Between the Cracks She Slipped

There is a restlessness within.
One to which I cannot transcend.
An infinite lament.
A resonant ache lingers and deafens where the heart once beat euphonic.
Who have I become.
I am a wanderer of sorts.
Circumnavigating past and present.
Stumbling towards the unknown.
A product of my disillusions.
Head in the clouds, heart on my sleeve.
The fate of the idealist, the romantic, the dreamer is mine.
I love too much and too little too late.
I live and breathe in this city, but do I live and breathe.
Where have I been.
Where have I gone.
Where am I going.
Where am I.
Where are you.
I see faces and wear one, or two.
I pick up the mail; toss it back.
Go to work; leave.
Fill my mind with Dawkins and Hitchens and Sartre and Nin.
Drown the world in profound insights of musical genius.
Ask questions; search for answers...meaning.
Something, anything...
I evaluate scenarios and ponder absurdities.
I yearn for wisdom and solace, solidity and purpose.
In the dark I lie watching moonlight and streetlight and sirens.
I toss. I turn. I toss and turn.
I toss string for my cat.
Listen to his little racing heart... boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom.
Morning arrives too soon.
I want to reach, but hold back... a formidable endeavor to withstand.
If. you. only. knew.
You wouldn't believe me.
I talk myself out of you to tend to my heart.
For it's on the verge darling, of its demise.

There is a Silence

“In a rabbit-fear I may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark blind death of wheels I will be safe. I am very tired, very banal, very confused. I do not know who I am tonight. I wanted to walk until I dropped and not complete the inevitable circle of coming home.” ~ Sylvia Plath

The city is full of noise, but it is drowned out by the deafening silence within. I am uncertain as to what I am doing here or why. It is a familiar place, these streets I have known, though I am unsure if this feels like home. The people I know have their lives and why should my being here change anything. I am living in three different places; my belongings strewn about everywhere. An unsettling tension lingers. Lost. Alone. Unsure of everything. I have no idea what the future holds or where I should be. The initial excitement of being somewhere I belong has subsided. The adrenaline has worn off. Emotions have surfaced. The emotions of the past three months have let loose their fury and I am at their mercy.

The choices I have made are mine alone and I wonder if they are the right ones. For one I am certain, the rest... have yet to unfold.

The heart is a caged bird unable to fly

"There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you..." ~ Charles Bukowski

This deep, gaping hole in my chest... will not heal. Scar tissue built a fortress around it, now they're building a foreign country with foreign rules that should have caused a revolution... instead the inhabitants conformed. Resistance is futile when the weapon is regret, guilt or fear.

Attempts to stitch it shut have ultimately been in vain. Threads that are fragile do not stay closed, the needle is dull. This open wound steadily bleeds with each pass, each pulse...a festering pool of emotional chaos with nowhere to go.

Time Travel

I am only a woman. A living-breathing-feeling-hot-blooded woman. How can I escape these crazy thoughts...this crazy mind. That thinks this way and is driven to act most ridiculously. There is one thing for certain: I am a BIG FLIRT. There is no cure for this disease. At least, not yet.

It really doesn't help when an old flame from twelve years ago looks you up online and his gay friend also sends you a message saying 'he' was looking for 'you'... I mean, what is that? Where did this come from? It never went anywhere back then, so why is it coming up now? Years later? Unfinished business? A question of what-if? Or just purely what-is?

He was a drummer with a pony-tail. I pretended to play the flute. We flirted through high school band class and he made me blush like a tomato. (Apparently I still haven't out grown the whole tomato thing) We didn't date. We were never a couple. We never did more than make out like idiots. He shoved ice-cold slush down my shirt as we wrestled in the winter snow, shit-faced and face-washed, drowning my glow-blue-in-the-dark watch. That was a great watch by the way, and I'm still pissed about it.

We end up chatting as if there were no time lapse in between. Two big flirts. One chatty box. This could only mean trouble. Double-trouble.

I went to bed feeling strangely rejuvenated and woke up wondering why in hell I opened that can of worms.

This guy brings out my dark side and is driving me to drink. I'm still an ass. Still a flirt. Still know how to push those buttons. Still "Trouble". Will that ever change?

Though looking back on my life thus far... and should I ever have a chance to jump in a time-machine...I probably would have done things a little differently... maybe have skipped a few and focused on the one who was truly important.

I'm all strung out, my heart is fried.

The Permanent Theme Which Prevails Over All Others Is The Persistence of Desire

You found me

In my dreams
Spanning reality
A vivid clear

Words lingered
Suspended between
Two long lost souls
Passionately entwined
An eternal embrace

I awoke heavy hearted
Thunder beneath my ribs
On the verge of tears

Reality intervenes
As you drift away
Like the ebb of the tide
Returning to sea