Monday, July 19, 2010

If You Were Here

If you were here you would be shaking your head and laughing
because you would've told me so by now
and you would ask if I was really surprised
Really?
because this is obviously for the best
and fish and seas and how didn't I see this coming?
but don't worry
you'll do it all again for the next charming man
and you would point
laugh
roll your eyes
tell me it sucks that it hurts
but imagine being you
so drink up
stop your whining
blah blah heartbreak
but you know you deserve better
and there are boys just lining up to get your heart broken by you
and I would finally and reluctantly laugh
and probably toss my hair
and assure you it's not the case
while knowing you meant you.

If you were here I would tell yoiu
hey listen
all joking aside
I'll put my pieces back together again
dust off the ol' ticker and try the track again
but you gotta know
that I can think of about a million drugs
I'd rather see you do
than that shit you do
and I have a hunch that if you don't find yourself a new bad habit
I'm gonna find myself trying to deliver some words to a standing room only crowd of crying freaks, family, displaced lunatics, and injured dreamers
trying to find some communal comfort in all that we found beautiful in youi
and man
it's the last fuckin' speech I wanna give
and there are gonna be times when your voice
will be just the reason we need.

(mostly) Hidden Things

The realization that closing a door
can be an intricate process
(especially given my need to
double
15
go back and do it
again
check).

The knowledge that once
you can tear yourself away from
the checking and the door
you will be free.

The Liberation cleansing ritual I invented just now in a bathroom mirror under 2 out of 3 working lights
that involves in part
using your own fresh tears as warpaint
and praying to oneself.

The scars I have given myself over the years
are mostly hidden by laughter
some necessitate long skirts
and anecdotes of ninja attacks
but I assure you
the truth is not dinner convo
only rare and selective coffee talk
and then still with mostly averted eyes.

I mostly hide
the fact that if I wake up for any reason
between the hours of 4 and 8 a.m.
there is a good chance I will be struck by the jolting and nauseating panic of being equally afraid of living and dying
and the certainty that both
will kill me.
And I wish that someone would comfort me back to sleep
because it's exhausting.

I wish I had known I was beautiful
sooner.

Mostly hidden
is the moment you know
your path is changing
and even if you feel the electricity i8n the air
the moment of the shift
still strikes like out of season lightning
and you're filled with white light knowing
and the smell of your best laid plans ablaze.

Flavors of Love

I know a girl
who once loved a boy
north of her border
and he would stay
on the phone
while she slept
so she could rest without her demons coming for her
for a change.

There is a girl
who conquered fear
and flew to love
and came back
alone
profoundly in love with the ocean
and grateful for new wisdom.

I knew a man
who loved everything so painfully
that he numbed himself to death
while writing an email
and while I'm fairly certain
it was never meant for my eyes
I would pay money to read it now.

I didn't know the girl
that my friend messaged me from another coast about
who needed someone
and it couldn't be him
so could it be me?
She started shy
but then cried
as she told me how her ex
had recently bitten her face
in the street
after pleading desperate love
again.
And I cried too.
And thought,
there but for the grace of God go I.