There's the Reaper,
harvest emotion
Luring under the darkest tree
There he is, the sweeper
Pulls the ground away
From your feet
Tumble, dandelion
When you're in bloom
When your petals scatter
Towards your doom
Tumble, lion
There's your tomb site,
patch of darkness
Where no eyes can ever see
Stone set, for your slumber
As you die, away from me
Tumble, dandelion
When you're in bloom
When your petals scatter
Towards your doom
Tumble, lion
Little dandelion
You were brave
When you were dying
Friday, April 9
Saturday, April 3
Flames & Sea
In the water
You're distorted
Facing your own guilty eyes
Wanting to drown
Want to go down?
Into the cold
You're distracted
Thousand needles, all of ice
Taking you down
Want to go drown?
In the sky
You see yourself
Like you never saw yourself
In the water
In the sea
You see yourself,
as a part of me
In the fire
Is where I am, these days
I've hidden from view,
Hidden from you
In this desolate place
As you trace another ocean
Another sea to die
You'll never find my fire,
Never find my lie
Maybe, for the better
Flames don't go too well with sea
But they'll always keep wanting eachother
Like I'm still craving you
And you're looking to die
Because of me
You're distorted
Facing your own guilty eyes
Wanting to drown
Want to go down?
Into the cold
You're distracted
Thousand needles, all of ice
Taking you down
Want to go drown?
In the sky
You see yourself
Like you never saw yourself
In the water
In the sea
You see yourself,
as a part of me
In the fire
Is where I am, these days
I've hidden from view,
Hidden from you
In this desolate place
As you trace another ocean
Another sea to die
You'll never find my fire,
Never find my lie
Maybe, for the better
Flames don't go too well with sea
But they'll always keep wanting eachother
Like I'm still craving you
And you're looking to die
Because of me
Transparent
You're that scent in the wind
That whisp of smoke that always disappears
When I reach out to touch
You're the fog that clouds the night
That clouds my eyes
And I'm transparent
You're that memory I lost
That melody, familiar, that always fades
Before I remember what it was
You're that drop of blood
Falling from my fingertips
And I'm transparent
You're that invisible power
Invisible emotion
That I can't stand living without
You're what drives me towards pain
When I can't stand life without you
When I can't stand being plain
I have a million reasons to leave this place
Besides from the obvious, in you
A million reasons to just start over
Aren't you tired of this city too?
I tell everyone how I look forward to leave
While everyone easily sees through to me
I'm transparent
You drove me away
You don't get to regret it
You don't get to follow
And I don't get to come back
That whisp of smoke that always disappears
When I reach out to touch
You're the fog that clouds the night
That clouds my eyes
And I'm transparent
You're that memory I lost
That melody, familiar, that always fades
Before I remember what it was
You're that drop of blood
Falling from my fingertips
And I'm transparent
You're that invisible power
Invisible emotion
That I can't stand living without
You're what drives me towards pain
When I can't stand life without you
When I can't stand being plain
I have a million reasons to leave this place
Besides from the obvious, in you
A million reasons to just start over
Aren't you tired of this city too?
I tell everyone how I look forward to leave
While everyone easily sees through to me
I'm transparent
You drove me away
You don't get to regret it
You don't get to follow
And I don't get to come back
Tuesday, March 30
Bye Bye, Ophelia
It's tradition by now to stop by here whenever I finish a novel, and this one I hold very near and dear to my heart. Today I wrote the last chapter, and epilogue, of my beloved Ophelia's Photograph. She even managed to surprise me in the end, and I was very close to bursting in tears. Because of what happens, because of how it ends, because of the sad and melancholic beauty of their world. It doesn't feel like I've created it. It feels like they told the story themselves. And as far as I know Cade, he'd need to get it off his chest.
I borrowed my Grandma's printer to get this first draft (filled still with plot holes, typos and incorrect depictions of eye colors) out on paper. 243 pages it turned out to be, too many to even bundle together in a single bunch. I simply had to cut it a break after Chapter 8 and pretend that it was meant to split there, ha ha. I also made damn sure to put the manuscript on a CD, I will make another proof copy tomorrow (and yes, I'm aware that I'm being paranoid).
Tonight me and DJ finally managed to call eachother using Skype (damn that MSN into the wall and back) and I love that. It's just proof of how well we know eachother by now and how good friends we are that we were on the phone talking about nothing and everything for 4 hours and 45 minutes. Roughly. My only regret is that he lives across the globe. I want all my friends to come live closer!
Anyway, I'm dead tired and should stumble into bed. I just wanted to let everyone know, who doesn't already, that the novel is finished, and that I'm panicking in lack of a new novel project to throw myself into at once. Holding those pages in my hands was bliss. I've never felt as much as a real writer as in that moment.
I love all you guys. Without you, I wouldn't have hung around for this long.
POET in the JAR
I borrowed my Grandma's printer to get this first draft (filled still with plot holes, typos and incorrect depictions of eye colors) out on paper. 243 pages it turned out to be, too many to even bundle together in a single bunch. I simply had to cut it a break after Chapter 8 and pretend that it was meant to split there, ha ha. I also made damn sure to put the manuscript on a CD, I will make another proof copy tomorrow (and yes, I'm aware that I'm being paranoid).
Tonight me and DJ finally managed to call eachother using Skype (damn that MSN into the wall and back) and I love that. It's just proof of how well we know eachother by now and how good friends we are that we were on the phone talking about nothing and everything for 4 hours and 45 minutes. Roughly. My only regret is that he lives across the globe. I want all my friends to come live closer!
Anyway, I'm dead tired and should stumble into bed. I just wanted to let everyone know, who doesn't already, that the novel is finished, and that I'm panicking in lack of a new novel project to throw myself into at once. Holding those pages in my hands was bliss. I've never felt as much as a real writer as in that moment.
I love all you guys. Without you, I wouldn't have hung around for this long.
POET in the JAR
Sunday, March 21
Pretending To Live
And all I'm doing is just surviving while I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
It's been so many days
I'm trying not to count them
And keep me occupied
But I fall anyway
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me
I'm pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
My sleepless nights
I'm trying hard to fight them
Dozing off alright
But I'm wide awake
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me, I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
And all I'm doing is just surviving while I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
It's been so many days
I'm trying not to count them
And keep me occupied
But I fall anyway
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me
I'm pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
My sleepless nights
I'm trying hard to fight them
Dozing off alright
But I'm wide awake
With every word I hear
And song that reminds me, I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
And all I'm doing is just surviving while I'm
Pretending to live
Pretending to be untouched by
Your uncertainty
Pretending to love
As if the feelings of my
shard of heart's enough
Saturday, March 20
Cade On The Loop
Crossing my fingers right now for something very important, or at least it is to me. In case it doesn't work out I'll keep quiet about it for the time being.
On other matters. Thinking constantly about the novel and about what happened this week, hoping it'll repeat again soon. We'll see. If it's supposed to be... it'll be. And I'll try not to let it distract myself anymore, although that smile is etched onto my mind. As concerns Cade he's getting very close to the end of his story, this time around. I don't know yet if I'll be writing a sequel to his story, it simply seems to be this one story with him; but I can't tell for sure until I've written the last few vital scenes. I was thinking how cool it would be to hit 100K before the story's over, but I'm currently at 81 and I doubt I'll last even all the way up to 90. Anyway, besides the obvious Nano-addict talk, what matters is that I'm getting near completion.
I have no idea what to do with my life when it's done, uh. Maybe I'll have to fill it with a social life outside of my characters. Hmmm. Seems impossible.
Cheers, be back in writing business on Monday by the latest.
POET in the JAR
On other matters. Thinking constantly about the novel and about what happened this week, hoping it'll repeat again soon. We'll see. If it's supposed to be... it'll be. And I'll try not to let it distract myself anymore, although that smile is etched onto my mind. As concerns Cade he's getting very close to the end of his story, this time around. I don't know yet if I'll be writing a sequel to his story, it simply seems to be this one story with him; but I can't tell for sure until I've written the last few vital scenes. I was thinking how cool it would be to hit 100K before the story's over, but I'm currently at 81 and I doubt I'll last even all the way up to 90. Anyway, besides the obvious Nano-addict talk, what matters is that I'm getting near completion.
I have no idea what to do with my life when it's done, uh. Maybe I'll have to fill it with a social life outside of my characters. Hmmm. Seems impossible.
Cheers, be back in writing business on Monday by the latest.
POET in the JAR
Thursday, March 18
Necronomicon
Just came back home after last night's adventures. I feel like shouting it out to the world what happened and what a good time I had, but seeing I'm supposed to be broke that's maybe not the best option. Realized that I had spent 400 crowns of the money Dad gave me at the pub rather than at the grocery store... ehh. Yeah. Waking up today was a bit of a shock (especially seeing I didn't even wake up in my own bed) but it was a very nice shock. I'm not complaining. I hope I'll get to see her again sometime soon, trying not to get my hopes up.
All my time lately is going to the novel. It takes all my time and all my energy. I'm close to finishing it, not sure what I'll be doing once I do; but probably dig out my old Playstation and play through some of the classics like Resident Evil or something. I had a strange urge to play it over the last few days although I know myself well enough to assume I'll play it for 20 minutes and then give it up again and abandon it for something else. I might sit down by the tv and get some Final Fantasy X done though. Yeah I think that's a good way to cure a hangover.
I'll be off to work in a couple of hours, things there will be slow as hell but I'll live. Probably flip through Necronomicon by Lovecraft for another round of horror short stories (already late for the library but what the hell. The book is a brick) and just try to pass the time, really.
See you later, alligator.
POET in the JAR
All my time lately is going to the novel. It takes all my time and all my energy. I'm close to finishing it, not sure what I'll be doing once I do; but probably dig out my old Playstation and play through some of the classics like Resident Evil or something. I had a strange urge to play it over the last few days although I know myself well enough to assume I'll play it for 20 minutes and then give it up again and abandon it for something else. I might sit down by the tv and get some Final Fantasy X done though. Yeah I think that's a good way to cure a hangover.
I'll be off to work in a couple of hours, things there will be slow as hell but I'll live. Probably flip through Necronomicon by Lovecraft for another round of horror short stories (already late for the library but what the hell. The book is a brick) and just try to pass the time, really.
See you later, alligator.
POET in the JAR
Monday, March 15
Insignia
I break the branches of an early fall, leaves sogging in the pools of dark water under my feet. The branches snap with a loud crack, tearing through the sound of the rain.
Up on the roof, it feels like it's raining even more than on the ground, the wind tearing at my hair and at the collar of my leather jacket.
Under my shoes there's pieces of gravel. The kind small enough to get caught in the pattern under your shoes, the kind that are strewn over the snowy streets in winter and emerge like an undiscovered shore at the turn of the tide. A few of these tiny stones are in my hands now, edges on my wet skin, marked by dirt and rain. I let go of one, watching it fall heavily towards the ground below from here, disappearing out of my view before it reaches its final destination.
I look up again, my attention caught by the opposing rooftop, the white flag with the familiar insignia flapping, and raging; in the stormy wind. It glares at me, eerily; I don't return its eager stare. That is not what I came for.
I get up from my knees, when the last knot has been tied, and it's my turn to fall down towards the asphalt far below. From above, all you will see is the white fabric, mocking the flags and their insignia back.
But above me, there is nothing.
Below me, is the whole wide world.
POET in the JAR
(A sort of novel idea, or something, that just popped into my head. I couldn't get it out in any form of poetry so here it is, raw and unedited for later uses. Enjoy meanwhile.)
Up on the roof, it feels like it's raining even more than on the ground, the wind tearing at my hair and at the collar of my leather jacket.
Under my shoes there's pieces of gravel. The kind small enough to get caught in the pattern under your shoes, the kind that are strewn over the snowy streets in winter and emerge like an undiscovered shore at the turn of the tide. A few of these tiny stones are in my hands now, edges on my wet skin, marked by dirt and rain. I let go of one, watching it fall heavily towards the ground below from here, disappearing out of my view before it reaches its final destination.
I look up again, my attention caught by the opposing rooftop, the white flag with the familiar insignia flapping, and raging; in the stormy wind. It glares at me, eerily; I don't return its eager stare. That is not what I came for.
I get up from my knees, when the last knot has been tied, and it's my turn to fall down towards the asphalt far below. From above, all you will see is the white fabric, mocking the flags and their insignia back.
But above me, there is nothing.
Below me, is the whole wide world.
POET in the JAR
(A sort of novel idea, or something, that just popped into my head. I couldn't get it out in any form of poetry so here it is, raw and unedited for later uses. Enjoy meanwhile.)
Sunday, March 14
Magnifying Glass
This is the sun,
in the magnifying glass
Burning your bridges,
without looking back
This is your life,
Set in flames
Until it's all the same
To you
You lost the big picture
You only saw the puzzle
I painted it in dark red,
like the inside of my head
You got lost in the picture
Hold your hands now steady
For the rays
All your pain will go away
This is the sun,
in the magnifying glass
Burning your bridges,
without looking back
This is your life,
Set in flames
Until it's all the same
To you
Your salt is your salvation
The answer to the riddle
I made you scream, and cry
Led the well to your eyes
But your salt was your starvation
Hold your hand now steady
For the rays
All your pain will go away
This is the sun,
in the magnifying glass
Burning your bridges,
without looking back
This is your life,
Set in flames
Until it's all the same
To you
You're blind in the light
Lost, you're deaf,
And lost, in greed
I can't guide you, anymore
I can't die for you, and bleed
You set your own sun on fire,
Magnifying glass
in the magnifying glass
Burning your bridges,
without looking back
This is your life,
Set in flames
Until it's all the same
To you
You lost the big picture
You only saw the puzzle
I painted it in dark red,
like the inside of my head
You got lost in the picture
Hold your hands now steady
For the rays
All your pain will go away
This is the sun,
in the magnifying glass
Burning your bridges,
without looking back
This is your life,
Set in flames
Until it's all the same
To you
Your salt is your salvation
The answer to the riddle
I made you scream, and cry
Led the well to your eyes
But your salt was your starvation
Hold your hand now steady
For the rays
All your pain will go away
This is the sun,
in the magnifying glass
Burning your bridges,
without looking back
This is your life,
Set in flames
Until it's all the same
To you
You're blind in the light
Lost, you're deaf,
And lost, in greed
I can't guide you, anymore
I can't die for you, and bleed
You set your own sun on fire,
Magnifying glass
Thursday, March 11
Pieces Of Glass
When I find you in a lie
You break down
You're broken,
In a thousand pieces of glass
Your voice is broken
Your fingers shaking
And you whisper
You whisper, finally,
The truth in my ears
A shattered truth
As broken
As you
It's so easy to believe
Your whispered silver words
The last word falls from your lips
The last honest breath
Taken, from your lungs
And I break down
I pity you
Who has to lie,
Even of truth
But I don't, really
I pity me
Even for a second
I can't be naive
I break down
I'm broken
Falling to the floor,
In pieces
Just like your lie
You break down
You're broken,
In a thousand pieces of glass
Your voice is broken
Your fingers shaking
And you whisper
You whisper, finally,
The truth in my ears
A shattered truth
As broken
As you
It's so easy to believe
Your whispered silver words
The last word falls from your lips
The last honest breath
Taken, from your lungs
And I break down
I pity you
Who has to lie,
Even of truth
But I don't, really
I pity me
Even for a second
I can't be naive
I break down
I'm broken
Falling to the floor,
In pieces
Just like your lie
Thursday, March 4
My Shell
I can't get up
My eyes won't open
I turn around, and keep sleeping
It's another thing to add
To all the things I can't do
Like leaving here
Like leaving you
My alarm rings
I toss it away
I turn around, and keep sleeping
Another nightmare to add
To all the dreams I had,
About you
Like leaving my shell
Like entering hell
All these songs,
Just one more time
Please
Just one more listen
Why did I have to grow up?
Why can't I just lay down and sleep
Until it all has gone away
Until you've left my dreams
My eyes won't open
I turn around, and keep sleeping
It's another thing to add
To all the things I can't do
Like leaving here
Like leaving you
My alarm rings
I toss it away
I turn around, and keep sleeping
Another nightmare to add
To all the dreams I had,
About you
Like leaving my shell
Like entering hell
All these songs,
Just one more time
Please
Just one more listen
Why did I have to grow up?
Why can't I just lay down and sleep
Until it all has gone away
Until you've left my dreams
Small Space
Just went out for a breakfast downtown that I don't actually afford (but I'm sure I'll work things out eventually). Back in my small space, that's at least my very own space, I'm listening to some Kina Grannis songs and thinking about things.
I had an appointment at the therapist's today, and I didn't go. I didn't even call in to cancel, I just turned around and went back to sleep. Now my bad conscious is haunting me, although I don't need any lectures that I should and would need to go there; and I can't let go of it. I just called in and left a message on her answering machine to call me back, I hope we can work something out. Every time we talk we work something out and we agree that I should come down on a certain day and a certain time, and then when that day comes I still prefer to turn over and keep sleeping rather than stumbling out of bed and going down there to spill my guts out. Thing is, the more times I don't go there, the harder it feels like it will be once I actually do. I'd really need to talk there I think, since everything around me right now is just so... fucked up, or rather inside my own head... and still I can't fucking manage to get down there. Well, at least I've called her now, and that's a start, I guess.
I'm so tired these days. I'm tired because of everything going on, because of working this much, because of mine and Happy's daily workouts. I fall asleep like someone had hit me in the head with a club and constantly tend to miss my alarm clock. I cherish sleeping like nothing else, as if the lack of sleep I've had for the past months has finally caught up with me and made me totally exhausted. We've been doing the workouts for a rough month and a half by now and the results are starting to show, and I'm starting to feel them as well. I still wish I hadn't been woken up this morning though, because I'd love to feel as rested in mind and body as I did when I woke up yesterday on my own accord.
I'm freaking out slightly about moving. I know that it'll most certainly be better than here, I know that there are many things I'll be better off without. But it's all intimidating too, and there are things I have here that I'm just not ready to lose.
I'll just try to forget about that stuff and focus on what's going to improve.
Now if you forgive me I'll take an endeveour into novel land before getting ready for work. Sigh...
POET in the JAR
I had an appointment at the therapist's today, and I didn't go. I didn't even call in to cancel, I just turned around and went back to sleep. Now my bad conscious is haunting me, although I don't need any lectures that I should and would need to go there; and I can't let go of it. I just called in and left a message on her answering machine to call me back, I hope we can work something out. Every time we talk we work something out and we agree that I should come down on a certain day and a certain time, and then when that day comes I still prefer to turn over and keep sleeping rather than stumbling out of bed and going down there to spill my guts out. Thing is, the more times I don't go there, the harder it feels like it will be once I actually do. I'd really need to talk there I think, since everything around me right now is just so... fucked up, or rather inside my own head... and still I can't fucking manage to get down there. Well, at least I've called her now, and that's a start, I guess.
I'm so tired these days. I'm tired because of everything going on, because of working this much, because of mine and Happy's daily workouts. I fall asleep like someone had hit me in the head with a club and constantly tend to miss my alarm clock. I cherish sleeping like nothing else, as if the lack of sleep I've had for the past months has finally caught up with me and made me totally exhausted. We've been doing the workouts for a rough month and a half by now and the results are starting to show, and I'm starting to feel them as well. I still wish I hadn't been woken up this morning though, because I'd love to feel as rested in mind and body as I did when I woke up yesterday on my own accord.
I'm freaking out slightly about moving. I know that it'll most certainly be better than here, I know that there are many things I'll be better off without. But it's all intimidating too, and there are things I have here that I'm just not ready to lose.
I'll just try to forget about that stuff and focus on what's going to improve.
Now if you forgive me I'll take an endeveour into novel land before getting ready for work. Sigh...
POET in the JAR
Saturday, February 27
Temptation Desire Delicious
Sweet temptation
Lined by silver
Sweet desire
Wrapped in gold
Sweet delicious
So I'm told
Give up all restrictions
I don't want to be forbidden
I don't want the shadows
Of your call
Give it in
Give up all
Oh fascination,
Cloudy sky
Desperation,
Lullaby
Liberation,
Gone awry
Give up all restrictions
I don't want to be forbidden
I don't want the shadows
Of your call
Give it in
Give up all
Sweet temptation
Is my pride
Sweet desire
I will hide
Sweet delicious
To let go
To let you know
I told you so
Lined by silver
Sweet desire
Wrapped in gold
Sweet delicious
So I'm told
Give up all restrictions
I don't want to be forbidden
I don't want the shadows
Of your call
Give it in
Give up all
Oh fascination,
Cloudy sky
Desperation,
Lullaby
Liberation,
Gone awry
Give up all restrictions
I don't want to be forbidden
I don't want the shadows
Of your call
Give it in
Give up all
Sweet temptation
Is my pride
Sweet desire
I will hide
Sweet delicious
To let go
To let you know
I told you so
Polaroid
Her hazel eyes
Her fiery red lips
Her brown curls
Falling gently,
Around her face
Framing her
The way my photograph was framed
By the white edges of the polaroid
___________________________
Just an extract from my novel in progress, here in poetry form.
POET IN THE JAR
Her fiery red lips
Her brown curls
Falling gently,
Around her face
Framing her
The way my photograph was framed
By the white edges of the polaroid
___________________________
Just an extract from my novel in progress, here in poetry form.
POET IN THE JAR
Wednesday, February 24
I'll Type On My Deathbed
Yesterday it worked, today it won't. One hour of drawing and I haven't forgotten what time it is, I haven't come up with anything whatsoever useful. I tried to draw Satine in Moulin Rouge and came up with some square-looking shemale with fake lips and fake hair. It's one hour of wasted work for nothing, and I can't use this piece of shit for anything.
Changing the topic.
Today the therapist called and asked me why I have kept cancelling my hours lately. I told her the truth, that I've just haven't had the energy to come on in and have those one hour sessions. She sounded concerned and my bad conscious gave me a sting. I don't even really know the lady, but she's always very kind and something about her warm ways just always pulls my sadness trigger. I can sit in her little office and not be able to stop crying and not even know why. Sometimes even the way she'll pat my back and send me on my way can make it worse. Why? It's not like I haven't met nice people before. Yeah, I don't know.
I should be relieved that the Queen is back again, but I can't make myself feel it. It's odd. Whatever I learned from her it is to never trust what people say, even if they swear it on their lives that it's true, because in the end all sworn truth is a lie. And although sometimes my heart will ache for her, my heart will break with hers, there is a bitter flavor to the whole endeavour that I can't explain. It's... complicated. I want to blame myself for feeling the bitterness, for being selfish in this whole situation but it's impossible to rid myself of the feeling. It still tastes like salt. It doesn't taste sweet, not at all.
What am I so afraid of, really? Apart from my obvious fear of dying. Seems every step someone else takes towards growing up I feel like I want to shrink away and disappear into the safe arms of youth. When I hadn't yet learned about life, about death, about it all. While people around me hook up, break up, move in, move out, get engaged, marry, have children, buy fucking apartments in different cities; all I want to do is crawl away, close the door, type. Type. TYPE!
I swear, I'll be fucking typing while I'm on my deathbed and you will be the ones fetching me paper and ink. For once it'll be the roles reversed. And you will be there for me.
You will do all the hard things for me.
POET IN THE JAR
Changing the topic.
Today the therapist called and asked me why I have kept cancelling my hours lately. I told her the truth, that I've just haven't had the energy to come on in and have those one hour sessions. She sounded concerned and my bad conscious gave me a sting. I don't even really know the lady, but she's always very kind and something about her warm ways just always pulls my sadness trigger. I can sit in her little office and not be able to stop crying and not even know why. Sometimes even the way she'll pat my back and send me on my way can make it worse. Why? It's not like I haven't met nice people before. Yeah, I don't know.
I should be relieved that the Queen is back again, but I can't make myself feel it. It's odd. Whatever I learned from her it is to never trust what people say, even if they swear it on their lives that it's true, because in the end all sworn truth is a lie. And although sometimes my heart will ache for her, my heart will break with hers, there is a bitter flavor to the whole endeavour that I can't explain. It's... complicated. I want to blame myself for feeling the bitterness, for being selfish in this whole situation but it's impossible to rid myself of the feeling. It still tastes like salt. It doesn't taste sweet, not at all.
What am I so afraid of, really? Apart from my obvious fear of dying. Seems every step someone else takes towards growing up I feel like I want to shrink away and disappear into the safe arms of youth. When I hadn't yet learned about life, about death, about it all. While people around me hook up, break up, move in, move out, get engaged, marry, have children, buy fucking apartments in different cities; all I want to do is crawl away, close the door, type. Type. TYPE!
I swear, I'll be fucking typing while I'm on my deathbed and you will be the ones fetching me paper and ink. For once it'll be the roles reversed. And you will be there for me.
You will do all the hard things for me.
POET IN THE JAR
Wednesday, February 17
Drop Of Blood
There is glitter in your blood
Slowly trickles down
And freezes
Like a snowflake
Is your drop of blood
There is life in your blood
Life of heart
Until it dies
It's so intense
Your drop of blood
I will cut you open
To see your blood shine
Only the few drops I need
To make that glitter mine
Like a snowflake
A dying flower
In your wake
Is your drop of blood
You can have my blood
And my stained knife
You can have my breath
My entire life
For you're in my blood, darling
And that's what makes it glitter
Slowly trickles down
And freezes
Like a snowflake
Is your drop of blood
There is life in your blood
Life of heart
Until it dies
It's so intense
Your drop of blood
I will cut you open
To see your blood shine
Only the few drops I need
To make that glitter mine
Like a snowflake
A dying flower
In your wake
Is your drop of blood
You can have my blood
And my stained knife
You can have my breath
My entire life
For you're in my blood, darling
And that's what makes it glitter
Tuesday, February 16
7.40 (Sometimes)
I'm sleeping again
Dozing off into slumber
And I dream, again
Many restless dreams
7.40
You wake me up
You're holding me too hard
Shaking me
It hurts
It stings
I'm smiling, sometimes
When I manage to forget
But some things we were
Just aren't forgotten yet
7.40
You wake me up
You're holding me too hard
Strangling me
It hurts
It stings
So what if I can sleep again?
When you wake me up 7.40 AM
And I can't get myself to move
I can't get myself to breathe
7.40
You wake me up
You're not holding me
Not shielding me
And it hurts
It stings
Dozing off into slumber
And I dream, again
Many restless dreams
7.40
You wake me up
You're holding me too hard
Shaking me
It hurts
It stings
I'm smiling, sometimes
When I manage to forget
But some things we were
Just aren't forgotten yet
7.40
You wake me up
You're holding me too hard
Strangling me
It hurts
It stings
So what if I can sleep again?
When you wake me up 7.40 AM
And I can't get myself to move
I can't get myself to breathe
7.40
You wake me up
You're not holding me
Not shielding me
And it hurts
It stings
Sunday, February 14
Field Of Dreams
There's a pattern
I should follow
A flight of stairs
I should take
Climb on upwards,
To the wake
There's a light
I should run to
Drawn to it
Like fireflies
Stagger forwards,
To the wake
There's a dream
I should let go of
Returning to
Reality
Stagger forwards,
To the wake
There's a field
Of imaginary scenes
A land of wonders
And silly dreams
Walk on forwards,
To the wake
There's a dreamer
Who's only real
Remembers it all
Her pain, her scars
Stagger forwards,
To the wake
There's an end
To her dreaming
It will set her free
But the end of dreaming
Is the end of me
Dream on forwards
It's not too late
Fall asleep
Inside your dreams
Don't ever wake
I should follow
A flight of stairs
I should take
Climb on upwards,
To the wake
There's a light
I should run to
Drawn to it
Like fireflies
Stagger forwards,
To the wake
There's a dream
I should let go of
Returning to
Reality
Stagger forwards,
To the wake
There's a field
Of imaginary scenes
A land of wonders
And silly dreams
Walk on forwards,
To the wake
There's a dreamer
Who's only real
Remembers it all
Her pain, her scars
Stagger forwards,
To the wake
There's an end
To her dreaming
It will set her free
But the end of dreaming
Is the end of me
Dream on forwards
It's not too late
Fall asleep
Inside your dreams
Don't ever wake
Sunday, February 7
Indifferent Heart
There's an empty spot,
In your parking lot
Either you're out,
Or you've gone away
I'll never know
If you left or stayed
There's a dark window,
where the lights were on
Either you're asleep
Or you're not there
I'll never know
Why I keep my stare
I let you be a memory
A reminder of what I used to be
By now you've gotten hold of me
You're taking me over,
Entirely
There's an empty part,
Of my indifferent heart
Either it's dying,
Or it's wide awake
I'll never know
Until it breaks
I let you be a memory
A reminder of what I used to be
But now you've gotten hold of me
You're taking me over,
Entirely
I'm shutting out the images
Killing you with silence
But nothing ever really killed you
Or my one way romance
Every time I voice it
Every time I hear it
You're taking me over
Entirely
In your parking lot
Either you're out,
Or you've gone away
I'll never know
If you left or stayed
There's a dark window,
where the lights were on
Either you're asleep
Or you're not there
I'll never know
Why I keep my stare
I let you be a memory
A reminder of what I used to be
By now you've gotten hold of me
You're taking me over,
Entirely
There's an empty part,
Of my indifferent heart
Either it's dying,
Or it's wide awake
I'll never know
Until it breaks
I let you be a memory
A reminder of what I used to be
But now you've gotten hold of me
You're taking me over,
Entirely
I'm shutting out the images
Killing you with silence
But nothing ever really killed you
Or my one way romance
Every time I voice it
Every time I hear it
You're taking me over
Entirely
Friday, February 5
Definitions
You name your enemy
Like there was no tomorrow
Label them with ease
Judge them, as you please
But you own their sorrow
Life and love
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
You are your enemy
You are what you borrow
Deceitful hands
Is what you see
But you're the scarecrow
You're the vulture
Life and love
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
Let go of your cramping grasp
There's only smoke between your fingers
You can't catch your own presumptions
As you are caught by the others
Pulling the same tricks
Poking the same sticks
Life and love
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
See you in the web of disaster
The net you strew around you
While insight flew around you
And over your head
You toppled over,
Numb and dead
Life and death
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
You'll still be my love
Forever
For all time
Like there was no tomorrow
Label them with ease
Judge them, as you please
But you own their sorrow
Life and love
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
You are your enemy
You are what you borrow
Deceitful hands
Is what you see
But you're the scarecrow
You're the vulture
Life and love
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
Let go of your cramping grasp
There's only smoke between your fingers
You can't catch your own presumptions
As you are caught by the others
Pulling the same tricks
Poking the same sticks
Life and love
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
See you in the web of disaster
The net you strew around you
While insight flew around you
And over your head
You toppled over,
Numb and dead
Life and death
Has no reason or rhyme
Why define?
Why define?
You'll still be my love
Forever
For all time
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