the roughest of drafts

I have reprogrammed my brain so that when it connects it fails to correlate your existence. You become nothing but a dead neuron. All dried out of blood but feelings flow on. Neurotic loves Chaotic but my hands can't take the tremors. Quicker than a blink, but you're worse than a fever. Delirium led no where but set up an escape. Out, you are a trickling sweat and my mind somehow gets hit. It feels like sex.

It was all told in spiral form

Because I think in circles and that's how it goes.
Who ever really knows?
They're light so intimately struck me with such beauty.
indescribably.
It seems magical.
Call it spiritual; known to rituals.
I need this to call you my home.
I'm home.

--

I flow so deeply above this world, so dearly
that spins on it's axis,
never enough to make me sick
I pause and breathe and believe
this world is mine and my only
and beneath, in the sea, it was all foretold
as a big joke but I kid you not...

I flow so deeply above this world, so dearly...
___________________________________________________

my stony heart had frozen over in the cold; the cracks filling with snow.
spring came waltzing in with the heat and my cracks became nothing but pieces.
you had fluttered away amongst the flowers but I felt just as freely.

I would like...

my time back. Or perhaps my energy. That way I won't sleep like a sloppy sloth til noon. I should, in theory, wake up at around nine. That's sufficient time. I was so close to doing so this morning and then I rolled on my side and back to sleep. I guess, money IS the motivator and for now I have none.

For now. Next week is a different animal.

But there I go again, leaving things for other said moments.

Waltzing

Like that Radiohead song,

"you reel me out and then you cut the string".

So, what's your deal? Do you genuinely care for my well being? I cared for yours and you decided a cold shoulder was nicer than help. That's cool. We all make mistakes. I told you about the one you were going to make. I wonder if you've noticed?

Probably.

But I still care. So much more than I should be. It's not something I think about constantly but it reminds me at certain moments of the day. I am reminded that I thought I was with a lovely person. I just allowed myself to be vulnerable and see things that aren't really there.

My mind loves to gild them. Because I always deserve more than what's given to me and I'm not trying to be selfish.

Could it be that we ALL do that? Once someone is given to us, feelings and all, is it possible that we make it seem better than anything else? Come to think of it, it might be human nature.

I'll get back to you on that.


p.s. I think he does care.

fragments of thoughts

Her snores sound
like his mumbles from
a far.

-----------------------------

Copper,
scare me away
like the star
does.

-----------------------------

they'll come
might they linger?
they tease
will they hither?
then "poof"
ay! they came
but they went
and left nine lines
with letters.

Dear Unpopped Kernels,

I apologize that the standard microwave cooking time has not allowed you to grow to your full potential. You will never be graceful little yellow flowers.

Sincerely,

Me

they say...

It takes about 21 days for something to become completely registered in the mind and form a habit.

I've got a long way to go. So many things that I would love to just DO on the daily without having to drag myself into it.

For instance, jogging. Now, I would do this every afternoon but cut me some slack and in a day or two I'm doomed. No turning back and now rarely will you see my increasingly large ass at the park. To read every night before going to bed. It doesn't even take much effort, granted, I don't do it.

What I'm trying to get at, is this. I want to do this everyday. If it'd be a lame recap of my even lamer day or if it'd be just a piece.

Five minutes of cold fingers... and there goes my inspiration.

Dreams.

Now, to my knowledge, I don’t dream often. More so, I usually don’t remember them. Last night (or this morning?), I dreamt weird, strange things…

I was coming home from Nura’s house except I was running back home. I took my usual route but there, in the side of the street, where these monkey bars and like, jungle gyms. I jumped above the bars and climbed and ran across. To my disgust, there were spider webs all over the place but I’d just brush them off. It was bizarre.

Even stranger, was the rest of my dream, where I was intimately cuddling with one of my friends and then again, BOOM! I get up and start running around like Tarzan.

Ha! Who gets these things? I mean, dreams are internal thoughts, things you’ve seen throughout the day, just manifested when you’re in deep REM sleep, in a more fantastical manner.

There was this one time, where I was walking through a beautiful but damp meadow. I was in my own body, looking down at my feet when I noticed I was walking on blood. Blood! And there was this amazing color contrast between the greens and the red blood and my skin. Now, grass is symbol of success and prosperity, whereas, blood, can range within life, conflict and war. As to my bare feet, they imply a difficulty needed to be overcome. Go figure, how these things work. I only thought then: “How funny, love is a battlefield.”

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Giving it a go.

Some time ago, I wrote a piece.

Some time after that, I went back to the piece to elaborated. I asked a good friend of mine for an opinion and she said:

“It’s really nice, but what’s it about? Who is this written to?”

No one, really. It was just a cluster of thought? It made sense in my mind’s eye, it didn’t really matter if I had gone through those fictional experiences. The emotion conveyed within and out, had been real to me, almost raw. Today, that piece took a certain turn and means something different to me. It was like a foreseeing the future! It was bound to happen.

So, he carries around all this weight, crap-filled luggage and expects me to not be upset once I open it up. Strange how irrelevant it always is but life has a funny way of tying things together with a nice, big bow. I can’t wait for you. I’m sorry, I just can’t.

So, this morning, after some arguments and sniffles, I called my bestfriend to the rescue.

“I’m not heartbroken. I’m just upset, mad... furious! He’s just so stupid! He doesn’t want my help and that’s like a slap to the face.”

“It’s okay, you’ll be fine.”

“I know I’ll be fine. It just makes me sad.”

“What’s life without saddness?”

“What’s my saddness without life?”

Above it all, I can’t help but laugh at my first post here on Blogger, and laugh at that little reminder of the time next to its automatic commands of saving something so useless.