| (no subject) |
[Oct. 22nd, 2007|09:30 pm] |
things i am doing:
trying to remember how to write
attending the national sexual assault conference
running a statewide glbt advocacy group
working up the courage to start making video
reassessing where i want to move after college
working on spending the last semester of school in tokyo
|
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jun. 20th, 2007|09:03 am] |
|
love is the equation, not the answer. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jun. 3rd, 2007|03:06 am] |
|
what i really want more than anything is to know. i want to know my future, my job, my hobbies. i want to know where i'll live, who my neighbors are, what i'll cook every night. i want to know if i'll find love so i can pass the time until it happens, i want to know if i won't, so i can enjoy my time and not lose any sleep. i want to know my kid's names, their schools, their dreams. i want to know when i'll cry, when i'll laugh, when i'll smile, when i'll die. i want to know how it'll all end, how it'll all begin. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[May. 25th, 2007|08:30 am] |
sometimes, as i fall asleep
i imagine my bed as a painting,
or a sketch, a simple portrait posed
with precision- one hand carefully placed
beneath the pillow and my body stretched
out across the sheets in the
shape of a crescent. and sometimes,
when feeling particularly lonely, i have
been known to trace the slight curve
of your spine next to mine,
your arm drawn so that it rests almost
carelessly, across my chest. i take care
to angle you so that the lines of your hair
spill across my neck and your lips,
a simple stroke of the pen, or brush,
blend into my back, moving the way
they did the first time we slept,
all tangled and careless,
and you kissed me awake.
and at such times, when i find myself
waxing poetic, i try to remember that
no picture, no thousand words,
could capture the scratch of your
beard or the gray of your eyes or
the grace with which you touch. |
|
|
| i need an ending |
[May. 15th, 2007|05:19 pm] |
went to the church
down on the corner and
tried asking god
for anything
and prayed for change
but just wound up
finding a quarter instead.
story of my life, so many
misunderstandings,
misinterpretations, misgivings
like when i tried to find the poetry
in your motions, forgetting what
the great poet told me: that
i should never try to
craft you with my words but rather
craft my words out of you.
and so i set out to find
the love you had hidden,
looked through the dirt
beneath your fingernails and
the creases by your eyes and
the spaces between your teeth but i
still couldn't find the words, so
i just wrote this instead |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Mar. 30th, 2007|10:44 pm] |
1) The phone is empty and the hours fall on by- 9, 10, 11. Half past twelve and the night is creeping in slowly from the windows, flickering the lights, rustling the blinds. A call, of sorts, though 'plea' would be more accurate. Restlessness finds its way in, creeping up the spine, pain begging to be walked away or wind-kissed and I want to give in. It's clear, ok? I get it. I am not welcome here. J called and offered to split some blow, maybe just a gram or two, and I politely declined and what I hate more than being offered is that part of me regrets not taking him up on it. It's been a while since it's been just he and I, and we still never talk about the last time we spent together. Now it's just car-rides and smoking joints, talking about things like throwing knives or the downfall of english literature or joining the circus. I'd pay for some company, about now. It wasn't ever supposed to be like this. Was it ever like anything else? Or did I just sell something off each time. A little bit of me, a little bit of you, I like the give and take but lately I've just been taking everything back.
2) My footprints show where I've been, not where I'm going.
3) I want to take my love and show it to you. Fold it up small and delicate, like a paper crane. Let you hold it in your hands and admire the detail, how it requires skill to take so much and fold it all up so simply. I want to show you I have finesse, that I am graceful and have not been deadened by the touch of others; I still know how to use my hands, I still know how to touch. I can make my love seem seamless, I can hide every crease and torn corner. I can put an entire world in your hand. I cannot put a single word in my mouth. I cannot hide the frayed edges, or reddened eyes. I cannot fold away the scars covering my hands, a canvas of cuts and bruises that you could not bear witness to, but don't worry- they are still soft. My hands know grace, and humility, even when I do not. |
|
|
| this is far less eloquent than i'd like it to be |
[Mar. 26th, 2007|02:42 pm] |
where i've been:
i took off from school january of 2006 till august of the same year, and re-enrolled last semester. coming back was awkward, to say the least; people i'd been good friends with wouldn't answer calls, or would outright dislike me, so i started keeping to myself. it's the way things go, i understand that, and i hold myself responsible for my absence, but it didn't make things at school any easier. brandon (who i was dating at the time) was my only form of constant support, which turned out to be not the best decision on my part, mostly because of his serious addiction to painkillers and stimulants. basically, i stopped going to class and being sober on a daily basis. my grand total of sober days last semester totalled around 20 at most, and i ended up failing all of my classes, which has since put me on academic probation. contrary to what i told people i spent about a quarter to a third of my weekends were still spent on campus, but i rarely left my room when i was here because i felt unwanted and unliked. i tried to kill myself around september. liz helped me out (to say the least) and i went back home for about a week, then started seeing a psychiatrist and therapist when i came back. i'm not looking for sympathy on any of it, nor do i really want it for the most part. those 3-4 months were my own mistakes, but i can say objectively a lot of it was because i'd never felt so alone. the entire time i was fully aware of the destructiveness of my own actions, i want that to be clear, but i also want to try to convey the fact that sometimes you just give up, and when you have no one around who is a positive influence, either through losing contact or them giving up on you, it's hard.
after i realized how badly i'd done last semester and had a few emotional breakdowns i stopped doing everything over winter break- drinking, smoking, pills, all of it. i started dating ben. i started making up work, and participating again. currently i'm doing relatively well all things considered, my gpa is ok and i'm almost off academic probation (i should have it all cleared up in a few weeks). i've slowly begun writing again, and as soon as my memory card stops being evil i'll start taking pictures again too. i guess that's pretty much the most of it, for anyone who cares. sorry it sounds like a lecture you'd give to elementary schools about the dangers of drugs, that's really not my point in the least bit. |
|
|
| absence |
[Mar. 21st, 2007|07:44 pm] |
"....and the realization
that we had tripped over
our own feet
and fallen into something
bigger than ourselves.
and we kept on falling."
where to begin? more importantly, where to end?
let's do this the easy way, backwards. for now, the q&a; for later, the story of how things came and went.
so.
questions anyone? |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 6th, 2006|03:37 pm] |
every adult is the creation of a child. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Dec. 4th, 2006|12:22 pm] |
i don't know if i'm going to make it. i don't know if i'm going to make it. i don't know if i'm going to make it.
i don't think i'm gonna make it. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Nov. 12th, 2006|06:52 pm] |
zach, two years since we last talked.
no one will ever know how much this picture really means to me. |
|
|
| necromance |
[Oct. 26th, 2006|11:50 pm] |
smiled as you slept close,
close like the sun
across my back
the day we
laid out on the sand
and taught your niece
to fly kites
and you kissed me
slow
and your lips
didn't taste
like someone else
back then.
should've left those
skeletons in your
closet
but somehow I
I had accidentally
learned how to
raise the dead.
you toss
in your sleep
incanting names
and places as if
they could
lay to rest
the ghosts
and the living
that haunt you.
i kiss your neck
and hold you soft
as if
none of it matters
as if
you are still mine. |
|
|
| for my father, who isn't dead. |
[Oct. 24th, 2006|04:04 pm] |
Wrapped my hands up in Christmas lights we'd strung
around your bed. You so weak I don’t dare
touch, afraid I’ll forget those strong brown hands
that smelled of mango on Sunday mornings.
I stand and talk about my life as if
it matters, as if you will live to see
it, and let the lights burn constellations into
my palms (I will always remember you
as strength and sky and silent love
that cradled me into adulthood with
perfect grace). Nurses pass silently as
I try to untangle myself from your
bedside, burning my fingertips as I
pull apart a mess of memory and lights. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 26th, 2006|10:38 am] |
|
i started prozac last week. |
|
|
| i may be selfish, but you're still an asshole |
[Sep. 18th, 2006|12:45 am] |
i want all the things i was never promised: holding hands on the swings and rocks against my window late at night. i want poems hidden in my socks and polaroids snuck when i'm not looking. for every night out to be a story worth telling, for only grey goose and fishscale, to have tantric sex that lasts for days. i want my friends to be more than movie stars, and some of them already are. i never want to wear the same outfit twice. to be an asshole and still loved, to be revered but never sell myself for less than i'm worth (i'm sorry if you did). the ability to take pictures that hurt the ears and write poems that burn the eyes. i want everyone to be honest, all the time. for love to be as easy as picking up a five dollar bill from an empty sidewalk. i want every night to be cold and spent in someone's arms, for it to only rain when there is appropriate background music. i want to never shower and look amazing, perfect hair everytime i crawl out of bed, and friends who know when to fight and when to walk away. i want to be surrounded by people who will never walk away from me.
i want life to fall back together everytime it falls apart. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Sep. 4th, 2006|03:24 pm] |
then:
now:
i have so much growing up to still do. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 31st, 2006|07:02 pm] |
to be honest i don't really know why i keep this around. it's mainly just to see danielle's photos and read some people's writing and to keep updated on all of those people who i'm not a very good friend to. i'm going to have to start writing again soon, it makes me happy(er). i'm putting a prediction down for an ulcer before the semester is over. i have a lip ring, and it makes me happy, even though i keep aggravating it by giving head. i only give head because i'm terrified of him leaving. i swear i'm a normal and healthy and balanced person, i just need to find some weed down here like it's nobody's business and then i'll be a-ok. you hear that mom? everything will be just fine.
i just want everything to snap so at least then i'll have an excuse. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2006|08:16 pm] |
emily cringing
noel on the grass.
reasons parties should not end early:
vomiting
stabbings
places it is not ok for people you are falling for to move:
spain
this summer is ending in a way such that it leaves something to be desired. i'm still waiting for rocks on my windowsill, holding hands by the swings. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 28th, 2006|05:44 am] |
noel after doing lines
noel on the balcony
it's 10:42 and i'm still coming down nice and slow i haven't slept and i got called into work at 3 instead of 4 and i close which will be pretty goddamn painful but oh well. last night we drank on the balcony of the watergate (the watergate, where condoleeza rice, bob dole, and dustin hoffman live) and i took photos and spent the night making out with strangers and then not so much strangers and noel is the boy above, he is my co-worker and i love him dearly and last night we had matching shirts about japan! mine was of kyoto and his was of the entire island but it was still amazing because we're secretly twins but oh man things are getting so complicated and at the end of the night at 4am he crashed his car because he was looking in his rear view mirror thinking about me and all i could think was 'oh god oh god oh god this is my fault' and i don't know what to do i leave for oregon in less than three weeks and i leave for school in less than four. |
|
|
| sheep in wolf's clothing |
[Jul. 19th, 2006|10:31 am] |
don't blame you for not comin' back-
saw you runnin' away and i
tried to cry out your name, but
just cried wolf instead.
it's true you've gotta lie
in the bed you make, but
i made this bed for two,
and i still haven't lied in it.
best intentions wrapped up in
words that in turn were
wrapped up in half-truths and
half-heards, wish i could
take off this wolf's clothing and
say i'm sorry. apologies don't
do a lotta good when you've
got blood on your
hands, but at least this time
it's all mine. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
resurrecting's journal