i won't be your winter

it's so cold here.
literally and metaphorically:

the snow is so high and blowing so far that you can't see a foot in front of your face, we're class canceled and housebound for the remainder of the night.

on the metaphorical hand, i feel so drained and numb that i can't see a foot beyond anything/one, i drift through routine actives and interpersonal association on autopilot.

if feel like if someone knows they can't make you smile sincerely then they won't find you enticing enough to commit emotional effort to . . or maybe that's my problem.

i don't deem anyone worth getting my hopes up for. (or if i do, i quickly find out that i was wrong.)

how is it that as a person who is prepared to spend her life connecting with people, can't even see the sincerity in the people she has surrounded herself with for the past four - six years?
is it just that you know what to expect? it's boring, unexciting, because know you have know that what you re looking for is something other than what you have.

but if you can't get over that, how are you going to survive these next few months? you have to force yourself to hope? because if you give up looking, you'll be alone. . but looking too hard leaves you alone as well - probably lonelier.

alone is not bad, but to much time inside your own head is, and lonely is five steps away from desperate, which is right around the corner from drunken flirting and a load of poor decisions related to the prior.

so to renew your hope in something you put yourself back out there and get attached, only to realize that who this something see's is not you. - or not how you want to be seen - because you're not feeling, and you always know when you are purposefully hardening yourself to a situation. we all have an asshole we bring out to deal with these kinds of situations, and that's what people see.

i'm detached and frequently face the inability to feel anyone, ive become less approachable . . those are things that i have never been. and maybe it's just that i am waiting for someone to see it, and pull me out of it. but who i am i to rely on other people that way? how selfish, right?

you have to get beyond the coldness, the hard defense mechanism that is routine. and even for a little while, find someone that makes you want to change. there is something to be said for seeing personal potential . . you're old self will always be there . . i know who i was, know i want to know who i am. i think that's fair.


in conclusion, my thoughts have become circular, and consequently redundant.

a two seated vehical

how is it we, as a general speices, keep a lid on temptaion. yes, conscience is a strong arguement, but so is self satisfaction . . what stops us from acting on impulses we know we can get away with?

maybe we like being tempted, enjoy wanting and chasing so much that the catch is underminingly meaningless.
but when one is consumed in the chase, in the flirting and the game playing, does it not make sense for one to be consequently unfuliflled?

and yes, unfulifillment can be intentional for whatever reason but it gets old fast and it takes alot to rely completly on yourself and love happy best friends. eventually you need another person. if nothing more than for a boost of self worth and consistent companionship.

i don't think that being with someone means loving them, or atleast it does not require the intention of loving someone. sometimes its just easier to be the other person.

a consistent "other" person. because relying on a handfull of "booty calls" and once-a-month jackasses leaves something to be desired.

and once you realize that you "desire" more, you will no longer be fulfilled with what you have been living off of. and i guess that makes sense.

i've been a believer that consistency seals love, but the consistency of inconsistency - i am willing to believe - seals bitterness.
in seeking a constant, am i seeking love? - probably - but do you have to want what you are seeking, do you even have to be conscious of it? - no - i'd be willing to believe that unconscious want is something like wishful thinking, we know it's important, but cast it aside.

so maybe if i start to give in to my desire for consistency and less to the inclination that is the chase, i'll land somewhere i should be.
and maybe end up happy, and if not then nothing more than satisfied will do.

leftout greys

if you did not value something the first time you had it, say you just used it for a superficial distraction the first time, how can this same something have value a year later?

when you face the same person, the same general scenario after you've been removed, but not necessarily disassociated from it, how do you not give in to the same perception as before.

is it bad to put yourself into a situation that you have complete control over? simply because you can't seem to control anything else around you.
you purposely search for something to hold on to, some form of mild consistency, just because everything else has disappointed you, changed and slipped away.

or is it worse, that these same feelings ( restlessness, frustration, loneliness, inadequacy, lust, ) lead you to grasp onto false hopes and hold on for dear life.

on one hand, you will be disappointed because you are unfulfilled, bored. and on the other, you'll be waiting and boarding the emotional roller coaster that is hope for the umpteenth time.

either way, only 5 months until i'm gone from here for good.

so i ask myself why it matters. .
and i know that it's simply because
i want it to matter.

it's as though, currently, i am bidding my time. waiting for everything - due to circumstance out of induvidual control - so what about now? what happens to the "me" sitting here right now, who doesn't have anything together.
knowing what you want and having faith you can get it is one thing. but knowing what you want and having to wait for a piece of paper and a plane ride is another.

what happens now? all i know is that i am not feeling anything, except for restless inadequacy, and desperate frustration, i've fallen to a diet of lackluster poetry and cheap beer.

there's more than this. .
something to matter to me, something new and right now.

please, don't you walk away

what's tangible has motion lines
rapid and blurry
a single sound you spin around
watching, reaching, out of habit
envelope consistency
like Alice and the rabbit
chasing what refuses to be caught
sand escapes extremities
reality numbed
watching for too much to care
letting go to feel it
be it
in it
as it slips away

do you ever feel like we're running out of time?
(and not the other way around. . )

romantic how we fail

you won't be the glass
to cover me
claustrophobic bindings intertwine
hands moving backwards
across your Timex face
mechanically watching
these actions far removed
shatter and submerge
miss. trust, miss. take
altered egos with fright and lust
stop but don't reverse it
warnings chime,
the pumpkin arrives
without a slipper, without shame
watch me now,place your bet
i'm a graceful disaster
with a stopwatch on regret

the safer devil

take mannequin hands

cold, smooth, mass produced
without windows and smiles

whitewashed, removed truth

hand painted layers

thick satin vermouth

a shallow fix to leave you hardened

given freezer burned touch

sound an inner time bomb tick

smother this plastic

sincere, hungry heat

swim in this plaster - it melts

touch me flesh to flesh

remember stone what it is to feel

take two to moments

indescribably real.

precious little meltdown

feel you move me, use me
harsh focus in the rolling heat
inspired to evaporate
give me something i can use
tear it out of me
i'm screaming
give artistry to bleeding
crave me, blame me
with porcelain eyes
and dahlia smile
replace me.
round my edges
make me see through.
break me like you love to
leave before i'm cold.
your pire to fidelity
exchange me, erase me.
leave a mark, invisible
make it deep, make it breath.
twist this scene into your puppet strings
see how i splinter?
scatter me, rearrange me
suspend me here - make something out of me.

give me somebody to dance for

i think i forgot.
i forgot why i do this, and every now and then when i get a glimpse of someone inspiring and passionate i remember that that is how i was and how i still want to be.
i don't even know how to get back there anymore.

i don't know what happened to me, or my priorities.

i think i need a change of scenery, something new to inspire me. safe from routine and the same nagging voices.

it's not that i am externally motivated necessarily, its just that i am effect by all the negativity i am around. it's atmosphere that motivates me, not people - that's it.

i hate that i am powerless to change my surroundings for another semester and hate that i am subject to these surroundings. the impatience, and the judgment, and the goddamn politics of this place are killing me.

no, you know what's killing me?
i forgot and i can't remember - not without help.

i don't want to be helped. that's the thing of it -
not wanting what you need.

how do you get around that?

hold your breath

need to see the muse in me?
want to find a song in me?

hold your breath
you know how
we've learned not to expect
what we want
burn your bridges with inspiration
clingto starving dreams
and move to the bright lights
where steal turns mute
disbelievers
the roaring smog
full of whats best for you
it's impracticle
to crave believers
please over look these eyes,
these ripping seams.

maybe's not a deep breath
no, could be's not a song.

we put ourselves in these places, where we know we could be happy. where we will be inspired and enticed, even though we know that it can't happen. or that - for what ever reason - it wont happen.
but maybe it's enough to see that you could be happy.
prospect - renews hope? atleast alittle.

i prefer the worst of you

You’re fangs are laced
With poisonous metaphors.
Grace this porcelain
with the scar you ache to leave,
stain this claustrophobic bitterness
with deception.
In low tones
that draw me closer to the kill.
Look at these medusa eyes
craving inspiration from the dark
Grace the light,an invisible shadow.
Meet me half way,
you’re winning my game,
polished marble won’t turn to stone.
Melt me with immortality.
My life in your hands, my heart in your teeth.

who destroys you

people are funny. maybe people are selfish. or just pathetic.

you see someone and expect to get your entire conscience mind seductively ripped out and shoved in a blender, when in fact there is noripping or blending.

but because you had braced yourself for it, and in a sick way almost looked forward to such consistency, you almost craved it.

crave is a delicate term, crave implies addiction, and who are we if we crave what deteriorates us (in an over dramatic emotional sense)
because such deterioration is dependable and comfortable?

but i am not deteriorating, berating myself for a lack of moral sense, or even feeling the least bit betrayed.

it was like storing up the anticipation for a later date, "hey right now i just want to sit next to you and be near you, but i know you know i want to fuck you."

it's a strategy, like in any other game, to keep you wanting more, clever and effective and in some cases completely unintentional.
and maybe i should not analyze these steps and appreciate the fact that i maintained some form of emotional clarity tonight, and realize that monthly midnight phone calls and stolen evenings don't constitute anything near love, but part of me feels a need too.

because over thinking means you are churning emotions, i want to hang on to something that i define as tangible and for once not accept it only to harden myself to it.

i guess that sometimes it's enough just to call, because i know you have nothing to say but wanted to call because a call means "I'm still here, and i hope you didn't forget me" - in both a sentimental and sinister context - because if you are thinking, (or missing? which may or may not equal craving?) then you are still caring. and maybe that is the only point that was important to communicate.

and maybe we are growing up, or maybe we are tired of hurting each other in the same ways.
i know, and have always known that it's okay not to talk, and just have conversations with your eyes. read each others minds, and take pleasure in just that simple fact . . knowing someone without saying a word. even if words are necessary.

sometimes you just want to know that a person is within reach, even if you are not reaching for them.
. . simple minded consistency and all that jazz.

never mind

bare yourself
in/to stolen moments
foster an interal monster
you carry glutton in that basket
feeding something hollow
fading to a distant
. . never mind
starving from the inside
"the better to emaciate you my dear"
attack the numbness
for a curse, for a cure
such foreign novicane
to make you beautiful
thriving on sensation, shatters the mirror
ferocious denial looks through the pieces
you're the wolf.
you're the cape.

almost honest, once

(take two)

hummor the hell out of me "baby"
let's cheapen the act
to stolen moments
before we count back
beats to sleep too
heat to forget our names too
we're hollow, we're cheating
making and breaking
this game apart.
we'll take this to pieces
fragments with which i'll haunt you
i'm poision to your illusions
cowardace brings out your eyes, "baby"
if you won't dance
there are others behind you.


- - - - - -


(take one)

i'm desprately independant
clinging to night mind excuses
we'll push this inclination to belief
don't look for her here
i'm poision to your illusions

no canvas for your paint brush
i'll be exactly what you expected
familiar and disdainfully opaque
i feel what you're to blind to see
but i still turn you on


fill me with whatever you want to say
in this space so bare, hollow
you should try and smile
oh "baby", if you don't want to dance
there are other's in line behind you.

i'm trying to beat this writers block
it's a skitzophrenick idea that needs some work . . but its a start.