March 3, 2014
You bathe yourself in the dim glow of all that self regard. When you’re in a sea of people I see it get brighter as you look around gratuitously. You’re lonelier than most because you’ve built your triumphs on phantom wings that are illusive and irrelevant. Are they even real? You are at your core fundamentally selfish, unable to correlate affection with some form of generosity. It’s as if despite your short life you’ve somehow concluded that you stand in the middle of everything that’s happened to you. You remain unaffected by the love of others because that jaded glow obscures your line of vision.
Yet such is the life you and I lead, bound by the inevitability of family ties and the spotty encouragement that accompanies it. We are nothing if not human. How could I fault you for this?
February 25, 2014
It’s effortless on that side where you look up and he’s smiling at you and if you blush prettily this is encouraging and if you look into his eyes for the briefest second and then away to your friend it will still work because you looked his way and that’s what matters because it’s easy there where things are meant to happen at their natural pace and it’s where you meet your friends and lovers amidst the sea of brightly smiling faces and it’s just easier there where it’s a new page for you and you have everything to gain and nothing to bleed out for because they don’t even ask if you’re okay here at home because they’re always sniggering at you and waiting for you to fall on your face and you just won’t see the face you want to see when you pick yourself up again.
February 12, 2014
Love of mine,
when you’re born I tell myself
that you’ll never die.
I’ll just name her after you,
love of mine.
Love of mine,
when you die I tell myself
that you never lived.
February 7, 2014
There’s a haze in the distance
I hear you strumming another set of notes
who cares what I want out of you
you long for everything these days
my daze transcends that of an addict’s
into the murky waters of denial
and the inevitable sea of betrayal
laden with its countless victims
these walls are turning into a burnt red
you can’t stand the sight of me
your secrets pour out of you like tar
get out of my forsaken space
I’m running out of air in this truth.
Icy daggers in the eyes that I love.
February 6, 2014
Ignorance comes from within.
I’m not a philosopher.
Nor a psychologist.
And certainly no poet.
What you do not know you do not care for.
Your knowledge is bound by your naïveté.
What do you seek in the world?
You know nothing of your real colors.
Of the ground you were born on.
Of the people who raised you.
Of the ones who struggled for you.
You do not seek comfort in your history.
Just the history of others.
Those far, far away.
But they do not care for you.
They don’t know you, foolish girl.