Where Minds Meet

A smoky room with

Familiar warmth

In every glance.

Beautiful music pours

Casually from six guitars.

Songs so terribly unique,

That we'll forget soon.

Throats soar from an excess
Of smoke

And laughter.

This is home.

We spend all the last $20
For tremendous amounts

Of $2 beers
To warm up
Another Winter's night.

Everyone is a little bit

Hungry

But full of conversation

And open to

Thoughts

Worth

Every

Penny

That we can't claim.

The City's Song

The sky above
buckles,
As buildings pierce it.
A thousand clear blood-drops pour
On a city: breathing.


And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.


Sun or no,
They carry the light in their eyes.
The bustling luminescence
The buzz consumes them
And they carry it,
In their briefcases,
In the knots of their ties
(Hidden under hats).


And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.


The music carries them,
Follows them,
Flows through them.
The colors of them shine on, endless.


And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.


Can you feel the melody
moving?
The rhythm through your feet: it pounds.
The harmony of your heart layers the city's song.


And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.

Magnetic eyes broken
only by cracks in
the mirrored wall.

Limp on the landing:

Drained

Empty

Which way does one go to?
She is dark, deep,
young in frame
ages in mistakes
fading self- portrait

The moon is harvest,
round and golden.

Traveling the sky like a

tick-ing-clock.

It times you,
sweet silence,
by position of the stars
{those stars twinkling like your eyelights}

Waning moon, falling on the roses

sharp red beauty

like the dim light falls

on the-

"We all," your voice whispers
husks, bleeds
"hurt"

and the gold moon ticks its consent.

"Sometimes.."

his eyes dart down
like little puddle pieces
falling
     to
          the
               ground.

His arms have embraced thorns,

his lips have swallowed-

hands have quaked-

shaken-

spirit sighed beneath the weight.

He is slumped
lost in empty bedrooms
silent, warmthless nights
as "a thousand eye-blue thoughts"
echo echo in his mind.

Shedding Gravity

(I wrote this a few months ago and performed it in a slam for my poetry class. It was inspired here in all of your blogs so I feel I should share it, I just didn't have the courage until now... So here it is <3)

Shedding Gravity

We begin as whispers,
Keyboard klick- klacks in midnight dress,
Floating through a nowhere-land of status,
And judgments.
We aren’t aiming for anything but survival.

As I stand in the mirror,
They are the fleeting thought that,
“I’m not good enough.”And we take that in as a part of ourselves.
Black branches against a yellowed sky
Thinning as we grow.

If school is white waters then we are twigs,
Slammed against the corners
Colliding with fish
And latching on for survival.

Perfection isn’t real,
But we are whole,
We obey,
We take notes,
Do hair, smile
Chew, swallow, and repeat
Without question.

One day those mirror thoughts
Tickle a nerve,
Pickle my face
Before my eyes
This scale lies.
I become treadmill mounting
Pinching my sides because I am not enough:
Smart enough,
Strong enough,
Pretty enough,
Thin enough.
Soon I see that I cannot run all day!
That running, even for hours, is not enough.
So I “cut down.”
I am not a tree reaching at nothing,
I am strong branches ripping down the sky.

And I catalog.
Because 1000
No 700
No 500
No 300 calories is still too much.
Because pounds were created to be dropped.
I am screaming inside
Because I can’t lose 3 pounds
And my goal is 97
But I’m lost in the sea,
Somewhere between 100 and 99.

I join the echoes,
The whispered screams
The middle of the night tears
drip-dropping on the keys.
My body is weak,
But I am not alone,
For once.

In this worlds it is easier
To count by two’s
Learn your ABC’s
And lose weight.
Because people judge us by
How we act and how we look,Not by who we are.
Because there is one sure way
to get to heaven:
By smiling on command,
Wearing big sweaters
To hide your bulging tendons,
And losing.

Because without mass…
… there is no gravity

Posting

I don't have many words for how I feel but I think I'll sum it all up with some nice pictures for you :)

I've been reading through your blogs and I keep realizing how much I wish you all lived near. It would be lovely, wouldn't it? If we all knew each other. But, of course, we don't. There are some of you who live a few states away but

that's still very far. :( Ah well, we all get along fine here, don't we? In our little secret blogger lives, scaling the web and shrinking the world around us.

That's all I have to say, I suppose, here's the post for you!

xxx

You are the shining essence of blue

silver-tipped dove wings

flashing.

Downy white clouds to fall into

the curling wisps of what could be.

x

I am combustible

yeilding myself

my eyes spring hydrogen fountains

my breath is only CO2

Can't you?

Can't you?

Will you please?

I am mock-small and pretending

scaling ladder ribs

bones playing hide and seek

and screaming from within.

There is no air

each gasp is vaporous

little bursting bubbles

in red effervescence.

Then

It was then that I realized what he had done

he had reminded me of what it felt like

to be whole.

And I hated it.

When you're whole you can get hurt

when you're whole you are weak

feeling the concavity of your stomach
of your heart

Being empty lets no room for anything to leave

anything else to be lost

anyone to disappear

because there's nothing left for you to lose.

I am shedding layers

and decreasing numbers.

I stand on white platforms

with slanted ceilings.

I am not

I am not

I am not

I am not what you see,
I am distortions.

There is only one window

a tiny thick paned thing

double panes ringing and filling with

yellowed dust.

There is no chance of opening

so I close all walls.

I don't know anymore...

I am grounded which is why I haven't posted for a while. Anyhow I feel
like a failure.
I am not
good
enough.
I had let these thoughts get to me
alternating sweet insults in my head.
I let the ricocheting thoughts
pelt my mind, with it's soft feathery weakness.

I stood proudly as I was, the floor swimming under me, an ocean
I swam in gladly counting downwards
toward GW 1.

I persuaded and disuaded myself from that kind of life, that flavor of desire
The kind that still riddles cacophanies in my cortex.

I wish that I could vanish
relieve my insides of the terrible weightiness
that constantly surrounds me.

The trees are terribly taunting, aren't they? Always reaching up endlessly
dream dream dreaming away.
I used to be them. I used to tickle at my mind with little 'what if's
I used to breathe.

I'm searching for that now. a little puff of air that
(could someone lend me some?)
might bring me back to flightlessness. Back to the feeling of OK

back to the place built of sparkles and tightwires
Does it even exist anymore?

I've missed you all very much. I am miraculously online now (I'm grounded) and I hope to sneak on and write to you all again soon.
xxx
Ever

I exist in the reversed world of puddles.
I am the floating refraction of you
Staring up from an aerial view.
I am the unrippling slam of fists
Drumming against your mirrored lies.

On my side of things, I have trained my eyes
To envision summer lights,
The glowing aftertaste of ivy and fireflies.
The sly secrets grin in your face.

On my side of things,
You See.A sunset is the final explosion,
A dying cry for help.

The concrete surges before me.
I am grid locked,
trapped in this puzzle board
Each piece infinitely perfect,
In and of itself a masterful stretch
of forever.

Your absence is not fading,
It is highlighting.
You are the golden fringe
Containing and supporting
Entirety in my fibers.

Here the tantalizing trees are my models
And I stay inside the lines.

Sometimes...

...Dears, I feel so alone.
I feel like this now in fact.
We all scramble through this world,
of whispered secrets, and some of us...
Hurt more than others... But you,
beautiful souls,

are so lovely.

You are ballet perfect, pink silk ribbons,
stained with little ink verses
enchanting end rhyme.

You are my alliteration, Every ounce of assonance,

all reckless disregard for my own ideas,

I write for you.
I write for the hurting ones to heal,
(or at least find peace)

I write for your lostness.

I sit and write for hours on end because

You Move Me.

And I feel so very blessed.

Finger Dance

Her hands are ribboned

each finger a tiny bud

blooming themselves

and shedding layer by layer.

They are their own rain cloud

watering themselves with thick drops,
putrid red paint-lets.

They move themselves down ladders

stains of ache on the rungs:
Holding,

Gripping,

Fisting,

and Guarding

All preoccupied with supper,

hosted by crooked teeth,

where they are the meal.

We were scrabbling hands and bracing fingers,
falling lids.
The air was thick and we were melding
into waves, encaved
with salt.
I broke water, upturned corners
and twitching teeth.
I wanted to gracefully stroke
my arms across oceaned throats.
I wanted to remove your scalloped shells from my side....
... But you wouldn't let me.
And the second you asked me to jump,
to let the ocean overtake and drown me,
the second you said you adored me...
...You lost me.

I am a crumbling, powdering disease.

I hallucinate the things you say

prancing demons, distorting my ageless glass.

I cover my face with a silk veil

creating with tight-shut eyes

because it's better if you don't look back.

They are pouring molten-

Plucking-

Tugging-

Shredding-

They whisper things, sticky caramel

honey sick-sweet with lies

and refactions

and warping.

My little box was always solid, in the end...

... Though, surprisingly brittle, don't you think?

We - You =...

bags under eyes, late night smiles
laughs and textile hearts transmitted bravely over vines
washed away
with unlimited words and dangling m
                                                                       e
                                                                             s
                                                                                 s
                                                                                         a
                                                                                            g
                                                                                             e
                                                                                              s

bittersweet, like retasted, reharnessed, reheated desserts

m&ms dropped in salt.

like paper, words written and erased so many times

it catches fire

small and lonely. An average, rusted tin can

erroding each day as it stands

untouched, unseen, uneffected.

like an old film strip. The picture interrupted

by white flecks of dusty ideas

angry technical issues.

It's beautiful like a rose,

that when bending with the wind

pricked itself and bleeds

It is stomped, drained, petted, and pruned

by itself and all around it.

If thoughts could speak, my dear, your's would say

"Like as friends"

I am ten point New Roman scribe

I am hushed whorls of smoke

ghosts of bittered wax

weeping, always weeping.

We are captives.

Held inside can shaped jellies

and dried meat husks.

We are whisked away,

only to be snatched brutally

by buttered golden fluffs of dough.

And you.
You are the worst of us all.

You are the bitter rhubarb scars,

clanging aftertastes of badly cooked crusts,

lying,

conning,

strawberries

wrapped in awkward layers and topped

with clouds

constantly luring me inward.

Pain

My cells are wilted petals

that drown in radiation.

I scale my pain from 1 to 10,

and curse my own creation.

These eyes you see

don't belong to me
owned by bloodshot demons
my cracking lips smile widely
despite the chemo haze.

I spend my dayscounting down the ways
that I am taken care of
and wish away the cascading pain
I see in all your faces.

Curious eyes in fading dreams,

I love the way you look at me

tumbling, trampling, stumbled lips

provide the sweetest, tasteless kiss.

Enchant me with your salted voice,

Lend me breath, your balanced noise.
Drown me in your angled huffs

give heartache till I've had enough.