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August 8th, 2006

03:33 pm
I restored from draft and found this:
tastes of
javel jousting
in the eye
of your
the stern
Do what with the who now?
Apparently I was really high/drunk or insane last time I attempted to post.
In general, both are pretty fair bets even in the absence such damning evidence.

My notebook says:
Each blade of grass
Is folding back
Arched as if to scream
The early evening unimpressed
By your standard lack of reverence
They taught you the names of every star
But not the eyes set
In the face of Ishtar
You've some god, you said
Saved for my judgment
Where was this divine eminence
When I needed it
Blaming the wind now
As it howls
Around the wall
don't explain the way you are
or make reference to the stars
early crossed
or how you lost
feeling from the head down
paralysis blow by blow
you're healed the moment that you know
but you're hanging on
to that old
funeral song
yet you blame
every note
No more the evening's dew
Nor torrent storms
In danger
My tempest wrought and weathered
Now find soft repose
Facing the gale
Only now the mists
Of morning and
The happy breezes
Haply unfettered by
The stirring then
Contained in
The liberation of
Nature's quest only evident
When railed against
In spring's late storming
Crashing summer
Into fall
Winter not now or ever
And not then "not never"
A bind now severed
Or a funeral pall

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June 20th, 2006

06:44 am - Today's writings as of 06.44 Central
this house is so big
I can go from loving to you
to hating you
in the walk
from the deck
to the mailbox
maybe that says
a little something
more about the trip
than it
does about the distance
"a nightmare" he said
killed him between
each delicately
touseled breath
tearing in two
the silkscreen projection
of a momentless gleam
that was wide
as it was long
and older still
a child's scream near
escaped his lips
like he knew it was coming
so he locked the door
a child's dream near
captured his fear
and with me on the outside
he locked himself in
and all I can feel
is dread
death will come
his cells know this
they whisper the end
they were yelling for years
but their voice
was lost
to my hopeful ears
faith wasted fate
clinging to fear
i know the flower
blooming in the garden
of her recognition
that you planted
was named for another
but when she gave it
to me
falling into my open hand
like an accusation
or a reminder
i took it
my tears
the petals
of my frailty
or bruise the majesty
of your cruelty
too many bluebonnets
marring the vangogh golden
of my rolling field
which you litter
with injury
sprouting like love
out of my morning's
early echo
Current Music: Flyleaf "I'm So Sick"

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June 18th, 2006

02:24 am - We cannot trade in sacrifices.
To S:
At this moment, there is no anger in me.
I do not know that, before now, there has been a single waking moment of my life about which I could say this.

I was under the impression that anger drove us, inspired us, liberated us, protected us. Anger binds us. Not only does it marry us to fatalism it ties us to delusion. In anger, you cannot see universals which would better guide you than blind rage could ever hope to.

I realized something.
I've always taken the phrase "no one ever changes" as being incredibly damning. I assumed, wrongly, that this implied a lack of effort or some sinful denial of evolution. This assumption led me to disregard this truth as merely a misrepresentation of the refusal to further oneself and therefore condemned both the character and the characterization.
No one ever changes because no one should ever have to change.
By have to, I mean that who you are (whether useful to yourself or others) is up to your own discretion whether it is for good or ill. You are accountable for the consequences only in so much as you must deal with them. If "good and bad" are merely misnomers for "useful and not useful" we cannot, in fact, judge the person in their chosen path though we may acknowledge the damaging effect to ourselves.
This realization is revolutionary to me as it releases me from the expectation of change which was part and parcel to my bitterness.
I should not expect change in others nor should I allow change in myself.
My life is mine.
Your life is yours.
It is a matter of priorities.
We may betray a lesser goal to attain a higher one.. betray a lesser desire for a higher one.. betray a lesser love for a higher one.. but we should never betray our higher expectations for lesser consolations. We cannot trade in sacrifice. To let my blood to draw out yours is illogical. If a starving man gives his bread away in hopes that it shall be returned, only death embraces him.
I've drained my blood for this and it is my own wrong-doing. I've drained yours as well.. and we're only left slipping in it.. wondering who will pick us up when we've fallen in the traps of our own design.
I've been obsessed with the idea of making you what I want and making myself what you want. Perhaps the illusion of my alteration is more convincing but it is no less impossible.
I still want what I want.
You'll never change and I thought I forgave that and now realize that there is nothing left to forgive. Where forgiveness bound me to you, now acceptance releases me.

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June 17th, 2006

01:27 am - I'm not afraid
I know
lesser demons
like fear
catch your tongue
in kisses
blaspheming love
and when you break
around me
like the wind
crashing into the shore
of my skin
I feel the power of
taking you

I will betray
to reveal
I kill
and I will save

I will slay
to alleviate
the pleasure
drawn within you
like a thin line
that craves but a presence there
to witness
its cutting veins into time

but I've no eyes
in this
I've no eyes in

blood isn't love
unless it beats

there will be a panic
and a surrender

I'm not afraid

you will abandon yourself
I will it so
I will it so

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June 16th, 2006

07:58 am - Feminism Wears a Bra.
Before you throw your tampon at me, here's why:

To say that women are oppressed by men implies that we are not as accountable for our position as men are. To imply that we need special treatment in order to attain the same goals as men implies that we are not capable of them. To burn your bra intimates that you resent certain aspects of feminity and prefer masculity to the clothing of womanhood.

I've noticed that movie heroines who are articulate/self-possessed/driven/and intelligent invariably imitate men in their dress and behavior.
"Ever After"

True feminism would actually call for a philosophy of superiority on our part. "It is better to be a woman." To say it is worse is to insinuate that men are superior and you automatically contradict your initial reactionary comments.

So I have to be ugly to be perceived as intelligent?
Who is the sexist now, Gloria?

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June 14th, 2006

02:21 am - More State-of-Consciousness Scribbled with Shaking Hands
The petty evils
In each corner of my
Whisper-laden lips
Drip as blood
Screams from dying men
With the staining cruelty
Of panicked gasps
That seem the sin of lost faith
But which are truly simply
Stabbing for help
In drowning’s anticipation
Of water-leaden lungs
That fill to empty
Like empathy’s inability to
Love or judge without
Binding each wrist
To the sinking ships I spy
Each lie a truth
Yet still a lie
Yet still a lying on shivering
Railroads foreboding
The passing of my only moment
That holy moment stolen
In Gnosis
No honesty when I can
Read in between the lines
Of your clawed and
Opened palms
Crucified in the dissection
Of light’s geometry in me
Each answer has a question
Unfolding flowers in my sleep
You can smother the dream
Or swallow choking with me
The only way
Death or Nightmare
Current Music: Panic! at the Disco "But Its Better if You Do"

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June 11th, 2006

01:24 am
my ears are ringing..
so stop it

tonight, in the grocery store..
my eyes locked (twice.. in different areas of the store)
with this very small..
very old woman..
with such young eyes..
and i recognized her
as she was smiling at me..
in an uncannily knowing way..
and it felt as if everything around me stopped..
there was something so unnerving about it..
but, as per the norm, i couldn't react in the moment
i just stared..
and wracked my brain to place the recognition..
which was really more a feeling than a thought..
skip was speaking to me..
and i stammered meaninglessly..
and she kept smiling..
skip drew my attention away and i couldn't find her in the crowd after that..

i came home and felt queasy
i went to the restroom to find that i am bleeding again
(two weeks after my period)
full moon?

silly to attribute meaning to these seemingly unconnected events
but there you have it

lunacy.. emphasis on the luna

Here's what I'm listening to, however typical and juvenile.

AFI - Silver and Cold

I... I came here by day, but I left here in darkness
And found you, found you on the way
And now, it is silver and silent, it is silver and cold
You, in somber resplendence, I hold

Your sins into me
Oh, my beautiful one
Your sins into me
As a rapturous voice escapes, I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness
(Your sins into me) Your sins into me
Oh, my beautiful one

Light, like the flutter of wings, feel your hollow voice rushing into me
As you're longing to sing
So I... I will paint you in silver, I will wrap you in cold
I will lift up your voice as I sink

Your sins into me
Oh, my beautiful one, now
Your sins into me
As a rapturous voice escapes, I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness
(Your sins into me) Your sins into me

Cold in life's throws, I'll fall asleep for you
Cold in life's throws, I only ask you turn away
Cold in life's throws, I'll fall asleep for you
Cold in life's throws, I only ask you turn
As they seep... into me, oh, my beautiful one, now

Your sins into me
Oh, my beautiful one
Your sins into me
As a rapturous voice escapes, I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness
(Your sins into me)
Your sins into me... oh

Your sins into me
Oh, my beautiful one, now
Your sins into me
As a rapturous voice escapes, I will tremble a prayer
And I'll beg for forgiveness
(Your sins into me) Your sins into...
(Your sins into me) Your sins into me
Oh, my beautiful one
Current Music: AFI - "Silver and Cold"

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June 2nd, 2006

06:34 am
Only sorry
That I've died
somewhere between
the beginning
and its end

I can see the water
my life
so cold

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05:13 am - I, a figment
marionettes say
"we're free"
to me
as if
cut the strings
and they could
dance on
their own
the way that
I am let down
by every flutter
of your vision
as though the water
lifted its hands to form me
out of the fountain of your mind
and muses even
get faces
in tradition's
but you've only dreamed me
and you kill me
each time you wake
to dawns feathered
with individuality's
to overcome
the barrier
of the web I'm caught in
and spin
my fingers tangled
with the pleasure
of lost escape
condemned by
every gesture
I make
once your slave
now I'm fate's

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04:59 am
That's the secret between us.
The lies in honesty.
The inside absence of anything we dress ourselves in.
There's an echo
It sounds like hope
But it is really just a broken promise.

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