for whom the bell tolls

[sitting on the 102, a storm of ideas and inspiration charged into my head, I had to write it down]

Doors open.

Doors close.

And the tiny fractures in humanity's shell grow a little  more.

Are you listening?

One breath.

Two breaths.

A flume of smoke exits your bitter lips.

The corners of your mouth turned downwards.

Always weighed down by the grey stones in our teetering structure.

Your architecture.

Our minds totaled by all the devastating crashes of every blink.

Keep talking.

Push me.

Shove me.

Take one step back.

Roll the tape.

Remove the reel and the negatives are all black.

Your invisibility cloak is quickly fading.

Fading into images you never dreamed of.

These days,

The raindrops so thick, your vision is impaired.

But the lights are still blinding.

The wind chills your bones.

With every passing cloud,

I can see more and more clearly

The neon colors of your effervescent skin.

Put on the brakes.

Please, slow down.

You step out of the telephone booth,

Your eyes wide.

Bad news.

I press send.

You press end.

The cold pavement swallows you up.

With every breath,

It's further and further.

Colder and colder.

Over and over.

Just hold me.

Kiss my temple.

Anarchy!

They yell.

And the knell tolls.

Rushes of human flesh storming around frantically.

Don't trip.

No

No

No

No.

The tiles scream at your tires eyes.

The motion lulls your heart back home.

Postcards from faraway places are strewn on the floor.

You're back.

I can't dry your eyes.

I can't supply.

Can we really get across the border?

It's not that easy,

When you won't open your eyes.

Demanding the facts,

They scribble on,

Yawning and nodding

To the monotone hum of the ventilation.

Are you surprised?

Should we jump up?

Apparently,

The longing is too much.

Apparently,

Time can wait.

But I can't.

[and then i got to my stop...]

the looking glass

sept. 23rd. 

12:22 a.m.

[scribbled among the messy pages of my journal in light blue ink. the following page shows an ugly sketch of a flowerpot.]

It's always the same drill.
Sound the alarm.
Shapeshifter.
Through the maze,
Through the haze.
Long days.
It's always my shrill cry
And your misunderstanding.
Now it's funny.
Hats off
To you.
Your tormented little heart.
Or his sarcasm.
Don't be a bastard.
Lighten up.
Long blonde locks.
Tight curls.
Hard knocks.
It's your scared and tired sigh.
I know you like the sweet
And the dark.
I know.
The key is not far off
But it's not close enough.
We're mere mortals,
Darling.
We all have our flaws.
Take a chance,
Baby.
Harmony.
Adultery.
Oh yes, three days.
Oh no, two.
Still rapping at my window.
Don't come knocking.
Silly rabbit.
Oh, acid trips are for you.
Not me.
I know.
Please remember to remember.
Please remind me to -

drained

one thousand volts of static air bend and break and turn your eyes into beams of phosphorescent light.

~~~

pick a color

pick a number

your predicament awaits.

your slender wrists

& washed-out hair.

give me a time 

give me a place

my eyes are still blinking.

my grieving mind

& false alarms.

slow your steps

slow your words

your lazy pen scrawls.

those duvet clouds

& cigarette butts.

~~~

cardboard cutout

for ferrier & oliver.

they will eat you alive.
step out of your box
and into the world.
open your eyes.

they will eat you alive.
greet the dull rain
and the rotting leaves.
close your eyes.

they will eat you alive.
your fingertips graze my eyelids
and your pupils rush to enormity.
open your eyes.

they will eat you alive.
excuse me while i screw my head back on
and the ice shone.
close your eyes.

they will eat you alive.
please don't light it yet
and wait while i run towards the past.
open your eyes.

they will eat you alive.
don't forget to ring me when you arrive
and check your coat.
just wait.

sharp day

[scrawled in my journal during an english class viewing of hamlet]

note: this poem should be read top to bottom and then the second column should be read top to bottom. however, this poem can and should also be read from left to right, the last centered lines being read last.

sharp rocks                any day

rock n' roll                 now

rock bottom               how

bottom feeder            take a bow

parasite                      dear

out of sight                you've lost the war

out of mind                here

lose your mind           there

mind your manners    rest your bones

speak your mind        skin and bones

mind the gap              leave your home

bridge the gap            turn left

bridge your mind       turn right

mind over matter        go straight

matter of fact              but wait

fact or fiction              don't go

fictitious dreams         leave me here

dream big                   open up

big dreams                 up and down

big ideas                    down and out

don't get any              out of luck

any chance                lucky day

any way                    lucky charm

              charming smile
                stay a while
              while you wait
                wait for me.

filling the blanks

Sept. 18, 2009.

2:37 a.m.

good morning

dewy grass

thick gray raindrops

bleak faces

your dimple is showing

so glum when you sign

lying in the road

watching the marshmallow whites

here and now

now and then

then meets now

meet your match

graceful with studs

waiting on the little hand

open the bag

turn on the tap

good morning

good night

good trip

take flight.

requiem 4 a dream

sept 19, 2009.

11:31 p.m.

Kitten,

she called me.

As she rode away

on her Siberian tiger.

But dear,

There's only room for one.

Make you a pattern

Or draw me the lines.

Smile me a smile.

Gentle hands

But your grimace remains

After all the clips.

Or the ice cream jingles.

But don't give up hope,

You've still got your red sequins.

And that crystal vial.

Some yummy sugar for your nose.

Big hug.

Focus in,

focus out.

Blurred vision,

time for a nap.

Ring Ring Ring Ring.

I remember now,

how the glass bottles ate her morals.

Gray ash

and pretty tea lights.

But oh,

don't tell me

you don't know what you're doing.

A single tear, you say.

Kitten,

she called me.

And then she rode away.

white leatherbound

so i got this new notebook, so i could write in it.

and it's been serving me well.

here are a few things that i've written recently...

~~~

red bricks

line your eyes,

line the roads

and the lights

that emanate from your lips.

clear the pebbles

and the monsters under the bed.

open the door

scream

yell

cry out

for help

because the leaves

won't fall back up

you won't shut up.

when in the room,

there's a chair

there's the moonlight,

and your blank stare.

they call me from places

where no map could take you.

they tell you to walk the tightrope,

try not to choke.

hold my hand

watch as the bones are left

when the shell peels away.

far away.

from you.

and the wrinkled sheets

that you left behind,

with that king can,

and those brown butts.

you left empty boxes

and empty bottles.

~~~

leave your shoes at the door.

take a seat

take a sip.

come here

sit with me

don't look away

don't look back

because the cobwebs

are in the windows

the claws

are at your neck.

the frostbite

eats your cheeks

and your eyes widen

when i take a step.

you watch as my lips move.

you crack your knuckles

and wrack your brain.

don't feel

don't feel

do you feel it?

is it right?

are you wrong?

not here

then where?

not now

then when?

just take a breath.

wait 'till the water

reaches the top.

jump in

i'll jump, too.

when the rain starts to fall

for some reason, the weeks following my birthday always bring back memories of another time.

memories from another life.

every year, the feeling changes, always keeping a hint of sadness among the experiences collected throughout the year.

this year, nothing is different.

the person i was this time last year and the person i am now are interchangeable.

but only right now.

only after a day spent alone.

thinking, feeling, being myself for a little longer than usual.

imagine yourself standing in one place, not moving, for an entire year.

everything around you passing you by.

you stay the same and everything else has been turned upside down.

of course you barely realize how different things have become.

amidst the chaos, you haven't taken the time to capture the madness taking place.

if you wrack your brains enough to go back that far, you can remember the smell of the piping hot spice cider that filled your house when mommy boiled a pot of it.

or you can remember watching finding nemo in your socks on the basement carpet.

and the days you sat in the front seat of daddy's car with the windows open, your eyes wide for you were only tall enough for the back.

those were the days...

the days before the crack and tsssssssss of a beer bottle opening.

before the pungent smell of marijuana smoke filled your lungs and the feelings of reality entered your mind.

not so naive, are you ?

or maybe that's just it.

late night heart-to-hearts and secrets and ulterior motives.

staying home from school and eating tomatoes and watching hitchcock.

is that what being 16 really is ?

are you normal ?

is being 16 going to parties in warehouses and popping pills and spending all your money on cigarettes and beer and crying on park benches and watching your friends throw up ?

who are you to tell me what being 16 is ?

who am i to tell you ?

don't forget what it was like.

don't forget that feeling.

**

i barely know what i'm saying

but i'm spooked by the weather

it's got its claws round my neck

and the wind is eating my eyelids

the reminiscence of warm hands

little lights across the waves

make me feel the raindrops

like yesterday's harsh rays

even though it's gone

it's back and it's pulling me by the feet

greet the acid rain

greet the dead leaves

greet the memories you left behind

once convinced of invisibility

greet me here

meet me here

it's gone now

gone with last of the ice cream cones and picnic tables.

your eyes wide with recognition

the tic tic of the radiator the last noise before your mind recedes into your head

saying goodbye to each blade of grass and glass of water

but i'm spooked by the weather

you've got your claws round my neck

don't think twice it's alrigh

your eyes widen as your mother's tender hands clasp the huge pink box and place it in front of you.

you wipe your dirty hands on the front of your sundress and feel the space in your mouth where your left big tooth should be with the tip of your tongue.

your giggling friends all sit in a circle around you and watch as you carefully untie the outrageously large silver bow tied around the box.

your heart begins to race, your tiny hands shaking and your toothless smirk turning into a wide grin.

you pick the tape off each perfectly folded corner of wrapping paper, the eyes of the other children following your every move.

as you grow more and more impatient, your cautious tears turn into ruthless hacking at the now destroyed pink paper.

finally, you find the raw cardboard box hidden beneath the layers of beautiful tissue.

and you look up at mummy, waiting for some sign of encouragement to open the box.

and she looks at you with her eyes that say "go ahead".

and everyone watches as you slowly lift the top.

and all around you, surprise and joy fills the faces of all the young children, their giant smiles warming the hearts of the adults drinking beer and white wine in the garden.

and you...

you just sit.

and you stare.

and you look inside the box eight more times.

you scrounge around for something more.

something else.

but that's it.

that's it.

... to be continued.

(i turned 16 today. i feel the same.)

(i had a good day.)

(my year wasn't so bad, either.)

xx