Scissors

Holy Bad Haircut Batman.

Foreigner

The words were foreign.  You were the foreigner here.

You were the forgotten here, in my garden of heart.

Well kept with weeds, or the prize winning horticulture display,

You would not know.

You were the foreigner and the one unknown to this land.

This soil is not where you began.

What brings you to this side of the world?

What brings you to travel to this darkness?

What brings you?

Do you dare travel these lands alone?

I hope you have good hiking shoes.  It is a confusing terrain.

Half Asleep, Wind Chimes

It was a different time.  Things were different then.  Why do you insist upon reliving the past?

Where is your present?

Nowhere to be found.

Where is your future?

Buried in the ground if you keep looking behind you for what lies ahead.

History may repeat itself,

But you are not dead, yet.

Where have you been?

The heavens cry out with such overwhelming silence, you swear you heard the answer somewhere inside that textbook you read while you were half asleep.  If only you had half as good a memory as you used to before when things were different then.

Retaining the information was like the pack rat, never throwing away.

Now, there is the empty attic, the empty garage.

There is a shell that used to be a home.

There is a bridge that used to bridge something.

Now there is nothing left over.

No change for a dollar.

No change to the bland look in your eye.

Bland as the Wonder Bread, pure, white.

Your pupils are stained with time.

Your spectacles ruin the once beautiful view of your eyes.

You used to be so nice.

Now a porcupine's outer layer seems like a comfort.

You are the one who makes us wait for you to come out of the shell.

The sharp remarks, the sharks retorts,

Eat that dinner, bloody and raw.

The wind chimes mock your facade.

Begin again?

Think it will be easy to pull yourself from the Hell you have made?  Think again.  You are the over exaggerating, all annoying sort.  You would let the lies drip from your tongue like the poison your blood must be made of.

Drip.

Drop.

Trip.

Yes, you forget to tie your shoes frequently.  Someday your nose will break without the fair warning to be more careful.  Careless, and shoelaceless, you are the bleeding from your own misdeed.  Your slight lack leaves the slack on your feet able to trip you up to put you down and out for the count.

No one needs to beat you down.

You will take yourself out of the race.

Who needs the competition anyway?

Different stories have different outcomes.

Endings had a beginning, once upon a time.

Red Roses

I used to be a poet once.

Not anymore.

The strings that used to tie my thoughts, cut short.

Cut short like my hair.

Anger flows out towards the hairdresser who heeds not the warnings.

Anger trickles like floodwaters upon those who forgot to read directions.

Your lack of direction leaves you without a map.

Not that you could read it anyway.

You lack the ability to read, though, pretending has always suited you.

Queen of Hearts.

Lay down your heart.

Who has been painting my roses red?

Without Strings.

New sounds surround me.  I just want time to fade into the lack of noise, and into the purification of the sounds floating like leaves in reverse.

Add the letters.

Create your own story.

Fly higher than you once thought you could.

Push yourself farther than you've ever pushed before.

Blood, sweat, bone, you're crunching now.

Floating higher,

Pushing harder.

Being what you've always meant to be,

Or being someone you never thought you'd be.

Changing, cascading through the landscape,

Changing with the pined ruts of the fields,

Changing with the push and pull of the soil,

Growing tired,

Growing tilled.

Changing face,

Cascading.

Never thought.

Soaring higher, floating into the distance,

Becoming the silhouettes,

Puppets on the sunset,

Without strings.

Soar without wings.

What were you thinking?

No thought, just action.

Melting

And the earth spins around while the people fall down.  I've been online looking for jobs most of today, as well as filling out applications I got at several places a few days ago.  Grand.  So much fun.

I watched a funny movie last night and it was so wonderful, but it wasn't wonderful.

So which was it?  I couldn't tell you.  I enjoyed it probably because I was so tired.

My brain is burning today because I have too many things cluttering up my mind.  I keep thinking of Boston, and wondering if its where I want to be.  I know its possible, and I know its plausible, but I don't know if its feasible.  It is just super hard because who really knows what they want to be doing with their life?  I want some community going on.

Some day I want to go overseas to like, Slovenia, or Bosnia, and go all over England, Scotland, and go back to Italy.  I want to know more about my heritage, and now that I have the ability to know, I just want to know more...then maybe a little bit more.

Maybe its a process of figuring more of who I am, or at least, what I came from.

I like the ideas of it, though I've only half the puzzle pieces.  Is my life a game?  Sometimes.

I'm tired of the games.

But sometimes I'm so caught up in the guessing of it, I forget to just live it.

I long for community, so I suppose it is something I'm always looking for.  I long for creativity, and will always need a way to be creative wherever I'm at.

Decisions, decisions.  Bah.

Let my brain melt out of my ear while I sleep.