Bits & Pieces of the Ups and Downs

when simplicity seems far too complex,

its time to stop giving meaning to the complete meaningless.

For it derived from a world that ceases to exist,

in this created inhabitant abyss.

Once formed from trinket thoughts and ideas,

That hung loosely from a bracelet in which I wore my fears.

Each collected at some time or another,

In which I gave birth to each, I was in some warped way its mother.

Planted in me like some kind of seed,

They grew with me and turned into nothing but weeds.

Eating away and destroying everything in plain view,

But in that blossomed something new.

Something beautiful, boisterous and bright,

In you I have now found light for flight.

My ten fingers

used to give birth to letters that created beautiful pieces which held so much pain, grew tired.Not so much sick and tired this time, but have just stopped to rest.

My two fingers

That used to hold countless cigarettes up to my lips as my oral fixation to keep my mouth closed from then endless questions I once asked myself…are no longer needed.

My four fingers

That used to hold up a glass to swallow away reality, are no longer used as frequent and used merely for socially purposes.

My one finger

That I used to hold up high and let it linger, for lack of a better statement, has found a better word.

My hands

That used to hold my head up from being sick and tired of trying, have folded.

In you I have found peace.

My once heavy-handed hands are now soft with grace,

they hold yours.

For its no longer me against the world. Fighting with my two bare hands.

Its us.

You and me against all odds.

My hands that became numb for all they’ve felt, are now sensitive to your touch.

My fingers intertwined with yours, make us whole.

For once I am not scared.

My hands are not defensive…they stray far away from my face,my guard down, not anticipating to be hit. But free, my face is free for you to see. For all my emotions are no longer stretched across a white sheet but they are written all over my face.

Just promise me you’ll read them carefully.

I am my own canvas.

Not this paper.

Not this pen.

Just me.

Im not constantly creating a picture or a blog not even a poem to make people understand.

I am the picture.

Its been created probably longer than ive ever known

im done with that, lets create a new story… all on our own.

its sad thats what is considered inspiration to me is pain. The fact that ive associated such a negative feeling into something that drives me to write. To express myself…in doing what I love, sharing my “so called” talent. Maybe i shouldn’t look at the glass half empty but half full. But I dont like to put myself in the category of  ‘society’ in using a term as such. But fuck it..maybe i should look at it as how i can turn such negativity into poetry, a blog, a beautifully written piece, or fucking words scribbled on a piece of paper that i thought twice about writing…however you interpret it…i couldn’t care less…its merely just a reflection of myself…and not so much being true to you to let you know how im feeling , but true to myself. For half that shit i write about you, or him, or her or they, have probably read it a thousand times as it went way over their head as they tried to figure out who it was really about. That is if they even gave a shit.

Dont ask me where the fuck i am going with this. I didnt have a fucking revelation or feel it neccessary to write or was in the mood to be creative. My thoughts have never run so uncontrollably in different directions not even knowing where the fuck they want to flow out of….whether it be the flood gates opening and my feelings running down my face ruining my mascara…or it be the mishaps that form at my lips and fly out of my mouth.  Who knows….I have never been so unsure. Just when you think you have figured yourself out.. for I have been living with myself for the 22 years of my existance on this planet. On this shitty place called earth in this shitty place i call home. ….

Please tell me, i would love to know. what does the word home mean to you? somewhere where you just rest your head? shelter from the cruel place we live in? shelter from the rain? A place where you spend most of your time? What does it mean to you. How do you interpret those four letters?

home is..a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household. the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered. an institution for the homeless, sick, etc.: a nursing home. the place or region where something is native or most common. (in games) the destination or goal.

as i am sure my perception of the word has changed a numerous amount of times when i was well aware and sometimes subconsciously, i can tell you my interpretation now…

Its all a fucking game to me. Life is a game. Its up to you whether you win or lose. Home is my goal…Home is my destination. Life is the journey to HOME. and no this aint no emo shit where im telling you that life is the journey to your death…im not manic deppresant where i would refer to death as home…because  it is clearly not my goal to die. But HOME…something so simple that you all refer to as your HOUSE or your CITY. but a house is a house. a house is  something you live in and spend most of your time in whether you are just  sleeping in it because of your hectic schedule and  you wish you could spend more time in. A house is a house….a place you invite people over and have family gatherings. A city is a city. Its the place you LIVE in. So what is home?

home is my destination, home is my goal. I repeat this to myself so maybe somehow i would start to brainstorm in what my goals actually are or if i even have any. I believe goals are not things you should do or what society tells you you have to do…but something you NEED to do…for yourself. Something so fucking selfish that it satisfies you. Something you feel you NEED to do because without it you couldnt possibly be complete.

what completes me?

this completes me…each word you see typed across this damn screen is what completes me. passion completes me…feeling it, living it, being it, and doing it. with every bone in my body. Music completes me. It makes me sane or rather sometimes crazy. It eases my pain occasionally, it triggers sorrow mostly. It inspires me to write these fucking blog entries, these stupid poems…my feelings raw and uncut across this screen for all of you to see. This is ME. this is what completes me. this is who i am. Take it or leave it…but fucking do something with it…please.

how bad i just want to sleep….sleep to dream in a world other than my own. In a perfect world…where you and i could coexist. rather than running further away from you and further away from the truth.

There is no need to lie anymore….no need to lie to myself.

im at loss of words….honestly…how much more can i speak of something that has died a long time ago?

I know…

for we were dead from the begining…you and I, for different reasons. Trying to live through each other…you have ended up where i wanted to be and i have ended up in something that would probably suit you better.

Life is funny….

I start to lose my faith in Karma…for at times i wished you’d get yours as I didnt understand that karma had already came your way.

way before me…

and its still paying you back.

for the tears that every other one has cried…

for the smiles and grins you painted, quickly ruining their picture perfect faces…into a face they no longer recognized.

for you know how to get under one’s skin….so deep.

for you penetrated my skin, deeper and deeper till you reached my core.

Thrusting your emotional baggage into me that it became me.

Consuming what had been damaged so many times before and breaking it completely.

where am i going with this?

fuck if i know…

it just kills me that the most simple thing triggers any one of my five senses and it brings me back to you.

when the fuk will it end?

i stand in the middle of this road in which i thought had ended a long time ago. I stand still….since when this whole trip had started i had been completely oblivious to my surroundings….and where have you brought me? i have no idea…though i am not lost…i will tell you that much. I may have taken a few wrong turns leading me to another place, one that is not my home. but those back roads have CERTAINLY not led me back to you…they were a minor distraction delaying my arrival.

Although i must say…it does seem to scare me a bit. For where i am arriving is a place i know is safe, but one that is unfamiliar….there is no longer any sort of comfort zone given by an outsider…its the comfort zone i will create…on my own.

I take it all in…for this might be the last bit of scenery i indulge in before i get to where im heading….

but just one question…

how long does it take to get there?

I stare at the whiteness that has consumed this screen, waiting to be marked and scarred with the black that is consuming me and eating me alive…

its been a while…since i have sat down and tapped this keyboard as if i was hitting the keys to create the tune of my thoughts. I havent had a song to play…or should i say one that was worth it.

So now here i sit…..my heart shattered no longer does it pitter patter….although this time, it matters.

No its not a feeling that i have to live with and overcome with time.

Nor was it any actions i now need to face the consequences of, of mine.

It is just a moment in time with a glitch.

something i feel i cannot fix.

No matter what words flow out of my mouth so strong..

I no longer feel that I belong.

My words that once had strength to fight,

has failed me as i try to hold on tight.

but how do you hold on to something with such force..

that has just given up due to another source.

A source of which is nothing but her own…

conclusions drawn into what seemed to unfold.

But now what?

please tell me now what?

Ive lost many, cherished few.

Whats another one to lose? wouldnt matter if it was another new.

But that fact is….

Its a cherished one….actually two…

Faded fast leaving me with not much to do.

I write…again…

but this time it doesnt ease my pain.

this time it doesnt listen.

this screen just stares back at me with the same burning question i had asked expecting an answer. Usually i’d find the answer within myself…as empty as i am.

Full is not heavy as empty….

Im heavy….with thoughts so many. With ideas few….

Jesus fucking christ just help me.

Walk on water, turn it into wine…just give me guidence. Help me fix what I did not break. It just doesnt make sense. Even though i did not personally break it, i know how it broke…doesnt that mean there is a possibility that i can piece this back together…and with each piece i put in the right spot another piece of me it will mend.

Aghh…fuck this, the ryhming, the timing, the fucking scheme and formation. This is me…this is the blood that flows within me. These are the tears that i fucking cry. This is the pain that has overcome me.

Never in a million years would i have ever thought id write for something other or someone other that which i normally do. Suprise suprise. This bothers me. I hate writing about this shit god fucking dammit.

I feel lessened as i was tested in which i have now failed. good fucking luck with me reviving myself back into which i was for a piece of childhood is truely missing. That in which is the most important memory that make up a human being.

its gone.

fucking gone.

and i cant do shit to fix it.

I could go on for days….just write and write and write…how bad i want to stop because each letter in each word in each sentence hurts. It scrammbles my thoughts even more as i try to get them down on this paper to organize. it does no good. I lose myself, for my words are running faster that my hands can type.

I lose myself mid sentence, because although this is in the process of being written, i really was never here at all. Where i am? i wish i knew. all i can tell you is that it is in a place that isnt as nearly overpopulated as it once was…the way i like it. the way i was happy living in it.

its actually empty…not a single soul. Not even myself…in this vacant city.

I stare one too many times at the guy across from me in the aisle….for all I see is you.  Although the two of you look nothing alike yet only the image of your face is in my mind. His mouth is slightly open and his lips quiver every so often as he sleeps. I look at his lips and all i see is your mouth. I stared at his eyes when they were alive and awake and all i saw was your gaze.

I look out the window and see the clouds drapped across the sky like snow. It’s so beautiful, so white, yet I feel nothing but gray…..

Gray…stuck in the middle of black and white, not knowing where it stands, what category its in…I constantly feel up and down when it comes to you.

My thoughts are scattered and run through my mind in an unorderly fashion. So many images, ideas and thoughts run through my head, none of them which have a beginning, nor and end. None of which are phrases or even sentences, just words. Images that are only half drawn, for my mind is trying to keep busy. With so many things going through it to simply destroy you…for you have burned memories, images and words so deep…my mind cannot even keep up with itself. Your like a disease. Like one without a cure that i need to control as long as im alive before it kills me, by taking medication.

I prescribe myself different medication depending on the day, week and month. Although you’ve spread  all throughout me. Simply one dose is not enough to make things temporarily better.

My medication is over working myself and drinking excessively when accessable among other useless hobbies.

The minute when time stands still and the world is asleep, you are awake in memory. The second my mind tries to breathe and take a break from you, you hold it prisoner.

I don’t know why I feel like this, I dont want to, atleast i dont think i do. Maybe its partially realizing that the only way to hold on to you is by torturing myself constantly by thinking of what once was and asking the endless “what if’s” and “why”….questions you will never answer.

We barely see each other, and when we do its only because I know where to find you without looking desperate to only exchange a measly “hello” and “how are ya..”  And depending on how long im able to hold out…a “how have things been going..” As if your even so concerned not having seen me in quite some time. Like your fingers were numb every time you scrolled through your phone book and passed my name.

You make me feel like a kid again, trying to find any excuse to call you to hear your voice now that we are not together.  But i guess that is the replacement of when you used to make me feel like a woman when we were together.

My train of thought was broken by the single serving, reheated tv dinners that were being handed out by men and woman in uniform who spoke in tongues I could not understand.

I order red wine, not like it would do much. Hopelessly imagining that it would slow my thoughts a bit and redirect them in a direction away from you…..I glanced at him again. He is now wide a wake and when asked, “chicken or fish?” gets nothing at all…but a coke.

I look at his hands which are now fumbling with his seat belt,and I see a ring on his finger, A fashionable ring…and nothing more. He’s young, his hands look clammy, but I cant really tell. All i can tell is that they are the hands of a boy who hasnt even gripped onto life yet, or even experienced it. The hands of a boy, not yet a man…still innocent.

I think of your hands…the same, boyish and soft with a ring around your finger…I get angry for now actually finding a slight similarity. He’s not looking at me, not even glanced in my direction, yet i know he has seen me. he pays no attention at all. this upsets me even more. I fucking hate this…i feel such anger towards this fucking stranger. I dont even know the sound and scent of his breath when it escapes his lips, or what lies beneath his eyes or his fucking name for that matter. But i hate him. he doesnt resemble you the slightest bit, but i still see you, and i fucking hate him.

So much i want to get out of my seat and yell and make a fuss and fucking slap him for not paying a fucking mind. He’s just a stranger….a stranger, N-O-T Y-O-U!! Nor will EVER be you.

I barely ate, I can feel the anxiety of just wanting to go home in my stomach. I had made plans to find you again when i got back before i had ever even left. So anxious…like i was fucking coming home to you or some shit, but in a sense, i guess i was. Ugh….i let out a deep breath. My eyes suddenly feel heavy.I think my cheap “conforalles 2005” wine has tired me some. Ill try to rest…even though thats nearly impossible.

As a matter of fact trying to rest and clear my head is probably the worst thing i can do. But i need to close my eyes. I cant stand to look at this poor innocent kid anymore with such deep hatred and my eyes full of anger buring holes into him. they are my OWN problems….hes just a  stranger…Stanger….i keep repeating it to myself…Its not his fault….nothing but a stranger…i drift off….but YOU remained..

This goes out to you, my runaway… you whom stole my heart. Running free with a piece of me to set your own mind free. Free from all the clutter you  got yourself into at such an early age.

Your feet hit the pavement lightly but forceful enough to crack the path in which you walked,making a statement, leaving a trace. A trace that led directly to the heart you stole from me.

My chest is bare, for you are a theif. Took something that didnt belong to you and did not have the decencey to return it to its rightful owner.

As you took a forceful turn, we came to a screeching hault. Sure enough i knew it was time to let you go alone. To let you take that turn and not look back.

For im sure you did not walk the whole way home alone. But no matter who walked along with you…you were as lonely as you could ever be.

I can run down the list of things i lost…. My sanity, my passion, my drive, sleep, need i say more?

I can tell you what i gained,knowledge of. Of all the things that would never had been known of to even know an answer.

dont lose me now

So I followed that trace you left. those marks up and down my arm, those scratches at the surface, those million little pieces of paper, those dents that buried deep into my mind when you had gone astray,and they lead me…to collect. To collect what belongs to me which you had carried for so long.

please tell me, what was the purpose? why did you hold on to something you no longer used. Was it there to simply remind you of all the complications that had no explanations? To admire something you wanted, something you could have, but were too much of a coward to take? To try to comfort yourself that what you felt was real and you were willing and able? But you didn’t and you should of.

I just wanted answers.I wasnt able to take a damn thing from you unless i opened the mouth you onced kissed. the eyes you once gazed into. the arms you once held and the mind you had corrupted. And just opened myself…to hear your answers. The answers that had haunted me by stitching my mouth shut. Shall i dare  rip these stitches apart just to know how you felt about us parting? Should i let the blood fill my mouth just to know if i made the blood boil in your veins. shall i dare open back up wounds just to know if you were hurting too?

Fuck it. it couldnt be any worse than the relentless sex we continued to have,the mind fucking. the continuos mindfucking we both couldnt seem to stop for it was the only way we could manage to fuck each other,some way some how.

did u ever even fucking care??? The words poured out of my mouth faster than anything had ever even poured out my heart.

just answer my simple question with a simple answer for the situation was so complex no need to make it more complicated. Just give me a simple yes or no. For gods sake, i might as well found the inner child in myself which i killed and burried more the 6 feet under the depths of my soul.

find her and tell her to write down on a piece of paper WAS IT ALL REAL? check YES or NO like some fucking pathetic elementary shit,when everything was so innocent and nothing really mattered.

Check one…

sighhh

check one…

im inpatient…

you checked it….

you checked…yes.

3 little letters that meant more than those 3 fucking words.

I am at peace for once in my life.

Ive cut the strings wrapped around my neck so tight, was so petrified of when that stool would’ve been lifted out from under me.

im free. i feel so liberated

please dont try to take that away from me.

let me be

judge me, hate me, rate me, figure it out, but guaranteed with one encounter you wont be able to escape me.

Love me at my worst, love me when im down when nothing gets me up and its seems everything is weighing me down.

Understand me, can you comprehend the words before they escape my lips. can you dip into the sentences that form at my lip?

Do i have to explain? Do i have to tell you? the rage within me pouring down on me like rain?

Or can we just breathe…as one. one body, one soul, one heart, that beats two different beats but goes together harmoniously,endlessly.

cant we have two minds maybe a million thoughts apart but no matter where i end up or you end up we’re in it from the start.

I dont want the fairy tale no beginning middle and end. Just a start,that will set everything and everyone apart.

is that so hard?

I say I’m going to be ok and that’s because I feel ok. But just as when I’m peaking like some type of fucking orgasm that rarely happens I’m shut down once again. Maybe by my own insecurities? Maybe because the harder you try to forget the more your actually thinking about it and take a trip down memory lane? Maybe both? Who knows?

I’m not really sure what’s certain anymore or what’s even real. Life had become a blur, scratched & watered down. It’s become a generic version of the life I used to live but not the life I loved. I’ve never been a good actress, I can’t pretend.

Music is the only thing that feeds my soul which has blackened. By all the asses from 6 feet under who try to rise above me only reach my feet. Rather than using them as fucking stepping stones, I trip. Over. Every. God. Damn. one.

Falling face forward anticipating the pavement, expecting to crack my skull on the ground in which I used to stand on which now I can barely keep my balance. I keep falling, don’t know where I’m heading to. I forget.

I just forget.

I become at peace with endlessly falling, deeper into something I don’t know.

I remember.

I remember what it used to be and what it could have been and what it should be.

And I remember.

Save me! Catch me! fucking do something, for I’m remembering.

Memories blocked out, shut off, stashed away, have been released.

Lights which have been turned off are now turned on yet doors that were once open are now shut.

I’m not sure who the monster is. I used to think it was you, but the monster I have created within myself is schizophrenic.

Her name is Lola. and no she’s not a fucking show girl.

Lola constantly throws party in my head, her and her 6 fucking friends.

i try to tell them not to trash anything, but they don’t listen. Breaking shit, moving things around, they are fucking with my mind.

I snap. or have I snapped already. I’m blinded by the sorrow which turned into pain which used to hurt but now feels so good. It becomes addicting for my addictive type a personality. I fiend for it. Like a fucking crack head. I want to bleed. Mentally it’s not the same anymore; this is why it doesn’t feel normal. How can I mentally feel like such fucking garbage and physically I’m ok?

I want to bleed on the outside as much as I have bled internally. Hit me from the point of where I it turns from pain to numbness. Make me numb for that will be my new defense mechanism. Like an ass,I seem to let everyone in.

I always let everyone into my god damn home. The home I created, that I’ve worked my whole life for. That I have set to be picture perfect like that of an IKEA fucking catalog. After letting you and all of THEM in, I have finally been robbed. Robbed of everything I’ve worked for.

But that wasn’t enough I was rapped too.

Rapped of my sense and understanding.

So all this time i was being used. At least I wasn’t useless.

But that’s what I’ve become.

For you used everything useful in me.

Sucked me dry like a fucking whore…YOU FUCKING WHORE…..you robbed me, fucked me and sucked me fucking dry. You are a fucking whore. I say it again to try to understand it, for it all came together piece by piece as if it were detective work.

I try to understand and now I slightly feel better. So I guess this is me signing off, for the time being. I’ll try to ride out this acceptance for as long as I can, until Lola decides to come out and play again.

Yours truly,

schizo

I think i went through the whole day today thinking it was Wed. Today is Thursday and if you’d like to get technical, its friday morning.

I dont remember the last time I was asleep or was truely awake for that matter. I feel like I sleep with my eyes open and the only time Im awake is when they are closed.

My emotions have become so exaggerated. there is no longer such a thing as happy, sad, or angry. They have become more so Ecstatic, Miserable and Furious.

It was a connection. something that could maybe be explained scientifically, although a scientist i am not. Completely one sided…so i think to myself.

My thoughts do not process anymore. They are stuck in traffic. Stumbling upon other thoughts that cannot be explained.they line back to back in a crooked line in my mind. The light is green,but they dont seem to go anywhere.

I need happy pills. I think that would make it all better. Thats what I have resulted to. Alhough my form of happy pills have diluted into liquid form that is served in a snifter glass and tastes a lot like alcohol. Drinking until I am in an oblivion and nothing makes sense. Even the nothingness i try to make sense out of.

What the fuck is happening to me? How could i have lost myself again. You know, it seems to happen once a year. Around spring time i lose myself. The birds start to chirp, the weather gets warm and i am physically here but im really gone.

Falling off a cliff, my mouth open wind gushing into me filling my lungs so full. i am filled with nothing but air. Like a fucking blow up doll who lies there flat with no emotion but that which you give her. You’ve taken all of me. Raped me from my sense & Fucked my mind. How to recover?

I’ve become another product of society. Me… i definately am not. you might as well shove your hand up my ass and talk for me like the puppet i have become.

Rape me again for it felt so good, when you penetrated my mind and left me hanging there like a whore wanting more. Fucking with my feelings you kept me on my toes. I was a part of your game. You continued to fuck me without a rubber, no protection for my feelings. It wasnt your fault, i should have supplied the rubber by not wearing my heart on my sleeve. You’ve infected me with this fucking disease that is new to me. I spread the word to see what i can do to get clean. no one understands. Im a fucking addict, a product of your disease, a whore.

im an idiot. I should have protected myself. Now im infected. And these symptoms. Oh god the fucking symptoms….

a minor case of insomnia mixed with narcolepsy, lets call it narsomnia.

Oh and lets not forget the hallucenations. Imagining im seeing shit everywhere that fucking reminds me of your dumb ass.

All this time you were fucking me…

i really should of just fucked you.