broken winged bird

lots of holding, lots of touching, lots of giving too much

she said

lots of moulding, lots of clutching; lacks getting too much

instead

lots of soaked sad fills, lots of high pitched shrills, lots of spoken word

love filled might

lots of happy-sad pills; artificial thrills,

off goes the broken winged bird

out of sight.

Street car mornings broken up by
Bicycles
I feel spiders crawling all over me
More often than usual
And when i think of them now i feel
Less spite
more yearning
More love
Less earning
She is leaving and
I was supposed to go with her
It never did sink in anyway
Something about the one
Never added up to the other
Backed by confessions
Of love
Each of them
To eachother
To me
Swapped in confessions nobody
(not even them)
Knew could be empty
The switch came unexpected
Felt strange
It feels right now
This forced idea where we should be
Is only visiting me now and for them
It happened months ago
Sporadic and intermittent
Here we go
More long weekends
Big groups crumble
Like the sand through our hands
Grabbed up from where we
(will)
Sit
I still fall in love with everybody I meet
Though
And I don't see that changing
Anytime
Soon

July

Droopy leaves in the evening
Reaching out in the morning
Living by the sun
I seem to function oppositely
These days
Lots of dreaming
Lots of neglect
Of the the things
Which keep me sane

She misses paper
I get what she means
Strange robot companions
And enjoying their company
Make me feel disconnected
From where I come from
Or at least
Where I've always
wished I could be
All that said though
I know I will always return
To the pen
Breathing out is
Breathing out and
I am not worried

He's eager and
making me happy
Is seemingly becoming
something
He doesn't have to work so hard at
It seems
I'm smiling more
like the outreached
Leaves
And yet the soaked sad feels
Seem to flow for a reason
I am watching things change
From the outside this time
And I'm feeling a growth
That I want to embrace

He tells me lies
That I want to believe
But I'm grateful for
The ones he's willing to
Make
And he told me
While watching Joan and bob
That he thinks of me
And the worthwhile struggle
The innate need
To make
I felt a little sad
A Little lacking
Makes me want
To do it for him

It felt good to go there
Even the clouds didn't
Change the love
Of that place
Rock chairs and tables
Everchanging
Evolution
Painted chess set ideas and
Rock pieces that double
For checkers too
It would be nice
to paint
That board all white
we never did get around
to painting anything
though

skimming through old thoughts i find half thought ideas left for an opportunity to voice them.
most lacking in substance and the context has escaped me. but then:

old lady kisses my cheek and calls me a sweet girl

(write this)

i remember her. i approached her table apprehensively at first. the crowd at that place was always superior in age and in taste, so it would seem.
she had blondish hair specked with white and sat in a wheelchair. she was small, nails painted purple and her eye colour seemed to be a bright blue for a time.

who am i kidding? i can't picture her face at all. her presence stays with me, however.

we waited in the back and swapped tables from lost bets and wished the others luck with the exceptionally difficult ones.
slapping on a smile became a lot easier than you might think (even for me).
i learned to take some small amount of joy in responding to a harsh remark with a smile; a relentless sorry.
i learned it usually makes the harshness seem so foul.
the exchange extra sweet.

she sat with her daughter and grandson. three orders of the three items void from the stock.
relentless sorries.
i expected the worst but received the best.
sometimes verbal tipping can be just as sweet.
they ordered desserts - out of those too.
i gave them something they didn't ask for.
relentless sorries.
its easy to put on a smile at times but what i feel during each exchange is undoubtedly real.

'thank you so much; have a great day.'

"wait. come here, dear." she said to me.

she grabbed my arm and pulled me in with more strength than i'd expected her to have.
She kissed me on the cheek and her glassy eyes looked like they might explode.

"you are such a sweet girl. Thank you."

all this text without a face, seems so insignificant to some. talk to my face, sleep next to me and forget your throaty thoughts spewed from your fingers; exaggerated theories and half filled thoughts outliving our bodies and our minds. i am told this stuff doesn't (shouldn't) matter. tell me what does.

this matters to me.

i have sound to touch moments now. but we are all grasping to hold onto something.

faceless friends bring out the best in me and its not because i'm afraid of the eyes.
this is all we have. our persons will die and what we choose to share (in the way we are able) will live forever.

four books in filled with belligerent scribbles and half written prose. this is me. it will be read someday when i am long gone.

this time

I wake up often in the night now
Something has changed
I cannot sleep as soundly as I used to
Or maybe it's simply
Little kidney shrinking further
I woke the morning after
Throbbing skull; dry tongue
We are not so different I thought
To the little girl sleeping on his pillow
I felt different all morning
Robotic movements though
I could feel every inch of me
We seemed so calm
So easy, so perfect for each other
I like moments like these
Walked to the store
Felt stripped of something
I remembered the stiff metal
Chipped with stories
She presented it in a way
That was so like I imagined
I remember long ago
Thinking of these gifts. Thinking
That I would be the recipient of such
Treasure someday
I wore it always
She was on my wrist
And in my back pocket
that night
I never told her
I guess I just thought she'd know
She knows now, anyway
I am trying to not think
Too much about waking that morning
With naked wrists
Though I feel it will find me
again
Funny to be so confident
Losing things seem to be
Something I am best at
Perhaps this is different
Perhaps it lost me
This time

Arms and legs

I can't feel my arms either but
I can feel my organs
My kidneys they ached and
Asked my liver for a hand
My tongue; my deepest secrets
Holding on to words that have yet to be formed
The Wall between the cysts of my eyes
And the thoughts that seep through them
Soul-baring eye balls
I can't lie
I have never been good at it
But once in awhile
I catch myself trying to
Believe a half truth
I created myself
He misses me
And she is excited on the phone
How quickly they forget
Just how often we butt heads
I Was a little worried
That this was it
Lonely drones of my mind
Long for his beef;
Her whale
His loom
Today I thought
We would forget it is over
But he had things to do and
My body hasn't let me
Move just yet
She understands
She alway does
And I find myself admiring
New people every day
I had my cheeks turn red
Often last night
An old flame
Friends of the family
Seeing me' in real life is always
a shock
To them but they seem to like
What they see
It's funny to listen in
I just feel good she said
She makes it all right
She said
I just love being around
As if these comments aren't real
Until they are spoken to anyone
But me
It is strange to be flattered
for something I dont seek
everyone seems to
Want a piece and I still
Cannot figure out why
Just do it yourself
I always think and
Why would you want me on your wall?
I don't want you on mine but
I am flattered despite
No price ever fills the void