Tag Archives: fear

secret keeper

She kept her heart tied up in the cellar

I’d visit

From time to time

Laying kisses on the palpitating thrusts

Signs of life

Reaching from her insides

Left out

But locked away

Exposed

But left to fray

She kept her mind sealed up in the attic

I’d visit

Occasionally

Rubbing temples no longer connected to her entity

Cries of strife

Poured out

Left over from

From her past life

The day she asked me to stay

There was a little box inside her hands

“Open it”

She said

In a breath so sweet

I had instant cavities

“Open it”

She said

Before I fully took off the top of the box

Revealing the key beneath the lid

She threw her arms around my neck

Whispering…

“It might be the last thing I’ll regret.”

this is how we fall

Too young to know better
Too old to dream
Jaded by anger dismayed by the steep
Hill laid out to climb
Soaked in time muddled
Diluted in teardrops
Blended with her mind’s eye
This is how we fall
Head over heels
With our backs against the wall
Transmitting wavelengths
Throats heavy
Knees buried
Deep under straining for the crawl
This is how we fly
With our wings
Plucked from our sides
Cement thrown over faces
Searching for new heights
New flights
Turn into new fights
My sight
Made clear
To steer

In the other direction.

sound and magic ♥ isn’t anyone tryin’ to find me…

I had an overall awesome year…but things got a little clouded and dark towards the end. I don’t have much family that “knows” me. And the rest are scattered around the US…strangers to each other, including me. Growing up an only child can be a blessing or a curse. I suddenly started to think of my biological dad, still a touring funk musician now in his 60s or something like that…”sampled by Kanye West, Public Enemy, Eminem” blah blah…all things I’ve read off his band’s fb page while stalking…and thinking how he communicates with fans all over the world…but has never cared to get to know me…and then my stepdad, the only “dad” I grew up with…went slightly MIA after my Mother’s death. The occasional FB “Hey Kid” is the extent of our current relationship. I get it…it’s hard to look at me…let alone be around me when I remind him of her. That or…never really wanting kids makes it easy to bounce with nothing holding you to that child…no marriage…no blood ties…

I have abandonment issues and then some. Textbook. Anyone who leaves…really really leaves to me. And the simplest goodbyes hurt ten-fold. Lately I’ve been dealing with an on and off love situation. If you can even call it that…considering…

I’m starting to wonder if it ever was real.

Whatever the case I’ve wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and have Charlotte remind that through all of it…I’ll be ok. Because I’m her daughter and I am strong.

Just one more moment with her.

I’ve been missing her so much…nothing else really matters.

….

Anyhow…I was much younger when this song came out and I used to listen to it constantly. Heard it again, randomly, today. Thought it was fitting…

“I’m standing on a bridge
I’m waiting in the dark
I thought that you’d be here by now
There’s nothing but the rain
No footsteps on the ground
I’m listening but there’s no sound

Isn’t anyone tryin’ to find me?
Won’t somebody come take me home…”

in a perfect world…

…which none of us live in.

But this song gives me hope for tomorrow.

soap and water won’t do

Once upon a time I was in love with a sociopath.

Seriously.

And despite all the fucked up parts of her…I think it was the most exciting time of my life.

Wtf does that say about me?

That sounds…”off” and not psychologically sound. I will never know if her love was passionate intensity…as I like to remember it…or twisted premature need…as a friend often called it. Considering the age gap I get the relevance.

Whatever it was it rocked me. And solid. It was followed by the safest, most pure kind of love one can manifest. And that touched me just the same. But the rest…the lukewarm relationships that I now look at as part of my growth….

They’re a text book blur. Necessary but not page turners.

Idk. I’m getting worried about my outlook on things. Like a mortician who’s become immune to dead bodies.

Love feels like a lie.

It feels dead. And idk that I want to ever worry about reviving it.

For the first time in my life I’m beginning to think it’s done more harm than good.

Am I finally…after 3 decades of starry eyed wonder…seeing what the rest of the world sees?

Have I become jaded?

::sigh::

Love. An occupational hazard.

I just don’t get it anymore. The point. I get the feeling, the chemical imbalance. That knot in the pit of your stomach that only goes away when they’re within inches, not miles.

I get all of it. But at the end of the day they’re going to leave…whether on foot or in a body bag. So what is the point of falling in the first place?

I know, not my usual M.O. but I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. All my friends are so….we’re all so different then the kids we used to be. Funny, I feel 16 somedays…lately…emotionally. But I’m nothing like that girl. She was so tough, and strong…and yet…somehow still pure at heart.

Is this what comes with age?

Desensitivity.

I guess.

Apparently I’ve got this wall around me…a girl…ok, actually a few girls have told me recently. And I’ve said that to someone myself not too long ago. But it feels funny hearing it…rather then saying it.

It’s not intentional.

The wall.

Natural defense.

I’ve got trust issues.

Not to mention, the shit that goes down once you let them in. Once inside they can creep up all over you. Get into little nooks and crannies you forgot even existed.

And the other thing about letting people in…at some point they might want out.

This is my logical attempt at shutting the door on that part of myself.

Besides, I belong in a mental institution, not a relationship. I self medicate with Women.

My heart feels like the crime scene of a copycat killer. When I close my eyes I imagine being on my hands and knees…scrubbing with bleach…to rid myself of the bloodshed. But even worse, the culprit must be dealt with.

That is when I end up back at point A. Is “it” the enemy? Or I? A combination of the two? If I eliminate a huge part of what has made me who I am…will I survive?

Can I?

Must I deadbolt the doors to my walls again?

I’ve gotten this far before a hiccup.

Now, I wonder…how many bottles of bleach will it take?