You tell me about your new job,
You stand guard at the entrance,
They pay you well for this.
But I know that your heart is as giant as you are
& threats aren't apart of your vocabulary.
We talk about how we'd like it if you didnt just die,
But the idea of heaven is boring to us.
Why not be recycled until you get it right?
& you look at me and say thoughtfully,
"I dont think I got it right this time around."
& I feel the same way,
Destructive with a good sense of humor,
Spilling with mistakes & a genuine optimism,
Deep feeling but consequently deeply distracted.
Our muses make us turn to vices,
Liquid chaos to free ourselves from our own created kind.
I know we dont always incite gentle words,
& our palms may be black from fires we have shaped ourselves,
But those are the hearts that wander into the most profoundly lit realms,
Areas that have been found only by sinking into the deepest black.
You talk to me about a girl who kissed you like no one else,
She just seemed to fit your face.
I know what you mean,
When you find someone to melt into,
When you find someone who curls around you in every sense.
The smell, the taste, the fit, the hold, the feeling, the look, the fury, the fire, the peace.
I don't really know if I want to get it right this time.
My heart hurts but the lessons have been such an amazing reminder of all that I'm capable of.
Sometimes all I want to do is to escape into a haze,
But I want to be deeper than this,
I know I can be & you too, my friend.
I know this because the words you choose dont just aimlessly hang in the air,
but are carefully considered before they're worn.
I know this by the glow in your eyes,
There is nothing vacant about what it says.
We agree that pain is not to be polished inside,
Not to be neatly stuffed back in,
Or folded away, somewhere over there,
But to be untied from the torn threads of your thoughts.
Those who really love you will tug gently on them to see where they have started.
Oh its so good to see you, and talk, really talk.
I skip a breath and sigh, I feel alive.
Though we may not be getting it right,
At this time it feels like the stars are smirking about something inside our minds,
An endless need to share love, despite squeezing its hand too tight or slapping it away,
& perhaps thats the glow I see,
Your desires radiating off of you,
A warmth that must be felt and seen,
A warmth that makes me excited for the next life.
Regrets collect like old friendsHere to relive your darkest momentsI can see no way, I can see no wayAnd all of the ghouls come out to playAnd every demon wants his pound of fleshBut I like to keep some things to myselfI like to keep my issues drawnIt's always darkest before the dawn And I've been a fool and I've been blindI can never leave the past behindI can see no way, I can see no wayI'm always dragging that horse aroundOur love is pastured, such a mournful soundTonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground'Cause I like to keep my issues drawnIt's always darkest before the dawn Shake it out, shake it outAnd it's hard to dance with a devil on your backSo shake him off And I am done with my graceless heartSo tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart'Cause I like to keep my issues drawnIt's always darkest before the dawn And it's hard to dance with the devil on your backAnd given half the chance, would I take any of it backIt's a fine romance but it's left me so undoneIt's always darkest before the dawn And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don'tSo here's to drinks in the dark, at the end of my ropeAnd I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hopeIt's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat'Cause looking for heaven found the devil in meLooking for heaven found the devil in meBut what the hell, I'm gonna let it happen to me, yeah Shake it out, shake it out
Ive heard all about sweeping gestures
moving in the name of
unexpected gifts to show unexpected feelings
confessions pouring down like the dramatic rain surrounding the two confessors
two lips revealing what was hidden behind them
pounding chests and sweaty palms
scratching curiosity and the electricity of touch
ive heard all about the missed train that led to chance encounter
the party with spilled punch all over her jeans that oops later spills into feelings
the cubicle that could not contain its magnetism for their neighbor
I know its beginnings are enough to burst your buttons open
but even more so romantic than this
I'll ask you to accompany me to the grocery store
to please accept me without any mascara or a shower
youre the only person Id ever make go to the DMV with me
Love is not all trips to Paris
candlelit dinners and big red bows
Love lives in my mondays and the aisles of Target
Love goes in the laundry and swirls around to make you smell good
its in those dreadful work on your car pants you wear
in those sleepy eyes before work
its loving the lack of, the too much
not just the good parts
when the credits have stopped rolling
the serenity of silence
sweaty, sick, tired, defeated
when dishes and clothes pile up
when I've had too much to drink
A flat tire of the soul
I want to help you when its ugly
or maybe its just not looking as pretty as it usually does
I want to fill my mind with beautiful ideas and places
I want to breathe in the air from a different somewhere
I want to sink into myself
quiet in a moment, present and still
I want to deserve it, to feel it
reality would not tug at me
I want to explore my own perception
I want to see beyond my eyes
beyond limits I've created for myself
I want to travel
so I really know what I call home
But it's always there
and you can't argue with that
despite wars and fires & tornados and dictatorships
in seclusion, in curiosity
at work, among friends,
in a moment,
by luck, by chance, pleasurable coincidence
when it was raining, when it's so hot youre sweating
when you thought it wouldnt be possible again
there's always love
Just when I think I've found a great place to live I'm met with this reply email: Hi Laura, One thing I forgot to note in the advertisement is that this unit is in a senior living complex. Does that work for you? I will be there later today if you would like to see it. Joan ummmM that's kind of an important detail.
I pack your lunch
You like that
You never had that
I cut apples
Snacks decide what to tupper-wear that day
Pizza is still headlining despite last night's performance
There is a medley of my love in ziploc bags
Organized early in the morning
So you never know what kind of mood I'll be in
Will there be a great variety
Will there be a classic buffet
Will I leave a note
"Have a good day baby, I love you."
I fill up your thoughts and your stomach
and I'll keep waking up early
As long as you fill me up when you get home
Your mom was calling my cell phone one evening. I was busy procrastinating on writing a paper for my english class. I knew all the details then, I forget now of course. I thought to myself, "Should I answer? Alright...she's never called before unless to ask where her son (my boyfriend) is...so I'll just pick up."
You and I met, or I should say reconnected, in a very 2,000's sort of way. You went to my middle school and were popular amongst the girls. Boys didn't know I was there and I can't blame them because I was so shy. You didn't know me then, but I knew you. I saw you, I heard about you. I quietly noted your qualities. You were that brooding attractive boy who was taller than most boys waiting for their growth spurt. You were smart, but in a dark way. I mean that you knew things about the world, things just because you knew them-not from a source of shining curiosity but as if you were cursed with knowledge, the heavy burden of thoughts. You were cunning. You had a sharp tongue. You could make me feel idiotic. Yet behind this prickly nature, there was a pained need for approval, for love, support. I can hear him respond to this in my head-"Bullshit. I know that you can only rely on yourself." Oh shut up. You need people as much as anyone.
You were a bully who I wanted to tend to. Let me love you, you beast! And I will make you love me. I hadn't even had my first kiss yet, but you had done much more advanced things than that in middle school. It frightened me, it thrilled me....from afar. You went to a different high school than me after that, but I still knew who you were, still heard of you and you still had no idea who I was. The internet was the only way you would get to know me. When I was 17 I used to stay up late, really late, mindlessly browsing what the internet had to offer. Myspace was my universe. At 1 am I'd be lost in its comments, pictures, music- stalking people at my fingertips! I was always searching for something. My first boyfriend broke my heart so I tried to find something, someone, to fill my time, the wound, the sad thoughts. And there you were. I found your page, attractive brooding bully from middle school. I found you. There. You've been friend requested. Why not? I guess you must've liked my pictures and the brief description I cast myself out to be because soon after you began to talk to me online. "Hi" you said one day, and even though this was just a box of font it made me gasp inside my head "Oh my god he found my screen name and wants to talk to me??"
I debated whether talking to you was a good idea. But I knew in my head, "This is a guy who you have seen prey upon much weaker people. He is a known bully." Whatever, he's hot. End of dilemma.
It alarmed me how blunt you were at first. You told me you had a girlfriend and proceeded to tell me why it wasn't working out that well. Sure, you supplied her with orgasms, but something didn't seem right. I knew too many intimate details without even telling you a word of my business, but I listened and shared my honest opinions. You laid everything out for me and I reflected carefully and responded. I would go online to avoid my duties and you would be there doing the same. Looking for something. I knew you had homework too, and would never do it even though I knew you were smarter than you seemed. I knew you must have had a troubled mind if you were up as late as me. So we talked about everything, about dumb things. About horny teenage things. High school Philosophical things. Your harsh view of the world made me angry a couple times, but I wouldnt really tell you because I thought you were so handsome and maybe one day I could tell people that you were mine. That I was the girl who made you openly say I love you, who made you go to prom. We talked online for a long time. Here and there, after school, on the weekends. The months collected until one day you told me you broke up with your girlfriend. "Oh." I said, "I'm sorry. Are you okay?" You said something like "it was for the best" or along those cliche lines. While I offered my sympathy, I was undeniably, and a little shamefully, excited that you were sharing this news with me. You don't tell a girl you think is ugly that you're single. Then you said to me "I've had an epiphany." ( I was impressed you knew that word). "What?" I asked
"You're a girl." you said
"Well, yeah. Took you awhile to notice that."
"All of this time I've been talking to you like you're a guy, my friend. But you're a girl."
Of course I smirked at this. It was odd for you to be so open with a girl, to talk about things you actually wanted to talk about, with a girl. I laughed at you and told you you were silly. You asked when we we're going to hang out. I blew you off more than once. I still remember the bully from middle school. I was cautious...but tempted, obviously, as a horny 17 year old girl is most of the time. So we did finally hang out one day. We talked for a long time, this time in person, in your truck, in the Safeway parking lot. It got dark, I got nervous. I knew you were more experienced. A friend called your phone and I took this as an opportunity to slide out of your truck and leave, but you held the phone away for a moment and stopped me to tell me what a good time you had. The next time we saw each other, I wasn't nearly as restrained. We had beer we werent supposed to, we stayed at your dad's house when he wasnt there, we had sex. It felt so good to be with someone else. I felt stupid for letting go so much, but I had been so hurt and heavy with heartache that I didn't care. Fuck it. The next day though, I avoided you. It was too sensitive. I was too sensitive. I know where your moles are now. I know how big your dick is! You saw me naked! You know how I kiss now. You know where I live now. I know where you do too. It was a rush. It was a quick jump. Not like my last love- where months passed before I let him be that close. We had been talking online everyday but I kept my distance. You were, after all, that asshole from middle school so how was I supposed to know if you would treat me fairly after being so vulnerable? Bullies prey on the vulnerable don't they? But you knew what I was doing and I guess you liked me enough to point it out and address it. "Hey! Don't avoid me, I know you're there." the little box on my computer said to me from you. And from then on we would meet and have sex in your truck in some off road, nobody goes over there location. We would do this until I finally met your mom and you finally came over to my house. We would do this until we said I love you, until we had seen each other cry. We were looking for ways to ease our pain and confusion about life. We talked online, we had sex. I could tell though, after some time that something weighed on you that I would never be able to lift. I made you laugh, I made you cum, but I also made you jealous of my optimism. You told me one time you were jealous of other peoples happiness. I didn't think about it, but that included my own. I had to be happy for the both of us and it was tiring. You told me that the world was cold and unforgiving, that it was ultimately disappointing. You listened to the kind of music that would make someone believe that. Rather than be repelled by your depression I was actually intrigued by it. I was 17, I had never known anyone that sad. I mistook it as deep emotions for me, dramatic love. I confused genuine apathy as an inability to communicate well and felt compelled to affectionately squeeze the words out of you. But this couldn't work. You were broken and didn't want to work. You were your own world ending in your head. When I ran out of things to say to you I tried to make you forget physically. My tongue couldn't change your perspective though. Oh well. It's hard enough to be 17, let alone a depressed 17.
One night this was all too much for you, and your mom called my cell phone. You wouldn't come out of your room. It was locked. You wouldn't come out because you were unconscious, but your mom didn't know that and neither did I. I drove over there, in a panic, because I heard your mom trying to open your door with a bobby pin & asking if I could somehow say something to you to lure you out. Some desperately lonely thoughts you had shared with me crept into my head. When I got there, you were crumpled on the carpet floor, slumped against your bed. I was such a hysterical sobbing site that I remember someone saying "Get her out of here." The paramedics forced the charcoal down your throat so when you did finally look up at me with red scratched eyes and black lips, I didn't recognize you. One of the paramedics made a joke about this being a prelude to the next day, Cinco de Mayo, and I thought I'm standing right here you assholes. So is his mother and sister. Cant you see how upset we are? Fuck you. But this was just another day to them, just another statistic on a stretcher. And as much as I wanted you to be alive and okay, I hated you for that.
You had been out of school for a week, checking in and checking out of the hospital. Being poked and prodded, analyzed. Monitored. Medicated. No one knew where you were. People just assumed you were sick. I mean you were, but no one had any idea what had happened. After this absence it was our prom. I had already found my perfect dress some time before all this. A long wine red gown with a deep neckline to show what I had been hiding for all the years and a slit at the thigh. We probably should have taken time away to repair, to really talk. We shouldn't have rushed back to high school reality so soon. We probably shouldn't have gone, but damn it, I had never been in a limousine before and you're only 17 once.
At 24: I like to cook now. I like to run at least 2 times a week. I like to sweat. I know how to flirt better, but I still get shy. I like watching court cases because I like to examine different perspectives & the law. Sometimes I feel like I should study law, then I remember how much I enjoy free/lazy time. I feel like this view applies to everything in my life.
I used to say I would never do x to y because it's been done to me, but I have found myself in the reverse situation (being the bad guy) and I now have a gross understanding of how things aren't so black and white...just because people make mistakes, bad decisions, bad choices, doesn't mean they're a bad person....but it does mean they are misguided and doing the wrong things....life has a fascinating way of proving me wrong.
I'm always better at going down on you if I love you. I realized how awkward and shy I can be sexually if I feel I don't really know you...but oddly enough I can be even more comfortable with someone I don't have strong feelings for or know too well because it doesn't mean as much. It's like if I start dating someone I'm more self conscious. Sometimes I feel like I'm attracted to scandal. I don't like drama, but I do become bored without it. This year was the first time I ever went swimming with a boy completely naked (that applies to my face too). I don't think I'm pretty without makeup, but I am getting better about wearing it less. It's hard to not feel pretty without a heavy mask. Sometimes I think I wear a mask too much-in all sorts of ways. Above anything else though, I want to create laughter wherever I am. That is the sweetest sound to me. I live to improve moods, even at the cost of my own.
I secretly love living with my family, but feel like for their sake and my independence's sake I should move out. I wonder what I'll be saying a year from now.
Children don't have much tact. They act inappropriately, they don't always say please and thank you. They don't know any better, and sometimes even when they do, they act just to see what will happen. They want to know about everything because everything is new. New, just like them. It is important then, to have as much patience as possible with children. As an adult your words hold more presence when you express yourself, meaning that whatever energy or attitude you are putting out towards something, children will see this, feel this. I think of a moment when I was seven years old and my mother told me her friend, a woman, wanted very much to marry another woman.
"WHAT? why??" I asked because this was such a new concept to me, I didn't understand.
You said, "Because they love each other."
"Because sometimes two women love each other or two men love each other. What's important is that there IS love."
You told me that I curled up into a ball right away once we were in your truck. When I got out of bed this morning, that's exactly the position I wanted to stay in for the rest of the day. Ball of shame. You said as soon as I stood up I threw up all over your shoes (flip flops) and that you held my hair back. Still like me? I didn't think I would get that drunk. I didn't think. I woke up sans purse, car, and a clue what had happened during the latter portion of my evening. I said aloud "I'm so tired of this." I am. I'm tired of the drinking and drug hangovers. The feeling of needing more, not having enough. Not being on "the same level." Using something to melt awkward boundaries. Swallowing bad decisions and spitting out inhibitions. I'm tired of having a pounding head, stupid bruises, lost possessions, apologies. I'm tired of trying to fill in blanks, being in a blur, not using all of my brain and balance. It's not like I do this every day or every weekend ("this" meaning getting obliterated fucked up) but I wonder if I'll ever be "over this." Its hard to think of a party or some weekend adventure/ trip without some kind of alcohol or drugs.
You told me you feel jealous that she is in a sense being taken away from you by her best friend....which is funny because I'm jealous of your jealousy. Relationships are so funny in that way. I think I do that to myself though. It's not that I don't want super close relationships- I just resist them somehow. I love to love though. I want to please everyone but I don't really know what's best for myself.