lower my own expectations and just throw my miscellany together, theme be damned.

Let's explore that avenue together: here's a few unrelated pictures. If their only commonality is that they were discovered during the same thrifting outing, so be it.

First up: INFANTRY.

Not exactly the battle formation I would have chosen
The battlefield looks like total chaos; no phalanxes or defensive lines. What could these men be possibly hoping to accomplish with this seeming lack of strategy?

Why, hello, madam!

It's been a long time since we've opted for a full-scale war for one woman. (Helen, I'm looking at you.) Goodwill might as well be the battlefield.

I hoped to move on from here, and even had pictures queued up to use.


I didn't notice until just now that the photos need to be rotated 45+ degrees.

I'll be leaving now, scooting out a little embarrassed. If you need something to read, look at this.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

free (but you'll still want a refund)

Listening to some pretty bomb tracks by Daniel Merriweather, who really never got any time on the radio except for his cover of "Stop Me" produced by Mark Ronson (who also produced another dope track by Lily Allen).

That's the answer to your unasked question of "What are you up to tonight, Emily?"


I am unclear on the specific parameters of this exercise. Please input additional instruction here:


In fact, I am purging all the bullshit nothingness that is at the surface of my mind so that we can get to something halfway decent or worthwhile. What will I discover when the hard candy shell is broken to reveal the caramely center?

And yet --

I would so like to watch a moving picture instead of forcing myself to have something to say.


Tomorrow, I will awaken around 9:17. Jason and I will go to Café 33 for breakfast, where I plan to have a caramel toffee iced coffee, a delicious omelette full of delicious vegetables, and cheddar stone ground grits. (In case you're wondering, this meal sounds amazing because it is.) I will take Jason to work, go to my eye doctor appointment, visit Charming Charlie's, hang with Kara for a bit, make lunch, watch more Parks & Rec, and forget that there are only 24 hours in one day.



\ AHR-der \  , noun;
great warmth of feeling; fervor; passion: She spoke persuasively and with ardor .
intense devotion, eagerness, or enthusiasm; zeal: his well-known ardor for Chinese art .
burning heat.
Her silence reached for him in the way an echo initiates a call-and-response. The ardor in her eyes had been there but yesterday. And now what? -- He was in exile. 
disproportionate levels of ardor
between love and work
but is it possible 
one has supplanted the other 
or should i have more to drink 
to clear my head? 

Sunday, June 29, 2014


i scoff at silence
and the inner workings of my mind sometimes.
when there's nothing outside it to slow the motion,
i think past reality and
consider possibility.

i'm winded, chasing
the hypotheticals that run too far, too fast.
i scare myself with thoughts
that i'm inadequate
that i'm wrong.

who's got it right in this world?
can we ever truly be certain
that our way is the right one?
we've got to have faith in something:
can it be me this time?

prompted by terrible prompts

I was looking back through some old posts on this page and realized very quickly that my material is better when I'm not being led by somebody else's prompt. By "prompt" I strictly mean the search results to the phrase "writing prompt". I definitely can see the value of them; they have worked to dislodge any blockage I may have. After staying silent for months, I turn to them sometimes just to make my mind move again.

But the crap they push out is just terrible sometimes.

So I'm going do this stream-of-consciousness shit until I clear the blockage myself. Prose seems to be a bit more forgiving on the crap than verse is.

Of course, it helps that I'm naturally self-deprecating in my prose. So I'm not afraid to poke fun at myself.

Not to mention I'm a bit of a magician.

I turned myself into THIS guy. Pretty cool trick, eh?
Alright. That picture is enough for me to try something a little more introspective now.

interpreting silence

it's time to stop
interpreting silence.
magnifying nothingness 
to find imagined significance
gets us nowhere.

it's time to stop
chasing every echo.
what lived here yesterday
left a residue to scrub away.
i must let go.

every smile, every blink
what do you reveal without a word?
motion says more than we admit
but my observation in this stillness here
goes against the fiber of kinetics
potential energy is just an empty threat
if i don't start to move.


Friday, May 30, 2014


tangents lead nowhere
and soak up so many tocks of the clock
that one cannot ever get again.

i ache for you, tangential love.
only a theory
whose probability is more than "never"
but still questionable.

why is tomorrow such a duplication?
i must change today to prevent the future
from living in my reflection.

She'd built up this idealized expectation, this idea that dramatic moments in life grew into the same opuses that they did in films. So it is regrettable, then, that her attempt to create a poignant visual "moment" fell flat without the requisite filmmaker's entourage. Sally's scene, as it were (within her head), saw her taking up scissors in a shaky hand and taking bold strokes with the least possible boldness. Her hand wavered and carefully cut her hair -- its color unimportant -- at the same length, best she could tell.

I want you.
Not just in spite of,
but because
of the chaos you promise.
you're a hurricane i follow
for the chance to stand
in your calm eye.

Strange, then, that she grew suddenly more confident and sure-footed as she stepped over that invisible boundary in the night, a simple step taking her from reality to dream -- one simple step changing one into the other. In this new spot, she still resisted the rising sun progressing the gradient behind her eyelids from dusky grey to something markedly warmer. She still unsuccessfully struggled against the barrage of tasks and responsibilities awaiting her in the dawn. The idyllic silence of slumber was slipping away and she could resist it no longer. She began her waking sequence, arching her back into the warm, hard body encircling her small frame. A hardness responded in kind, answering the request with a firm "yes". Perhaps there could be a few moments spared before reality -- if that was truly what this was -- crashed in. Her stretch slid into gyrations and she slid her arm down ever further to investigate what needed no further confirmation.


i pursue you
with the single-mindedness that fills
a solitary creature
by such a deep hunger
necessity propels it forward.
no need to consider collateral damage,
no time.
no consideration for a simple thing like
future and consequence.

(Write a fictional biography about a protagonist whose descendent authored it. As the story advances, the account is more colored by personal bias.)

never enough time

who has time to consider
     collateral damage when
  the catastrophe's already
... Who has time to think on
   future & consequence
when present circumstance is
so much more compelling.

Sunday, February 16, 2014


a fast Audi
runs with the fervor of an antelope,
but not as the one chased
(the prey).
nay, this one runs TOWARD
inevitable death,
a sure catastrophe
at the end of the long, dark tunnel.


excuses pile upon
e x c u s e s
as the days fly by,
as i fritter the moments away.
the garbage man comes
but i'm not ready to part with
all my excuses --
come back another day!

these walls i build make me feel
safe and secure.
a delusion, i know,
but i can't accept myself for who i am
so i lean on the external world
to define my self-worth.
why can't i bring myself to remove
this mask of weakness
when i see its outline clearly in the mirror?
why am i content to settle for easy
when a little work would change my world?

Friday, February 14, 2014

i already am

i want to reach out
but can't
if i plan to make the point
i set out to make.
i can't let you control me
by growing dependent
on your approval
but my thoughts prove
i already am.

one day,
too soon,
i will cave
and invite you back
into my caverns.
spelunking is a funny word
but magnetism is only science
and physics are only funny
if your glasses are thicker than mine.

who is this girl
trying to explain chemicals,
trying to deny pheremones' pull
trying to be something other than
the positive to your negative?
why deny the undeniable?
pushing what pulls you only keeps you still
pull me close and push against my walls
until they tumble down.

Thursday, February 13, 2014


you get me.
you get me like nobody else.
ferreting out secrets and impulses
i've hidden even from myself.

you'll dig up a skeleton one of these days
something i buried lifetimes ago
before i'd learned
just how long the dead go on living.

but how long will it take you
to recognize those bones
as your own?

will tomorrow be our last day of lies
or our first day of truth?

life or death: you decide.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

in need of intrigue

falling asleep as i sit
my body hasn't exerted itself today
not much, anyhow.
but my eyes burn
and itch to close again.
what's on the other side of those eyelids tonight?
nonsense or something easier to interpret?
do you wait for me there,
being the person i imagine you to be,
doing the things i imagine you to?
i hope so
because it's been a boring day
and i could use some intrigue.

Monday, February 10, 2014


I have a mere fifteen minutes to post before the clock turns tomorrow into today, so haiku seems manageable. I was a bit sad to learn that my go-to site for haiku inspiration, Haiku Heights, no longer exists; however, I learned of another forum for haiku lovers called Carpe Diem. The topic wasn't explicit today, but the originating post involved the theme of emptiness in Buddhism. A few syllables, then.

half empty, half full
drink it down to fill it up
life's propelled by change

-- [Are you sure about that last line?]

I imagine I could go deeper (why yes, I do believe she said that) with the topic but my heart is set on a YouTube karaoke playlist rather than typing away right now so I'll leave things there for now.

I may very well be back after I've sung a few tunes... (Or I may just sing myself to sleep.)

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Note to Self

You have a memoir site to look at called Footsteps in the Hourglass.



That was a little poem my dog Kara wrote, slamming her paw on the keyboard to try to get my attention. I obliged, giving her a little scratch under the chin. She's dozing off now.

I need a little inspiration to jump start my brain today. (It seems that as my mood swings from melancholia to joy, my creative well dries up a bit.) I turn today to The One-Minute Writer, who challenges writers to consider weird and awkward dates. I can think of two such dates, though I'm unsure one minute will be enough time to discuss ONE. Oh well; here goes.


my parents didn't trust him
because i met him online
and perhaps i shouldn't have either
but that is looking back
and looking forward to our potential future
there was no room for fear
no time to hold back

so he took me from the safety of my home
to a pool hall of all places
a / dark haven for dark things.
the setting should have been my first clue --
but i was seventeen and hadn't tasted the world
so its shadows intrigued me
and our flirtation kept me from thinking too hard

i can't remember where we went from there
a movie theater
a room underground
where sunlight couldn't penetrate the walls?
but the next few years tried to steal my light
and almost succeeded
but he wasn't for me

i was bitter when things ended
blamed him for changing me
and for refusing to change himself
but i see now we both behaved badly,
cursing one another
for being two different, too different.
we're happier apart

... [play up the darkness element]

The slash was the one minute mark, BTW. I feel like I need to mention the other awkward date while we're on the topic. (I owe you for missing yesterday after all.)


as we sat down in the booth
our eyes struggled to meet
at the same time they ached to look away.
we had shared long glances three months now;
it was too soon to attach meaning to that --
wasn't it?

we exchanged small chit-chat about the menu
and negligible details of work and school
but it proved unimportant
and the delay only made our words more necessary.
"i know it's soon but i feel...
"i feel silly saying this but...

it was so proper, so diplomatic.
in another era, our guardians might have done it for us.
but it was our responsibility
to put aside the romance
and say the word that had grown so quickly:

once we'd said the words
a time and again,
the tension dissipated
and we returned to our romance
and our menus.
our appetite for each other still grows today

Friday, February 7, 2014

almost gone

I haven't written today
Which seems a failure
If you look at it
In the span of days,
This one being empty.
But it's so full
Of joy
Of socialization
Of life.
Ill let this one go without a composition
Because it's composed of life
Which keeps me from decomposing

Thursday, February 6, 2014

what is going on here?

i volunteered for three things two days ago, joined five or six new meetup groups about writing, and used seventeen number-six decals on the posters i made for my last satanist worship service.

i also learned how to fix a faucet. But that was a few months ago, and then, only after attempting and failing to complete the job myself. (So much torque that I just don't have in me.)

when i was fourteen, i was younger.

when i was seventy-three, i didn't.

this has become quite freeform, and i don't know what to do with that. i feel as if i might, in the near future, mine this post for some interesting bits that could grow into something but really don't believe in the post as a whole.

it was very good. it was good. that was good as well. um, definitely helped out. you're my favorite.


origami where's my mommy please don't call me it's so balmy and it's calm. she thought that a paper crane would probably be a nice gift, if just because she could fake some deep feeling and make an EXPERIENCE out of the gift giving ("this crane is significant because...") and get away with spending like a dollar for fancy paper and about ten minutes to find the folding directions on the internet and perfecting it. Fake affection if you really feel it's a good idea.


lying alone in the hallway
as amber light floats from a single dirty bulb
(but the fixture isn't terrible)
there's a reason to go and a place to be
but i can't move...
tomorrow is crawling ever closer
but i shouldn't let it drift away.

i had the urge to get loftier
and parade around some morals
meant to keep the emotional wellness high
but i'm not done soul-searching
and i have fewer answers than before.
so exit stage right, trumpets:
there'll be no fanfare tonight.

no, tonight i hear a distant trumpet and a bongo once and again
and again
once and again.
and the moon shines high above the world
and it's cold and inviting all at the same time
a lover who turns her cheek but turns her cheek,
her body curving into you
but her beautiful face, lips, eyes, BRAIN pull away.

she's not here:
in this world of stability and predictability.
there's no space for different in a world of same.
and maybe she needs excitement.
she does.

you can't truly claim her until you occupy her mind
but only as a cohabitant, and one with a smaller room at that!
but her thoughts will brush against yours sometimes
because a memory or mystery included you somehow.
you have to make her think
to make her yours.

were you to have this second option rather than the first
as the owner of the mind:
how content could you be with that arrangement, anyhow?
the good and bad from the mind without the excellent horseplay,
(oh, how she brags about her sexpertise!)
your deal is not ideal either.
surely you'll grow tired of the arrangement one day.

and what will she do when she loses your companionship?
who will she become without your light?
with nothing or no one to propel her forwards,
will she start sliding further back?
at what point will the realization come
that leads her to a tough decision?
how much you mean remains to be seen.

maybe tomorrow,
once these hours finish drifting away.

dark as shit

pleasure trumps pain
but pain lets me know i'm still alive.
dulling a blade
only makes it harder to use.
twenty smiles blend into one over time
but i still feel every stab.
Slice me open
and let me live again.


i did a whole lot of nothing yesterday
cleaned my face and teeth
put on pajamas
set my mind to no uncompleted goals
so we sat
devoid of pretense
(aside from whatever we bring to the table naturally)
the morning and early afternoon passed
without incident
but the air we exhaled
was rich with meaning
what does it mean
that there's an invisible string
and it feels so natural
to behave unnaturally
who are you to me
i haven't decided

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

the night is full of questions

the chill outside pales,
comparing itself to the chilly interior.
the vacuum pulls you to me
but it's not gravity;
you won't stay forever.

but will you stay tonight?
will you stay tonight?

there's heat enough between us two
to become arsonists --
just just how prolific's up to you.
ashes, ashes
we all fall down.

but will we die tonight?
will we die tonight?

the silence stretches 'cross yawning crevices
how is it nothingness can echo so loud?
your matter-of-fact demeanor
cuts me deeper
than we'd ever dreamed.

but will we speak again tonight?
will we speak again tonight?

[double-time percussion propelling ballad forward -- perhaps delay this effect until first chorus]

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

that's okay

the sun one day
will fade away
the moon's
already on its way
but i have got you
here with me
so that's okay

as darkness spreads
across the sky
and living things
lie down to die
i'll keep you here
right by my side
so that's okay

the tears in my eyes
carry us away
the blood in my heart
will feed us for days
i'll hold you so tight
while evil things play
and that's okay
that's okay

[soaring violin solo]

the tears in my eyes
carry us away
the blood in my heart
will feed us for days
i'll hold you so tight
while evil things play
and that's okay
that's okay

Wednesday, January 1, 2014


duplicated self:
we do not share the same improprieties.
to ignore and set aside darker desires,
to bury discordant feelings
to disobey urges of the id:
these are my duties.
but these sanctions and prohibitions 
are not your own.

pursue your urgent urges
chase him down dark alleys
and bring him the light
your light.
sate unsanctioned appetites
because no duties and responsibilities
hold you down.
darker, ever darker.

yes, i know this is no way to live
but i only want you to live vicariously
and let you fade away.
because not even the worst version of myself
could survive on darkness alone.
who's the darker one of us
if i'm content to let you kill yourself off?
but the truth is...

without the sanctions
without the broken commitments
you would be happy and free
to pursue your acceptable urges
and make him your own.
and i would be forever barred
from breaking and disobeying
and pursuing my own darkness.

you would keep me from myself
so you will remain the impossibility you are.
i refuse to give you life
because it would mean death to my fantasies
and i cannot see them wane.
so i am content to let my mind travel through possibilities
and dark alleys.
my imagined self allows my true self to thrive.