One-A-Day

i am starting to come to terms: you'll never look at me the way he did. and that's okay because you're melting ice and i'll savor you as long as i can but we'll never be more than temporary sure, that time has stretched past an anniversary but the only significance is what i attach and it takes a lot of work to be the only one celebrating your words might not be empty but they feel light as feathers when you can't back them up another world, another life maybe but i can't subsist on your scraps and i've made all the excuses i could to delay my return to the world so we'll go through the motions fill the emptiness with each other a little longer but before too long i'm out the door

i haven't decided yet what i'm gonna write here but that's the point i suppose -- to purge all the scum floating on the surface of my brain, to shake the dust off, whatever. today is valentine's day, which excites me because hearts are my favorite colors and sweets are on my list of favorite things. i like the idea of doing something important or meaningful but either nothing of import has happened on this day for me. which is not to say that none of my lovers made an effort, just that none of them made enough of an effort for me to notice. that doesn't mean i'm asking a lot, just asking for the right thing. like some people don't push any of my buttons at all, and some push some pretty nice ones but less and less over the years does he push the ones that i need. and fluff without substance is not enough to sustain me. i guess it was enough for him but there was something missing that grew more and more evident over the years. until i had to leave. blabbit

It's time to start writing again. Maybe not blogging about window shopping and crazy thrift finds and social commentary but something to keep my head from exploding with all these thoughts. I have too many blogs that I've started and stopped and I am trying to find an island of persistence. Something that doesn't erode away. Not sure where that it but I'm sure that path lies down a bed of words. That I won't have any gasoline left in my tank unless I find a reason to use it. I lost the meat phoenix there (haha, "metaphor" but I can't type and my phones autocorrect is nonsensical). No, I lost the metape or but I am not going to self-edit because being conscious of the act of writing while acting it out makes the magic disappear. And the magic rug revert to a dingy old thing only good to dust the dust under. So I am writing without purpose without a destination in mind. Writing until I move myself to something else. A few minutes is better than not

You ask me to define freedom like I even know what it's like to be out of chains my mind holds me captive more than any threat could. Freedom is quiet and freedom is peace and freedom's a bullet in the head

Pervasive uncouth unsanctioned ** There's a building down the lane, its windows blackened by years of abandonment and dust. They all drive past without so much as a glance but inside is a nothingness so complete inside is where i want to be send me to oblivion oblivion with you. ** Standing on the fault line, watching the space between my feet grow. If I keep treading two paths I'll be torn apart and tread no more. I can't cling to this branch and covet the ones above but abandoning the girl I was to pursue the me at the top of the mountain makes me free in place, terrified (of the potential). maybe i should welcome the fall, give in the tempting oblivion of the abyss... ** Your mine / you're mine ** Scum on the surface cloudy but acceptable beneath. nothing's pristine -- no, not anything worth substantial (having/being/wanting). ** Beneath the line lies a sine wave that isn't regular but one that peaks and falls at r

you turn my insides out but only in a good way you destroy the power of my weaknesses and all I can do is thank you. and i feel more alive than i ever did before...