looks like it's time to pay up...

double dose

Grit my teeth until it’s over.
This injection of reality-
skin pinched, needle pointed.
The sting of alcohol cold
on my freckled skin.
You’re unmasked but sterile
(be a good girl)
while you administer
my long overdue shot of
perspective.

muzzle

Let me slip this on-
and forget about talking.
I'm not in the mood
to distract you
with how I feel or
what I’m afraid of.
But I can’t trust my tongue
(the source of this constant barking)
not to disengage.
Morphing into the only weapon
(or weakness)
that keeps me inaccessible.

have mercy...

Here's a tip. A helpful bit of advice from me...to you. Don't wax nostalgic on a random Wednesday night and start reading through your old journals.

I've just managed to embarrass myself...in front of...well...myself.

The poetry's so bad. The drama is so ridiculous. But I guess...I don't know. Is that the stuff that grows us up? Probably. I'm just not entirely sure that I can appreciate having all that "growth" down on paper. My childish penned anguish...

Seriously. I'm thinking about a bonfire.

"the problem with grown-ups was that under that magnificent shell of adulthood, just under, waited a baby full of tantrums." gwendolyn brooks

write-off

pull me out of this nightmare
i'm stuck here and drowning
no way out, i'm played out
pinned down without warning
resistance is futile
this last mile might kill me
i'm filthy and borrowed
you got off but
i'm guilty
of seeing this lie you called truth
in my mind
choke on my own words that
i just can't make rhyme
time won't heal, i can't deal
with these wounds i've been nursing
curse it and throw down
rehearse the whole damn thing
sing til i sound tight
smile and i just might
laugh til it looks right
and then write you off.

september 4th, 2007

i love the ocean. i dream about it. i spend most days, at some point or another, desperately wishing i was close to it. when i finally am close--right next to it, standing on its shore, letting its waves lap at my feet--i'm in awe of it. and on nights like tonight, when i stand back in the dark and watch it--i'm terrified. then i realized that it has little to do with the darkness or daylight. i'm always terrified of it.

i love it. and i'm terrified of it. it's a constant state of joy and simultaneous panic.

maybe that's what it's like for me concerning everything i love. love and terror. one preceding the other whenever i think about it too much. the fear of its depth. the unknown. the predators hiding right below me. the sheer force. the risk of being pulled under. dragged out. carried away. capsized and rolled. bottomless and unfathomable. warm and then frigid. calm and suddenly raging.

and i love it. so does perfect love cast out fear? or does it just love in spite of it. do i wade into breaking waves, sight unseen and hope for the best? how do i cast out fear when all i know how to do is be prepared for possible tragedy?

"i swam, the sea was boundless, i saw no shore.
tanit was merciless, my prayers were answered.
o you who drown in love, remember me."