face it.

Am I impervious? I once thought. Now I think not.

Two books.

It's a toss up night.
Keep fallin behind, not bein heard, not bein seen.
I remember how easy it is to not be heard or seen when you're sad.
Forgot all about that, feigning perpetual "okay-ness"
Keeps people at bay quite well.
Afraid to get to the point where you can't put your shit away
and people can see it and then regard it with hands open
or dismiss it with faces turned away.

I bet there is enough time, though.
To go thru this folder of randoms
Unidentifiable spirits, aching calms.

You would read them in a deeper voice, trying not to laugh.
I would be intent and sincere and
you'd fall deeper into the bed, it sinking to a space
I did not know about before.

For example,

"Libby on the couch, Jenny in the sand.
Penny in my pocket, Quarter in my hand."

You would read that and think of the absence
of the bottom of all your pockets.
No bottom, no found, no discovery.
Some things more precious than others.
And we would pause too long cause
nothing will ever fill that blurry, senseless, creeping absurdness
that is always placed firmly between our faces.

I would read Chapter 78, an excerpt:

"...you wake to nothing the same. and you have changed, in your dreams.
what've they made you, but less afraid?"


You would never hear about the morning the house shook.
Or the front yard back yard too-long-dwelling-before-recognizing.
The twisting, the shrinking of the things that are supposed
to keep me comfortable.
The reckless abandon.
I'm done. It's here. Let's go.

Today is a good day Today.

I woke up this morning and I was shivering. This was a welcomed shiver.
My room feels good now that I moved it around.
Things feel closer to me. Myself, my dreams.

Everything felt soft to me this morning, and even now.

Walked to work with my shoes in my purse and bare feet
on the sidewalks, streets, grass, rocks, rain.
It was pouring. Thought about asking a roommate for a ride, then
understood how much better my day would be if it started with
just me and the rain. The rain. The rain. The rain.
Tarp Rain.

Daydreaming some simple things. Plausible things, but things that
rest solely on single decisions. Moments. Pure and fleeting.

Ahhhh, days of rest, thank you. Days of solitude, thank you.
Days of utter emersion and confusion and not being able to
see straight from all the gushing. Thank you.

moving faster.

I've been asking myself lately "is it too much?"

The answer is probably yes. But what does that mean?

Does that mean that I should stop what I'm doing, eventhough

there is some un-ignorable, invisible pull urging me to

run so fucking fast head-on right into it?

And what is the worst that shall happen to me?

Hurt, reclusion, anger, depression.

HA!

Well, okay. I can live with that.

went to the river with my gang today. couldn't find the right spot.
river had shit in it.
sat next to it for a while and felt the breeze.
lovin livin in pittsburgh.

see? it evaporated.

I just looked at a lot of really lovely things,
and christ I'm just wading through the waters.
I see why people revert.
I see why people stay inside of their rooms.
There is more magic in there
and in their hearts than is recognizable
or communicable through conversation with even the most charming of folks.

I know that underneath everything on top, there are bones. That I own.

you do not.
own them like i own them
although you feel them in your sleep
and i let you see certain things
that you can see
but you are leaving full jars of water on
my sills
and there are no filters to be found
in any of your bags or my bags
or under the bed because it is bolted to the floor
and you roll off when you get too bored.

you spelled ecstacy wrong

Lead a normal life

for my will is as strong as yours

Found that little guy on the internet.

The house is still and quiet. No one's home. I'm watching the Labyrinth.

I just ate some sticky rice and a burrito with fresh tomato. The tomato tasted so good

that it almost made me cry.

If and when I have a garden this is what I would like to grow:

Raspberries

Blueberries

Strawberries

Apples

Carrots

Potatoes

Tomatoes

Sugar Snap Peas

Cabbage

Peppers

Lettuce

Onions

Those white things that look like carrots.

Ohhhh I hope it happens.

I feel great. The weather was so nice today and I walked home from the school where I work all through back alleys. Saw some lovely things. Trees, monkeyvines, stray cats, crumbled staircases.

................................................................

"You have no power over me"

And all folded hands and everyone asking me why.

I could look you straight in the eyes, and your elbows would be up over your face,

could say damn near anything I believed and you would close your eyes

and your eyes from fear of losing too much.

Trying to clean my room. Reorganize. Throw shit away. Move it around. It's very difficult for me to throw things away. All I want to do sometimes is own nothing. I want everything and nothing at the same time all the time.


A N O N Y M I T Y

Changes

First tattoo. She didn't get to finish it because I passed out and growled. Son of a gun. Hopefully I will be able to get it finished. Hopefully I won't pass out again although I feel it may happen.

Finally, together at last. My roommates.

I couldn't be more grateful. I wake up everyday surrounded by wonderful people. I don't know how I got here, but I may ask myself.

Watching What's Eating Gilbert Grape with Kelly right now. She's sprawled out on the pull out to the right of me. I just looked over at her. I think she might be sleeping.

buhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

3 o' clock. Be there.

...And she shows.

ruff and ready

Losing so much. Gaining so much. Keeping so much. Letting go of so much. 

not sleeping right now. sometimes i wish i could be awake all of the time like brian woerner said once in chemistry class

Days on Days

too much too much

Was it the way we were all spinning too fast right in the middle of the room, or was it the tumbling over eachother's fearless bodies? Behind, infront of--foregroundandbackground, rumbling in my head, shaky weakness in all my fingers, I stood taller. 

I never know with such a pushing pull and a killer grip. Ha, I'll just fall back and not worry bout nothin, let bruises come from the ground, but not my lack of radical acceptance. I'll laugh into the hardwood as my 12 year old best friend with boys talking to eachother in the living room, and christ I just need a minute to cool my jets sometimes.

Run to different rooms to never meet you there. And when I do meet you there, we're not even there. We are stupid turning heads around and facing eachother's backs. 

Shaking but drawn.

Storms but calm.

Rested and worn.

Fuck it all, you are free AND bound.