Ironically ironic

"You're trying so hard not to be what you already are, and that's okay because I really like who you are."

my body is a cage that keeps me from dancing with the one i love

My mind is a series of disconnected wires. I don't make any sense to anyone but myself, I can not explain my actions so I make up an excuse that I am crazy, I am not. But it's easier to just say that rather than try to rationalize what I do and say. I recognize what you are saying, but why should I have to hold back? Why shouldn't I be allowed to make these actions to say what I feel, am I not entitled? I am plagued by an illness I can not control, it controls my mind, but mostly my equilibrium. I just want someone to understand what this feels like, I wouldn't wish i t on anyone I just can't keep trying to go through this by myself. I am not producing as much blood as I should be, because I keep losing blood everyday. I wake up clutching my sides, I want to scream but I still get up, my daily routine is starting to take so much out of me. I go to bed at night more exhausted than I've ever been, and still...

My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten, that don't mean you're forgiven
I'm living in an age
Still turning in the night
But when I get to the doorway
There's no one in sight
I'm living in an age
Realizing I'm dancing
With the one I love
But my mind holds the key
You're still next to me
My mind holds the key
Set my spirit free

breathing patterns

This feeling of when it gets colder my heart gets warmer is comforting. It starts to let people back in, and I annually break down every wall I've built around myself. I make realizations about those who I thought would be my pillars, but have turned out to be just ruins. I can not lean on them any longer. "I got it, you got somewhere else to be." After last night I can look past it, I've looked past everything I felt like you were sleeping next to me again. Your breathing lulling me to sleep. My eyes watered from the early morning light seeping into the blinds, and because I was/am completely content. It's the ambient music that I fall back into step with, it's the coexistence, and it's my mind playing tricks on me. Your bare face, god I haven't seen it in so long, and you looked taller. Just sitting on my couch watching tv and talking with your best friend. You never once looked at the candles, or the glaring screen, or his beard, I was the focus point. The lines on your face will always give you away.

Begging you to wait for a minute by the wall where your creeping feet have never been before

I didn't think regressing so much was even possible, I am surrealism. My knees have begun to buckle. Atmospheres and layers consume. Swallowing me whole and if I cross my fingers, they will spit out just the bones. Jelly bones. Tire wastes. Blood thinners. I do not deserve your perfect rows of white enamel, or your lanky stature, certainly not the words stemmed from years of pouring over books. No one knows how to communicate anymore, pick up the phone tell me about your brittle bones. Tell me about your scandalous lackluster friends, oh wait you only make contact when you want to complain. But I am moving backwards, my feet slipping up in the wax floors I slide down the halls, regress, suppress, repress. Some city scape, I'm not easily impressed. the pressure and the feeling as if walls are moving in closer. Flickering candles, wind, graphite pencils and a painting of produce. Dark hair, dark eyes, moccasins for shoes. Idealism, I will not you let in. Realism. Age, numbers, secrets, organs. It's my tennis's shoes fault.

Ageless beauty

How is it that I've lost the ability to cry? Is it the commonplace of funeral homes and churches in my life beginning to numb me? I can look into an open casket and feel nothing for someone who I am related to, someone who loved my family with all their heart. I cannot cry even though the numbers of the first generation has dwindled to two. This is hard, not being able to feel. I've become frigid much like the air outside that dries out my eyes and skin. You didn't look 89 Polly, not at all. Not a wrinkle in your skin, your hair perfectly curled, everyone in the room was jealous of you. Stephen talked about how he's had seven funerals in four months it's a wonder he can barely focus at work. And I wonder has this security blanket around my waist been induced by the depression and stress that has become a burdening dark cloud that follows me everywhere I go. I can't bare it any longer, old habits have weaved their ways back into my thoughts, into my routine. Ruining everything I've worked so long and hard for. The priest read the eulogy and he read something about Pauline meeting god at the gates and he would judge her, like Osiris. The Osiris being the inserted contribution my brain added after remembering a particular question from my art history exam. Anyway, more importantly that we couldn't plead the fifth because we had no excuses we are to be judged. And I remembered saying how much in my atheist angst I had an agnostic outrage. I yelled through to receiver about how much who ever up there was punishing me and my whole family by taking away everyone that's near and dear to us. Friends and most importantly family. I understand no one lives forever I've always accepted that but it this all could've happened over a longer stretch of time it would've been easier on us. On all of us. Does anyone understand how unbearable it's been for the majority of my family to go to the same graveyard 5 times in the past four months. It's all so surreal. AT LEAST I KNOW YOU TRIED.

Anniversary

What happened to the nights when I had a cigarette hanging off of my lips, my hair flying in my face not so gracefully, but we would speed over the hills and through those winding roads with our feet not touching the ground and our hands clasped tight, just talking, just getting familiar with each other's faces. Blinking back tears because my stomach muscles were cramping up, you have the greatest sense of humor. You look like the character Emmit. I need you, not like all those times before I really need you to tell me that I'm going to come out of this okay. Will you be there when I'm glazed in fluorescent light, when my wires and veins sync, will you? Ironically it is your job to do this for others on a daily basis.

Fall Meal

I'm dancing in your living room surrounded by those equivalent in maturity but decades older than me. We are throwing our hands in the air we are singing about falling in love, with glasses of red wine and champagne in our hands, occasionally sloshing and making its way onto the floor. We don't care if there is a hurricane outside, our cheeks are rosy, and we are surrounded by wonderfully educated people. The night wouldn't end and I was fine, your grandparents want me to visit with you. I sneak a smoke on the back porch with your sister and our mutual friend we discussed college, starfishes, the usual. I saw you hanging off the railing of the stairs swaying backwards, I grabbed your hand and we somehow made our way downstairs. You bashed me in the head accidentally and back flipped over the couch. Let's just sit for awhile dear. You knocked over your cup of water and it landed in my lap, I wasn't mad but you were very upset. You were stringing your sentences together much like I am doing with mine, you were talking in tongues, truthful tongues. You kept using your hands for emphasis at the wrong times. You told me you loved me and we both laughed because you were very drunk. You kept repeating over and over again that I was very beautiful, that I am so sweet, I should go upstairs and hang out with your sister, my best friend; that I'm smart and easy to talk to. And your sister, my best friend came downstairs and watched you try to bite my face, her and I laughed. You talked about how lonely you are, your inferiority complex, how you think about killing yourself often and it made me sad that you really don't have anyone to talk to. In the morning you looked completely different, your beard was gone, your face was pale and your voice was monotone and your words were direct, you were embarrassed but I wish you weren't. It's fine I said, because it really was just fine.