Sunday, September 12, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Breathe. Stretch. Shake.
I just got back from the beach and... I stood on the shore and screamed my heart out. And I liked it.
It felt good to stand there, waves breaking around me and scream without thought. I made a try at tears but... None came. Can't say I was surprised at this. In a few minutes I was waist deep in the ocean and didn't even notice until I realised my skirt was no longer blowing around me (that wore me down getting back to shore)
I feel good... For now.
It felt good to stand there, waves breaking around me and scream without thought. I made a try at tears but... None came. Can't say I was surprised at this. In a few minutes I was waist deep in the ocean and didn't even notice until I realised my skirt was no longer blowing around me (that wore me down getting back to shore)
I feel good... For now.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Rain is My Own Metronome
In the rain. Again. It's nice out here.
It's only a drizzle now, but I don't mind.
As it falls around me, I can sense myself slipping away.
Am I? It's more like an awakening,
I always feel alive in the rain.
Every drop that touches my skin makes me more aware of myself,
Makes me feel... Something.
It's cold outside but the raw emotion within me burns once more.
I'm afraid to touch myself, would it hurt?
Would whatever it is surging through me somehow escape the confines of my veins?
I almost forgot how much I missed this sensation:
the rain even massages the far reaches of my mind, and
I feel it press upon my skull.
This... thing, inside me, is it real or imagined?
If I touched you now would you feel it? Would it spark?
Will it jolt what's been sleeping within you as well?
I'd hope so. Wish you could feel this. Know this.
Is that - even as the thunder's bellows call to me
My soul calls to it.
None has walked the Earth who has understood me like the thunder, my old friend.
The resonance of its cries pulls my soul from my body to meet it, and
We both thrash upon the ground.
I dance with the wind as it tugs at my clothes and tousles my curls
Never thinking that it would end, but it did.
It was a while before my soul saw that it was alone and retreated back into my body.
I didn't even notice the thunder had said its goodbye
The wind gave my face one final caress and my pants a parting playful tug
and he too, left me.
As the rain died, I thought I would join it.
My heart's erratic beat was replaced by dull, hollow thuds. Empty. Worthless.
I folded into myself again, unwilling to behold the world without my icy sheets
Or allow it to look at me.
It's only a drizzle now, but I don't mind.
As it falls around me, I can sense myself slipping away.
Am I? It's more like an awakening,
I always feel alive in the rain.
Every drop that touches my skin makes me more aware of myself,
Makes me feel... Something.
It's cold outside but the raw emotion within me burns once more.
I'm afraid to touch myself, would it hurt?
Would whatever it is surging through me somehow escape the confines of my veins?
I almost forgot how much I missed this sensation:
the rain even massages the far reaches of my mind, and
I feel it press upon my skull.
This... thing, inside me, is it real or imagined?
If I touched you now would you feel it? Would it spark?
Will it jolt what's been sleeping within you as well?
I'd hope so. Wish you could feel this. Know this.
Is that - even as the thunder's bellows call to me
My soul calls to it.
None has walked the Earth who has understood me like the thunder, my old friend.
The resonance of its cries pulls my soul from my body to meet it, and
We both thrash upon the ground.
I dance with the wind as it tugs at my clothes and tousles my curls
Never thinking that it would end, but it did.
It was a while before my soul saw that it was alone and retreated back into my body.
I didn't even notice the thunder had said its goodbye
The wind gave my face one final caress and my pants a parting playful tug
and he too, left me.
As the rain died, I thought I would join it.
My heart's erratic beat was replaced by dull, hollow thuds. Empty. Worthless.
I folded into myself again, unwilling to behold the world without my icy sheets
Or allow it to look at me.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Lover I Don't Have to Love
He closed tight his fist
Crushed rose ever beautiful
It then shed one tear
Crushed rose ever beautiful
It then shed one tear
Plagiarism
My thoughts and writings are my soul.
What goes into a writer's work an ordinary person could never know.
What goes into a writer's work an ordinary person could never know.
Today my Political Philosophy tutor said, "I would rather a man steal my material things than to take my ideas and call them his own." ...This is true.
You know who you are.
That is all.