unsupposing

i am lost,

amongst

a sea

of such

sweltering

oblivion.

adrift.

drowning,

headlong,

in their

twitter

and

iphones.

blindess brings such bliss.

i suppose

rebirth

i sit,
waiting. for change.
blaming myself for
the way things
are
or, rather,
the way
they used to
be.

please.
leave my poor
body and my soul,
alone. they
ache
underneath your
massive, tantalizing,
and heavy
weight.

tempting.
dizzyingly so.
your stench smells
so putridly
sweet.
i knew you
so long ago.
and yet, like
new you are
reborn.

forward march.

you peel
and feel,
scratching at the inner walls
of a heart, weakened
from flightless desperation.

i sit,
embarrassed in
the utmost and mortifying way.
i know now the wrong
doings of my pathetic choice to stay.

fade away.
beneath the
gray sky. you no longer
have hold on me. your words
no longer lie to my willing ears.

elane

gray. her hair was gray.

and she liked to wear purple. and elephants.

her heart danced in a way that that her swollen feet could not. her smile, her laugh, her song. joy emitted beneath a body ridden with age and diabetes. her hands were soft and small, and yet their wrinkles shouted strength, weathered from years of powdered milk and food stamps. and three young boys to raise.

she always wore pink on her lips and topaz on her ears. and her necklaces always jingled the same exact tune. a creature of habit, i had assumed. now i wonder if she was merely physically, emotionally or mentally incapable of picking anything else.

her eyes shone, bright despite the past pains. long gone struggles. nights wondering where the next meal to come. days alone, while her husband tried to make ends meet.

i know her eyes shone. i can see it in the pictures and i know it my head. i try to tell myself over and over. because i know it to be true. over and over. her eyes. they shone. sparkled. lustrous. brilliant. tiny spheres of happiness.

but, in my heart, i can only see her haunting, lifeless eyes. dark and blank, like her mind. only those eyes are what i see. in every memory. in every dream.

because, for some reason, all i really remember are the days she began to slip away.

blinded

you [intrigue] scare me.

[excited] frightened
i sit trembling in the wake of your laugh.

i make shitty attempts at normalcy
but my words stumble over my tongue
they taste of pure anxiety, of nerves

you race around like mad and my head spins.
[anticipating] unknowing

please [stay] go away

moment[s] of weakness

it rained that day. on my cheek, the drops fell.

we walk in silence. feet quietly treading new paths that seemed so horribly familiar. my body screams to be held, aching and raking under the pressures of such nearness, once so beloved. now... abnormal. i see the hand, the shoulder, the lip. and i remember.

we sit and i look just for a moment, to gain the courage, and composure, you had so swiftly taken away. like old, i suppose

your blue eyes pierce mine, and i know i cannot hid. they smile in the way that only they can. soft. tender. challenging. do you even know?

my heart sobs a quiet song. Regina, actually.
eet eet eet eet...

i long to ask, but i know i can't.

'how has it been?'

'how was what been?'

'you know...' i trail, begging you to catch my drift, like a snowflake on a tongue. silently, strikingly cold, and then suddenly, melting away to water the fills and soothes. understanding can do that, you know.

i look down and smile away fear. my cup steams and smells of chai. yet its sweetness relapse into putrid smelling pain. i feel so... alone. can you tell?

i want you to share what i feel. the grating and the tearing. i want you to reach into my body and feel the vastness you have caused. well. we have caused. that utter calamity, breakage.

i long so desperately to leave. the rain threatens to storm.

but.

i want to stay forever. near you. holding that hand. that shoulder. that lip.

'it was so easy. and the words so sweet' she crones.

so why does it have to be so hard?

wicker park

the smell of freshly used books lines my head distracting me as i try to stare, however blankly at the page in front of me, watching dully as words blend into sentences, paragraphs. god, who cares. i shift, uncomfortably and yet, oh so affectionately in the old dusty chair below me. my shoes are cast off, my feet deepening within the old rug. i want to stay here forever, among these carefully bound thoughts.

i sigh. get up. walk over. glance. i should be studying, but descartes memoirs surprisingly seem interesting. thumbing the worn pages, i laugh at myself. yeah. right. that would never happen.

i feel so trapped. angered. desperate for some kind of change, some kind of freedom.

surrendering my hopes for any chapter read, i pick up my things and cross the busy street. the sounds, the smells, the smoke, all such a welcome alternative from lazy and plaintive suburbia. i walk back to the train. too bemused by my own thoughts to notice the two men staring at me from across the subway's narrow passageway.

such longing.

such loneliness.

recently, really, i have been realizing how dull my life has become. subdued by passive and placid administration, rules, grades, culture gods. i hate the way i don't think. the way i sit and let the world go by following direction like some pathetic lamb. and. for lack of better analogy, i am being lead away from any individualistic desire or hope. instead, i am headed towards green pastures and still waters.

shit

"It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song
You can't believe it
You were always singing along
It was so easy and the words so sweet
You can't remember
You try to feel the beat"

for venetta

i needed a word today. an inspiration. a line

i needed God today. so much so that it made me hurt inside. i could literally feel myself longing for Him with an ever present desire and strength, filled with angst and pain. i could not escape the question that had been raking my mind for days now: "where is He?"

and then i thought of venetta sweet sweet venetta, whose name i wasn't even sure how to spell. (yes, i actually looked it up on google.)

she isn't directly related to me, actually. she is my mom's sister's mother-in-law, but i do not remember a time when she wasn't in my life. i saw her on random occasions, mostly my cousins' graduations, but in some ways she was somewhat of a third grandma to me. i had always appreciated her words of kindness, and i admired her deep and grounded love for the Lord.

venetta is old. almost ninety, in fact. and her struggle with osteoporosis has caused her to bend at an almost ninety degree angle. once a lady of strong, tall stature, she is now frail and petite, having shuffle along with effort if she wants to go anywhere. her voice shakes so badly that it is hard to understand her words when she is talking to you, and often, she forgets what she wanted to say next. she is no longer independent and lives in a nursing home near her daughter. it was a hard move for, i am sure, but she is firm in her faith and knows that God can use her wherever he chooses.

and yet, this lady amazes me. she loves, no... adores the Lord. even after her husband died years ago. even when she sees friend after friend pass away. even as she is so often overlooked and misunderstood, she loves the Lord. and that love still impacts those around her, including myself.

i saw her last weekend, while up visiting my grandparents and i told her, somewhat, of the struggle i have been feeling for so long. she looked up at me, with her pale blue eyes, and smiled such a kind smile that i knew she understood. "isn't it hard," she said. "when the Lord decides to put you through that?" i had to agree. she continued. "He tries and tries to get your attention, and finally puts you through something that makes you land on your knees. but you know, He is there. all the time. He is there."

i looked at her. amazed. how did she know? i asked. "because. He loves us," came the reply. so simple.

as i left the next day, she pulled me aside and hurried me to her room. (hurried is, of course, a completely relevant word.) she gave me a worn out copy of streams in the desert by Mrs. Chas E. Cowman. she told me that she thought it would help me. "i have dozens" she said, smiling. "i hope it helps you as it helped me."

and so i picked it up today, on a whim of desperation and i turned to the page titled "november 11" because it seemed so fitting.

and venetta. it helped.

you have shown me God

“When across the heart deep waves of sorrow
Break, as on a dry and barren shore;
When hope glistens with no bright tomorrow,
And the storm seems sweeping evermore;

“When the cup of every earthly gladness
Bears no taste of the life-giving stream;
And high hopes, as though to mock our sadness,
Fade and die as in some fitful dream,

“Who shall hush the weary spirit’s chiding?
Who the aching void within shall fill?
Who shall whisper of a peace abiding,
And each surging billow calmly still?

“Only He whose wounded heart was broken
With the bitter cross and thorny crown;
Whose dear love glad words of Joy had spoken,
Who His life for us laid meekly down.

“Blessed Healer, all our burdens lighten;
Give us peace, Thine own sweet peace, we pray!
Keep us near Thee till the morn shall brighten,
And all the mists and shadows flee away!”