Some Old Work

8.26.07

tremble
shudder
shake
force of thought
pushing
smashing
searching

What am I worth?

What
am
I

worth?
-----

swirling
swirling
swirling
pushing past the lines
I'm outside the box
and everything I create
it misunderstood...
Misunderstood.

And I crawl back in the box
because really,
what the use of being outside
it there's no one there
to stand next to me
with understanding
in their eyes?

So I crawl back in
slowly dying,

more alone inside than out.
-----------
Jiving

Jiving
in and out
of reality

Smiling at a story
laughing at life
flitting around the edges
avoiding the pain
and emphasizing the pleasure

Holding to the good
eradicating the bad

Perhaps this is why I treasure you so,
you natural ability to do all this

Perhaps I should face reality
but who would want to,
with you, the demon-temptress,
beckoning with such a sharp twinkle in your eyes?
-----------
Ah to let go of all the pain
I've caused so many others
Oh to forget the love I've
given far to freely.
oh to be myself.

Oh to be myself!

to drop off the edge of the cliff
Happy for the rough spots
As much as the soft air I'll fall through.

To live life, and not escape it!
-----------
I love zoning out.
------------
How do people live through feeling as much as I do? I don't understand. And like the ring of red on my wrist--holding too tight for too long--how do they erase the past days and weeks and hours and live in the now?
I know I've understood that ability before. I've had it. Everything was clear and life was good, easy.

I don't feel that now.

Set Free

You make me feel like
I'm six again.

and while I've run ahead
of Mom--that moment before
she reaches the car--
I see this looming hill,
and instead of scaring me,
it excites me, 'cuz I can roll
down it.

And Oh! The freedom
As I lie down on the edge,
tuck my arms and legs in,
and giggle fiercely as
my hair whips around me,
in my face
in my eyes
in my mouth
In circles as I tumble
Down, down, down breathlessly
enthralled by the process
of living.

Turning, tumbling, swirling
rushing from one view
to next--green pokey grass,
flash of blue sky, spark of
sunlight, turn down, puffy
clouds--

You make me feel like
that--all the rush and
exhiliration and daring.

All of it.

Expectation

puking nausea
vomiting chunks
of untruth
cleansing my system
of all those flashes
of color, light, sound
EXPECTATIONS

I have placed on myself,
on others.

And they all fail.
We all fail,

becoming more of
ourselves
and less of who I thought we were

Less of the beauty
more of the pain

Which of itself is beautiful

But I cling so hard
to my past ideals...


I miss it.