+ blind. +

it is better to be blind and to stand alone in one place
than to make out a blurry goal in front of you
and stumble madly and wildly towards it
clawing at everything that seems in your way

for what do you do
when your legs give out where the goal should have been
and you realize it was nothing at all
and your sight is still limited to the Before
and now your eyes are locked on the bites and scratches you barely knew
you were leaving

what do you do
when you realize the prize is given
only when everyone makes it
but that no one ever explained the rules

i do not know..

+ see. +

i am too transient.
transparent. translucent. adaptable. influenced.
i am what i see.
i follow my eyes. they change everything. everything changes me.
i can promise nothing;
water promises nothing.
what could i promise?
what could i swear to be? what could i guarantee? what could i fill?
i am what i see;
i could never give you my eyes.
glass, cities, oceans, distance, galaxies, shadows, coffee, wires, that one time, vacant, skies, constraint, freedom, barefoot, yesterday, tomorrow, one day, never, forsythia, dreams, smokey, clean.
all these things i become;
all these things making me slip, slip, slip.
it should have been
part, whole; whole forever.
instead i am
whole, part; part forever.
it isn’t that you want to keep me as i am;
it is that i am what i see.

.

+ beginning again, again. +

i’ve watched you try to live like you have no soul
why are you surprised you feel it breaking
darling there’s another way
to beautiful, adrenaline and saturation

 

i am rebirth
and i am beautiful.

 

.

+ movement. girl: sold. +

spindly legs
just like the spokes
uphill
down
so much up
so much down

freckles, spindles
long and lean
clean
so much clean
so much clean

just like that
no just like this
blue
so much blue
always, always blue

eight miles
two thousand and eight miles
two thousand and five, miles
miles
so much coming
so much going

spindles sold
spindly sold
sold
not enough girl
too much, girl

girl: sold.

.

+ alive.+

i’m sorry for the unannounced sabbatical i’ve been on. i overworked myself and am paying for it dearly. doing a little better today…found this photo i loved and wanted to share. 🙂 the writing below is mine. love you all.

tiny thing, i know the smoke that circles down your lungs and envelopes your heart. the skin you wear that tugs and pulls at everything within. the hope your eyes have given up as they stare through everyone they see.

.

+ sometimes, i write. +

I’m getting better at knowing what I need, and even better at seeing my flaws. It’s amazing how honest writing forces you to be.

Someone stop her
the girl
with all the beautiful things
slow
slow her down
she enjoys
only
the finding and
not
the having
someone stop her
teach
her to see what
she has
already found
teach her
to enjoy it a little
longer
show
her she has found
enough
she has enough
someone

stop her

p.s. new self-portraits here..

+ this is what he’s for +

so often i feel like the child
that is
sitting on the ground waiting patiently
for my daddy
to finish building my bridge
so i can get across the river
while i’m laughed at by the neighbor boy
that taunts me for needing
someone else’s help
and brags
that he doesn’t need HIS
daddy’s help
because he is big enough
grown up enough
to do it himself now.
and it hurts.
and i sit
and stare at my hands
and wonder if maybe
maybe
i’m just too small,
not enough.
but then i realize,
as i tiptoe across my new bridge
made just for me
that the neighbor boy is still
stranded
because he can’t find long and strong
enough sticks
and everything keeps
breaking
despite all his efforts
indeed more effort than my own
and that on top of this
he is alone.
and it hurts.
and all i want to do
is go back
and take him by the hand
and kiss him on the forehead
and walk him across my bridge
and say it’s okay,
this
this is what daddies are for..

+ sick for what i’ve lost +

.

+ here to stay. +



more of this photo here.



the danger of a broken heart is not the pain.
not the tears, or anger.
not the ache, not the loneliness,
not the quiet, the empty seat, the bed now much too big.

the danger of a broken heart is what we have to repair it with.
mistrust, hopelessness, faux comfort.
independence.
the oaths we take. what we swear to ourselves.
the danger is self-reliance.

the danger is that these stitches in our heart don’t fall out.
that they are there to stay.
because they must.

the danger is that we know it isn’t about love anymore.
and,
it isn’t about how perfect we are in our world.
it’s about how perfect we are in theirs.

the danger is that two became one.
and a half of one…
well.

half is not whole.

but now we must make it so..

+ ugh. +

how
do
you
love
someone

when
five
minutes
on
the
phone

makes
you
so
angry

and
so
hurt

you
almost
black
out.