wordplayground

...i have these moments, and
in the midst of them
i live

i remember so much happiness
in you, with you
and it haunts me
curses me
now 
to live
in a void
lacking the presence of our laughter
so vivid, so light
so happy
in these memories
we live
and how will anyone
ever compare.

i'm slipping into this
pain and paranoia, isolation
my mind dripping with black, with
words i have to force onto the page,
my days never adding up to
what she could have been in one
and i become so little in this shadow
of her, of my memories, of the moment
in time when we were entangled

i'm slipping into her, 

don't let me forget to tell you
i'm sorry
and i tried to save
the world
but my 9 oclock ran over
i canceled the 2
and three o clock
came too soon and
i never had a moment
to find the solution
which they printed between
lines on yesterday's paper
but
i still refuse to pay for
that rag of words
with a bible verse on the front
here at least 
we sell the (formerly-known-as)
twin towers times and
even in our epitome-of-
evolution kind of world
the towers fell
like your expectations
when 
i can't get anything done and
you expected this weeks ago
but i 
was trying to catch my breath
even still i needed a minute
to get the words down
between these lines
mixed with soy
and too much chocolate
like my thoughts mixed
with too much lithium, which
makes the words
slow in coming and
i could really use a day to
take on the world and
finish everything and
never sleep.

the tears were sliding off my face
(too quickly)
i tried to catch them all
as if
i could have saved you from this,
if only i had tried a little harder.
you misinterpreted my presence
(curled up in your arms)
to mean something more
and i participated in the construction of that reality
now (all these years later)
i would come to you
seeking forgiveness for my role

do i believe bringing her back would make things right,
or that it would make me right?
fix the shame of becoming a much better person
because she died.

she becomes my personal savior, 
carrying and dying on my cross.

i don't even want to save the world 
anymore
i've wasted enough time
trying to save myself
and after the last sleepless night
the circles under my eyes 
have more clarity than
the beliefs i once held
i want endless nights of sleep
meaningless days
the world can save itself
will anyone ever care if
i can present a cohesive argument
relating human nature and democracy?
who will ever listen
if i contend 
that a worker in colombia
is as deserving as one
in america
i want to sit and lose myself
in the crashing of the waves

if you go 
in search of being
someone else
holding
someone else
do i then
fill your shoes?

love someone
say my hands are tied
and smile
while i rot inside
settle for a little
when they won't give a lot
keep quiet
with my hands tied

say
it was all
beyond my control

i don't want this, 
negative attention.
i want to be normal
and happy. 
and normal.

my best friend is strung out -
on a line
left to dry.

if you don't call,
you don't care.
if you're angry
and bitter,
selfish,
if you cry,
but won't call
can you still say best friend?

you could say this girl i knew
it's impersonal,
implies you don't care, but
you're not even sure you knew this girl.
knowing her is frightening.

you could describe how 
you used to be sisters, but
again the past tense
implicates
guilt
or anger
even hatred, which
so often replaces love.

you could call her by name, but
that might make this
who she is.
are you in denial - 
or is she?
what was her name?

you're left alone
reaching out for her
constantly.
she's out of reach,
can't see you,
you reach and swing
trying to pull her off the line.
you're crying,
angry,
she doesn't even know you're there.
this is her fault.

she's drying out on that line,
when she's gone
you'll blame yourself
for leaving her there.

but,
she didn't see you
and 
you would have called,
if you remembered
her name.

i threw my watch on the floor
but just to spite me,
i still hear my wrist ticking.
the seconds that pass
have accepted that you're dying
but we number everything
and never come to terms with that.

---

am i bitter with myself
for not giving more?
or with her,
for not taking my hand?

i was so busy proving i 
could be whatever i wanted
i forgot
what i most wanted to be
i was so busy being big
that i was left feeling so
very small
i didn't know where i was going
but i so convincingly
sold you on my plan
of each minute each mile each me
the picture was so big
but i was so small and
i lost myself
in those dreams
when i try to shake myself awake
i find
i'm on the verge of tears
without words
to express 
just how little
i've become

i thought, 
if i could just find the right pattern,
it would all go away.
but i found those five
(more than once)
and nothing changed.
i thought i would escape,
but there you all were,
making it worse,
rubbing it in,
that i could never answer
with "just fine"
(how are you?)
clarifying for me once more,
that i would have too much to say
(too honest)
i was trying to escape
(to a locked stall).
i found those five, 
but i still had too much to say.
i'm never "just fine."
are you?

every time your name appears
i get this anger i'll define as guilt
and i feel i should have explained to you
that i meant well
i should have warned you, that

i want to save the world
fly a kite
be your best friend
raise a chimpanzee
live in a library, 
a jungle, a boat and a tree

and i say each one so honestly, earnestly, realistically
not knowing that i will break every promise i make to myself
to prove every sparkling point
that i am not all i said i would be

i am		
	scared
	insecure
	lost in the clouds
	even beautiful on random detached days

distancing myself 
one two three steps back
it's safer here
where i can watch you
where i can protect myself
i've been hurt too many times
call it what you like
fear of commitment
abandonment issues
the name doesn't matter
the disease is the same
i put perfection in strange models
project it upon myself
i never fit
i never live up to the expectations
so i'm regressing to distance
safety by myself
one two three steps back

childhood dreams and fantasy things
supposed to be young and innocent
all i ever got was wrong
not pretty enough, not good enough
now they say "just love yourself,
you don't love yourself enough"
give me a standard i won't live up to
give me a test that i'll fail
but, and, if only, then i'd be enough
you wonder why i have these scars
i hated myself just enough

this is all i am 
watching, wide·eyed and silent
timid and alone in a city that’s gone mad
they used to call this the dreamland
but i sit here day after day and the dreams aren’t very pleasant
there is not much i can do
i think of fighting, of caring, of taking a stand
but i have only two legs and ten fingers
i have a voice that doesn’t carry over the crowd
i have a thousand dreams and no direction
this is all that i am 
ten fingers
this is all i have to offer

my hands will be shaking
and useless
when your hands are full
it will remind me
that mine were left alone
empty