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Saturday, March 15, 2003
Finally, I have found within me the reason behind this loneliness. Why no one was here. Why no one would stay with me. I know why, perpetually, I've been left behind. My entire self value, my self worth... Was non-existent. There was nothing in me for people to hold onto. I held no redeeming qualities. I cold not keep anyone's interest. As soon as people were bored with me I was put in a garbage bag and dropped into Good Will for someone else to find. One could say "One man's trash is another man's treasure." There is no treasure here. There is what Joe called "A lone grain of sand on a vast beach." We will all get washed away. I'm being sucked into this ocean already. I miss Ryan. I miss talking to him. Talking to anyone. I'm almost afraid to talk, because someday.. the talk will stop, And there will be nothing to talk about anymore. I must not reveal anymore about me. I wish for my life to be livable. Bearable. Why do I have to move. Why do I have to work alone, with no connection to those I care about so deeply. Why must my cord to life be severed. I'm going to die too Ryan. Not hearing from or seeing anyone. Especially you. Its far too long for me to be alone. And I've grown quite fond of these things between us, odd they might be to others. What does this make me. Is it too soon for me to move on past this death. I know what some would say. They'd point fingers and whisper: Whore. For what? Because my mental and emotional state travels in speeds they do not comprehend. Oh beware the tender hearts. Either of us could hurt the other just as much. If my husband were to see this now, would he be jealous and bitter? Would he hate me for not waiting for him? Am I so impatient? Harlot. I've been tossed aside! My years of friendship brought down to worthless ashes, Me, flaming with it. How can I be so ready to just get on past this. I should be in mourining. No one will trust my judgment again. Slut. I just don't want to be alone. Whether or not I'm attached to someone officially or not. I'm still so confused. I'm still aching to curl up on someone's lap, in their arms and cry the poison away. I want a life. I want to be free and fun. I want to be crazy and silly and childish. I want to knock on the sky and bring heaven into this barren earth I walk upon. I'll bring it for you. And I will be happy. Friday, March 14, 2003
At this moment, In this hug, I could see the clock from across the station. At this moment, Instead of bidding farewell to Scott... I could have been in the arms of my husband welcoming his return with great warmth. It was not to be. I watched until Scott was no longer visible. My face was stitched with that solemn expression I wear when I'm alone. All aboard solitude express. Personal space is non-existent in the world of travel. Not that I minded much. Once you get over the fact not everyone is as diseased and horrible as society forces you to think, One can withstand actual body contact. Knee touching knee. Elbow bumping into hand. A tipping head of slumber creeping toward your shoulder. Provided the person sitting next to you is mildly respectful of the fact you need room to breathe as well. I get the dumbest luck. Then again, it could have been worse. When I grew sick of this conscientiousness I would stare for indefinite amounts of time overhead. Beige? Ecru? Eggshell white? Just stare. Why was this so familiar? John. Flashback I was on a plane. My eyes were near unblinking as they fixated on the panel overhead. I was in deep. Everyone was dying And they were taking me with them. Why. Why. Why. Couldn't we crash? John was dying. I remember I came close to fainting at the news. On the floor. Unable to move. Chris could not save me. No, no one could. Please keep all hands, arms and personal belongings inside the vehicle at all times, until we have come to a grinding halt. Right. I closed my eyes. Maybe I could suppress the memories via sleep. Sleep, however, had other ideas on its mind It decided to sucker-punch me throughout the remainder of the trip. As soon as it lured me into its sleek depths... It would pinch me awake and my eyes would be staring again. I willfully conceded to this ping pong match. I give up. On the last leg of my journey I was able to see out a window. Wide angle view of the world. Passing the streetlights I often caught my reflection in the glass. My countenance was carved out of bitter wood. I hope I didn't frighten anyone too much. When I come home It is tradition for my mother to turn on the red lantern in my room. She leaves the curtain up so that I may see it on our way up the hill. I gaze at it now. There is a dragon and phoenix pendant dangling from it And it holds still in the air. As much as this lantern casts a glow hauntingly reminiscent to the way it was during the time of trauma... There is still something... Red; a color of passion. Of life. Of longing. My fingers twitch and a breeze in my mind blows gently... In the air, In my mind... I compose a haiku for Ryan: Beneath the lantern I lay here craving your voice This dream is for you... I breathe in sharply, Caught up in this moment. Sigh and his reply- 'Me too.' Thursday, March 13, 2003
Every day they pass you by. They have no visible wings. No halos either- too cliché. Their souls are constantly challenged. Constantly burned. Constantly extinguished. They are at psychic turmoil with the other forces in this world. They are our healers. Our uncertified “psychologists” Our comfort people. Our crutches. On this earth they are not total purity. Nothing is that walks in the flesh. Why are they here? They have been sent for redemption of themselves and others. If they cannot make the past wrong, right They fall into eternal, dark permanence. Then they become the weights at your feet holding you underwater. They become whispering voices in your ear that lead you down the ladder into bitterness. Tread lightly. Take caution. These people.. They’re here to save you. Most people have given up on salvation. Shallow.. hollow people. You’ve forgotten us. You don’t know we exist. As the angels pass upon the street, we nod in acceptance at each other. We know who we are. Sadly, we cannot touch each other. There is only consolation in knowing we are not alone. Be brave. We’ll surface yet. And I’ll be damned first if I don’t fight to keep the threads of those I was allowed to touch- out and away from that pit. My mind is a dangerous thing. I often wonder if maybe my mind is trying desperately to comfort me. Did it create Ryan? This alter-self? Do I imagine this? I’m not that creative. Indeed it is too real. Sigh. I determined in my mind, it is better to not sleep than it is to have a sleep filled with feverish dreams and imagery that wakes you up more often than is pleasant. I was tossing. Overheating. I kept seeing him leaving. I kept feeling something horrible. “Are you okay? Are you okay? Please don’t leave... I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” I can’t remember half of what I said. I had a dream that could not be shaken. Even now it resonates in my mind. Some sticky ethereal film. A web. I’m caught… But, fortunately, I am no longer falling. I stare unblinking into this void of new potential. Once I figure my way out… Where should I go? Where do I go? Where can I go? Shaking. Shaking again. I miss you. Wednesday, March 12, 2003
Sleeping people are the most graceful listeners. I pressed my ear into the phone to listen harder. Near silence. I wasn’t sure if the phone had died And I didn’t want to hang up and find out for some reason. Faintly I heard the breathing. He was there. In my head… On the phone… Alive. Sometimes asleep. I whispered to him, caught in a moment I knew he’d not be able to argue. What did I say to him? Things I dared not speak of, or confess up front? What was I hiding that I had to use his precious few sleeping moments to speak of deeper matters? I know I talked about love. And betrayal. And my husband. I confided within my alter ego… …even when he was inactive. I knew there was much more to this. I talked about my feelings. My confusion. My distress. Indecisiveness. Was I wrong? When you lose a part of your soul, is it wrong to fill it again with something else? He stirred. Later, I’d find out he caught just a few short words of my foolish ranting manner. I hope he will not be upset. [Enter] daily life intermission. I’m leaving soon. Packing up shop to return home for a week of… Sigh. Deeper loneliness? Perhaps I could occupy myself with finding a new identity before I fall apart into normality. I will miss falling asleep like we had these nights. I will miss it all. I will miss it. Why does it burn? Who knows when things will begin to smooth over? I’m becoming confused now. Anyway. He needed rest. Well, perhaps so did I. It was time for a nap. Although I knew I’d not be able to sleep. Too much of the insomnia elixir. This was not my only battle. Doors down the hall. Slam. Slam. Slam. Shaking my room. I’m jumping at all the noise. People passing through the hall as though their hearing aids had been turned off. Slam. Is this necessary? Cringing. Loud. Violent. I just wanted to sleep… My eyes closed. An interval of silence. Slowly fading out to that restful embrace… SLAM. My eyes flicker wide open. Unable to close again. Heart racing uncontrollably. That’s. It. I placed the phone down a moment. I’ll be back. I stepped outside and knocked on her door. I was greeted by a woman dressed in a black jogging suit, who looked like she had been intensely into working out at the moments previous to my sudden interruption. I would have to speak now. No turning back. “I’m sorry to bother you, can you bring something up really quickly at tonight’s floor meeting?” She stood there, nodding- really wishing she had not been disturbed, hoping I would go away… “Could you please ask people to stop slamming their doors whenever they go into their rooms? I’m a little sensitive to loud noises... it scares me while I try to nap and every minute someone happens to be slamming their door closed…” “Uh huh, sure no problem.” She flashed a fake smile. I knew what would be next. The door was closing. Oh. No. Slam. In my face, the irony. I winced. I returned back to Ryan and sighed gently, listening contently to the breaths of sleep. If only you knew. Tuesday, March 11, 2003
There was something cradled softly between my dusty palms. White powder floated visibly through the rays of sunshine pouring through the window. For once I felt like God. And this was my creation. The plaster casting felt like a child in my hands. I was growing a type of god-like maternal fondness for it. I took it home with me. My feelings faded when I entered the room I cannot remember today. There was so much noise and darkness as I tried to squeeze myself into oblivion. Try to lose it all. Why can’t I free myself. Hot and cold. Night and day. Black and white. I just wanted to be a tragedy. I wanted to bear the expression of my pain upon my face. A reminder of longing and pain. I wanted to bear honesty like heavy chains. I want people to be able to see themselves reflected back to them every time they gazed at my eyes. My expression. I want them to see who they are. I want to see them flinch in fear and reach out in awe as they see chaos and salvation swelling up over them. I want them to see their souls damned. I want them to see their souls freed. I would be both. I bear Heaven and Hell in my eyes. In my body. I liberate. Whether for good or for worse. And the question you must burn deep into your mind… When you meet me, Which will you see? Monday, March 10, 2003
People spat all over the sidewalk. It wasn’t pretty, nor attractive. I had to watch my step. My hip was as maladjusted as my head. At least when my body went out, It went out both ways. I got into the van. I’d be home soon. Ryan would be at work. I was thinking. Insane. Are we insane? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we… Quiet. I shut up. Not for long. I put my head back against the window as we drove off. The van shook. No, it rattled. It rattled me. My head pounding violently against the glass. One bump and it might be it for me. One more hit in my head and I might lose it. One more hit and I’d probably become a vegetable myself. One more hit and it might get very dark. My vision shivered intensely. This is how I saw the world. Shaking back and forth in turmoil. This is what its like to crash. I’m in a shuddering plane staring wide-eyed down into the maw of oblivion. My head vibrates. Teeth chatter madly. Will I be sucked in? I keep watching with morbid fascination until it all stops. The van has pulled over and I’m home. Ryan was home. But he was hurting. Please tell me again why I can’t be there to do anything. For anyone. I’ll be damned. Oh wait.. nevermind. Things got intense. Caffeine. Caffeine. Way too much. My caffeine psychosis. I can’t talk to myself. I get into the shower. The water burns enough to keep my mind from settling too far. I can’t tell the difference between tears and real water. I can hardly tell that I’m even crying. Caffeine. I’m shaking. Are we there yet? Sunday, March 09, 2003
I lapse into my memories again. We stare at the blue bubbles as they float up and bounce. There was something mesmerizing and relaxing about watching a lone lava lamp in your lover’s arms. Enchanting. Our eyes gazing studiously. Our minds attempting to boil up some metaphor for this moment. He said it the best. “See how the bubbles try to keep each other afloat?” I smiled and nodded. I saw them bounce against each other to stay afloat. Even when they sunk, another bubble from somewhere would cycle and push it up again. This was us. He and I. Like an arch. Leaning against each other. We could be strong. I felt it in my heart. This moment was filled with warmth. Hot liquid blue against the walls. His face illuminated softly. Deep breaths as we fell asleep. I was there. It had been real. Just once. My feelings have become solidifying mud. Thick. Hard. An indescribable form. Like mud in the sun, all these feelings grow more lifeless and stiff. Pour water over me. Watch me run. Not enough sleep yet. I’ve had better. And I’ve had worse. If mud were alive, would it be continually awake or revel in perpetual slumber? My heart’s not been into this lately. I often feel less and less like talking. This can’t be good. This was my out. Supposedly. A spiritual hike up Mt. Fuji seeking enlightenment. I am not yet enlightened. I’m held back. It’s not due to the size of the mountain. or the cold gnawing at my face and hands. or the rocks that cause me to slip and lose balance. It is because I am impatient and afraid. I’m too eager to settle my life the way I feel it should fit. ‘Life isn’t a race’ I must say to myself. If you think it is, and finish first- you lose first. Inari be with me as I slide from my empty den... |
 ColonPipe Hyper Buddha Gorgissum Haiku Knock on the >>Sky Ebbles Miniatures  |