5-27-08I want you to get it. I apologize that we have been a bit –blageau (cloudy) [unclear] translucent. Come into these words. I want you to understand them. You may misconstrue, misread or misinterpret; just don’t neglect to get in it. Feel it to its full comprehension. Let your fingers sink in the substance and dig around. Because I really want you to feel, I cant let a chance to touch something solid pass us by. When I write I always want it to be significant, I like when it rocks my perception—makes my thoughts open up. Sometimes I just let the words run wild. I skip back to it and I’ve just realized you have no clue what I’m talking about. I think you need to feel it too. I’m not looking for a shared experience…I guess I’m just looking to share. So take my apology for every over-thought apostrophe, every idea so surreal Dali couldn’t paint it. It’s more important that you are touching it than passing your eyes over top of big, insignificant words. “Draw me unto you and we will run together,” I will be clear and you can really get it.
pick a spot turn, drop to
blundering, wondering, numbering.
take a chair,
stop. cease. release. in one piece. no niece.
(I’m too young and far more likely.)
flirting, skirting, inverting
my face so it’s me,
to a tee, and now free, to be, prett-ee,
block this sock
take a bow you have wowed them all with how you
stop 1..2 stop 4..5 stop 7.. and
So I want that–
the album art of Kings of Convenience incarnating itself in my disconnected days.
I want the touch of a person beside me breathing,
creating a place where my day to day gets noticed.
Not independent, but connected, wholly needing, completely wanting just to touch, just knowing someone is there, that we care about more then just our “faith”-which has turned so cold in my arms.
Bring me the blanket of broken relationships, the warm tears of connected imperfection
the incomparable beauty of unconditional acceptance, the real smile in loving the only way we know how.
Hoping that a genuine relationship is more than just an old wives tale,
Caring more then just the next laugh, or the comfortable flow of non-confrontational conversation.
I want to touch, I want a crash, I want my pieces to be broken and mixed in with yours.
I think the cuts might heal us both.
Stop my individualistic bullshit, I want community.
I always tell myself live and learn when I make a mistake.
But am I really learning if I keep making the same mistakes?
Why do I screw up all my relationships up?
or they screw me up.
I think I forgot how to sit
-the art of doing nothing.
Come back to me España,
teach me how to listen, how to breath again.
I’m so picky about my friends
yet I want to be friend with everyone,
why is that?
I’ll keep the parts I like,
And leave the parts I don’t.
Keep what I can with me,
I won’t let it be for nothing.
It’ll be quite a bit of something actually.
Just because I need it to be,
Just because I want you to be
It’s in these moments that I live,
When life is so real that all I can do is breath.
In and out, in and out.
When my heart aches too much to speak.
When my best friend can only cry over the phone.
When I like you, and our lips touch…
When I smile, because no one is watching .
When I can dream about perfect, because it definitely is not.
My eyes shut and I am alive.
Breathing in, breathing out.
(Maybe that’s why we like kissing so much
Because our mouths are stopped and all we can do is breath.)
It’s in these moments that I live,
When the breaths are all I can think of.