frumoasă mea mama.

she never thought her life would turn out like this,

and the bottles in the fridge are a testament.

two smoker sons

two absent men

the beginning of the end sets in now.

the lights turned down and only the daemons in her mind

to keep her company in the pain and despair

and no one else knows how it feels.

no one else knows how her life should have gone.

the west coast, the beach house, the beautiful family

she was sure that's what it had looked like in the brochure

that pamphlet in the back of her mind.

now its tucked away in the archives past the trailer parks,

the selfish motives, the moves, the lack of anything that resembles family.

growing more and more tired of the joke of a religion that christianity has become

the people who should care the most dont give a fuck at all.

its funny how life turns out, isnt it?

the dramatic irony.

so much time spent waiting for happiness to arrive

so much time wasted on planning to make plans.

i keep dreaming about you.

i dont know why that is...

other than the fact that i'm sort of madly in love with you. shh.

dont tell anyone.

not that i don't feel like it's already blatantly obvious.

like with every compliment i give you or message i send you

i put one more nail in the coffin of my disguise.

you are so obviously perfect

and i am so obviously in love with that.

i dont see what is wrong with this picture.

im sure your boyfriend could find something though.

lucky him.

i cant wait to meet him just to see what the luckiest guy

in the world looks, sounds, and acts like.

he must be adonis.

i see you every day now, and it doesn't make it any easier

cause i know that every perfect moment we spend together

is one moment i come closer to having you slide out of my life forever.

visit me in my dreams my sweet angel of subconsciousness

and sing me lullabies of better times when things could be you and i.

Chronicle #3

The mind's volatile anxieties leave a turbulent froth at the receding tide of her self-awareness as she rolls into the same bed she had restlessly occupied 15 hours earlier. Sleep both haunts and evades her. Stark, flushed cheeks bearing a shocking resemblance to overripe papaya nestle beneath a neglected mane whose strands have born the day's events not without valor. She arranges and re-arranges her thoughts, as one would a bouquet of half-awake, half-bloomed wildflowers, yet to reach full maturation and brilliance of character. Finally unable to finish a cup of strong coffee for her distractedness, she is resigned to top off the various rings of stagnant residue with scalding water in a (vain) effort to preserve her brooding temperament and consciousness.

emotion falls so short.

The halls fall away beneath my feet. The dirt takes its place. I have never felt the way I do sitting here this morning. Like i've jumped off the bullet train of life and landed on this grassy knoll covered in the sweet morning dew.

Everyone passes in front of me. No one says "Hello" and really means it. No one says "Goodbye" and awaits your return. But that is ok with me. Because I am at peace. This world has nothing for me. Nothing but reflection and human experience. The relationship I have with it almost seems like a movie I am watching from my grassy haven.

The things I worried about were so five minutes ago. But I know it wont last. Before long the train will have noticed my absence and reach out with its long skeletal arms and jerked me back on.

But it is the moments like these that I revel in. They keep me alive. They keep me well. They keep me coming back for more. They teach me to say "hello" and really wonder how someone is, and to say "goodbye" and long to see that person again. They teach me that we are all just players in the game and that to win sometimes you must cheat the system. You must jump the train.

You must sit on the knoll and watch the world go by.

Politics and Paper Dolls.

I'll set out in search of something between introduction and goodbye, safety purposes. You never offer a "Hello, my name is...", so you needn't live with the knowledge of a direct moment of beginning and end. Only that there was exchange of politics and ideaology, spaghetti and umbrellas along the way. And when ways part, you can't regret. Nothing concrete in the first place. All that is left is a treacherous stack of restaurant receipts and a dingy umbrella in the corner, a pity gift from that wheezing great-aunt.

The thunder stopped about an hour ago, rain still trickles from the gutter like a weeping child. Wind-blown leaves pasted to the windows from the outside, crying for sanctuary. Eerie gutteral noises from the refrigerator in the corner. Grey daylight consumes empty space, accessible rooms with ghosts. Skin is skin no longer. A maiden's paper veil. Heartbeats ticking like old machinery. Untouched breakfast. I can't say I mind the company.

The last sip of coffee settles, lukewarm and motionless. As am I.

2am and Showerheads.

The lights are blurring now. Walking my way back across town. Up the stairs to my secret sanctuary. You might think its weird, but only till you try it. I step under the hot running water and it soaks my body. I let it run away with my mind. The day just slips away and carries me to a better place. A place of peace... without time. If it wasn't two in the morning i'm sure I would have more important things on my mind right now. Like that 8am class I have... in 6 hours.

Damn.

I sit down in the shower. The water pounds my back, massaging it and warming me from my core. It speaks to me, like Bob Marley, it sings "Don't worry about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright." The voice echoes in my head and awakens me from my daydream where I was sitting on a beach sipping the most amazing strawberry daiquiri you've ever had in your life. I'm back in the shower. It now has reached steam room proportions. I can't see my hand in front of my face. Out of sight out of mind, and right now my mind is empty. It's nice to have nothing fighting for my brain power at the moment. Nothing in it but the water. I close my eyes and follow each drop down my spine until I feel it slide off into the pool on the bottom.

Heaven has never felt so good on earth. Then I remember. I'm in the shower. So its off with the stream of Heaven, and into the cool hard reality outside those shower doors. Facing it somehow will never be the same. I will always come back to that sanctuary where it can all go away for a short time. There. At my favorite appointment. At 2am with showerheads.

intro

the silence seeps through the dark walls. i roll over in bed to find that no one is there. does anyone know how i feel in these early morning hours? lying alone in my bed. i am alone with only my thoughts as companions, and even those are pretty lonely most of the time. the day is drifting by but somehow i have no will to get up. everything i care about is away on holiday and i dont think i can make it through the winter. does anyone know what it is like to be me? does anyone care? does anyone even know the way it feels to wake up every morning to the sound of silence the way i do? silence that says no one understands you. no one knows the real you. and then i know its going to be a long day. coffee and cigarettes are my only sweet escape. the thoughts pour in but they feel like a long lost friend. now they rush me through my day until i can once more crawl into bed and escape to places i would love to stay. the dreams of yet another day. the days pass slowly by and they are all the same. they slip by and the weather grows colder and colder every day. this is the only way i know. this is how it is for me. can anyone help me? does anyone know how much i miss LIFE? but for now. its just me, coffee and cigarettes.