wordplayground

health is only a vague memory
can't sleep, wide awake for five days now
even when i want to eat i don't remember to
i shouldn't be allowed out like this
my self has gone away, a machine is driving my car
lights, cars, streets, signals
this machine has a delayed reaction
focus damn it, those are people in the other cars, not machines
can't hurt the people
this crazy machine is outofcontrol
i watch from a distance
i remember the time when it was me, not a machine in that body
now i only have this machine that doesn't sleep or eat
health is only a vague memory of myself

sitting, watching how slowly the time passes by
i move so i can't see the clock
time has stopped
i just have to sit here and wait for time to start moving
i try to force myself to do something,
go somewhere
but i don't want to be seen.
i don't want to talk.
if i sit for too long they'll notice 
then they'll know something's wrong and they'll ask a bunch of questions i can't answer.
i get up and get a diet cherry coke because some feeling that must be hunger is growling in my stomach.
time still isn't moving.
i made myself a beautiful room so i could sit in it while time was stopped.
so i could sit in it knowing there is something wrong with me.
that i'm not ever going to fit.
i always make beautiful rooms.
i stay in them a while, then i pack it all in boxes so i can make a new room.
and they're all so different looking.
i hear footsteps and 
i beg that they don't come to my beautiful room and ask me some ridiculous question.
i don't want to be seen.
i want to disappear like time.

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

it’s amazing how far you can see 
the glistening sun reflect off each little wave
i’m watching from my room and it looks like i could see forever
but i’ve learned that forever is deceiving
it’s a promise that can’t be kept

i believe in something
believing is truth with or without proof
i believe in death
everyone i know has died in some way
to life, or love, or happiness or drugs
we’re dying everyday
i believe in escape
running away from the madness of my mind
thinking it won’t come with me this time
avoiding what might possibly be real
i believe in pain
in the heart, or the mind or the body
crippling pain that leaves us devastated
reaching out for something to believe in
i have to believe in something
something good, something real, something all·powerful
something that doesn’t die or run away
i believe in something
something worth believing in

mom
i saw you in my dream last night
you were waiting
watching me
i still don’t know what to say
how do i explain
myself
?
so i drove away
without looking back

mom
i saw you in my dream last night
you were silent
hating / loving me
you’d packed up my things
i was nervous and
afraid
how do i explain
my life,
dreams, thoughts, actions
?
so i walked away
without looking back

the ants have not yet found my chips and salsa
the ants have not yet found my sweet recluse
i can escape you
scurrying around on the ground
as if you own me

my favorite pajama pants have a hole between the legs
makes it so i could make love to any boy without taking them off
like sex without revealing who i actually am
but i don't want to make love to any boy
i don't want to feel old and out of breath as if i were sixty
i want the new flannel pajamas that were my closest thing to a father
i want youth and innocence and wide questioning eyes
what happened to those things?
i am not the same
i have a father now
but i also have a pair of dirty pajamas with a hole between the legs
that's what growing old is, dirty worn out clothing

this is what i am going to remember
i am going to remember that we are young and that we love each other
i am going to remember that i slept with my best friend
that it hurt for three people, you, me, and a girl i don’t know
i am going to remember our first kiss that we have waited for
i am going to remember walking uphill because i couldn’t sleep
three stars that kept me going, you, me, and a girl i don’t know
i am going to remember a silent road trip
picnics and moments that were beautiful
i am going to remember a bloody cut on my hand
that is what this is, a scar that bleeds, swells and hurts
then heals and goes away
this is what i will remember
then i am going to forget, for you, me, and a girl i don’t know

i just need to calm down
shake this fear
get rid of whatever this is
god i know it's not you
where are you?
i'm scared
shaking
suffocating

i've fallen for you
for your ten perfect fingers
and two little breasts
for the fire you have, inside your mind
for your perfect body and livid personality
for the way your smile brightens up the room
even for your sarcasm, which i never know how to take
for the way you listen, and try to understand
even for the things you'll never understand
for letting me be what i've never been
for following your heart as well as your dreams
for everything you are and 
everything you want to be
for your laughter, your tears, your innocence, you beauty
i'm not sure how to show that i've fallen for you
but i'm falling for you just the same

if i had a dollar when i went to church
(if i went to church)
i would light a candle for you
maybe you need that
you obviously need something
yet i have nothing left to offer
you don't want what i am
you're holding on to this image i created
but that was years ago
i'm not that image anymore
now i can stand on my own two feet,
say "world, here i am
take me"

my grandmother's medical tape is so old it is sticky on both sides
the poorly bandaged wound on my foot sticks to the ground when i walk,
the something that has held me down my whole life.

at the advice of her brother my desperate aunt bought a heavy duty garbage disposal
now she can throw everything in the sink and with the flick of a switch grind all the crap of life to nothing.
that's what life is, repression in the form of medical tape or a heavy duty garbage disposal.

i saw your indiana plates and forgot where i was for a moment. i think i even may have forgot who i was. indiana. throws me off guard. but i’m accepting this. i’ve seen a part of the world that you may have called home. but i look up at this never ending city and i remember where i am. i know who i am and you can’t take that away from me. hello world. i’ve come out of my shell. unprotected, i’m not even afraid. this is beautiful, being me. i may even call this home.

i was scared and alone
i wanted
a mommy to walk me through this
i cried, i screamed
i wanted
a mommy to hold my hand
i don’t have that
mom
where are you?
i want to be a child 
unaware
trusting even your angry words
i want to go back
and start over
i want to go home
a home to go back to
without fear
i walked across the street alone
i wanted
a mommy to hold my hand

this is my ideal
saturday night
old records scratching dust
a drink in one hand
cigarette in the other
virgin moon shining through passing haze
chilly night, even though it’s august
poetry books scrawled across a table
reading e. e. cummings and langston hughes out loud
stopping to scrawl passing thoughts in my journal
thoughts i won’t remember tomorrow,
except for these scribbles that remain

i am locked inside this body
this body won’t get up off the ground
this body that won’t try
and i am locked inside
i am going to die here
because this arm won’t push me up
these legs won’t stand
this mouth won’t cry for help

i had the wind knocked out of me.
lying on a cold mattress,
sleeping.
memories of something hard and fast, pain, crying,
blood.
waking up.
realizing this is my body.
pick up the pieces,
a shoe, a pair of pants, a shirt,
my clothing, torn and scattered.
pull the pieces over my head,
ignore the throbbing in my mind.
take me home,
seco canyon road, apartment 105.
key fits in the door.
questions, no answers.
people talking, leaving crying.
shower.
washing everything away,
no memory.

i could start crying just sitting here
just because the ants on the ground can't walk straight
or because the flowers are so red
because the roses are wilting and the bushes will soon be bare
because the whitewash on the bird bath is chipping
or maybe because i'm me, lost and meaningless,
with no desire to put some effort into my life
because i have only ten fingers and
i still can't write very neatly with my left hand
because nobody understands and
i don't have the energy to explain myself anymore

i hate the cleaning people.
i hate me. nineteen years old and clutching my stuffed animal.
i hate forgetting.
i hate forcing myself out of bed when i want to curl up under the blankets and let time pass by.
days, nights, weeks ive been in this cigarette clouded haze,
i lost sight of a road, a path, some pretend destination.
im slipping away.
good-bye, it was nice to know you,
(not really).

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

when i was seven i crossed the entire pacific ocean on a piece of wood that i ripped from my grandfather's casket. i ended up in a land where i didn't recognize the people or understand the language. i survived on the kindness of strangers, who fed me food and lies. i was discovered by my family when i was fourteen and they spit the truth in my face. i couldn't handle it. i yearned for the foreign land where i was alone with my thoughts, the lies, and the memory of a grandfather. i tried to go back to the foreign land, but the strangers saw the truth in my eyes and would not feed me anymore. i returned to the family that despised me, they took me in out of obligation. i learned to fear and to hate and to love and to fend for myself. i learned that there really is no point, no meaning to it all. the best i could do was feed a needy stranger food and lies.

mygod, it must have hurt like hell to hang upon that tree,
let me drive the nail in deeper.
let me be the one to declare that you have not yet suffered enough.
i pick the dirt from under my own nails,
and i know the thought runs through my mind that somehow i am better.

god you must be somewhere in this
but i'm so unsure, so untrusting, so afraid
i don't know where to go, what to do with this life they call mine
beads for depression, success and money
i'd take anything right now
i'll believe anything that offers hope in some form
where are you?
where am i?
i don't know up from down, let alone how to move forward
god i know you're somewhere in this,
but where?

i think of reaching out and touching you, 
but i’m afraid you’ll turn away
or you’ll make some joke of me
even though i couldn’t be more serious.
i don’t know how to love without fear,
i’m afraid of losing, afraid of rejection,
afraid i won’t be loved in return.
you think i don’t show that i love you,
you think it’s not real,
but i’m just afraid.