Acid Wash

I can feel the heat rising around me through the blue-dim haze. As I sit in the covered walkway, my heart beats faster and faster and slowly quickens to terrific stillness. Opening my eyes and looking through the slits framed by their lids, I squint at the world I hate. The world I loathe. I breathe the anger from my heart and I writhe in the heat radiating off my sweat-glistened skin. They are not like me. There is no one like this. There is no one. I shiver with energy and my mind screams at me to run. I run. The rain pours over my body, striping me of my feeling, of my emotions. This rain is toxic, acidic, cruelly mocking like those who surround me. So, I decide to stand with still sadness to sense my soul. I whimper with the washing of my wickedness and I kneel to the dirt that is sodden with the transgressions of humanity, laying my face upon its surface with closed eyes. I listen to the cries of the pure and feel the hope that slightly fades each second. Carefully I cup a handful and hide it away from the acid wash that pours from the envy-green clouds. I know what I must do. I know they must be saved.

Lackluster

I force this food into my mouth,
Into my body,
So I can live.

I'm not hungry.
I'm not thirsty.
I'm not anything.

I force myself to sleep,
In my bed,
So I can live.

I'm not tired.
I'm not exhausted.
I'm not anyone.

I force my mind into compliance,
Through my thoughts,
So I can live.

I'm not sad.
I'm not torn.
I'm not anymore.

Oh, It's You.

When the sun shines in my face and wakes me up, it reminds me of you.
While slightly harsh in act, in spirit the gentleness flows.
I love to bask in your caressing warmth no matter the damage it causes.
I love to smile at you and know that you provide me with life.
You are with me all day, following my every move until night takes over.
Then you are in my dreams, delicately stroking my body.
I sometimes wish that you weren't so far away, though.
I sometimes wish that you weren't so unobtainable.
But when I feel those things, I remember your smile, your face,
And I remember that you care for me no matter the distance.
For this I love you most.
For this I love you always.
Nothing can take me away from you.

I Can't Sleep

I shouldn't be awake right now
But I can not sleep.
Clips of memories keep running through my head
And it's his fault.
Why did he talk to him?
It did no good at all.
The only thing created was harm.
It harmed my friendship with the latter him.
It harmed my feelings.
It harmed my health.
And now because of it I cannot sleep...
Which will harm my grades...
I have started crying over him again.
This is never a good thing.
I wonder if what he said was true.
I wonder what would have happened if I changed such and such event,
If I did such and such in a different way,
If I never said such and such.
And this causes me useless stress.
Thanks mister.
Thanks for stirring up my emotions once more...
And just as they were settling...
Why am I doomed to love him?

Titleless

I relate days with feelings.
The sun on a windy November afternoon has a crisp scent,
A sweet taste,
A harsh love.
Blue skies and red leaves at noon in October burn the eyes,
Smell soft,
Caress the skin.
An acid of sorts.
Sticky May rain at 3:10pm on a final Friday sends chills,
Gives completion,
Tastes like pizza and movies.
More like I relate memories with days.

Seasons

Do you know how the leaves turn,
When every vain runs with red,
Runs with a vast spectrum of fire,
And small globules of rain water
Magnify the crimson blood of life?

Like a chameleon the soft tree petals blush
And grow angry, festering with vibrant hues
Turning our green oasis into a burning hell,
Transforming earth into fire and brimstone.

The inferno of molten pits bite the eyes
Until...
Until a chill slowly seeps.

Then slightly, though surely, the passion drains
And the soul quiets into dormancy with the cold.
Dripping thick ruby to the ground, the leaves turn,
Shrug into a crisp death-brown that is swept away by the winds
Till the snow covers the battle wounds
And blankets the corpses with crystal innocence.

The horror of rage is forgotten and the ire is pushed aside
While the world covers itself in flakes of falling powder,
Clothing its pitted body with a cloak of pure white.

After a long expanse of calm nothingness
A gentle healing begins within and cleanses to without.
The hidden world delicately reveals its true self again
As green life permeates its surface.

And nature has undergone its cycle, its circle, its infinity
As the Earth holds fast to bear another gruesome battle
Between itself and continual metamorphosis.

Music Writing

I find it hard at times to write with distractions
So I'm going to write now while music is playing
And see how it turns out.
-------------------------------------------------
The world was a baby and the baby was a world
A quote or two and a fond memory
Yet not so fond.
I have Backspaced those three words that were not yet completed.
Who needs to say and see them anyways?
Not those fondish memories.

This song makes me think of love.
Old, ancient history...maybe.
Yeah. Most definitely.
But not I. I don't want to fall in love. Not forever.
And I don't want to fall. Not never.

While the rain does bring a hero it's just not mine. Never mine.
And...
I don't believe in heroes.
And by your side I will stay for never.
Because I lack the benevolence.
And I attained an apathy.
No heroes for me, after all.

Guitar and new song.
Silence.
Piano.

Step one....talk.
But...
You stare politely right on through.
Why do we always go opposite ways?
Am I always wrong?
Why do I keep losing these friends?
Because of this
I would save your life.

I really don't know best.
No innocence.
There are too many wrongs to list
And you would never listen.
But you know,
I would stay up with you all night
Because I know how to save a life.

One last choice: leave or leave.
Two things you will do:
Give me excuses and more excuses.
Of how
I would never stay up all night
Because I'm afraid to save your life.
But guess what?
I care too much to save your life.

I never went wrong but I lost a friend.
And it kept me up all night
Cause I want to save your life
A life
Life.

New song.

I am unfamiliar with this.
So lost and confused, dazed if you will.
A feeling of slight disgust.
None of these places feel like home.
Twenty five is not a child age.
Roof of my mouth I am not sorry...never will be.

Skip....

Fuck yeah.
Anger song.
I never escaped this hell
Because I never tried
And I'm caged inside
This nightmare
Without control
Tame this animal
Please.

No escape from myself
With all the lies and rage inside
Get me through this
With your no control.

See this darker side of me,
To tame this animal,
This beast that is not the real me.

no fucking control
no fucking waking
no escape.

ANIMAL!

Darker side of me that is a beast.
Not the real me?
How can I believe
If it is or not.

TAME!

-end guitars and such-

I try to let you try...

I try my hardest to let you try
But when your trying tries me
I tire.

I wish most willingly to let you wish
But when your wishing wishes me away
I wander.

I cry very caringly to let you care
But when your caring cuts me
I cry.

I reject you rigidly to let you receive
But when your rejection rejects me
I die.

So I am Sick.

So today I am sick
And as a result, I am at home
And as a result of that I have a bit of free time
Which is going to be spent writing here
Since I never get on anymore.

I've realized something lately:
Sometimes you just have to let things happen.
Why worry about something that is unavoidable?
Why stress over something that's already been done?
You can't change it.
That's why it's called the past.
It's over.
Done.
Through.
So get on with it.
That's what I sometimes have to tell myself.
The only problem is that I still have to worry about the future.
If I accidentally missed work yesterday,
How am I going to pay tomorrow's bills?
So now I have to revise my realization.
I have to figure out what is worth forgetting
And what I have to agonize over.

I sometimes wish, for this very reason,
That I could be a cat...my cat.
Or a speck of dust in the air.
Or a sun beam,
The very one shining on me now.
There would be no worries about the future.
Sure, you would also lose such things as goals,
Ambitions,
Hopes,
Dreams,
But at least you wouldn't have to worry.
I sometimes think it would be worth it
To become something that is not as intelligent as humans.
But I am what I am.
I can't change it.

So now I wait for the next stage
And my entrance into the real world.
I hope the stress doesn't burn me out
Because I already smell melting rubber.

Telepathy

So today I have started my research on telepathy: the art of thought transference.
Here I will keep my log since no other place (besides my journal) is sacred to me.

The study of what I am learning is called parapsychology.

Apparently there are many tests used by parapsychologists to test the abilities of telepathy, including the Ganzfeld experiment. This experiment is conducted by putting an individual in a controlled environment, devoid of their primary senses. Another individual, outside the room of testing, sends images, thoughts, colors, feelings, etc. to the individual in the room. If that individual is able to receive these feelings, thoughts, etc. then the experiment is considered successful and the isolated individual is aptly known to have the ability of telepathy.

Almost all living individuals, all sentient beings, have the ability of telepathic communication with one another, though most have not awakened their deadened extra-sensory receptors. The ability to communicate with others on this plane is referred to as having a "sixth sense" or a "third eye". This ability can be learned and taught just as linguistics and body language. Most, however, are never exposed to this type of communication because it is not necessary in society today. It is believed by some that early humans, before the development of language or the written word, reached each other in this way.

There are many techniques used to reach a state in which you can communicate with others through telepathy. One such technique is a type of meditation in which you free your mind of everything but the subject which you want to communicate. By focusing on one object or thought, you train your mind to be clear of anything that can scramble the message you are trying to send. This type of training is usually done before two individuals try to communicate with one another. After this first technique is able to be successfully accomplished, partner communication can be built upon. The two people come together in a location and spend about half an hour trying to send and recieve communications. The thoughts are then shared and compared to evaluate success. With practice, the thoughts between the two should become more and more similar.

It has been hypothesized by some that only two individuals who share a connection between spirits can communicate in the aforementioned ways. I, however, hope to be able to communicate with anyone I wish to. I believe some knowledge of the person is required to develop a connection between minds but I also believe that this knowledge can be gained by other methods than physical conversation such as observation or concentration on the previously mentioned individual.

The reason I have recently become interested in the art of telepathy and the study of parapsychology is due to a friend who apparently shared the same thought as me at the same time. Today, June 1st, 2009, I started my mind exercises by focusing on that person calling my cell phone. I first let all other thoughts dissapate and then I pictured him sitting at his computer, picking up the phone, and calling me. After thinking this for a few seconds, my cell phone rang. Though is was not the person I was picturing, I still believe I had some success. The person who called was my boyfriend. I believe this occurred because I spend so much time with him that we are more closely connected than me and the other person. Therefore, I accidently contacted the wrong person.

I will continue these exercises and hope for the best.
-end of June 1st, 2009, post-

These past few days I have experimented with telepathy in the shower (since that is really the only quiet time I get). I have found, however, that nothing has occurred/resulted from these attempts. I believe this might be because I listen to the sound of the water falling around me a little too much. Therefore my messages might be a little "staticy" and unclear. I will have to try some more during camp if I am able. When I get back I plan to go into the forest and trying it again.
-end of June 6th, 2009, post-

It's Been A Long While

I suppose my lack of enthusiasm for writing lately is due in part to my work load.
Or, maybe because of my known existence on this website.
I'm not sure which.
But that doesn't matter.
It shouldn't curb my love for writing.

Sorry if I'm a bit choppy minded right now, by the way.
It's late.

So, I started a new job. I'm finally going to be making a steady income.
I don't really like working, mostly because I'm lazy by nature.
But, if I'm to succeed in this world, it seems I need money.
I want to pay everyone back for all they've done for me.
I feel like a moocher....which isn't cool.

I vowed I would never work fast food...I broke that vow.

Oh well.

Tired.
Nighty night.

A (short) Song?

You come
And then you go.
The tears
Stain my pillow.

Hello?
Do you listen?
Hello?
Where'd you go?

I'm waiting.
My clock is ticking.
I'm dying.
My heart is skipping.

Hello?
I'm so alone.
Hello?
How I hate to be alone.

Time escapes
And slowly life goes
On and on
To where no one knows.

I try to stay
In hopes of this love,
But I cannot remain,
You're so high above.

Hello?
Are you still there?
Hello? Hello?
Goodbye.

Turning of Age

18 is a big number.
Not monstrous,
But large enough.
Large enough to make me wonder,
"Where am I going?"
This road I am on,
It's...really long...and kinda scary.
Not that I want it to be short
Or easy,
But...I wish there were more road signs
To tell me where I'm going
To tell me where I am.
The scenery is nice
The flowers, though slowly,
Are blooming on the roadside.
But, where's the next pit stop?
Where's the next bump?
Where's the next godawful detour?
I'm waiting for that moment
The moment
For a slip up
An ice storm
A car crash.
It's coming and I can feel it.

Continuation

My life story.
The one you've all been dying for.
What an audience.

There has been a hole for the longest time.
A hole that I have pushed to the back of my mind.
I've tried to fill it and I've succeeded a few times,
But somehow, someone always digs a new one.
Maybe I should put a "no trespassing" sign up.
As if that would help...
The thing is, I let people in.
Therefore that sign would do no good.
I learn to depend on a person,
Then they let me fall.
Yet, I still keep reaching.
I look up to the person for my needs
And in response I get a cold shoulder.
That is my greatest weakness:
The ones I become attached to let me drown.
Why I choose these people, I don't not know.
I suppose it's because they use to give me strength.
Now, mind you, this is not all the people I've known.
There have been...oh...about one or two that have kept me.
I have two keeping me now.
"How long?" is the question that concerns them.
But, like always, I trust them
And have put all my confidence in them.
"Don't fail me now!" I scream.
Lets hope they listen.

School....
School is not a problem.
At times I get bogged down
But I always seem to pull my head up before I lose all air.
I love to learn.
I am proud of my education and appreciate it.
I know that I could have ended up not having one at all.
I hope to learn all that I possibly can
But yet still enjoy a social life.
I'm working on that balance.
One thing that I love about myself is my intelligence.
I hate to say that because I feel it's ostentatious
And I...want to be humble....
Even saying that is weird.
I think I would be extra unhappy if I was only mediocre in school.
Who knows.

Cello.
Music is a big part of my life.
I love to listen to it
And I love to play it.
The only problems I've had with it are the conductors
And not having enough time to practice.
Sometimes I even lack motivation to practice.
But I think that happens to a lot of musicians.
It feels good to play
To be part of a group that sounds...good.
I haven't had that experience much.
But at least I've had the experience
And at least I'm able to play at all,
So...I'm not going to complain there.
Piano is great, too.
I'm not good at it, though.
I still love it.

Ugh...hands hurt...more again later...hopefully.

Consideration

The day passes by and I,
I can't stop
Stop....stop feeling.
I try and try and
Try.
And cry.
Bitterness drips.
I need help.
You need....help.
Mine.
I am robbed
From moment
To utter moment
Of life.
Why?
Because of your hold
The steadfast
Hardy, death-like
Grip.
And I begin
Begin as I do
To wonder
And lose
And gain
My hopes and
Dreams.

Oh, you.

Waiting for your silent breath to touch my ear.
The tickling of your sweet whisper, bending the hairs in a huge gust within,
Pleasures me.
Your lips slide, brushing my earlobe
Then my neck.
Shivers overcome the flesh with cold as your warm tenderness
Forces itself upon the surface
Swimming through my blood
Beating within my long-cold heart.
Arms around my waist
Your fingernails dig into my pale hide
Burrowing with the urgency of a caterpillar working its way out of a cocoon.
I bleed in ecstasy
Moaning in bitter-sweet pain
And you latch onto me with your pearly whites
Biting like a wild thing that knows no civilization.
I yearn for the pain it causes
The euphoric sensation eating away at the edge of humanity
My innards turning to butterflies at the sight
Of your immortal face.
Arching my back towards your chest
Screaming with the violence of a million souls drowning in hell
The release of the world commences.

This is the Present

You say that I will move on.
You say that it won't matter in the future.
Well, right now I'm living in the present.
Things are not right now.
Yeah, maybe I'll forget about it in the future
But I'm feeling it and remembering it right now.
I hate things.
I really do.
And you never know.
You never ever seem to know.
Why do you not question?
Can you not see things the way they are?
You put on your rose colored glasses
And your fancy blinders
And you inhibit your sight and view.
Nobody listens.
No one....

Read Me

I am open to you
Like that brown, leather-bound hardback
That waits on your "to read" shelf.

My job is to get you to read me
Open me
Lavish in my thick words
And tumble through emotions.

It has been so long
Since you picked me up
And I miss the enjoyment I get
From having your warm hands
Brush my pages with rapture.

I try to entice you with my gilded edges
My scrawling, beautiful print
My flow of words like music
But my charm has faded
And like everyone else
You have forgotten me.

So I lie in wait for you
And you alone
To receive my presence again
To cherish my rich, well worn scent
To caress my edges that are slightly torn
And to feel your breathe upon me when you fall asleep on top of me
For right now I stand alone on your shelf.

Memorization

This here is a poem that I have to memorize by the day after tomorrow:

Windigo

By Louise Erdrich

The Windigo is a flesh-eating, wintry demon with a man buried deep inside of it. In some Chippewa stories, a young girl vanquishes this monster by forcing boiling lard down its throat, thereby releasing the human at the core of ice.

You knew I was coming for you, little one,
when the kettle jumped into the fire.
Towels flapped on the hooks,
and the dog crept off, groaning,
to the deepest part of the woods.

In the hackles of dry brush a thin laughter started up.
Mother scolded the food warm and smooth in the pot
and called you to eat.
But I spoke in the cold trees:
New one, I have come for you, child hide and lie still.

The sumac pushed sour red cones through the air.
Copper burned in the raw wood.
You saw me drag toward you.
Oh touch me, I murmured, and licked the soles of your feet.
You dug your hands into my pale, melting fur.

I stole you off, a huge thing in my bristling armor.
Steam rolled from my wintry arms, each leaf shivered
from the bushed we passed
until they stood, naked, spread like the cleaned spines of fish.

Then your warm hands hummed over and shoveled themselves full
of the ice and the snow. I would darken and spill
all night running, until at last morning broke the cold earth
and I carried you home,
a river shaking in the sun.

The Second Day

It's time to change things up.
It's a new day.
Today I feel small within this vast world.
Like an ant...so easy to be crushed...vanquished without a second thought.
I pose a question:
What happens to an ant's soul when you squish it?
Or:
Do ants have souls?
I hope I have a soul.
I believe I do...but who can know.
Maybe we are all just machines for our body.
Once the thinking is not needed,
The thinking part is destroyed.
What a sad proposition.
Melancholy is a better word.
Sad isn't deep enough.
To be soulless...
I always think of death a little too deeply.
I scare myself with the inevitable.
It keeps me up at night sometimes.
I cry myself to sleep believing that no one is there.
No one remembers you after so many generations.
Not unless you are someone great, revolutionary.
I fear being forgotten.
I fear being alone when I die.
I need help through that process.
In a movie I saw it said, "Everyone dies alone."
Alone within yourself.
I think I may always be alone within myself.
Only two people have come close to breaching the boundary.
The boundary of callousness I use as protection.
One more than the other.
The first broke me....the second seems to pretend he is not breaking me....hopefully he won't.

Okay.
Enough rambling.
The rest of the life story is soon to follow.
Just...not yet.

Does Anyone Hear Me???

alone

Some Pictures I Have Saved

I love you, beautiful blue, hanging on my wall. Words crisscross along the page in your bright color and I, I love it. They take the edge off the harshness of reality and the feeling of hate that seethes. Blue of freedom and of sky and intelligence and of you. I miss you and the butterflies.


My striped socks are screaming at me and I don't know how to control it! The black and white static knocks my eardrums upon the bone and blood pours to the newspaper floor. I try to hold it in for both your sake and mine.

I defy the laws made. I go against all odds. The government fears my quiet anarchy and knows not how to control and contain it. Smiling in the face of fate, I watch as they try to cut my titanium bound thread.

Come back to me, my rainbow. The dearest friend yet and the love of my life. The days are gloomy without you and I fear the rain will always pour. To make the clouds sunnier, I do a dance in hopes that your smile will illuminate my sky.

The First

It's hard to get started.
The beginning is the most fearful of events.
Not knowing how to get the stone rolling,
Not knowing the actions to be taken,
Not knowing the words to be spoken,
Are the worst of the pains of life.

I, however, am ready.
Ready to start over in anonymity
And ready to begin a new chapter.
The future is not to be known at this point,
The outcomes can possibly be feared.
But I take the consequences as they come.

Don't ask me my name.
Nor my address, phone number, etc.
I don't want to be known.
Call me Gardenia.
Give me a nickname.
Whatever you wish.
One rule: don't ask and obey what little I ask of you.

More to come....
Maybe much more....or maybe just a goodbye.
Can't tell as of yet.