Vanity: You are no Fairytale

Feb. 12, 2010

The Debut:
The hearts you place in your eyes are deceivingly sublime. Stop those claws from the pearl of your skin. Take instead the bite of your lips to make accounts of the smiles you receive (ignore the pity). Wear it like badges upon your chest, but on your wrist.

The Silent Ball:
The pallor of your skin is not envied, Belle. The horrors of your nights are not hidden, and yet not horrifying. The whispers that ring your bells and shake your tea cups isn't gossiping Jealous, and the white room isn't encased in rose thorns (bending in coquette curiosity).

The Fall of the Midnight Hour:
Hence to your image in the ripples of the lake, and just as humble humility comes - it comes too late. The rose petals have fallen and the frozen pool has stolen your image. Hiding it in copious dew.

Sometimes it's even...

Breathe,
And choke.
Cry,
But smile...
You swear-
You're doing it right.

That you're holding on,
baby just keep holding on,
For a good reason.
It'll be worth it,
worth it for love,
But it isn't worth it.

You just don't know it yet.

Submission,
Because you're scared -
That you'll control.

Funny,
That trickery.
Those lies.
You already knew the lies.
Blackly, you say say-
It's fine. Sometimes it's even...

Beautiful.

Permeable Ghost

July 4, 09

Empty words waver into songs,
Into souls you don't care to feed,
Cigarettes burn into tongues,
And liquor is the eye to infinity.

And only.
And only because you want
You want your words to be empty.
Feel them and desire nothing,
Permeable ghost,
You can die but you don't die
From the constant way you bleed,
Beggar from the few,
You feel your life is empty.

I'm Confused

May 2, 09

I am confused.

Today I read an update on a diary someone had posted on the internet. She had loads of viewers. It was all about her obsessions, depressions, cutting, underage drinking, anorexia/bulimia, and heart ache.
It's hard for me to feel pity for her. Yet I do. Because I am human. I want to tell her how to live her life. Nor is that right for me to do. Nor is she going to listen to me. Why would she? Why would she listen to me for her happiness? Or in seek of the happiness she doesn't know she can have that I feel I could bring her to?
She has to listen to herself.
Sometimes she calls herself stupid.
Now...I've wondered. Is she fake? Does she do it all for attention? If it were me...Would I ever want to post it on the net with millions of followers? Would I want them to know my weaknesses...my needs...my obsessions... my heart aches...my addictions.
Does it matter? What do you say when you are approached by someone who's life needs to be dictated?
We walk away. Nor is it right - nor is it our place. So what is the place of humanity? I read the comments of her millions of followers. Sometimes they say they agree...Life is fucked and not worth living. Sometimes they give her biblical references, personal emails to talk to.
I never do. Sometimes I say something. It's never much. It's never about her addictions, obsessions, weaknesses or anything...I can't talk about it.
I'm not sure why I keep reading about her drowning.
It does have me confused.

I'm confused.

I have a letter that I write to myself...to say. It's a single piece of paper that writes about my mood. Nothing about my life. Just my mood, where I am...How I feel. I update when I feel it needs to be updated. I read it when I need to know who I am.

Today I read it...I wanted to update it. Because I wanted to put something of my happiness in.
Then I wondered...
Do I act/write how I feel I am meant to act? Do I read books, see movies, hear tales and think...Oh if I want to full out this cliche of being happy I must smile and bounce around. Because I want to? Or feel that I must?
Then wonder...what does it have to do with anything? If I do it either way - whether because I want to or do because I feel I should be doing. I'm still doing.

Lately it only feels halfway. And I'm confused.

Haters.

May 12, 09


Rap gently on the door,
The flap of skin before your heart,
Taking the needles' eye,
Closing it with thread as you stitch.

Icicles.

"Relax or you'll die all tense."

Says one soldier to another.

-Just something to say...I read somewhere on the internet a story of a woman whose car was shot at, causing her to crash and be killed. Her and her little girl. Why was she shot at? Because on her car it had a bumper sticker saying "Half my heart is in Iraq".
Some Anti-War citizens decided to shoot at her and spray paint her car in red horribly derogatory things (that I won't write on here) for her lovers enlistment.
Her husband hadn't even met his daughter before she was killed in this accident.

I cannot understand this world I am in.
I cannot understand this world I am in.
I cannot understand this world I am in...

Truly it cannot be.

You and Yours

May 7, 09

You look at her,
Haggard. Tired and limp.
You are pretty
And maybe once beautiful.

You smile.
So she smiles at you and yours.
The lady next to you.
Who is beautiful.
She seems a bit scared as she looks,

He smiles and watches.
You and yours.
A little jealous,
Wishing it were him with you?
Wishing he had what you had?
Or maybe just thankful for the smile.

Was I once a child so sweet?
I think...I think...
I can't remember.

So I look on,
On those who look at you and yours.
Trying to see them. Since I can't see me-
When I look at you and yours.

X
Not so much a poem but an observation. I was looking at a woman and her daughter if you couldn't guess while looking at two people who looked at them as well. Funny things mornings are.
Felt I should write...something.