I don't wanna let you go but it hurts my hands to hold the rope
If you call then i'm coming to get you
If you call then I'm coming out
if you call then i'm coming to get you
but you wanna sink, so I'm gonna let you
All I want is some earth and seed
to only grow the things I need
but first I must find my way back
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Maybe if I did not base truths on faith, and maybe if I did not speak and act on pure emotion, I would be considered wise by men. Attractive, even, in my skepticism. If I could only approach the concept of God satirically, I would not be missing some vital component that comes with reason.
Reason is different than faith, I do not deny it, and I do not deny that it is usually more valid an argument. But I don't think that possessing faith means I lack the ability to think critically, nor do I think that it means I am naive, or predisposed to superstition.
I've discovered that there is this sort of limbo between what is intellectual and what is God, and this limbo is not anything that resembles a middle ground. There will never be a reconciliation, yet it remains a persistent struggle. A reasonable notion will always come into conflict with a faith-based one, and vice versa.
And with as much fervor as I believe in God, I hope that, in the end, I was right to choose so.
Reason is different than faith, I do not deny it, and I do not deny that it is usually more valid an argument. But I don't think that possessing faith means I lack the ability to think critically, nor do I think that it means I am naive, or predisposed to superstition.
I've discovered that there is this sort of limbo between what is intellectual and what is God, and this limbo is not anything that resembles a middle ground. There will never be a reconciliation, yet it remains a persistent struggle. A reasonable notion will always come into conflict with a faith-based one, and vice versa.
And with as much fervor as I believe in God, I hope that, in the end, I was right to choose so.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
It's so hard when you don't have trust or faith. Those always seemed like such solid concepts you could count on, but when they're not there, it's like a summer camp group activity gone wrong. It was supposed to be bonding and liberating all at the same time, but everyone just ended up falling flat on their backs.
It's simple dictionary stuff. You can't be free if, by definition, you aren't.
It's simple dictionary stuff. You can't be free if, by definition, you aren't.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
All smart people lie. If they tell you they don't, they're probably lying.
The smarter they are, the better they are at it, and the more frequently they do it. They hold fast to the subtle habits found in their personal brand of deception, and they cling to open doors and figurative speech. They spell out the truth and play it off as sarcasm, or they pretend they don't remember a thing, or they wear glasses that they don't need, or they tilt their head in feigned disbelief or understanding.
And the truth is that, this guy, he is probably a genius. His speech is deliberate and concise, and there are few gaps in his logic. For him, emotion must be a whole different plane, a fourth dimension that is inaccessible to those who live by his reason. It must be nice for him. Never having to look at what he thinks is real and wonder if it's something he made up to just to feel better about everything. He would actually be pretty intimidating if I could actually admit that he intimidates me. A personal life lesson he has taught me is that I shouldn't believe in anything that I can't ever know.
But he probably lies a lot, because like I said, he's really smart. If he did, I would never know, and if he didn't, I would never believe him now because there is no way that I could ever know. So I have a dilemma. How could I ever trust someone who is always a million steps ahead of me, who probably knows almost everything, who I could never get the best of or second guess or convince him to stop second guessing me?
And when I lay down at night, I know that I'm a fool. I'm a woman through and through, impulsive and repulsed by the undeniable sovereignty of reason. What I feel is nothing but a denial of what they know the truth should be, stupid justifications for things I force into reality. When I don't feel truly sorry is when I must be wrong.
The smarter they are, the better they are at it, and the more frequently they do it. They hold fast to the subtle habits found in their personal brand of deception, and they cling to open doors and figurative speech. They spell out the truth and play it off as sarcasm, or they pretend they don't remember a thing, or they wear glasses that they don't need, or they tilt their head in feigned disbelief or understanding.
And the truth is that, this guy, he is probably a genius. His speech is deliberate and concise, and there are few gaps in his logic. For him, emotion must be a whole different plane, a fourth dimension that is inaccessible to those who live by his reason. It must be nice for him. Never having to look at what he thinks is real and wonder if it's something he made up to just to feel better about everything. He would actually be pretty intimidating if I could actually admit that he intimidates me. A personal life lesson he has taught me is that I shouldn't believe in anything that I can't ever know.
But he probably lies a lot, because like I said, he's really smart. If he did, I would never know, and if he didn't, I would never believe him now because there is no way that I could ever know. So I have a dilemma. How could I ever trust someone who is always a million steps ahead of me, who probably knows almost everything, who I could never get the best of or second guess or convince him to stop second guessing me?
And when I lay down at night, I know that I'm a fool. I'm a woman through and through, impulsive and repulsed by the undeniable sovereignty of reason. What I feel is nothing but a denial of what they know the truth should be, stupid justifications for things I force into reality. When I don't feel truly sorry is when I must be wrong.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Good Woman
I want to be a good woman
and I want you to be a good man.
And this is why I will be leaving
this is why I can't see you no more.
I will miss your heart so tender
and I will love this love forever.
I don't want to be a bad woman
and I can't stand to see you be a bad man
and this is why I am leaving
and this is why I can't see you no more.
This is why I am lying
when I say I don't love you no more.
and I want you to be a good man.
And this is why I will be leaving
this is why I can't see you no more.
I will miss your heart so tender
and I will love this love forever.
I don't want to be a bad woman
and I can't stand to see you be a bad man
and this is why I am leaving
and this is why I can't see you no more.
This is why I am lying
when I say I don't love you no more.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
lol
"Don't tell me you're cold, and don't tell me you want me to come sleep with you."
Just so you remember that you said it.
Just so you remember that you said it.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Heaven stretches before me like a basketball court, with its white lines, metal rims, and a judgment day as hot as black asphalt. My soles slap sweaty on tar, on wood like rose thorns, and the sinews beneath the stripped vines reach out to me, visible and cold from the layers peeled away.
I watch you like he watches me, full of faith and unabashed in the face of fear. God knows no man, I've told myself. God loves no man, I've convinced myself. And my veins shine pale underneath milky glass, and I wonder where along this line of life did I convince myself that I could do this on my own. I spent years searching for these exact same hills, gave up family and love all for curves sweeter than a woman and the richest sort of green. In my memory, it ran thick beneath my feet and crushed crisp between my fingertips. But now that I'm here, it's become a desert to me, the valley no longer cradled and no rolling ground before me. I see only the scar of a burning mountain, a ghost of a Pacific coast, a grave where God used to be, the lie I had come to believe.
But I still mourn for the land that I loved and the life it will never give me, and all that I abandoned for it, and everything that could have stayed the same, the living thing whose breath I took away, and how I'll never know what could have been if I had never left, and how I'll never know if it would have been better if I had never come back, and all the days that I spent wanting something that I was thought was gone, and how long it took me to accept that it was something that never was. All the life inside of it was something I had made for it
the lie I had come to believe.
I watch you like he watches me, full of faith and unabashed in the face of fear. God knows no man, I've told myself. God loves no man, I've convinced myself. And my veins shine pale underneath milky glass, and I wonder where along this line of life did I convince myself that I could do this on my own. I spent years searching for these exact same hills, gave up family and love all for curves sweeter than a woman and the richest sort of green. In my memory, it ran thick beneath my feet and crushed crisp between my fingertips. But now that I'm here, it's become a desert to me, the valley no longer cradled and no rolling ground before me. I see only the scar of a burning mountain, a ghost of a Pacific coast, a grave where God used to be, the lie I had come to believe.
But I still mourn for the land that I loved and the life it will never give me, and all that I abandoned for it, and everything that could have stayed the same, the living thing whose breath I took away, and how I'll never know what could have been if I had never left, and how I'll never know if it would have been better if I had never come back, and all the days that I spent wanting something that I was thought was gone, and how long it took me to accept that it was something that never was. All the life inside of it was something I had made for it
the lie I had come to believe.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Friday, December 28, 2012
Monday, December 24, 2012
Sunday, December 16, 2012
All I can think about is you
and the way that you carry and ring clear as if I should have already known.
By now, I've already been losing many a good night's sleep over an implicitly vulnerable man.
Maybe this is just what I am
starving through late afternoons just to get an extra ten minutes with you
laughing at bridges and tearing down maps
burying our whole lives below a single bedroom.
And sometimes I didn't know what I had came here for
I think that my warm blood will always itch beneath my skin
and I would take it all off if I thought that it would accomplish something
but you don't even have to touch me to get close to what's inside of me
and with your eyes closed you could tell me what I was feeling, and then you'd ask me why.
It's almost a little silly the way we feel when we're alone, and I can't imagine that something like this isn't a part of what the truth is.
and the way that you carry and ring clear as if I should have already known.
By now, I've already been losing many a good night's sleep over an implicitly vulnerable man.
Maybe this is just what I am
starving through late afternoons just to get an extra ten minutes with you
laughing at bridges and tearing down maps
burying our whole lives below a single bedroom.
And sometimes I didn't know what I had came here for
I think that my warm blood will always itch beneath my skin
and I would take it all off if I thought that it would accomplish something
but you don't even have to touch me to get close to what's inside of me
and with your eyes closed you could tell me what I was feeling, and then you'd ask me why.
It's almost a little silly the way we feel when we're alone, and I can't imagine that something like this isn't a part of what the truth is.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Matthew 23-27
"If anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Messiah!’ or, ‘There he is!’ do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect. See, I have told you ahead of time.
“So if anyone tells you, ‘There he is, out in the wilderness,’ do not go out; or, ‘Here he is, in the inner rooms,’ do not believe it. For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. Wherever there is a carcass, there the vultures will gather."
“So if anyone tells you, ‘There he is, out in the wilderness,’ do not go out; or, ‘Here he is, in the inner rooms,’ do not believe it. For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. Wherever there is a carcass, there the vultures will gather."
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Thou Shall Not Covet/Animal Sounds pt. 2
Wanting more is a pitfall
Some things are better the way they are
There is nothing soft about him--his arms are like stone, his hands are leather ropes, eyes of cut glass, and he's heavier than my lungs at the bottom of the ocean.
But this time, I'm not gonna hold my breath
The air is light inside my chest
and the oxygen in my head helps me see this for what it really is, and you for who you really are
But when I lay in bed at night, I still feel your heat between my thighs
And I can't help but tell myself that I'm what you've been waiting for.
Be careful what you wish for, my mom once said to me
What you think keeps you alive won't keep you on your feet.
Some things are better the way they are
There is nothing soft about him--his arms are like stone, his hands are leather ropes, eyes of cut glass, and he's heavier than my lungs at the bottom of the ocean.
But this time, I'm not gonna hold my breath
The air is light inside my chest
and the oxygen in my head helps me see this for what it really is, and you for who you really are
But when I lay in bed at night, I still feel your heat between my thighs
And I can't help but tell myself that I'm what you've been waiting for.
Be careful what you wish for, my mom once said to me
What you think keeps you alive won't keep you on your feet.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
I feel you right here almost all of the time
I feel you right here almost all of the time.
It drops to my stomach like I'm swallowing rocks
and sits in piles until I can't get out of bed.
My gut's been heavy for almost a month.
Even when I'm with you, it's never enough.
You are a lie I like to tel,l
a vision only I can interpret, I say, "It makes sense to me."
The things that I imagine seem to be the natural progression
or how it's supposed to be.
But when I put it all on paper, I realize that I'm wrong
I guess I'm falling too fast, and I'm starting to see asphalt.
Cement flies towards me, and I think it has wings
It unfolds like a bed that's been waiting for me
Warm with a lover that's redder than summer
Burns like September, and I hope October
isn't as hot as the blood on the pavement
the flowers of iron the ground's promised to me.
But it feels good to know I was wrong.
It's a relief to cough up these stones.
Maybe I'll forget that any of this happened.
Maybe I will not remember these things
It drops to my stomach like I'm swallowing rocks
and sits in piles until I can't get out of bed.
My gut's been heavy for almost a month.
Even when I'm with you, it's never enough.
You are a lie I like to tel,l
a vision only I can interpret, I say, "It makes sense to me."
The things that I imagine seem to be the natural progression
or how it's supposed to be.
But when I put it all on paper, I realize that I'm wrong
I guess I'm falling too fast, and I'm starting to see asphalt.
Cement flies towards me, and I think it has wings
It unfolds like a bed that's been waiting for me
Warm with a lover that's redder than summer
Burns like September, and I hope October
isn't as hot as the blood on the pavement
the flowers of iron the ground's promised to me.
But it feels good to know I was wrong.
It's a relief to cough up these stones.
Maybe I'll forget that any of this happened.
Maybe I will not remember these things
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sunday, September 16, 2012
body metaphors chapter 25
There's a question inside me
that defiles beauty and hurts my feet.
I've challenged everything I've seen
to sink my teeth in skin I don't need.
I know all the words to the songs you sing.
They're all about girls and none of them are me
and when he moves, I know he's moving.
I find his thoughts when I am sleeping.
I know it's me, and when it comes
they'll hit the ground running, and we'll be the only ones
left alone with our burden
knowledge lost across an ocean.
There's this gift I've been given
a softer spot, a brighter vision
I hate fighting war against myself
because endless battles have never helped.
And I imagine he's not alone now
but we're by ourselves wherever I go now.
And if you can't leave, I'll try to be brave.
I'm not smart enough to change.
I feel heat where I don't wanna go.
It stays in my collar when it runs down my throat, and if the fever spreads
I pray to God I don't hurt you,
but your blood does become you.
It brings out the blue behind your eyes
and turns to wine when your faith dies.
He seems like a separate world
that all loses focus, and I don't want him to know everyone I've been.
cause I've used wood to build up my bones.
and lit the match that's keeping them warm.
I stake my claim before your eyes.
They probably know, but they'll tell you lies.
My lips will bruise when he'll kiss my mouth
while I'm asleep and living somewhere else
despite the men I don't have time for
because of the boys I have to lie for.
I want my soul, and I want my heart
but they aren't speaking, and they're living apart, and when we hit the ground
I prayed to God it didn't hurt you.
But the blood was becoming of you
that defiles beauty and hurts my feet.
I've challenged everything I've seen
to sink my teeth in skin I don't need.
I know all the words to the songs you sing.
They're all about girls and none of them are me
and when he moves, I know he's moving.
I find his thoughts when I am sleeping.
I know it's me, and when it comes
they'll hit the ground running, and we'll be the only ones
left alone with our burden
knowledge lost across an ocean.
There's this gift I've been given
a softer spot, a brighter vision
I hate fighting war against myself
because endless battles have never helped.
And I imagine he's not alone now
but we're by ourselves wherever I go now.
And if you can't leave, I'll try to be brave.
I'm not smart enough to change.
I feel heat where I don't wanna go.
It stays in my collar when it runs down my throat, and if the fever spreads
I pray to God I don't hurt you,
but your blood does become you.
It brings out the blue behind your eyes
and turns to wine when your faith dies.
He seems like a separate world
that all loses focus, and I don't want him to know everyone I've been.
cause I've used wood to build up my bones.
and lit the match that's keeping them warm.
I stake my claim before your eyes.
They probably know, but they'll tell you lies.
My lips will bruise when he'll kiss my mouth
while I'm asleep and living somewhere else
despite the men I don't have time for
because of the boys I have to lie for.
I want my soul, and I want my heart
but they aren't speaking, and they're living apart, and when we hit the ground
I prayed to God it didn't hurt you.
But the blood was becoming of you
Saturday, September 15, 2012
muddy waters and more similes
his adam apple feels like an engine, the kind i start up when i want to go some place better. his throat is warm and moves like a river when he breathes. i think i can feel the air push through. i think i can taste the light in you.
and because of him, i don't want to sleep. i say it to myself almost every night, i think
i feel this thick like mud like tar
sticky ink instead of blood that doesn't run or flow
but it holds to me, clings like hard rain, moves like oil, melts like wax
i wait so patiently for things to end
but instead it runs like streams, spreads like veins into everything
like hollow webs, it sticks to me
falling, i said i want to sink
backwards against parks and lakes and bedroom walls
i want you to turn me over in front of everyone
i want your salt like the breath on my neck or the mud on my chest
and i'm sure it's what you want
dead skin, blood sucking, dropping out of school
blaming complete lack of sobriety
on the fact that there is nothing when we've never really tried anything
to prove ourselves wrong
i guess i don't blame god
he's not the reason that everything's wrong
i can only blame me
and my complete lack of dexterity and grace under pressure
and every pathetic attempt at modesty
sometimes i don't even know what's happening to me
and why you'll never have to ask
and how cold my face feels pressed against glass
and why when i wake up everything morning, i never feel the same
or how everything is always different, but i never want to change
legs slick with soap scum
i feel this thick like layers like scars
more resin than the oldest trees
bruises like banana leaves
no matter how you judge me
we're all in this together
it's not like i really believe
i can be for you what you are to me
all i see is hope, and i have to watch it go, but i didn't deserve to think things could be this way
suddenly i wake up, and i feel stupid
my dreams are good but mean nothing when i'm lucid
it's just like choking, and i can only blame myself
and because of him, i don't want to sleep. i say it to myself almost every night, i think
i feel this thick like mud like tar
sticky ink instead of blood that doesn't run or flow
but it holds to me, clings like hard rain, moves like oil, melts like wax
i wait so patiently for things to end
but instead it runs like streams, spreads like veins into everything
like hollow webs, it sticks to me
falling, i said i want to sink
backwards against parks and lakes and bedroom walls
i want you to turn me over in front of everyone
i want your salt like the breath on my neck or the mud on my chest
and i'm sure it's what you want
dead skin, blood sucking, dropping out of school
blaming complete lack of sobriety
on the fact that there is nothing when we've never really tried anything
to prove ourselves wrong
i guess i don't blame god
he's not the reason that everything's wrong
i can only blame me
and my complete lack of dexterity and grace under pressure
and every pathetic attempt at modesty
sometimes i don't even know what's happening to me
and why you'll never have to ask
and how cold my face feels pressed against glass
and why when i wake up everything morning, i never feel the same
or how everything is always different, but i never want to change
legs slick with soap scum
i feel this thick like layers like scars
more resin than the oldest trees
bruises like banana leaves
no matter how you judge me
we're all in this together
it's not like i really believe
i can be for you what you are to me
all i see is hope, and i have to watch it go, but i didn't deserve to think things could be this way
suddenly i wake up, and i feel stupid
my dreams are good but mean nothing when i'm lucid
it's just like choking, and i can only blame myself
Friday, September 7, 2012
i wake up drunk and i'm glad you're coming home
i touch your lungs and my fingers turn to stone
and in your eyes you said i'm better off dead
but in your arms, i think i knew what you meant
you had to think
you turned your head, and you thought it over
you watched me sink
you turned my head with your hands to get it over
and i was sick
i didn't drink but i had a hangover
you caught a glimpse
of what it's like if we never went home
it's either me and mine or just yours, and that's fine
i touch your lungs and my fingers turn to stone
and in your eyes you said i'm better off dead
but in your arms, i think i knew what you meant
you had to think
you turned your head, and you thought it over
you watched me sink
you turned my head with your hands to get it over
and i was sick
i didn't drink but i had a hangover
you caught a glimpse
of what it's like if we never went home
it's either me and mine or just yours, and that's fine
like sinking ships
depth ain't supposed to be so quick
like sinking ships, bottomless pits, the sea don't get no deeper than this
blame my remiss
to write an ode, a poem, for a man's lips
what the thought is
is quite obvious
i thought i could reconcile a flaw that's flawless
and i'm supposed to feel bad, but i guess i don't
i gotta slim skeleton like wooden bones
and skin like sails on a pirate ship
or algae clinging to the masts i fixed
i resist
the way my lips push into yours like bike pedals
and muscles stretch tighter than they would for gold medals
the way you break my skin like it was rose petals
underneath the crush of flesh, all my blood settles
and after all the rush of cells, it ebbs away
and i watch the red rush out my face
i can feel the pulse that's keeping me awake
and even though i can't see it, i know you've staked your claim.
like sinking ships, bottomless pits, the sea don't get no deeper than this
blame my remiss
to write an ode, a poem, for a man's lips
what the thought is
is quite obvious
i thought i could reconcile a flaw that's flawless
and i'm supposed to feel bad, but i guess i don't
i gotta slim skeleton like wooden bones
and skin like sails on a pirate ship
or algae clinging to the masts i fixed
i resist
the way my lips push into yours like bike pedals
and muscles stretch tighter than they would for gold medals
the way you break my skin like it was rose petals
underneath the crush of flesh, all my blood settles
and after all the rush of cells, it ebbs away
and i watch the red rush out my face
i can feel the pulse that's keeping me awake
and even though i can't see it, i know you've staked your claim.
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