Excerpts from Various Notes Strewn Around the Bedroom...|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 9 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Thursday, March 22nd, 2007|
|Wednesday, March 14th, 2007|
|Sunday, January 28th, 2007|
|fountains of imagery are passing through me like a knife
the daggers will fall in all their aspiring places. i thought the rope was for me.
No one can escape. are you done here? this is a hold up. me, myself, and i are hostages. which identity is going to get me in trouble today? "good thing the guns not loaded" i think to myself. "good thing you didnt see this coming" you smirk in your grief. but the mask almost fooled me. i could have sworn you were something you're chanting you're not.
but you're chanting you're not.
are you finished yet? here comes your getaway car. remind me again what you're getting away with. i couldn't hear it over the blazing sirens who have come to my aide.
but i have yet to be saved.
and you're not going anywhere. i walk to the door.
i'll let myself out since you've efficiently tied yourself up in strife. i thought the rope was for me?
i wait for you at the door, "its not me you wanted." escape never felt so good. until i felt the sharp edges cut into my skin. cut your ties. cut your losses. your malicious intent seeped into my clothes, but where was i so wrong? these contusions have left me battered, and you say the pursuit was in self defense. ( and remind them once againCollapse )
i say spite isn't enough fuel to get you there.
|Sunday, October 29th, 2006|
|Cancer is Someone you Love.
you walked onto the battlefield alone. you said, im gonna fight this thing.
...this thing that has consumed you, slowly shutting down your body.
you let the pills invade your blood.
your cavalry, dressed in white lab coats tried their best to defend. chemotherapy, they reassured you will weaken the attacker.
but it just weakened you.
They were burning you from the inside out. the toxic levels were rising, and so were the stakes for your life. you held your head high.
but you were equipped with nothing more than a debilitated body growing limper by the day. No one would know you were internally losing the battle. After all, you never enlisted for this war.
you trudged on.
the surgeons like soldiers marched you right into the Intensive Care Unit. Call for back up, call for the third infantry. this is an uphill battle, and it just got worse. family rushed to your side like faithful letters to a fighter who was not to return. but you're a veteran to these hospital walls, so why does the stethoscope show your heart rate decreasing? Why cant the doctors mend your wounds?
|Sunday, September 24th, 2006|
...Don't you know who i am?
|Wednesday, August 2nd, 2006|
|Open Heart Surgery on a Polluted Cadaver
feasting on cigarettes again? what's so delicate about your addiction is; you hide it so well. the way you've been ravaging, i'd doubt there's any humility left in you. pump yourself full of nicotine, hope you can cope with this beating heart mechanism. we use this organ to feel. do you understand what that is? i'm asking you to show your emotions instead of stuffing them down your throat. i'm sorry, i don't understand - i know you wish to speak, i can tell by the way your lungs are screaming for air. stop hacking up your thoughts. silly sycophant, those fumes wont hide the truth, just choke me to death. your second hand smoke is a subliminal message too universal for broadcast. find relief in the drones around us who breathe like you do. and here i am, just waiting for the smoke to clear. is there any life left among us, or am i an object pumped of blood? tar keeps you alive, don't hide it. i can see the ash in your veins. you're black insides are practically rotting
...and i'm just bleeding to death.
|Saturday, July 1st, 2006|
|smeared black ink
i cried. i sat there, alone in my room. amidst the stray magazines, pictures and ink staring up at you. clutching my pillow tight to my chest - using it as a gauze to my throbbing veins. my heart has exploded. i didnt know what to say, and i still dont. the word 'speechless' is too dull for what you do to me. shards of my diction lay around my feet in old letters, and my teeth are found clenching the pillow i hold so tightly. i dont want anything to disrupt this moment. a faulty forever. stay a little bit longer, let me catch my breath. you know i wont block the door, i wont say a word.
|Sunday, June 11th, 2006|
|this is me leaving my mark. this is me disgusted with everything you are.
i hope this is the last time i waste my thoughts on you. This isnt even half of the words you deserve. No dearest, i only wish i had the audacity to address you with what you should really get. so lets set the scene, shall we? You want a medal for the things you've done. Well, prizes don't come around as easy as you want em now. You want a mountain with your face engraved... so everybody in the world can see the face of nothing changed.
i worked too hard for this. i salvaged more than you could imagine, only to watch it all crumble down before my eyes. laugh it off, call me childish - i am
. but isnt every girl who dreams big? maybe you cant grasp that far back to remember what goals are. or what you esteemed yourself to be. but i was in the middle of it. i was the captain. you know how long i had been waiting for that opportunity? a lot longer than it took for you to destroy what that meant to me.You want a monument erected in your name, and odds are we will tear it down when you leave as quickly as you came.
what sparked this hatred? everyone knows about it. the whole town is talking. and i had to turn a deaf ear to them, with my head high... your fearless leader
. is it pointless to bring this up - yet again? im out of there. im done. You heighten yourself to lower the blame, and you martyr yourself to heighten the fame, and you lower yourself to draw the compassion.
So Why Go Back. because now i have pictures. and i cant see past the bad to remember anything good. i'd like to share them with you. you were always one to boast about accomplishments. although i dont know with what... but, credits due where credits earned.
|Sunday, May 28th, 2006|
|"the problem with every story... is you tell it after the fact."
"--another problem is the teller, the who what where when, and why of the reporter. the media biased; how the messenger shapes the facts. what journalists call, "the gatekeeper". how the presentation is everything... the story behind the story."
and with that i'll dive right in. This is the beginning of a beautiful end. ofcourse, a day late. Friday evening i graduated from Bastrop High School, that walk across the stage was my right of passage into adulthood. the real world. can i honestly say im fearless?