My house is so quiet

My house is so quiet. There is no one here but me. I’m not used to this feeling.

My house is so quiet. My mind is incredibly loud. I’m trying not to be proud.

My house is so quiet. It is close to time for bed. I’m begging for a quieter head.

My house is so quiet. There is ringing in my ears. Maybe that is just the echoing of my fears.

My house is so quiet. It seems so lonely inside. Is it from me or you that I’m trying to hide?

My house is so quiet. I need no lights on to see. No one will notice I wear your shirt to sleep.

My house is so quiet. I wish I could know what is next. I pray for resolution, for the heart, what is best?

My house is so quiet. Maybe I’ll hear the voice of reason. I yearn for the truth and our warmer season.

My house is so quiet. I see that resemblance from us. The next choice needs to be trust.

Interesting scene

I can’t stop and it’s twisting up my head. It spills, stains my brain and makes my view full of lead. I see only nothingness as the target in my chest has been washed over as unimpressive, unimportant. It must be an imported goal, complete with unidentifiable instructions leaving a hole where it was intended to be whole. Gaping, kind of oozing from a wound that is nothing short of self abusing as I sit here expecting or even hoping for the perusing of such words I have put out to be read. Most likely taking risks of it being misinterpreted. Although that would be welcomed moreover than any false hope, and following paths that keep my interests broke. The trigger that pulled the gun of loves infliction now has chambered echoes of bottled indignation. Insulting the very beginning of held out foundational building. I keep building. Seeing with a blind intuition and leading myself into clear confusion. Seeing what’s not there, but knowing it is. Giving bits of fresh air but those breaths are short lived when I see the amount of time and space afforded to something stealing away, causing priorital decay, pushing the interests further away. With that, stay. Stay there in that example of complexity, in that world of feeling not quite wrong but rightly denying the subtle intensity. I see. It should be me, maybe too clearly I see. Maybe too clearly i just want to be seen, a scene hard to turn away from. And now, killing me, I play along, willingly. I want the heart, the soul, the brain to be freedom.

I don’t belong.

I don’t belong. No, not here. I don’t belong, with you my dear. I don’t belong and you have her near.

I don’t belong. No, maybe never did. I don’t belong and my feelings are hid. I don’t belong and you have her bid.

I don’t belong. No, I feel so out of place. I don’t belong and it begins to be erased. I don’t belong and you seek her space.

I don’t belong. No, can I please rewind. I don’t belong and I feel I’m falling behind. I don’t belong and she is your kind.

I don’t belong. No, my words have no value. I don’t belong and it’s your words I hang on to. I don’t belong and you play your game with her days long.

Where am I?

Where am I when I am searching inside? Can anyone still see me or is it a matter of mental seek and hide. I feel faded and not fully alive. I feel jaded like it’s difficult to contrive.

I sink deep into what I don’t want to feel and relinquish my hope. I splash about in the shallow end and desperately request a rope. My hands flail about and my effort is choked. Back to the bottom of the waters, my view comes from a fogged over scope.

In an awkward silence my thoughts begin to escape. They string together in an unnatural fray. I begin screaming inwardly for something important to say and I’m never quite sure if the words come together the right way.

Until it comes I will sit in my wonder. Until it is impressed and permeated I will mentally and verbally flounder. Will I know when it has arrived or will I hold it in front of me and ponder? Will I keep it at arms length or even a distance further and longer?

Why do I feel

Why do I feel so out of place? What is it that my brain cannot erase? It holds on too tight to what I cannot say. It’s like a corset too tight at the lace.

Why do I feel so removed from myself? What is it that puts my comfortability so high on a shelf? It makes me reach further into empty wealth. Like I’m without the coin to toss into the well.

Why do I feel less like I am less than I am? What is it that keeps me from the “bigger plan?” It keeps me from deciding to sit or to stand. Like I am reading a book that I don’t understand.

Why do I feel like I could just fade away? What is it that keeps me wanting to stay? It withholds my affirmation and my mind starts to sway. It’s like I am without instruction but expected to play.

Why do I feel like I don’t belong? What is it that keeps me with this yearning so strong. It’s like I want to be right but impressed to be wrong. It is something I’ll keep up but not knowing for how long.

Everything

the whispers on the wind that makes your soul sing…. the rays from the sun, warmth to your heart it does bring…. the rhythm of joy as a child’s purpose on a swing…..

I want to be your everything

the delighted witness of fresh blooms in the dew of spring…. the silent wishes into the well which coin tosses do cling…. the reverberations of nature’s song when the chimes of wind ring….

I want to be your everything

the fastened dependence of feathers in span of the birds wing…. the clash of electric surges and exposure of radiant lightning…. the lace trimmed and adorned twirl on the dress of a little darling….

I want to be your everything

the water claimed holy sprinkled about while offered blessing…. the vibration of love expressed through tribal drumming….. the endearment of grace given in darkness waiting for morning….

I want to be your everything

just a pretty girl.

And then I realized, I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that there was no difference between those others and myself. See at first I thought I was less than them. I thought that I was nowhere near the bar they had set. I don’t have those skills. I don’t have that body. I don’t have that status. There is no way that I could ever be that.

And then I realized that I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that there was no difference between how you see them and how you see me. See at first, I thought I was more than them. I thought that I must have set the bar higher. I have admirable skills. I have a body that you crave. I have an aura about my status. There is no way they could ever be like me.

And then  I realized that I am one of those pretty girls. I saw that perhaps there was no differentiation between the lust for those and the accessibilty to me. See at first I thought that I was chosen over them, but maybe I was just settled for. I have some more than excellent skills that make you shake, but maybe if they gave the time, youd exprience the same from them. I have a body that when your eyes are closed, you slip into as though maybe it is one of them you are thinking about. I have a status that says I want love and will take it if it seems as though maybe you want to love me, because they are taken or live too far away. There is no way that you would pass up on them because they are much more than me.

And then I realized that maybe I am just a pretty girl.

Grief – it ruins

Grief,

It comes out of nowhere. It tells you the truth that lies want to use as a cover. It sections off nothing and offers no disclosure.

Grief,

It is allusive and gives no remorse. It sanctions nothing as sacred and promises to contort. It gives a visual of hope and has only desolation to report.

Grief,

It is forced upon those who are desperately trying to heal. It comes full force when Love is the life’s appeal. It transitions hope into a perspective of false ideals.

Grief,

It has become an inebriation. It transforms love into devastation. It gives face of light and darkens the illumination.

Grief,

It has made me monstrous. It has erased all forms of calming guidance and patience. I have become brutal and callous.

Grief,

I no longer know what to expect from me. It has taken my dreams and defecated on my reality. I am no longer who I want to be.

series; the mind

dangling, it has its own feet, sweeping me off into a delusionary suite. a room full of choices to which my hopes cannot compete. treading, it steps along the lines given to follow, tiptoeing softly among the path that is inevitibly hollow and hard to stand beyond the shallow end. grasping, it is losing its grounding, the directional chaos is compounding. the navigation of what direction to trust is a confounding compass.

pleasant, the satisfaction attained, when accomplishing a goal acclaimed, set out and in reach it is ascertained perhaps even easily. joyous, it is high in elation shaking hands with rejoicing conversation and communicating through proficient verbalization leaving no flaws of meaning. What is said is what is heard and the over analyzing is no longer a paralyzing part of the deciphering agony over words, I pass the test.

Dropping, a rope that hangs selflessly awaiting for the next useful demand. Swinging into the weather and pulling away from its tethered command. Offering an anchor to let away the experience of expectation with one hold in fear and the other in glorification. Gripping the idealistic approach knowing that it is just a fast paced reach of hopes reproach and slipping under the conditioning that was supposed to be a decision. Knowing that whichever way, letting go or reaching higher the result is an unwanted mess.

Playing, as if choices were really choices. Speaking as if those choices were given voices that were heard and submerged in the acts and actions of applicable life situations. Listening, yet desiring the change of station where what is absorbed through the delivery of chords doesn’t take over stimulation. Betting against the odds that it will end up in a win, fighting the urge to give away the cards that were given, and being asked to play or to pass…

but with fear

The sound of your heartbeat is so strong when I’m near. The vibration beats with mine and it sounds so clear. Be with me always, you are mine, is the song from it I hear. But with fear, I interpret that as you don’t want me to stay.

The touch of your hands are so inviting to my skin. The way you pull me close pulls me deep within. The embrace confirms there is no beginning and no end. But with fear, I feel your hands speaking for your mouth, go away.

The look in your eyes lurk in to my soul. They target my heart and let love unfold. Gazing brilliantly with passion warming my heart that feels cold. But with fear, I see they see a game to play.

The voice of your words come with love and delight. Swirling around me encouraging to give up this doubted fight. Originally offering security and no reason for flight. But with fear, I have read absence and distance separating our days.