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roles fallen into
you and I
for the audience
only seeking to please
loose tongue unthought
barbed without intention

You
finding hurt fling it back
cutting to the core
which I can't forget
I doubt you have either

The audiance oblivious
mayhapes
I don't know
all the worse with them watching

it clove me from you once
the public injury
the cruelty you meant for me
while mine was given ignorant

I dismiss and ponder
turn it over in my hands
taste and prob
question boil
make this moment made clean

The guilt is worse than hurt, you know
Jelousy's unclean

Cruelty and love
go hand and hand in truth
I learn it at my father's knee
my mother's notes not writ for me
love can bruise with fist and word
I love behind the cruelty of word
of cold sholder brush offs and hot eyes
I love you regaurdless
I ponder it wise
What is love without pain?
What friendship has no hurt?
I've never known unsullied love.
my love is rich as dirt

wonder how I fell so far. How I became what became me. I think I was happier when I was more the liar, and more miserable now with the truth.

So I sat with my back to the stone pillar in the darkness. The moon just a sliver, and a bunch of paper bent against my chest, held there with my freezing hands. I thought that I had made myself with words, and that I was now damned with words. Words have become my own pleasure, the only meaningful things. From words I was born and words have become my prison. A few tears slipped from my staring eyes. The moon seemed to pulse.

I thought that I had two choices, and two alone. I could wait for something that might be my redemption, or I could strike a fuse to what might be and grasp something material. A dream with the promise of reality, or reality that may destroy the dream.

It all had to do with walking by Brett last night. Walking and not looking, just walking. He said something like, he liked to walk on the grass. Missed walking on the grass while he was here and it seemed he struck me with a blade. We said goodbye at the top of the stairs, the ones that part of me wanted to fall down today. I pushed my palm against my mouth, but that can't stop words. I said aloud "I can't wait for you. I won't wait for you" My eyes swam, but then I tossed my head and entered the building smiling.

I sleep and wake with one name pounding in my temples.

I dwell on what was. Home is always so cold, even in my memory.

When I was out there, alone my thoughts were nothing to anyone, not even me. They just were sucked up into the sky, such a dark blue. As I walked further it deepened, and I thought if you were here I could tell you so much. If you were here maybe I could let you see me. Because no one is allowed to see me are they, only the words, my blood. Trying to bleed the sickness out with words, but I think that only makes the illness spread. It isn't words I need is it? The words that gave release to me, and words that damned me. What I need is something else. But how can I begin to understand these things? I think I will just walk endlessly, until I reach a tunnel, filled with oily water. Like that tunnel I used to crawl through as a child with my little brother, when everything was still so amazing to me. Crawl through the rippled insides, the wetness invading the toes of my dirty sneakers.

I don't how I can make it feeling like this, Rising from the sea for a breath of air, only to sink again.

Eat an apple that fits in the palm of my hand
The skin breaks and floods my mouth

sing sing singing in church. My white robe, the green sash. My arm aching from holding up that damn book. Sing out to the stained glass window. The folds of the robes in red and purple. Feeling like I'm going to faint, my belly pressed against the wood. The congregation far far below looking up at me. The glass is so deep, the red and the purple. The organ pulses sound under my feet.
Sitting on the stone steps, watching the Virginia Creepers spotted red and green, trembling over the walls. The world is awash with colors.

Sing until I shake from trying to hold the note. Sing and brush my eyes around the crowd trying to find faces that are not there.

Phone call from Karen sitting in the window. Sound of her voice so fimilar and so different.

Cursing in the hallway, in a frenzy, pacing. Flinging myself on the bed and crying with my face to the wall and my knees drawn up, trying to push it all out. A few quick breaths, a roll of tears over my nose and cheeks, but not enough. Never enough anymore. Why can't I just cry like I want to?

"O' Fortuna" "O' Fortune" I will listen and lay on the floor again, staring at the ceiling and waiting for me to rebecome the person I enjoy.

On writing

These hands, tiny hands
bone enclosed, in strips of tissue,
pink ribbons, betray me movement
mind, pulsing mass of cells
restrained in a skull
sight to eyes
thoughts past lips
a thinking organism
it is I
it is you
A concept, often lost to us

What is that phantom voice?

Foul ash on slithering tongue,
tell me you, did you burn the body and
eat its remains?

Speak to me in more then whispers,
or your words slur with your emotion.

Touch me with the tainted tips of your trembling fingers.
How dare you
dirty me, that way

Ah, now I hear you clear,
urgent breath
my ear drinks the summons of your lips

look now, do you see my hands?
They are kissed with ice
my flesh is cracking,
bleeding in this cold.
and you just smile,
your endless smile,
and tell me without words that you,
are right beside me,
always.

Sometimes you cry without knowing why. At times things just overwhelm you and consume you in a flame that
burns inside you. You never knew you could feel so much or hurt so much. Your whole body becomes something
distant to what floats in your mind. A thousand images and whispers from all you have experienced and lived. You
can't put a name to the tears hot on your cheeks or the sobs convulsing your body. You never knew you were so
lonely, and if the ones you cared for were around you in that moment you'd tell them things you never even knew
you felt, but in those moments you always seem to be alone. The misery makes you tremble, and you sit and stare at
one thing, not really seeing it, only staring, and your body will not stop shaking. You call yourself a fool but you've
never seen the world more clearly as you do now. You see its wickedness and its beauty and you know we will all
die, and we will all suffer, we all smile, and laugh and you cry harder. your hands press to your hot flushed cheeks
and your swollen eyes as if to block your vision from the pain around you, and all the energy of life. You look at a
gift from a friend, and whisper I love you again and again. And you feel that love like a knot in your chest. And you
look into the image of the face of someone you thought you hated and you feel nothing but a pointlessness in hate.

think about how i once thought I was evil and demented. Alone in my own personal little hell.
What a funny little girl i am.

but of course i had damned myself to act the idiot child. To be the one with the laughter, and foolish behavior. but who could I blame but myself, for people thinking me the little fool. I had taken that role, pressed myself into that skin, and danced willingly.

so the dark one swelled under my seams, pulled my lips slack, and left my eyes vancant. the hatred made my guilty, the guilt made me rage against myself. I was a seething thing, with a cycle. the mask was strong, pasted cement like to my face, then it would weaken. Start to crack and fall away, and bleed that darkness over my cheeks. So I placed my hands against the wounds, and sealed my lips against the words that might be tainted in that weakness.
I could not speak, assuming instead a wrap of apathy. Sometimes it would burst away from my lips. I can not describe the feeling to give it credit. It's all in your belly. An excitement, that bubbles, and in your chest, a spreading. Your throat screams the words, and you are exalted by them.

The cycle is still there but it is easier to recover, especially since i can tell when its coming and try to stop it. I hate it. I dread and fear it. the last one, I actually thought about killing myself. just for a instant. I thrilled at the thought of cutting the underside of my arm. I'd never do it. but for just a moment I lusted for it. Just one moment before my mind flung it away, the foul thing that it was. Something i have never considered.

On writing

bunched up in this corner
can't stand it
really can't
my lips frozen, ice blue with the touch of him
eye's so heavy, wishing sleep, yet they will not shut, nor blink any longer.
clears my thoughts, hands flashing over my vision.
Can it be you now?
I thought you had left me...I really did
I rejoiced in my freedom, slunk wounded into the lands of the living. The paper faces.
Now I'm back in the fucking corner, with you holding out your hand. Your clean palm.
You seized those lips and twisted them in dark things.
You bruised them and made my throat harshen, and my belly squirm delightfully at the anger that flared up into those words, that I can not even recall. You were the one speaking them.
I don't want to fight with you.
Leave me alone please.
I would forsake everything
to forget you.

Christ, doesn't it ever end, or will I always be falling into the void that is you?

Smoke of your stinking habit, blue gray around your worn face. Why don't your eyes light up so often? Why not? I see the crow's feet about the corners of your washed out eyes. I know their etched into your skin from the smiles of your past. So tell me, why don't you smile so often anymore?

You always sound so bitter. Lost everything you loved. Never like to take the blame. Do you hate me or love me more because I look so much like her? When you take my fingers in your course hands and feel their softness, can you even feel them with so roughened skin?

I was always your little girl, but now you give him more attention. because I anger you. I challenge you. Is that why you avoid me? Do not call me? Never see me? And when you do see me is that why you sometimes share those secret smiles with him, when you always used to protect me from those expressions.

Yeah, maybe its all part of growing up. Loosing you. So maybe I'm not daddy's little girl anymore.

Maybe I can't call you my hero anymore.

I miss you.

Crossed legs, fingers folded
I chew my tongue to keep you in
silly fragmented face
why are you smiling while you plunge your fingers inside my heart.
Hell its not my fault.
I won't take the blame.
Your the one that blackened me.
What an idiot.
What an innocent
Can't she see she's me?

I have a mask. Its made from paper. Ebony and gray.

I like to put it on once and a while. People like when it's there.

Wait it isn't really a mask at all, it's me. But not that dark me, the other me. The person I wish I could stay forever.

If the price of happiness was to stay a fool, then I would gladly stay a fool. If the sacrifice was you, I would burn you in the fire. And to hell with all the things you've given me! To hell with you! I'm so sick of you filling me with your discontent.

I don't give a fuck that you are my reflection, a part of myself.

Lurking...

You wait to swallow me. To stir my fingers.

Fuck you!

I want to stay like this...
I want you to go away...