it hurts like a boulder is massive
a shape too big to hug, a weight too incomprehensible to budge
when will these landmarks shift
is this the correct map?
my inside landscape feels like a natural disasters leftover carnage
trying trying to re-root
trying trying to make life life-like again
i want myself out of myself
all this thudding is a bore
a tennis shoe in the dryer
ongoing forever annoying myself with my sadness
become something new
turn into a sandal
a thinner, less offensive version of the thud causer
i hold my breath all the time waiting for it
it whirls and whirls hot air and cloth movements then it
hits
a shocking thud
always surprising
forever thudding
a sore heart, burning eyes, aching chest
ravaged insides
trying trying
to be a life
in a human body this time
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
same story
I like to use the technique of avoidance
when everything gets so close up again and the pores of the situation are visible
but the shape of the thing is not
I like to not
write anything down
not take pictures
I sometimes pick up my camera, the one a man gave me in Florida
but then I always put it down and run out the door w/ my purse flying saying in my head
I Don't Want To Remember This Part of My Life.
I keep waiting for it to change.
for that thought to pass. Its been almost three years and its still hanging on
the shame.
the big sad body
of water
I'm afraid to write in my journal because I don't want to really see it
IN WRITING
these on going feelings
ivy growing like mad regardless of all the hacking
regardless of all the man hours, the fierce work, the calloused exhaustion
tearstearstears
perhaps I should move outdoors where everything is green and architecture doesn't disrupt the mad amounts of growing.
When everything is green with water inside and veins and soil fed
hard shapes we try and make can be a terrible juxtaposition.
bark pants are fine
I'll write some lines about my feelings
How he wanted to kill her.
Kicked in the stomach fear.
A neglect that leaves one invisible
Without voice.
But now I get to be an adult.
And try to be happy.
It looks amazing over there...
everyday try not to throw yourself under the bus
now you get to practice everyday making a life not terrifying
now you get to be in charge and hopefully not destroy all the survival
you survived
when everything gets so close up again and the pores of the situation are visible
but the shape of the thing is not
I like to not
write anything down
not take pictures
I sometimes pick up my camera, the one a man gave me in Florida
but then I always put it down and run out the door w/ my purse flying saying in my head
I Don't Want To Remember This Part of My Life.
I keep waiting for it to change.
for that thought to pass. Its been almost three years and its still hanging on
the shame.
the big sad body
of water
I'm afraid to write in my journal because I don't want to really see it
IN WRITING
these on going feelings
ivy growing like mad regardless of all the hacking
regardless of all the man hours, the fierce work, the calloused exhaustion
tearstearstears
perhaps I should move outdoors where everything is green and architecture doesn't disrupt the mad amounts of growing.
When everything is green with water inside and veins and soil fed
hard shapes we try and make can be a terrible juxtaposition.
bark pants are fine
I'll write some lines about my feelings
How he wanted to kill her.
Kicked in the stomach fear.
A neglect that leaves one invisible
Without voice.
But now I get to be an adult.
And try to be happy.
It looks amazing over there...
everyday try not to throw yourself under the bus
now you get to practice everyday making a life not terrifying
now you get to be in charge and hopefully not destroy all the survival
you survived
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