I talked to her today and when she spoke to me she wasn’t
~~~~~~~~~really speaking to me but rather who I once was.
So what do I do now that the one person
~~~~~~~~~who once saw everything is blind?
11/20/2008
10/17/2008
9/25/2008
There’s a cold fire
And I’m naked
There’s a warm heart
And I’m still frozen
And you’ll never, never get it
And you’ll never, never make it
There’s a cold fire
And I’m stranded
There’s a warm heart
And I’m still immune
And you’ll never, never get it
And you’ll never, never make it
And there’s a cold fire
That will sputter
And There’s a warm heart
That will cool down
And you’ll never, never get it
And you’ll never, never make it
And I’m naked
There’s a warm heart
And I’m still frozen
And you’ll never, never get it
And you’ll never, never make it
There’s a cold fire
And I’m stranded
There’s a warm heart
And I’m still immune
And you’ll never, never get it
And you’ll never, never make it
And there’s a cold fire
That will sputter
And There’s a warm heart
That will cool down
And you’ll never, never get it
And you’ll never, never make it
9/16/2008
Last winter I was sleeping in my sister's room. I couldn't sleep in my room, still don't know why. Anyways, when the trees are all bare, and the sky behind them is gray with the snow clouds the branches look like silhouettes against it. Over winter break, when Justin left, I would lie in my sister's room and stare at the trees. Everything felt so cold. From the one window the way the branches laid against each other, I could see a woman's face in them. She seemed so sad, like the trees themselves were holding her down, keeping her there. And when the wind blew it looked like she was trying to escape. But she never could. I would lie there for hours staring at her, staring at the blank gray spaces that were her eyes. The sky is that same gray color, a white that's not really white, but there are leaves still. Makes me wonder if she's still there, or if the trees grew and she finally got out.
9/01/2008
Waiting
Patiently impatient
For a dream that may never come
She says it’s a nightmare
Says it’s not something I really want
But I know how this heart of mine works
By this point in time
I know how this heart of mine works
Well enough to know
This dream of mine
Is not the terror of demons she speaks
Nor the ugly tragedy she denies
But rather the dream I long for
The dream I’ll wait for
Full of beauty in a bloody guise
Hatred wearing a mask of lies
All of which I yearn to see the truth in
But more than that
I’ll wait for the day she gives up willingly
The day she’ll stop fighting with herself
Stop fighting with me
And give me my dream of her own accord
For a dream that may never come
She says it’s a nightmare
Says it’s not something I really want
But I know how this heart of mine works
By this point in time
I know how this heart of mine works
Well enough to know
This dream of mine
Is not the terror of demons she speaks
Nor the ugly tragedy she denies
But rather the dream I long for
The dream I’ll wait for
Full of beauty in a bloody guise
Hatred wearing a mask of lies
All of which I yearn to see the truth in
But more than that
I’ll wait for the day she gives up willingly
The day she’ll stop fighting with herself
Stop fighting with me
And give me my dream of her own accord
8/21/2008
In response to; http://mjrh2008.blogspot.com/2008/08/on-my-sleeve.html
She’d wear her heart out on her sleeve
If she wasn’t so afraid
Of who may come and snatch it up
So she holds it close to her chest
In a feeble attempt to keep it whole
She never meant to wear her heart out on her sleeve
Now she sees I’ve taken it
And she can’t ask to have it back
Can only hope I keep it all intact
I never meant to steal her heart
Never could have asked to hold it
Not really sure how this all happened
Nor where we go from here
But I promise that I will keep it safe
Protect it from harm and keep it warm
Cradle it in my hands
Until the day comes that she builds up the courage
To ask for it to placed back on her sleeve
She’d wear her heart out on her sleeve
If she wasn’t so afraid
Of who may come and snatch it up
So she holds it close to her chest
In a feeble attempt to keep it whole
She never meant to wear her heart out on her sleeve
Now she sees I’ve taken it
And she can’t ask to have it back
Can only hope I keep it all intact
I never meant to steal her heart
Never could have asked to hold it
Not really sure how this all happened
Nor where we go from here
But I promise that I will keep it safe
Protect it from harm and keep it warm
Cradle it in my hands
Until the day comes that she builds up the courage
To ask for it to placed back on her sleeve
8/18/2008
8/03/2008
8/01/2008
I remember the little things, the things that no one else does, the things that when brought up in a conversation gets looks and comments such as “No, it was purple, not yellow” just because that person doesn’t want to admit to having forgotten the color of the flowers. This is both a blessing and a curse in that being a writer it helps when I am doing something descriptive and a curse because I am only a teenager and there for my thoughts on the subject are quickly thrown aside just like the dead yellow flowers. I guess, now that I think about it, my stubbornness doesn’t help much either.
My grandmother died when I was ten. That’s not to long ago for me being only fifteen. I should remember it clearly, right? Nope, not me. I don’t remember what I wore or what my family wore for that matter other than the safe assumption that it was black. I don’t remember what she was in either. I know I didn’t cry. And I remember sitting down in the basement of our funeral home holding a styrofoam cup with sugar and some coffee with my dad sitting next to me with a styrofoam cup half full of pure black liquid. I remember sitting in the front row. I had, and have, gone to a lot of funerals but never before had I sat in the front row. I didn’t, and still don’t, know any of the people’s names who attended even though I see them often. I should. I just don’t. And I remember, more clearly than any thing else, an old lady sitting in the back of the room with a large purple hat. She was old, older than dirt, and as I sat staring at her not caring because I was a ten year old kid, all I could think was ‘she should be in that casket, not Baba’. I saw her in church the following week and she was wearing the large purple hat again. I think she may be dead now, but I don’t know. I don’t even know her name. But when ever I think of my grandmother’s funeral all that comes to mind is what I thought about that women. And her large purple hat.
My grandmother died when I was ten. That’s not to long ago for me being only fifteen. I should remember it clearly, right? Nope, not me. I don’t remember what I wore or what my family wore for that matter other than the safe assumption that it was black. I don’t remember what she was in either. I know I didn’t cry. And I remember sitting down in the basement of our funeral home holding a styrofoam cup with sugar and some coffee with my dad sitting next to me with a styrofoam cup half full of pure black liquid. I remember sitting in the front row. I had, and have, gone to a lot of funerals but never before had I sat in the front row. I didn’t, and still don’t, know any of the people’s names who attended even though I see them often. I should. I just don’t. And I remember, more clearly than any thing else, an old lady sitting in the back of the room with a large purple hat. She was old, older than dirt, and as I sat staring at her not caring because I was a ten year old kid, all I could think was ‘she should be in that casket, not Baba’. I saw her in church the following week and she was wearing the large purple hat again. I think she may be dead now, but I don’t know. I don’t even know her name. But when ever I think of my grandmother’s funeral all that comes to mind is what I thought about that women. And her large purple hat.
7/30/2008
once again lost for a title...
I’d tell you my plan
But I’m too afraid you’d find some way to foil it
With a broken heart
And a will that’s long gone
I’m confident of your ability
To step aside
When danger comes rushing in
So I’m gonna keep quiet
Mind my own
And keep you in the corner of my eye
Peripheral vision keeping tabs
Of you and your every move
And while I may lose track every once in a while
I am sill always here
Watching
Waiting
And soon you’ll see my plan
Unfold like a burning piece of paper
And it will all be so clear to you
So you will ask yourself
How could I have missed it?
And there is only one answer
The answer I just so happen to be hoping for;
Love blinds us
But I’m too afraid you’d find some way to foil it
With a broken heart
And a will that’s long gone
I’m confident of your ability
To step aside
When danger comes rushing in
So I’m gonna keep quiet
Mind my own
And keep you in the corner of my eye
Peripheral vision keeping tabs
Of you and your every move
And while I may lose track every once in a while
I am sill always here
Watching
Waiting
And soon you’ll see my plan
Unfold like a burning piece of paper
And it will all be so clear to you
So you will ask yourself
How could I have missed it?
And there is only one answer
The answer I just so happen to be hoping for;
Love blinds us
7/22/2008
I can't do this. I can't sit here and get called selfish and self centered and unkind and a bitch by my own mother while he is on the other side of the world. I can't love someone who I can't touch, who I can't hold. I can't do this. I can't have him as my only source of strength, sitting there thinking to myself I'll talk to him soon and everything will okay again. I can't put everything I have on him, give everything I am to him. I can't wait for him only to have him leave again. I can't wait for over a year for my life to start. I can't do this. So how the hell am I? Tell me how I sat there literally biting my tongue, the inside of my cheek all torn up now, when she talked? How did I not scream at the top of my lungs? How am I doing this? And how do I make it easier?
7/17/2008
I think we live our lives in other people's hearts and minds. Alone by ourselves we're not very much good at all. But when we let someone else in with their stories and all their sights and sounds and songs and smells and sensations, we suddenly start filling our shelves and boxes with books and books of them and building up our libraries.
Some of these books are pretty thin reading with faded ink and hardly any pictures and dull stories. And then others are nice, heavy little volumes filled with stories of our pasts and our futures and everything we know and everything we don't, printed and bound, fresh and new and clean.
It's nice when one of these books falls into your hands. It's nice when you read through the first few pages and know it's going to be a good one, and you settle down and know you've got pages and pages to go.
Some of these books are pretty thin reading with faded ink and hardly any pictures and dull stories. And then others are nice, heavy little volumes filled with stories of our pasts and our futures and everything we know and everything we don't, printed and bound, fresh and new and clean.
It's nice when one of these books falls into your hands. It's nice when you read through the first few pages and know it's going to be a good one, and you settle down and know you've got pages and pages to go.
7/15/2008
No idea what to title it....
Poor boy take a deep breath now
It’s a long way down for you to fall
And you already took the jump
Like a man with nothing to lose
Stepped over the edge and hoped for the worse
And it’s all coming clear to you now
That you were just a young boy
With a foolish man’s heart
So take a deep breath now
Because it’s far too late to turn back
You will see the faces
Of those who turned against you
And the faces of those you never knew
It’s a long way down to fall
And you’re not the first to travel
With the thought that this is the easy way
Path of least resistance
And for a man with nothing to lose
You’d have been right in your thinking
But it’s far too late to turn around
And it’s all out on the line now
Poor boy take a deep breath now
And hold on tight to the things you cling to
Because it’s a long way down to fall
And you’re only just beginning
Silly man close your eyes now
There’s nothing left for you to see
You’ve done it all, or so you say
So why are you still standing?
With a heart so heavy it’s in your toes
And a mind you worn out long ago
You thought you were done with this thing called life
Thought there was nothing left to do but fall
No effort left to exert
Nothing left to do but sigh
So silly man close your eyes now
Because as far as I’m concerned
It’s all over for you
You gave up on this thing called life
Jumped off the ride before it was over
Such a pity the fall didn’t kill you
Because now you’re broken and dying
With nothing left to do
And no one there to help you
Silly man close your eyes now
Wait for it all to end
There’s nothing left for you to see
So why are you still standing?
Foolish lover hold her tight
She’ll fall from your grasp
If you don’t hold her upright
It’s a sad world today
That this is what’s required of you
But it’s the best you both can get
When you’re that far gone
Watch her carefully
And fend off her demons
And she’ll give you something to see
She’ll slow the fall you dread so much
If only you can give her
A chance to breathe
So hold on tight to the girl
And she’ll give you what you need
But be weary of her past
A sad world it is
That this is what you get
But it’s the best you both can do
When you’re that far gone
Foolish lover hold her tight
And she’ll never let you go
Won’t let you fall
Won’t let you close your eyes.
It’s a long way down for you to fall
And you already took the jump
Like a man with nothing to lose
Stepped over the edge and hoped for the worse
And it’s all coming clear to you now
That you were just a young boy
With a foolish man’s heart
So take a deep breath now
Because it’s far too late to turn back
You will see the faces
Of those who turned against you
And the faces of those you never knew
It’s a long way down to fall
And you’re not the first to travel
With the thought that this is the easy way
Path of least resistance
And for a man with nothing to lose
You’d have been right in your thinking
But it’s far too late to turn around
And it’s all out on the line now
Poor boy take a deep breath now
And hold on tight to the things you cling to
Because it’s a long way down to fall
And you’re only just beginning
Silly man close your eyes now
There’s nothing left for you to see
You’ve done it all, or so you say
So why are you still standing?
With a heart so heavy it’s in your toes
And a mind you worn out long ago
You thought you were done with this thing called life
Thought there was nothing left to do but fall
No effort left to exert
Nothing left to do but sigh
So silly man close your eyes now
Because as far as I’m concerned
It’s all over for you
You gave up on this thing called life
Jumped off the ride before it was over
Such a pity the fall didn’t kill you
Because now you’re broken and dying
With nothing left to do
And no one there to help you
Silly man close your eyes now
Wait for it all to end
There’s nothing left for you to see
So why are you still standing?
Foolish lover hold her tight
She’ll fall from your grasp
If you don’t hold her upright
It’s a sad world today
That this is what’s required of you
But it’s the best you both can get
When you’re that far gone
Watch her carefully
And fend off her demons
And she’ll give you something to see
She’ll slow the fall you dread so much
If only you can give her
A chance to breathe
So hold on tight to the girl
And she’ll give you what you need
But be weary of her past
A sad world it is
That this is what you get
But it’s the best you both can do
When you’re that far gone
Foolish lover hold her tight
And she’ll never let you go
Won’t let you fall
Won’t let you close your eyes.
6/18/2008
Crayons
"Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing. It's okay though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation.. so when I meet someone who's an 8-color type.. I'm like, 'hey girl, magenta!' and she's like, 'oh, you mean purple!' and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, 'no - I want magenta!'"
6/16/2008
6/11/2008
5/30/2008
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