cryptic appreciation

the word for your being
and the word for mine
separated by the sound we make
when we have something to prove

the small sentence
they all speak so lightly
overheard
undermined
and meaningless
most of the time

i missed it for a while
but lately i see it often
magnified with quantifiers
or the addition
of my name

it dives off the page
and into me

a settling of my panic
from across the pacific

hopelessly devoted, there i said it

and at the mention of seattle, i forget california. the realization hits me: i’d praise anywhere, as long as it held you. so who am i, really? where am i going and why? these questions would be so much easier to answer if i had a passion in life. but i don’t, not really. i like frivolous things, like reading books, writing this, flirting with men who are too old for me, entertaining my friends, philosophy and coffee, free art museums and my own sad painting skills, the prospect of having long hair and being ten pounds lighter, sugary cereal with vanilla soymilk, song lyrics and poetry, the dream of an eloquent apartment in a city near the sea, running for hours, swimming for minutes, chocolate, and you. oh my god, you. if i knew you were mine for life, i’d have nothing else in the world to worry about.

but at the mention of seattle, i know you’ll be gone soon. maybe not to oregon, or california, or south korea, but you’ll go away because i see something in you that i once had in me. call it unrest, call it dissatisfaction, call it not-quite-love, call it my impending heartbreak. i felt it with the others; they were wonderful and kind and devoted – but i needed more and i couldn’t stop looking around. leaving each one of them was an easy slip. i don’t want you to slip away from me, but more importantly, i don’t want you to want to slip away from me. i want to be everything you need.

but at the mention of seattle, and my quick praising of the city, i know that i can’t change for you and i know that even if i were to try, it wouldn’t be enough. it’s not me, it’s you. you have changed me irrevocably but i think you’re the same person you were when i met you, with your cynicism and your chain, a chain pulling you to a different life. from day one, i knew you wanted out of everything i was in. but i fell for you anyway, and it’s not my time to leave yet even though your day of departure is impending.

at the mention of seattle, i call my best friend, and i hear her sporadic plans for her departure day. it finally sinks in; i can rely on no one. i need a dream, a new dream, a dream with no room for people and no hope for love. a dream that only changes with my mind, a dream i can pursue independently. but a dream is something you desire, and everything i desire involves more than me and more than my mind. i am nothing without love and others. but, thank you seattle, i have learned that i need to change.

at the mention of a suicide in the middle of the ocean, i am even more desperate to change. i may soon be living alone, but i will never die a lonely death. i will learn to turn sadness into enlightenment and pain into strength.

at the mention of seattle, i remember we have three months. at least three months. can we fit it all in three months? i hope it is impossible.

“the only thing more boring than nudity is honesty”

beauty, there.
mapped out on the page.
intentions of the maker
unknown to me.
it’s hard to tell dark from light
on people these days.
pale, milky skin
sly, smiling faces
mysterious “angel” eyes
shameless poses –
deviant art.
i won’t pretend
that they aren’t beautiful.
do they believe they are
appreciated?
or do they know they are
used to reach
a wet and lonely oblivion.
a few moments of release,
then still alone,
because these girls of beauty
cannot be physically reached.
the goddesses
of sick sad souls.

(july 2007)

stoned summer, two years ago today

johnny said all i need is ecstasy
beautiful self-destruction
my best friend and me
i’ve been searching for this path forever
met the empty shells who walked it for too long
cried sobs of pity for their stories
and a few hidden tears of jealousy
it began with scissors and cigarettes
my vices of choice, no regrets
i followed the green smoke to a new way to fly
it was the first time i ever had to lie
for a while i slowed, for a while i settled
let myself sink into the comfort of “love”
until a stranger and a bottle of blue
brought something entirely new
stephen said he’s got the will to burn
with every drink i relate even more
i’ll dance until the sun breaks the sky
and sleep with friends i hardly know
simply because i’m not ready to die

i can wear mascara and a red dress

we’ve talked about it
you’re the bigger cynic
and sometimes i just dream
i’ll admit it
logic seldom helps my argument
of good human nature
fairness to all
the benefit of the doubt
and a better world ahead
you scoff
you and your philosophy
your plans for law school
the manipulative world
you just won’t make it in
i can tell by the way
you hold your champagne flute
awkwardly
as you pull your elbows in
and dart your eyes around
scanning a scene
you’ve never seen
but i-
i move with ease
i’ve never held champagne before
but i was born
with the taste on my tongue
the words in my mouth
and the smirk on my lips
i’ve never seen much money
or touched an armani suit
but show me the man
who will dance this dance
in front of me
and i’ll bring him to his knees
it’s more natural
than thanks or please
so keep talking about the world
like you’ve got all your reactions
loaded and ready to fire
my gun is overflowing
with flowers and the sea
but catch me off my guard
and you’ll die before you guess
which bullet it will be
hell, i wouldn’t even know
but my intuition of an aim
is smoother than
your practiced shot
you can’t play the game
you can’t play the game

some nights i forget that i let go

i stare at red nails
pointlessly painted
decorating a dead hand
at least for the night
i stare at red nails
and i think about how
it’s been months
since you cut your hair
and i wonder why
what you’re trying to prove
if all your effortless shrugging
is a disguise
or a flat out lie
i wonder if when
we sit down and smile
will you flat out lie?
will i?
i watch the dead hand
slide underneath the blankets
and i wonder what i’m doing
sitting on the floor
and i wonder what i’ll miss more
the perfection of this city
when i’m gone
the home i think of
when i hear this song
or you
and how we used to get along
i’m staring into space
and wondering why i give a shit
wondering why i’m wondering
because you don’t wonder about me
and if i don’t miss
your conversation
why am i keeping your memory
chained to me?
it all just confirms
what i’ve known the whole time
i was never yours
and you were never mine
i don’t care
how you pretend you’re doing
your stupid jokes
and dumb obsessions
because i’m doing fine
and you’re a jerk sometimes