Tattered.
February 24, 2015 § Leave a comment
She could see the oval face get
redder and redder, words
stuck on the roof of her mouth
struggling to exit
she was a
comical character
some horrid display of
error
sickening, wasn’t it
how they looked
at her
repulsed
demystified
how shameful
how condescending
others might have been
seeing the ugly machine
clothed in flesh
sputter
and break apart
for no reason.
Caricature.
February 24, 2015 § Leave a comment
So you’re one of those people
eyes hardened, vision filtered
by black and white tones
hands rough from hard days
stained, bloodied
skin
sharp tongue
quick wit
a sure pose
You’re one of them
fighters
opinion leaders
standing tall
towering above others
Ain’t it nice
Ain’t you powerful
Ain’t we different.
Where is my heart?
November 21, 2014 § Leave a comment
Passionless and emotionless
I’m going nowhere
or going down
heartless aimless wandering
i come across erect toothpicks
waiting for me to pierce myself
hating the world
blue eyed monsters
delicate social worldly academic economic
standing don’t you wouldn’t you
hate it too
i just snap sometimes
it happened today
last night
last year
endlessly
a perpetual motion of torment
i can’t stand it.
An Author
October 12, 2014 § Leave a comment
Oh how I would love to be an author someday. To have that title beside my name! It would be heaven. But how to get there, well that is a different matter. To me it seems impossible, if only because my romantic notions of writing are entangled in fantasies of the countryside, of a small room in a cottage and a typewriter and coffee and solitude. And I feel that without these, one―I―would not be able to engage in the only activity that I am passionate about.
Isolation.
October 4, 2014 § Leave a comment
It
hangs
above
me,
ready
to
cut
off
the
chatter
of
strangers—
ready
to
blur
the
glances—
the
prying
eyes.
slowly
it
descends,
melting
away
their
faces
and
names
and
jobs
and
I
don’t
mind,
at
all,
the
retreat,
the
inward
isolation
if
it
can
help
me
get
away
from
the
others.
Wouldn’t it be nice?
September 29, 2014 § Leave a comment
if we could get off our lazy asses and
be the people we dream to be—
no hesitation.
If we could only quit living in
shadows,
afraid of how we look to others—
afraid, even, of that crookedness
so present
in the image
mirrors give us.
If only we could tire of comparing notes
with one another
like schoolgirls and schoolboys
listening to
lectures
and lessons.
If we could migrate from
where we don’t belong
or
where it’s comfortable–
too comfortable.
Why can’t we go where
we really want to go?
Why can’t we be who
we want to be?
Stripped 